Weeks ter...

  Night - Orlov's Southern Citadel

  Torchlight flickered across the ancient stones of Archduke Orlov's audience chamber, casting massive shadows that danced along walls adorned with tapestries depicting vampire conquest. Unlike the subtle integration of technology in Dante's domain or the living architecture of Seraphina's territory, Orlov's Southern Citadel embraced medieval aesthetics with absolute commitment. No electric lights, no modern conveniences, no concessions to the passing centuries.

  This was not mere preference but rigid ideology—the physical manifestation of Orlov's belief that vampire purity required rejection of all human innovation.

  The Archduke himself sat upon a throne carved from bck oak, its surface worn smooth from centuries of use. His appearance matched his surroundings—eborate garments of traditional design, jewelry fashioned from ancient metals, hair arranged in styles that hadn't changed since before the Evolution. Only his eyes betrayed his true nature—cold, calcuting intelligence that had guided the traditionalist faction for generations.

  The court around him maintained perfect stillness as the heavy iron doors groaned open to admit a solitary figure. The courier staggered slightly as he approached the throne, his travel-worn appearance evidence of a journey measured in weeks rather than hours. His clothing—simple leather and rough-spun fabric—bore the stains and wear of hard travel across difficult terrain. In his hands, he clutched a leather satchel containing sealed parchment messages.

  "Approach," Orlov commanded, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.

  The courier knelt at the prescribed distance, head bowed in perfect submission. "My lord, I bring reports from the northern border territories as commanded."

  A steward stepped forward to retrieve the satchel, inspecting its contents before presenting them to the Archduke. Orlov broke the wax seals methodically, unfolding the rough parchment pages with deliberate care. His expression remained impassive as he read, though a slight narrowing of his eyes suggested particur interest in certain passages.

  "You traveled directly from Lord Karlov's domain?" Orlov questioned, referring to one of his vassal lords whose territory bordered the northern regions.

  "Yes, my lord. Thirty-two nights of travel, stopping only at the authorized way stations as protocol demands."

  Orlov nodded once, satisfied with the courier's adherence to procedure. Information within his territory moved at the same pace it had for centuries—carried by horseback or on foot, restricted to prescribed routes, filtered through yers of territorial vassals. This system ensured his absolute control over what entered his domain, though at considerable cost to timeliness.

  "These reports," Orlov stated, addressing his inner circle of advisors, "describe unusual phenomena observed in the northern skies. Lights of unnatural color and movement. Disturbances in animal behavior along the borders. Atmospheric changes that defy natural expnation."

  His closest advisor, an ancient vampire named Voros who had served the traditionalist faction since its formation, stepped forward with appropriate deference. "Such manifestations have been observed before, my lord. Typically natural events—aurora borealis, astronomical phenomena, weather disturbances."

  "Perhaps," Orlov agreed, his tone suggesting he considered other possibilities. "Yet the progressive territories have always harbored dangerous tendencies toward deviation from proper vampire ways. These signs may indicate they have gone further than ever before."

  The court maintained respectful silence as Orlov contempted the implications. Unlike the progressive Archdukes who shared certain knowledge of each other's activities, Orlov had only vague understanding of what occurred beyond his borders. His rigid rejection of all modern methods meant information reached him slowly and often incompletely.

  "The northern territories have maintained their boundaries for generations," another advisor observed cautiously. "They rarely pursue activities that extend beyond their borders."

  "Until now," Orlov corrected, ying the reports on the ebony table beside his throne. "These observations suggest something has changed. We require better information than border lords can provide."

  He rose from his throne, moving to a massive wall map illuminated only by torchlight. The map depicted vampire territories as they had existed for centuries, with the traditional Southern Reaches under Orlov's control representing the rgest domain by geographical area. His finger traced the northern borders where his territory met the edges of both Dante's and Seraphina's domains.

  "Valerian's military strength prevents direct northern expansion," Orlov acknowledged, referencing the mysterious Archduke whose Northern Border Territory served as buffer between the major factions. "But diplomatic channels remain open, limited though they may be."

  His advisors exchanged guarded gnces. Orlov rarely invoked diplomatic solutions, preferring isotion that maintained traditional purity. Any outreach to progressive territories represented a significant shift in approach.

  "What form would such diplomacy take, my lord?" Voros inquired carefully.

  Orlov's gaze swept the assembled court before settling on a vampire standing quietly in the shadows near the wall. "Count Drachev."

  The vampire stepped forward into the torchlight, revealing an elegantly attired nobleman whose appearance embodied traditional aristocratic refinement. Unlike many in Orlov's court, Drachev projected cultured sophistication rather than mere military presence. His features maintained perfect composure as he bowed with precise formality.

  "My lord."

  "You have served as diplomatic envoy to progressive territories before," Orlov stated. "Your understanding of their deviations from tradition, while regrettable, provides useful perspective."

  Drachev inclined his head slightly, acknowledging both the compliment and the subtle rebuke. "I have maintained necessary diplomatic knowledge while preserving proper traditional values, my lord."

  "You will travel to the border regions between Dante and Seraphina's territories," Orlov commanded. "Observe their activities under the guise of trade negotiations. Particur attention to any unusual colboration between domains that have historically maintained separation."

  The diplomatic assignment was clear, though its underlying purpose—espionage rather than negotiation—remained unspoken. Such was the nature of vampire politics, where true intentions yered beneath formal protocols.

  "When shall I depart, my lord?" Drachev inquired.

  "Two nights hence," Orlov decided. "Time enough to prepare appropriate documents and establish your diplomatic identity. You will travel with minimal entourage—three attendants, no more. Less conspicuous movement serves our purpose better."

  The audience concluded with precise ceremonial procedures—each advisor backing away in perfect order, the courier dismissed with appropriate compensation for his service, the chamber emptied according to hierarchical protocol. Only Count Drachev remained, summoned to approach the throne for private instruction.

  "Those territories have strayed from the true vampire ways since the faction divisions," Orlov stated once they were alone. "Now these strange lights appear in the night skies. Discover if they dabble in forbidden practices."

  "I understand, my lord." Drachev's voice carried the confidence of experience. "I will observe with appropriate caution."

  "Our ways have sustained vampire kind since the Evolution," Orlov continued, his voice hardening with conviction. "Deviation weakens us. If these phenomena come from northern corruption, we must know."

  The unspoken threat lingered in the air between them. Traditionalists had maintained territorial separation from progressive domains for generations, but policy could change if sufficient justification emerged.

  As dawn approached, Drachev departed to prepare for his diplomatic mission. Orlov returned to his private chambers, the courier's reports still occupying his thoughts. The unusual northern phenomena represented an information gap his medieval systems struggled to address—reports arrived weeks after events occurred, details filtered through multiple observers with varying reliability.

  Count Drachev would require months for his diplomatic journey—weeks to reach the border regions, additional weeks for observation and assessment, more weeks to return with his findings. By then, whatever occurred in the progressive territories would have evolved further, requiring additional information gathering.

  This information disadvantage—the inevitable consequence of his ideological rejection of technology—would have troubled a lesser vampire lord. Orlov, however, measured time by centuries rather than days. The dey was acceptable if it maintained what he viewed as vampire purity.

  As the first hint of daylight threatened the eastern horizon, Orlov completed his preparations for daily rest. The diplomatic mission represented an unusual concession to curiosity about progressive territories, but maintaining proper vampire tradition required understanding threats to its continuation.

  If the progressive Archdukes had indeed begun colboration that threatened traditional vampire values, appropriate response would follow. Not quickly, perhaps, by progressive standards—but with the methodical certainty that had defined traditionalist governance for centuries.

  Patience was, after all, the natural virtue of immortals.