Author's note: As always, thank you for reading! I am very happy that people are actually interested in this, and I hope I will be able to maintain your interest!
All I have to say about this chapter is: I cannot believe Rai talks more than Maduke.

Claudia I – Lukedonia, 6th November, 10:15

Each task had its own time. In the morning, when fine drops of dew still clung to the grass and fog pooled in the valleys, Claudia must feed the animals in her care. Abandoned fawns and birds with broken wings and other creatures, small and large, young and old. Not a single soul would be left behind, though some might ridicule her deep compassion even for the basest of creatures. By the time she had finished feeding the animals, the sun had risen. At the beginning of the month of November, most of the tasks in preparation for winter and the coming spring have been done already.

After a cup of tea, Claudia would head for the lower laboratories and check up on the herbs and flowers she had bundled and hung up to dry. The winter was likely to be harsher than usual, and she must make sure the catacombs remained dry, and not too cold. Letting her stocks run low in the coming year would not do.

For now, however, she enjoyed the quaint peace in the winter garden that has been added to the north wing of the manor a couple of decades before her father left Lukedonia. Diligently, she had cared for it the same way she had cared for everything else, and she had grown to cherish the quiet peace she found among the many plants she kept here during the winter months. Claudia mused on moving some of last year's rose bushes inside as well when one of the domestic servants of the clan interrupted her thoughts with a polite knock against the frame of the door. "Ser Claudia. Ser Karias has come to visit you."

Bowing slightly, the elderly man stepped aside to let Karias enter. His smile was always a welcome sight for sore eyes. He had several branches of cedar with him. Arborvitae. Everlasting friendship. With a smile, she accepted the branches, a symbolic gesture from his part, and placed them on the small, round table next to her tea. "Would you like some tea as well?", she asked, and Karias shook his head. Ah, ever polite. Claudia watched him sit down.

"How are you holding up?", he asked, and for one moment, the facade of light-weight easiness did not hide the deep worry he held. Of course, how could he not?
"The same as all of us. In whatever way I can." The Lord... was she wrong to feel no fear? Deep down inside, Claudia was comforted by a vague certainty that everything would be alright, even though she could not tell how.

"I am here because there's something you should probably know. We sort of forgot about this, with everything going on... so I am going to tell you straight away. Ignes is allied with the werewolves."

Claudia almost dropped her cup, taken by deep surprise. Ignes... was still alive? When her father had returned to Lukedonia... she always imagined her best friend would come with him, too. Yet Ignes was nowhere to be seen when Lagus returned … She had feared the worst. Nervously, she set down the cup. She should not show excitement, this was a dire situation. Ignes was alive, yes, but she was with the enemy now.

Karias' facial expression hardened slightly. "I know that she was your best friend, but she picked her side... I just wanted you to know."
A shaky sigh. How cruel fate could be. Would she rather not know that Ignes was still alive at all? Would she rather be left in the dark, believing that her best friend had died with everyone thinking of her as the monster she was not? If only they knew what she knew...

"Thank you," Claudia said after a few moments had passed. If there was a chance to save Ignes, she would find it. Ignes and the Lord both.

Garda I– Lukedonia, 6th November, 14:30

The Clan Leaders would gatheer in the throne room of the Lord once more, as though it would bring her back. Garda wondered whether their people would do the same for their Lord – and she remembered the way most warriors had accepted Maduke as the new Lord after Muzaka disappeared. Barely anyone had questioned him at all. Now...

Even though Raizel had invited her to join them, she felt like an intruder. However, she had not wanted to stay alone in his mansion, either, and so, she had joined him and the other clan leaders. Silently, they gathered before the Lord's orphaned throne. Garda recognized Ser Karias, who had taken her away from the waking nightmare that reigned her old homeland now, and she recognized Ser Claudia, who took care of her. Other Clan leaders she recognized from sight, for they all took turns visiting Ser Raizel, but she did not know their names.

When they all knelt before the empty throne, Garda did the same, even though she did not know the Lord for whose safe return they all hoped. As if putting all their minds and hearts into a single, overwhelmingly strong wish might make it come true. No. Garda was a guest here, and she had no right to judge them and what little hope they had left. Unlike her, they still had hope at least. That hope, as faint as it may be, was sacred and precious, for without it, they might as well surrender to the monster who called himself Lord of Werewolves.

Without hope, there was no reason to to gather and think of the ones they lost, for they would join them soon. Without hope, there was no more light left to guide them out of these dark days. If the nobles could still have hope... then Garda would cling to that, too.

After almost an hour of silence, Raizel stood up, and Garda followed him. He looked so... sad. So incredibly sad. Garda wondered whether she had ever seen anyone with such a profound, heartbreaking sadness in their eyes. She was no fool, and knew how much he had lost on a single day. She remembered Frankenstein well. More often than not, she had wished Lord Muzaka would acknowledge her the way Ser Raizel acknowledged Frankenstein. A loyal companion... until the end. Now... now it was all too late and she felt sick at the mere thought of it.

Only after passing the same group of trees a third time did she raise her voice. "Ser Raizel... are you... going back to the manor?"

She barely left his estate, but she had gained a vague understanding of the immediate surroundings at least. This group of trees, they definitely had passed more than once. Raizel stopped and looked around thoughtfully.

"I am lost."
Garda glanced down at his hand for a moment. "I think we all are," she mumbled, even though she knew what he meant. Could it be... that the Noblesse had trouble with orientation? "I think we should try to go... west." Orientation by day was harder than at night – any werewolf knew the stars in the sky as well as the palm of their hand, but by daylight? Everything looked vaguely the same. Still... after erring through the lush woods surrounding Raizel's manor, they reached their destination. Silence met them when Raizel stepped through the door. His steps sounded unnaturally loud against the marble floor of the dark entrance hall. This place felt so... abandoned. She had preferred the constant noise of the two modified humans shuffling about. It had felt... comforting, in a way.

Now, nothing but silence was left in this manor. Raizel returned to his usual position by the window. Garda watched him from the door frame. He sat in his armchair and stared through that small window. What did he see? Did he see anything at all? Maybe he did not sit there to see anything. Garda could understand. She, too, did not know what to do but to sit. Did her presence bother him? Did it offer him some comfort? She wished she could comfort him, ease some of his pain even though her own soul was nothing but a bloody mess of broken shards. Would they ever be whole again? If this Frankenstein meant as much to him as Muzaka had meant to her... she knew the answer and did not want to think about it.

When Raizel did not respond to her presence, she stepped closer, into the light that fell through the tall windows.

"I know what you did for me," she said softly, daring to breach the silence after a couple of minutes had passed. It was easy to be silent around Raizel… but sometimes, the silence was unbearable. What did he think? What was going on in his mind? She wished to understand. "I… I think I wish you had not done that. My life … I'd have traded it gladly for Muzaka… and my people."
Raizel turned his head just enough to look at her and looking at the solemn expression in his eyes, she felt as though she'd uttered most atrocious blasphemies just seconds ago. Without Raizel there… without the distraction… Muzaka would not have sacrificed himself. Her life… her broken, wasted, ruined life for the life and hope of an entire people.

Garda always knew that sooner or later, everyone must die. Wasn't it luxurious, to choose how to die? To die standing proud and tall, for a good reason. For a cause, for an idea… for someone you cherished. Was this the choice Muzaka had made? But oh, she wished he did not have.

"I could not let him kill you," Raizel said after the silence had almost turned into unbearable emptiness. Garda exhaled shakily. "I had to do this."

Yes, he might have saved someone his friend had cared about… and just lost him moments later. Could it have been worth it? Better a Muzaka full of grief and guilt than a dead Muzaka. Garda did not voice that thought aloud and hoped Raizel would not guess. How dare she, really, squander his sacrifice like that? Why did she feel no gratitude towards either of them?

In the aftermath of the past eight hundred years, nothing but death remained in her mind. Maduke had left burnt soil and scattered salt over it to make sure nothing good or worthy would ever grow there. Such a broken life could not be worth it.

"You must not blame yourself," Raizel said as though he could guess what she was thinking of. Garda blushed and looked away. Muzaka… blind faith and admiration had turned into bitterness and hate. In the darkness of Maduke's dungeons, all that was good and pure would rot and wither. With nothing else to believe in, she'd believed in his words, in the end. Garda felt sick for falling for that sweet venom of righteous anger and vengeance that dripped from his serpentine tongue with each word he spoke.

"… I just wish…," she started, helpless, and Raizel nodded. There was no need to finish what she had meant to say. So many things could have gone differently. So many things had gone wrong, it almost felt as though they never have been right in the first place.
"Without the Lord's orders... I would have made a different choice," Raizel admitted and his confession caught Garda by surprise "My life…is but a small price to pay."

Garda could not argue him, not when she had thought the same thing just a minute ago. The nobles respected him. They trusted him, and followed him when there was no one else to lead them. Yet even he doubted the worth of his own life. Who was Garda, then, to wonder about the value of her own? Her life was nothing but the fleeting shadow of the proud warrior she once was, after all.

"I don't know about you… but I… I don't have hope," she admitted. She was broken, she was bent, she was none of any of the things she ever had stood for or believed in. "I only have vengeance. Lord Muzaka and your friend Frankenstein… if I cannot live for a better tomorrow… I want to live long enough to see them avenged."

Raizel looked away and Garda feared she might have offended him with her words. Was it wrong to bring up Frankenstein? Was it wrong to almost admit defeat when he and his people were struggling with the overwhelming fear of such an uncertain future in the shadows of such an enemy?

Raizel finally turned his head back to her again.

"Our blood will not bring back the dead… but if it will buy those who remain a better tomorrow… I will be happy to bleed."

Maduke III – Werewolf Island, 6th November, 21:00

A Lord must be powerful, to maintain his claim on the throne by the ancient rights. A Lord must be patient, to wait for the right moment to make a move. A Lord must be level-headed, to make rational decisions free of emotion and sentimentality. A Lord must be severe, with others as much as with himself. A Lord must be wise, he must learn of the mistakes of his predecessors and avoid them, and long may be his reign. When Maduke told Zaiga to bring Lunark and Ignes to him, he knew he was not being wise. When he offered Ignes the opportunity to apologize and regain his favour, he was not being wise. When he told Gayare to bring Ignes to him once again – the pattern was obvious.

He should have let the modified human take her, or maybe dig his claws deeper to finish her himself. He should have left her in the dungeons with her Lord, or maybe he should have given in to his ferocious desires and ended her life in the most twisted, indulgent ways he could think of. Maybe he should have refused to accept the apology he had written up for her to memorize and recite aloud and let everyone know no one would get away with undermining his authority. Maybe he should just let her be and let her continue her research. He should stay away. He knew he should. Even now, as his heightened senses had picked up on the sound of footsteps in the hallway, he wondered whether he should think of an excuse, a topic to discuss, anything, and then send her away for the sake of what was left of his own sanity.

Maduke always had dreaded the day he would want someone past the point of reason.

The Lord did not react to the polite knock against the door. Maybe Gayare would do the right thing and just bring Ignes back to the room assigned to her and leave him alone. Alas, of course, none of his warriors could be trusted to do anything but follow orders blindly. He exhaled slowly when the door was opened. With soft taps against the floor, Ignes entered first, followed by the warrior who had the task of bringing her to his private quarters. With a polite 'Lord', he excused himself, and left.

With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his temples. Like most nobles, Ignes' scent was barely remarkable from several feet away. Awkwardly, she stood next to the closed door while he remained sat in the armchair. He could feel her crimson eyes fixating him and, after a few more moments, he finally turned his head to look at her. His slip of self-control down in the laboratories has been bad enough already. Still, against his better judgement, he beckoned for Ignes to step closer, and she did. She was afraid of him. Even though she tried to hide it, he could see it, he could feel it. When she had approached enough, he reached out for her hands and pulled her in closer until she stood right in front of him. Ignes did not resist when he placed a hand against her waist. Neither did she resist when he reached up to open the first three buttons of the dress he'd made her wear earlier today. Something dignified for her return to his court. Dignified she had looked, though now that it was just the two of them... He popped the buttons with his index- and middle fingers down to the navel, eyes fixated on the soft, white skin he revealed.

Fierce and feisty, that's how he liked her. A bratty angel with a black halo. This was not what he wanted. When she had touched him during medical examinations, she had done so boldly, and without fear. No man could resist that. This silent, reluctant submission... He reached up and brushed the black fabric over her shoulders and watched it all come down. When he pulled her in to sit on his knee, she tensed. "I know I've hurt you," he muttered, leaning his forehead against hers for a moment. Ignes did not react, and he pressed his mouth against hers. Soft, warm lips that did not react to his touch. "I'll be gentler with you this time." It was alright, he told himself. She would break, she would yield. He kissed her harder, as though that might get her to cut back on the reluctance.
"It always hurts at first," he insisted, even though they both knew that this was not true. Nothing he could say would change the damage he'd caused when he lost control.

As if Ignes was as weightless as the petal of a single flower, he picked her up and carried her through the doorway into the bedroom.
"I won't hurt you again, I promise," he whispered against her ear.
He lied.