"Yes... that much is true. You saved me."

"More like he saved us."

Both looked on to Vlos--who wiped the perspiration on his own brow--in gratitude, while all the rest did so with wonder or admiration.

"Indeed, Dista... or Grimm, whichever you prefer... you did recollect events such as that one very clearly."

"Why, it may not be an understatement if I say that was indeed one of the most defining nights in our clan's history, Cousin. If only you had allowed us perish, by now you'd well be Lord of Vladista, as is your birth-right."

"My own father did not clearly say I could inherit the mantle of this clan, Grimm, quite unlike yours. Thus all these years I have been, and will continue to be, one of Vladista's pillars--side by side with the Urdeans."

"A noble spirit, and one that you have not broken a bit," Marishka commented, "then again, Mother must have told you something to that end without our knowing? As the sole wife to two Lords of Hospodia in succession, and brothers at that, surely her words in that matter shall carry a great weight."

"Rishka, you must know that Mom was not of too complicated background. She was but a typical lady from the villages: loving, caring, but also down-to-earth. Being royalty did little to change that. Little wonder the two vampire lords, as well as the third right now, listen to her name with reverence."

"So that," Janus joined, "Mom had said absolutely nothing about your coming to the throne someday?"

"As sure as you both did not perish that night."

"Um... if you will pardon the interruption..." Brista hesitated, "this succession thing might be important and all, but let's not allow it to disturb the overall narrative. I had been curious to find out what happened after such an event; I am sure this feeling is shared by Reena and Rissa, as well."

"Very well then, Dragoness; let me relate to you the rest of this particular narrative."

[Flashback, spectator POV]

"Yeowch~~!!"

"Hang in there, son, we're getting this right. Just... breathe..."

"H-honestly though, t-this is a lot more painful than when you tended those sores, Mom..."

"I never said this wouldn't hurt! More, it'll be over a lot quicker if you just do less squirming. Now, ready?"

While Janus' twisted arm was being put to healing in another room, teen-Grimm was facing the controlled wrath of his father--and, fortunately, it was not on him that the venom fell the hardest.

"...This was the closest I would ever allow those bastards to get to our family, Grimm, know that. To think they managed to get within an inch of you at all, though... What where you thinking?!"

"I was accompanying Janus to the latrines, that's all, Father."

"That much I know, you little punk! What I wished to ask was why on earth did you not have any side-arms handy? Did Vlos teach you nothing, or were you too dumb to even be mindful of your backs?!"

"Such a precaution... seemed to have slipped my mind, that particular night."

"'Slipped', eh? A nice choice of words, indeed. See, if Janus hadn't been uttering his boyish whines right now, I might slip you through the stakes myself..."

Grimm knew better than to talk back in such situations with his parent. "Do forgive me, Father, for this ignorance."

"Forgive you?" A scoff. "Nice idea. The blood of their fallen calls for more, though; and I will take nothing less than that cursed coven's complete obliteration. Hear me?

"They say the pen is mightier than the sword; I say, we put that to the test. You prepare the army; I will send word of Dragulians' wretched betrayal. Leave the wordings to me. At the end of one week, you shall march our legions alongside any other banners that shall come to aid our cause, and do as you were bid. Good? Fine. Leave."

Thus it was that, at the expiration of one week, only the armies from the northern coven of Lycania (then under the supervision of Lord Balkir) showed up, with his daughter Princess Brista at their head. Together they and the Hospodians under Prince Grimm set out and razed--not without casualties--four fortresses in Dragulian's possession. Now comes the turn of their fifth, and last; while the operation itself transformed slowly into a siege, going well into a fourth month.

"Well, what now?" Grimm inquired. The two young leaders were conferring in Brista's field tent, in the companies of Farir and Vilkar, their respective aides. "Frontal assaults at this stage would mean suicide, and our provisions are thinning."

"You're the overall boss; decide," she teased, "or do you mean to tell me that the eldest son of the great Urdin had at last exhausted his designs?"

"Pretty much," came the reply. "The direct assaults to this date had been my idea, remember--and see, each had met great success."

"Those assaults that you're so proud of, amounted to just two; the rest, we took by surprise and wit. How is that to be termed 'great'?"

"Aha, you just did."

She colored. "That... was not meant to be a compliment, you dummy! Not to mention the present casualty rates... they're just crazy."

"Very well, let's try a lady's approach. Perhaps you're gonna break those walls with kisses? Or put your charms to one of the guards, say?"

"...You insane, or what?"

Were it not for the common understanding that their masters had been very close childhood friends, both aides would have restrained them for fear of exchanging unnecessary blows. Such fact would certainly not go down well with the men afield.

"We are deeply sorry to have to broach this, commanders," Vilkar interjected, "but at present we have no collaborators, real or potential, inside who might help crack open the walls; we have also witnessed their fierce devotion to fighting 'til the last drop of blood."

Brista tutted. "Fanatics."

"Indeed; but if we are to make any progress, those walls need to crack. Come on, Brista, rack your brain--they say women may succeed where men had faltered."

The Princess huffed. "If we cannot try an inside guile, do from the outside. Your ear, Grimm."

"...Huh?"

"Oh, don't 'huh?' me; you wanna hear my plans or not?"

The plan was delivered in whispers. The next midnight, Brista went into the hostile stronghold with seventeen picked men, opened its gates, and thus avenged the attempt on Grimm's and his brother's lives. True to Lord Urdin's wishes, a contender coven was wiped off the Vikrish map--never again to re-emerge in any imaginable shape or form. Another death would occur, and from that a marriage that would ensure Hospodia's future for the next hundred years.

[End of flashback]