Author's note: thank you so much for your continued support, and your trust in me not turning this into a total devastating sh**show, and welcome a new beta reader on board :) You made it so far, you will be delighted to hear that next week's chapter is definitely the most positive chapter so far!
oh, and Master Shorty: I hope I understood your comment correctly and you were referring to my habit of starting new lines within a paragraph outside of dialogue, which I will try to avoid from now on. Thank you

Crombel I – South Korea, 25th October, 2:31

Whatever happened on the island of the werewolves, Dr. Crombel knew with absolute certainty that whatever the news, they would be good for him. When Muzaka left Korea in the direction of his old home, Crombel had assumed that the chaos the former Lord would stir up would also allow him to scout out the situation. Of course, Muzaka was useful to have on his side – but an opportunity to get his hands on some of the secrets of the werewolves? Crombel hated the idea of letting that opportunity slip. Yet the explosions and blasts and fluctuations of energy he'd sensed... The pilot had already warned that he did not know where and how to land, given that the fights seemed to be all over the place. Muzaka alone could not possibly have caused this much destruction alone. What happened there?

Thus, he was forced to return to Korea.

With an exhausted sigh, Crombel picked up the glass of whiskey he'd poured himself. "Aris. Yuri. Mark. Get a glass as well." He gestured at the bowl of ice cubes and the recently opened bottle. Yuri prepared three glasses, for him and his two comrades. Ah, his closest confidants. Crombel watched the three of them attentively. Heavy silence lingered. Of course, they were waiting to hear the news, though they must have guessed, by now, that nothing had gone according to plan. That was alright. Things rarely played out the way someone anticipated. The key was reacting accordingly.

Aris sat on a nearby chair, legs crossed daintily. She bounced her foot slightly as she sipped at her whiskey. The three of them waited for his word.

"We're probably going to hear from the werewolves soon, one way or another." Crombel doubted that the First Elder had started moving, which meant that the Nobles were the most likely candidates to have caused trouble on the island of werewolves. One party must suffer high losses. In the best case, it would be the werewolves – if his guess was correct, the werewolves would be easy prey in a weakened state. The more damage the different parties took in this game he played so diligently, the better for him.

One by one, the pieces would all come together, and Crombel intended to come out on top when all of this was over. He emptied out the glass and enjoyed the pleasant, warm sensation of the liquor making its way down his throat and settling in a cozy burn on the inside.

"Things are about to get really interesting. It's only a matter of days until we get to hear what happened... and how to proceed."

Juraki II – Werewolves Island, 25th October, 3:16

Some of the warriors did not even leave a body. They were gone without a trace. Others were found in scattered pieces. Tomorrow, their best hunters would comb through the forests and mountains to assess the damage and possibly find other survivors – or at least bodies to bury.

When Juraki and his search party reached the throne, surrounded by the smoking ruins of the once proud castle, he saw nothing but exhaustion and upset in the faces of his comrades. Was it right to allow the nobles to retreat, such as their Lord had guaranteed the noble woman? They had invaded without any reason and started killing their people – what for? Maybe this was angering Juraki more than anything. What did his comrades die for? Was there any point to the werewolf blood shed tonight?

Many of the injured warriors had insisted on staying here even though their bodies were a mess that needed time and rest to recover. Juraki crouched down next to Dorant who was sat against what was left of a wall. He looked tired.
"You and the others should be resting, not here," Juraki chided and Dorant merely shook his head in return.
"No. I want to hear what the Lord has to say about this. I want to know what will happen now."
Juraki knew what his friend actually meant. He knew what they all thought, in secret: when would they get an opportunity to avenge their fallen comrades? They might have their Lord now but that would not bring back the dead. Their deaths would not be honoured, either, if their murderers were allowed to leave just like that.

The noise of countless parallel conversations stopped at once when the Lord and Zaiga approached. Quietly, the warriors moved aside for the Lord and his right hand, opening a passage to the throne that stood untouched by the destruction all around them. Juraki noticed that the noble scientist was not here, though she had left with them.

Zaiga stopped in the front row while the Lord ascended the steps to the throne alone. Instead of sitting down, he merely ran his fingers over one of the armrests. No one dared speaking. "A sad day will dawn soon," the Lord said, quietly, and his voice was still heard by everyone. He turned around.

"I want to speak to all of you from the depths of my heart to the depths of yours. Though you might feel like you have failed your people tonight, your people, your comrades, your brothers and sisters, I see proud warriors. Proud warriors who pushed back a cowardly enemy who came in the dark. Not in thousands of years has an enemy dared to set foot on our holy lands, the home of our ancestors, the home of our children. Each and every one of you fought with courage, and the Moonmother smiles upon each of you with pride, for you live, and your will to fight for our people is unbroken.
Those of your comrades, brothers and sisters in spirit and heart, died as heroes, remember them as such! Their heroic sacrifice will not have been in vain. They will not be forgotten – and they will not be unavenged. We werewolves are armed against weakness and uncertainty. The blows and misfortunes of the war the Nobles wish to bring to us only gives us additional strength, firm resolve, and a spiritual and fighting will to overcome all difficulties and obstacles!

Tonight, the enemies of our people have revealed themselves! Yes, the same warriors who refused to accept the gift of power are the ones who sought to overthrow us all by cowardly trying to instigate a war with the nobles! I know some of you even wondered whether they might be right, in the darkest corners of your hearts. After tonight, no one shall doubt you anymore. Those who doubted our methods – have been proven wrong. Those who doubted our power – have been proven wrong. Those who doubted our devotion to our people – have been proven wrong. Any who can still say the heroic sacrifices of those who contributed to your power has been in vain wishes to see these lands conquered under foreign rule. Any who can look you in the eye and doubt your devotion to the werewolf people wishes to see you slain like your comrades tonight. Any who still doubts our ways – is an enemy!"

Juraki bristled. He'd never seen the Lord in such a state of excitement before, and it was contagious. He could feel it, his comrades around him, and he, too, could feel it in his heart, anger, and a thirst for revenge. Though the sacrifices of their own people were a bitter pill to swallow... tonight, they all had seen that they were necessary.

"We will weed out the traitors among our own people and tear out the evil they sow in our hearts: doubt and dissent! Have no mercy on any of these treacherous enemies, they will have none for you! Tell me, can the werewolf people still put their trust and their faith in you?"

Some answered with howls of excitement and rage.

"Tell me, will each warrior that died tonight be avenged tenfold?! Will you continue to serve with pride, honour and an iron determination to do whatever it takes to further the glory of your people?!"

They cheered, for he said what they wanted to hear.

"Mourn the dead, heal the wounded, and then rise, rise once more, with your head held high and fire in your hearts! Grow stronger, so strong that the earth quakes with each step! Grow powerful, so powerful that the mountains themselves move out of your way! Be the storm that tears down the castles and temples of the enemy! You are the future, the pride, the power of our people! You are True Warriors, and after today, no one will ever doubt the strength of our people again – not tomorrow, and not in a thousand years!"

And the night came alive with their ecstatic, blissful rage.

Gejutel I – Lukedonia, 27th October, 15:23

No one is infallible, not even the Lord. This old wisdom rang truer than ever in Gejutel's mind as he paced up and down before the empty throne. Claudia and Ludis had gone out, patrolling the coasts as they awaited the return of the Lord. This was a disaster - he had failed his duty as advisor to the Lord, still young, emotional, and the wounds of the past months still sat deep. Yes, Gejutel had failed her – the Lord had not even shared her intentions with him, had not sought counsel, but left Lukedonia with two clan leaders. Given the power of the werewolves, Gejutel would not even have advised invading their territory with the combined strength of the clan leaders – there was no point in waking a sleeping lion, such as some humans would say.

Or might the Lord be right? Warriors had accompanied the traitor clan leaders – were they acting on their own, or on behalf of Maduke? Gejutel was well aware of the close friendship between the old leader of the Tradio Clan and the werewolf Lord, dating back to the era before the traitors had made their move on Ser Raizel's life. In that case, the war might very well have been inevitable – regardless of who started it.

He was an advisor, an old clan leader who offered his long experience to the Lord – he was not entitled to voice his opinion and be heard. If the Lord did not wish to consult him before making a decision, this was a call he must accept, acknowledge and support regardless of his personal feelings.

This has been going on for three days already, and with each passing hour, Gejutel felt as though he was growing older and older. When the time came, at last, his heart sunk. Ser Raizel and Rosaria led the group of the returned clan leaders and a single glance at their faces filled Gejutel with a fear he had not even known when he was certain that the traitors invading Lukedonia would be his end.

"Where is the Lord?" His question was answered with silence. Raizel. Rosaria and Kei. Rael and Karias. Seira and Regis. Tao and Takeo. Claudia and Ludis, who accompanied them here. A redhead werewolf woman he did not recognize. The Lord was not with them. Gejutel looked at weary, tired, hopeless faces. "The Lord – was she..."

"She surrendered in a duel and was taken prisoner," Rosaria said before he could finish his question, and for once, he did not mind this rude interruption. He had not wanted to ask whether the Lord had fallen in battle. The mere thought... Slowly, Gejutel turned his head to look at the empty throne. The invasion by the traitor nobles felt like nothing in comparison to this. The Lord...

In silence, he took in what happened – the almost-defeat of the clan leaders and the duel of Lords, the death of Muzaka and the disappearance of Frankenstein and M-21, the werewolf chimera and Raizel's worsening state. None of this was real, he thought, even though Gejutel knew exactly that this nightmare was the truth. The Noblesse was fading away before their eyes and Frankenstein, easily powerful enough to overwhelm most of the current clan leaders, was gone. And the Lord... was in the hands of the enemy.

Slowly, Gejutel turned away from the clan leaders and approached the throne instead. Empty, like his mind. Now, of all times, he should be able to think clearly, and precisely. What would become of them without leadership? The throne of the Lord could not be left empty, there must always be one. He knew that most of those present would probably agree if he were to step up and claim this burden and honour himself, to sit as the Lord's steward until she was set free and could return to her rightful throne. This was not the rightful way of things, though.

"Ser Raizel. I understand that what I ask of you does not come lightly to you, but our people always need one to lead them. You are the sole heir acknowledged by a Lord."
"Is this the first thing you think of?!", Rosaria asked, overwhelmed by the power of her own emotions. "Our Lord is in the hands of the enemy and you think of who to put in her place?!"
"Someone must lead, until the Lord returns," he replied firmly, turning around to the younger Clan Leaders.
"I refuse," Raizel said softly, his voice barely audible despite the nervous, tense silence in the throne room. Gejutel had feared that he would say that.
"Dark days are ahead for us, Ser Raizel. Our people need hope, someone to lead them, someone legitimate. I know that it is not little I ask of you, yet it is something necessary."

With a heavy sigh, Raizel acquiesced and approached the throne. His soft steps made no sound on the marble floor. He stopped next to the throne and, gently, placed his hand against an armrest.

"Until the day the Lord is free, I will lead, to the best of my abilities."
They did not kneel, and he did not sit.