A room is not quite as big as some in the main building, but still on the larger side. A king-sized bed right across the door is settled on an embroidered, fluffy rug. The parquet and all the other decorations made out of wood are giving this particular room a rustic feel.

It's a guests' room. There are other guests' rooms, smaller and not as nice as this one because this one's meant for special guests. And if I played my cards right, the little pixie thing draped over my arms will certainly become special. I have such nice plans for her, that it would be a waste if I had to get rid of her. Also, an old vampire such as she always comes with lots of knowledge, it just depends on how I use it.

A small magic circle softly flairs as I walk deeper into the room and to the bed. Shawna doesn't steer, nor do I expect of her to; her body's like a dead weight in my arms. It seems she has used too much of her power, too fast, and obviously isn't used to it. Not a good combination for a vampire.

The deep coffee rich color of her hair spills over a beige pillow when I set the unresponsive body down on a mattress.

I catch myself staring when I should be doing other, more important things.

As I turn to head back, a metallic glint catches my attention.

Would you look at that? A pen and a paper block. I can immediately feel my mouth stretching into a smirk. She'll have a nice surprise when she wakes up.

I make myself scarce after that. Jeremiah and Skip wait in the throne chamber,  their posture perfect and faces expressionless.

I pass the throne when Skip asks, "My Lord, are you going to settle in the office?"

Really, they insist so much on courtesy I'm going to feel annoyed when they stop. "Obviously," I answer without care and start opening the secret door that is imprinted with my own magic. The only people who can enter it besides me are my lieutenants.

The wall is smooth but my finger locks in the dent, a magical one, one not seen by the eye. In a flash of red and yellow, magic spreads in thick lines, hovering just above cladded bricks as it forms a magic circle. Ancient letters write themselves on the wall, a riddle unsolvable if one doesn't hold the knowledge of the key passage.

I pass through the portal, the metaphysical door which formed for me, Jeremiah and Skip on my tail, following like ducklings after mother duck. They are on the protection detail tonight while Asuka works on surveillance.

The office is just an office, with big shelves embedded into metaphysical walls of this magical room, a grand desk in the middle, and the projection of the throne from the main chamber just behind it.

Magic has always been my greatest strength, even when I was still human. It was also my downfall. Regardless, the sensation of pinprick presence, so familiar and at the same time so peculiar, feels just right. My magic, my power, encircles me and I feel safe.

This is my impenetrable castle. When everything else falls, it will keep standing. The only thing that could chip away its defense is my death. Even then, this room will exist, lost in interdimensional space and time, and will lessen in its strength, but it'll continue standing and chip away for years to come until nothing is left.

It's funny, though, how the witch who taught me this spell just walked over to my side and said that I'm the chosen one and that she will part with all the knowledge she has because I need it. I still have no clue who was that mysterious witch or why she taught me so well.

"My lord," Skip speaks. His pale face is unreadable, but I hear the questioning tone sneaking in. "What made you take her as a concubine?" The question is uttered respectfully, just plain curiosity, no hidden meaning in it.

I sit down on the projection and the walls of this small chamber form an opening so I can see the wall outside. Lucien's head looks nice with a metallic rod piercing right through it and holding it secured, the silver beam coming out its slightly opened mouth. A reminder of what happens to all who oppose me. I enjoy this view immensely.

"She is old and strong," I answer simply and then shift my eyes to my loyal followers. "We need that." We do need her. My standing is on shaky ground, a small earthquake and all will tumble. I need to play all my cards right or everything will be for naught.

"What he's asking, my Lord, is why her? There must be something we don't know." This time it's Jeremiah who speaks, his black eyes watching me carefully as if he expects me to lash out. Probably not exaggerated. I do tend to have a short fuse lately.

"I don't think she's an assassin, nor sent here to topple me," I answer their unvoiced questions because I know they meant it that way. "She's almost old as Lucien was and I believe I managed to decipher that record."

"Which record?" Skip frowns a bit but soon catches himself and straightens his expression out.

He's become like that ever since I decided to take on the city of Astoria. I'm not sure if I miss the happy-go attitude he used to have or I'm just going bonkers. I must have lost a few marbles from that power display if I'm mourning Skip's lost personality which used to annoy me to no ends.

I produce the said record from the desk drawer, one that's boggled our minds ever since we ransacked Lucien's place.

Lucien had been very thorough. Well, at least his minions were. He was just an oppressive tyrant sitting on the throne, his people did all the work. And what a work that was. All the vampires ever to set foot in Astoria had been recorded over the years. Quite a tedious job, but done superbly.

And the record in my hand shows it.

Day 7th 7th, year 3281 Post Rokorhow

A female vampire, brown hair, brown eyes, hundred and fifty-seven centimeters in height with a physique of a fighter, age unknown (presumed near millennia), no name/title given or extracted.

Meeting with the Lord; early evening.

Power display: full Awakening, pure magic on par with Royals, unstoppable.

No leads on identity.

The Lord withdrew after an exhaustive fight, with severe injuries.

Order: never to speak of her again.

Signed; Tora, First Lieutenant

"And we're just going to forgive her for invading Your territory?" Skip asks.

I'm sure he already forgot to play the part of a devoted servant. It's clear from the high note of his voice.

"Ah," I start meaningfully, a grin stretching my lips into something others find dangerous, but not Skip and Jeremiah. "But I think she had been here even before I took over."

Now both of them are staring at me like I lost my mind or something because all Lucien's minions had been accounted for immediately after I had disposed of him. Regardless of that fact, they should have more faith in their benevolent leader.

I drop the short file on the desk, turning it so they can read it. "Because this is her."

I can see the exact moment they recognize it in the way their eyebrows jump and twitch, then there's a pause before their magics do a somersault and it feels like a knife scratching over metal.

"You really mean... but that was 10 years ago. And sources said Lucien came back looking like he took a roll in a grinder, half of his precious hair gone."

"Yes," I intone with fervor. They shiver and I think it's my smile doing that to them.

We have hit the jackpot.