The Dread of Damned

"My name is Sophia Sanguinary of House Sanguinary. I am here to represent my house in congratulating House Aestherisin for being blessed by the moon," she said smoothly. Her voice was professional, yet there was an undeniable slowness to it—a sensual undertone, deliberate and measured. Her violet eyes locked onto me, as if attempting to draw me in.

She was trying.

I inclined my head at her introduction, offering no more than necessary. Victor, ever the diplomat, welcomed her in my stead.

"We are here with a proposition," she continued, her tone shifting slightly.

At that, I noticed a flicker of change in the expressions of the other three representatives—subtle, but telling. This was not something they had planned together.

Sophia pressed on. "We would like to purchase enchanted armor from House Aestherisin."

A moment of silence followed.

Then, the man to her left stepped forward. "I am Draven Noctarin." His black eyes swept across the room, sharp and calculating. He carried himself like a man accustomed to the dark, someone who knew shadows well enough to feel when they shifted. His gaze lingered briefly, as if sensing something beyond his sight—perhaps the presence of the Astral Knights hidden in the dark. But he seemed unaware of what lured in the shadows.

Their house, after all, wielded power over shadows.

"I am Malrik Valeroth," said the next man, his piercing blue eyes cool and assessing. There was a certain impatience in the way he introduced himself, as if unwilling to let the others take control of the conversation.

"And I am Nyxara Mortivia," the last woman said, her tone measured. Yet, unlike the others, there was something in her red eyes—a hunger, an interest that fixated on me. She studied me with an intensity that spoke of more than just political negotiation.

My father, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "We welcome you all to the Grand House of Aestherisin."

A slight pause. Then, with characteristic directness, he asked, "I assume all of you seek our enchanted armor?"

"We would be honoured to form a partnership with House Aestherisin," Malrik said swiftly, cutting in before Sophia could respond.

"And so would we," she added smoothly, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. Draven and Nyxara followed suit with nods of agreement.

Victor, ever the strategist, smiled faintly. "As much as we would like to help the grand houses…"

Help.

While they had chosen the word partnership, Victor had made sure to set the terms straight. House Aestherisin was not their equal in this matter—it was the one with the upper hand.

The shift in the air was palpable. All for of them smiled politely. 

"But creating and enchanting armor requires both time and resources," Victor continued after a measured pause.

"Outfitting all four grand houses…" He let the words hang in the air, his tone quiet but deliberate.

"You might as well ask us to empty our armory and drain our coffers," Vicaris interjected with a scoff.

He was new to the council, and it showed. His words carried a sharp edge, lacking the careful diplomacy the others wielded. But perhaps that was intentional—if the representatives took offense, House Aestherisin could easily dismiss it as the bluntness of an inexperienced elder. A convenient misstep.

"Of course, we would not ask House Aestherisin to bear the burden alone," Draven said smoothly, his black eyes steady.

I studied him, noting the careful choice of words.

"Then I suppose," I mused, tilting my head slightly, "there is something in this for House Aestherisin to demonstrate its generosity?"

Draven's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps amusement, perhaps calculation.

"We will offer one hundred thousand Tide Coins to House Aestherisin in exchange for the armor," Malrik declared.

The room remained silent.

That amount was equivalent to one hundred thousand Aesther Coins, which in turn equaled five million Crescent Coins—a substantial offer. On paper, it should have been enticing.

And yet, no one spoke to accept the deal.

The silence stretched.

Then, Nyxara spoke. "We will offer blood."

Her voice was quieter than the others—controlled, almost hesitant. Compared to the other three, she seemed younger, less accustomed to leading negotiations. But there was something unsettling in the way her red eyes locked onto me, a slow smile curving her lips as she licked them deliberately.

"A contract," she continued, "stating that for a steady supply of armor from House Aestherisin, we will grant you the exclusive right to receive fresh blood from House Mortavia for the next one hundred and fifty years."

A stronger offer.

More than just money, it was stability—a guaranteed resource that could sustain House Aestherisin for a century at-least.

Right now, House Aestherisin controlled the distribution of blood across the territory. Within the Inner Circle, where the noble nocturnals resided, blood was almost an afterthought. But in the Outer Circle—where the lower-class vampires and converted ones lived—blood was a lifeline, a currency of survival.

If accepted, this deal would relieve the treasury of an immense burden. With a steady, free supply of blood, House Aestherisin could save hundreds of millions of Crescent Coins over the next century and a half—wealth that could be redirected into military expansion, magical research, or political maneuvering.

My father hummed, a thoughtful sound that filled the air with tension.

He was considering it.

And yet—still, no one accepted or rejected the deal.

The silence hung heavy.

Because now, it was time to see how much more the other houses were willing to offer.