No, I still don't own lok.
Introduction
None of the Sarafan generals so much as glanced up when Raziel walked in. Initially, there'd been massive complaints over the fact that Moebius wouldn't finance private rooms for each of the Sarafan Generals, when he had sprawling private apartments in the east wing of the fortress. After the fifth vampiric assassin, opinions had changed, and now they slept easier for hearing each other's breathing. If they wanted privacy, they went to their wives' rooms or ordered a lesser soldier to vacate his room for a few hours.
The room told a lot about its occupants. A chess set was gathering dust in a corner. They had played it incessantly a few years ago, but now they knew each other's styles too well, and any match they played would end in stalemate. There were also several packs of cards scattered around the room, and these were ragged with use. Rahab, Dumah, Zephon, Melchiah, and Malek were playing cards. Raziel sat down in Turel's recently vacated seat and picked up his hand, proceeding to almost manage to win the round, but Dumah eventually won out. Playing cards in this room was very educational to recruits. Sometimes the pillar guardians would sit in. And every single player was an experienced cheater. On one memorable occasion, when all players had been roaring drunk, the player's hands had became more and more extravagant, to the point where there was hands like Seven Lords. This was a remarkable achievement, considering a pack normally only had four lords. The game eventually had to be abandoned when a passing Sarafan soldier slipped in a cold deck. He was subsequently promoted to Knight, because men that clever were invaluable.
Another game started, but they quickly lost heart and gave up. They were all nervous. All along, there had been two reasons they hadn't been exterminated by the vampires. First, co-operation did not come naturally to vampires. In fact, the ideal world for a vampire is a world where all vampires more powerful than it are dead. Slaying powerful vampires one by one, the Sarafan had so far avoided contention. Secondly, vampires held humanity in contempt. They often disdained to fight human warriors except to feed.
But now, with only five Ancient Vampires still alive, the Sarafan had attracted notice. With five clans now allied, the vampires could now throw half the numbers of the Sarafan into the field. For vampires, those were good odds. Hopefully the pillar guardians would help tip the balance in favour of the Sarafan. And numbers were not the only improvement. Where, before, vampires would wander alone or in small groups, now they were acting in concert, hunting parties in groups of twenty or more. The vampires had realized they were being threatened, and finally, someone with a military mind was co-ordinating them. Five thousand vampires would attack the Sarafan keep within the next few days. As it was, only the brilliant military tactics of the Generals and Moebius had prevented obliteration.
Thirdly, Vampires had unusual minds. If you presented a vampire with a sixty foot oak door, bound in triple forged steel and magically reinforced, but gave him a reason to enter he would smash it down if it took years. But if you presented a vampire with a door made of spun glass, that was locked by means of a ridiculously complicated puzzle involving throwing huge blocks off cliffs and into slots in walls, the vampire would immediately attempt the puzzle instead of using a simple force projectile to destroy the door. It was now the law for every village to have at least one door locked by a puzzle, preferably a block puzzle. Often times the precious time it took the vampires to solve the puzzle was time in which the villagers could escape.
Throwing down their cards in disgust, they were about to disperse when a Sarafan soldier walked in and saluted.
"My Lords...Lord Dumah and Lord Malek are to report to Lord Moebius immediately."
"Thank you. You may go." Malek stood up and donned his helmet, Dumah only an instant behind. An unexpected summons at this time of day was seldom good news.