An hour later, the sun had already set on the domain of Blood Denegis.
The people bustling around all day inside the mansion or the city, already back at their homes, were resting and enjoying their free time with their families as much as possible.
It might be a while before they can do it again, after all.
The preparations were coming along nicely, and the army was assembling, with orders given to the Wardens before they left to spread the word of the High Monarch's death and contain the panic as much as possible, as he could not attend to that anymore.
A good day overall. For now, at least. The reason he could not do it, as well as the reason he was now panicking, were sitting on a few carriages, on their way here.
As word came in, the Noble Bloods were soon to be arriving. The coincidences of it all, stressing Blood Denegis, or at least those present, to no end.
For the Bloods were coming together, and from the same direction, which was beyond weird to them. As at least three of them were coming from different directions.
Nevertheless, there was no time for such worries or time to answer such questions. For there was a bigger one.
"Mera, my love, where in Vita's name is he?" asked Elion, as he sat in the main hall, not knowing where to place his hands anymore.
"I don't know dear, he's been gone for hours now," replied Mera, worry painted on her pretty face as she kept pacing the hall, "Do you think something might have happened to him?"
"Nonsense, mother," replied Valar, "he just entered the forest. And I taught him how to hunt, so I can assure you that nothing bad happened."
"In any case, we've sent people to look after him. Once they find him, they will drag him back, dress him nicely, and bring him here," replied Auren while sipping her tea.
"Let's hope so," Mera muttered.
Kael, Lune, and Sera stood silent while the others talked. Two worried, one angry. One could have guessed which was which.
Except, the angry one spoke before a guess could have been properly made.
"I swear to Vita and everything that sits above, if he ruins the night with his absence, I will kill this little brother of mine with my own two hands,"
"He swore, Sera, do not speak of your brother like that," defended Elion.
Swearing in the name of the Vita was sacred to the Noble Bloods. The scar left on the palm is a lasting reminder of the oath taken.
More than anything, it stood for Honor and the weight of one's word, or the shame that followed if it was broken.
"Yes, I agree," said Sera, not backing down, "however, the Noble Bloods could arrive at any moment, yet there has been no word of Blanc returning."
"Do you not think I know that already?" replied Elion, visibly angry, before quickly wiping it away as a knock came at the door.
"Enter," ordered Elion.
To all present in the main hall's disappointment, it was Drew. He and his family were still on and about, as they had to be present for the arrival of the Bloods.
"My Lords, Ladies. They are here."
As they stepped outside, they watched five carriages arrive at the mansion grounds, each more sophisticated than the last and bearing the sigils of different Noble Bloods.
From the first carriage, carrying the sigil of a faceless man came out the Patriarch of Blood Alvein, Renn Alvein.
He was tall and slim, with dark hair and even darker eyes that seemed almost black in the darkness, dressed in dark yet elegant clothing.
One thing was certain when watching him. No matter how hard one tried, one could never hear his steps.
From the second carriage, one pulled by large, red lizards and bearing the sigil of a fire-breathing drake, stepped the Matriarch of Blood Seraph, Fiamma Seraph.
A woman in her thirties, carrying herself with a beauty rivaling even the Matriarch of Blood Denegis.
Her flaming red hair flowed over clothes made from the finest silk and scales.
Most striking of all were the horns protruding from her forehead, a trait mirrored by the boy who stood beside her.
From the third carriage, the only one truly massive, pulled by two enormous rams and bearing the symbol of a mountain made of axes, emerged the Patriarch of Blood Tarba, Dalv-Varran Tarba.
A giant of a man, easily over seven feet tall, with a body as rough as his appearance.
He wore armor from head to toe, leaving only his face and piercing yellow eyes exposed to the world.
From the fourth carriage, pulled by ordinary horses, much like Blood Alvein's, and bearing the sigil of a leviathan, came the Patriarch of Blood An, Erol An.
A joyful old man, as he surveyed the gathering with a wide, warm smile that might have lightened the tension in the air.
If not for the left eye, which was, well, absent. Leaving a hollow spot where it should have been.
And from the fifth carriage, which was pulled by large white direwolves, and carrying the blood-stained sword, the symbol of Blood Maroux, came out its Patriarch, Lucien Maroux, one of the Crownbound.
A charming man in his middle years, he was clean-shaven, his face barely betraying the passage of time.
He was wearing a white militaristic outfit and a beautiful purple cape that, together, in the eyes of some of Blood Denegis, put the others' outfits to shame.
Next to him was Celine Maroux, his daughter and the one Blanc was supposed to marry.
She had wheat blonde hair, falling in soft waves around her shoulders as she came down the carriage.
And eyes of crystal blue so sharp and clear they almost seemed to catch the light of the moon above.
Her beauty was unmistakable, but it was the slight, knowing smile she wore that left the strongest impression on Blood Denegis.
They knew how to read people after all. She was even clothed in a modest dress of deep violet and silver, an effortless pride in her posture as she gazed at the hosts who received them.
"Blood Denegis welcomes all who arrived at this late hour to our aid," said Elion, as the family gave a quick bow to their guests and hopefully, allies. "Please, come inside, you must be famished after the long road."