Author's note:Welcome back, thank you for reading. Yes, a Bomus chapter on a thursday, in which Maduke has a lazy morning with Ignes before almost having a heartfelt conversation with his old best friend.
Regarding the update schedule, I am quite busy right now, and a regular chapter of ReN takes more energy and time than I currently have to keep up weekly. If anyone has any opinion on whether keeping the weekly chapters to one narrative plot point like this, essentially shortening the chapters and drawing out the total chapter number, is better than updating every other week, I'd be really grateful to hear preferences!

Maduke: Power - Werewolf Island, 11th November, 10:30

No one could have everything. Not even the Lord. This was one of the few cold, harsh truths of reality not even Maduke could deny (or fight). He felt old and worn, and the scent of his sweat and Ignes' blood hung heavy in the air of the bedroom. Everything was a battle to their people, someone once said, and he wondered whether they might have been right. Politics, war, love. In the end, it was all about power. Without doubt, no one had more power than him, the Lord. When he shifted to pull Ignes closer against his chest, he felt like lamenting his own emptiness. Like King Midas, all he touched turned to cold, hard gold and left him wanting and empty.

Her body was warm, finely defined muscles tensing under his fingertips. His hatred for her was more exquisite than any other poison he could possibly choose – except this poison had chosen him. She was not the most beautiful of nobles, and lacked the dignified composure of many of them. If he could choose his poison, he'd have chosen another. Like a witch, she must have cast a spell on him, and like the sorcerer's apprentice, she could not control the fire she had set.

"I want to go," she said, quietly, and his first instinct was to tighten his grip on her. When he tensed, she did the same, and did not relax when he decided that he had wasted enough time here already. Reluctantly, Maduke released her from his grip and watched her rise. She ran her hand over the side of her neck, dried blood smeared over the bite marks he'd left. If only she did not heal so fast. Bruises and scratches, bites and cuts, her ivory skin made a beautiful canvas for red, blue and purple.

Ignes was silent as she got dressed. Of course she had nothing to say to him. In fact, she even avoided him entirely when it was not something related to her continued work. Progress was like an eternal wheel, it never stopped. You just must stay on top of it.

"What are you doing today?" His question was a sincere one –he knew that she did not have anything scheduled until the early afternoon, when she was supposed to meet the young scientists who have been chosen to become her apprentices. He could not let her keep this monopoly of knowledge and skill, after all. Never let anyone become irreplaceable.

"I meant to visit the Lo-" Ignes glanced at him and stopped mid-sentence. "Raskreia. I meant to visit Raskreia," she corrected herself, mindful of who was her Lord now.

He briefly considered whether to reprimand her lack of respect for a foreign dignitary or praise her for her awareness of who she owed her allegiance now. Chiding her was always more fun but he felt too merciful for that – not that he felt generous enough to offer his praise for something that should come natural to her. She had finished getting dressed by the time he decided he might as well keep silence now.

When she turned around to head for the door, he almost told her to come back. Did he hate her, or did he hate the way she made him feel? Indeed, any feeling at all was a terrible thing – he could live with the vague disgust and annoyance most people brought out of him, but the red-hot ire he felt when he saw Lunark or thought of Muzaka? Unbearable. Whatever he felt when he was with Ignes, he did not like it. To kill her would be better. If only he could bring himself to do it.

The door closed behind her and he was just as alone as he was before, when he still had her in his arms. Maduke knew that he should kill her while he still could – such things rarely got better on their own. Oh no, he knew himself well enough. Once he started, who's to say when he would stop?

Indifference was the best state of being. Maybe this was the secret of this 'God' humans always cried out to. Indifferent. Distant. Uncaring. With a sigh, Maduke got up as well and reached for the clothing he'd laid out neatly the evening before. There was no point in wasting his time here, wondering about theology and philosophy. Not when he had actual affairs to attend to.

The emails of the week waited for him on his desk already, printed out and sorted by an assistant of his. Maduke sat behind the large ebony desk and tossed aside the folder labelled 'spam'. There were more and more of those each week. He might look at them if he found himself particularly bored. For some reason, he received more of those with each passing year. The 12th Elder merely had laughed when he'd once inquired about all those african royals in distress, and Maduke had not brought it up to anyone ever since.

For two hours, he skimmed over several of these 'mails' he received form his various contacts within the union and their associates. Most of them were of no interest to him, especially not now. The Union was a sinking ship, even if their affiliates did not realize it yet. The remaining three human Elders could not possibly keep it all together, and he most definitely would not help them. Now that he had their best scientist, the Union had nothing to offer anymore.

Maduke has been staring blankly at a mail from a contact in the Saudi government for twenty minutes when the emptiness in his mind was interrupted by a knock at the door. A few seconds later, a second knock. Only one person was bold enough to knock twice. "Enter."

Zaiga stepped in and closed the door behind him quietly. Another person he would need to get rid of, eventually. For now, his old friend was contained. No matter what Zaiga would try to accuse him of – he was just as guilty as his Lord. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Patiently, the older warrior waited until he was given permission to speak – and Maduke pretended he was still reading this email he has been staring at for twenty minutes without actually reading. One must look respectably busy, after all. Deciding that he had made him wait for an appropriate amount of time, he closed the folder and looked up. "What is it?"

"I have been thinking about Gaura," he said and Maduke tensed. No. He had half a mind to tell Zaiga to shut up and leave and never bring her up again. As far as he knew, not even their best trackers could find any trace of her beyond the site of a massive magic detonation – the noble had not even left a body they could possibly bury. He swallowed dryly and gestured for Zaiga to sit down in one of the two armchairs.

Zaiga sat down and ran his hand over his neatly braided beard. He'd used black ribbons, instead of the usual brown ones. Did he mourn? After a moment of uncomfortable hesitation, Maduke got up and sat on the other armchair. It has been a while since the last time they had sat like that. Not as Lord and subordinate Warrior… but as old friends.

"You should not have sent her out alone," Maduke chided. If Zaiga wanted to reopen old wounds by talking about her, he would do the same and pour salt into the open wound.
"She was strong. I thought she alone would be enough to handle whoever was causing trouble."

There is a reason we always send out people in groups, he thought, but he knew that Zaiga would have had his reasons. More importantly… he should not care enough about a single newly initiated warrior to question the decisions of his second-in-command.

"… You know, she was like a daughter to me," Zaiga confessed and for a brief moment, he showed himself sincere in a way he has not been for centuries. "She might be yours by blood, but I was the one who made sure she was being raised well by the orphanage. I was the one who watched her grow."
"So what?" Maduke felt himself growing restless, annoyed and empty. He did not want to hear any of this.

Zaiga stared at him and whatever moment of shared grief might have connected them was gone now. All the things they had to say hung between them and made the air heavy and stuffy. Their pride did not permit them to be honest. Neither was willing to show vulnerability.

"You can have that red-head noble witch that did it," Maduke offered after a few moments, and Zaiga nodded. This would not undo what happened… but vengeance was the least they could do.
"That's what I wanted to hear," Zaiga said and he sounded hollow. They had buried so many bodies together, both metaphorically and literally, to dig out even one of them would be dangerous.

"You can go now," Maduke said and waited for Zaiga to leave. His mind was empty. Deep down inside, he knew that this sentiment was called 'guilt'. No. Something much worse. Regret. A terrifying feeling that made him nauseous.

It was inevitable, he supposed. Gaura... was a mistake. He never should have given in to the temptation of using Garda for more than just the experiments that were supposed to advance their people. There were many things he never should have done. He never should have given in to many of the dark impulses he succumbed to. The call of power was a siren song he could not resist. He had felt powerful when he got rid of anyone who would oppose him taking the vacant threne. He'd felt powerful when he made Garda give birth to his children. He'd felt powerful when he made sure Ignes knew who was calling the shots here. He'd felt powerful when he told Muzaka the truth. He'd felt powerful when he graciously allowed the nobles to retreat. He'd felt powerful when he presented Lunark with the severed head of her best friend. Power... truly did the most interesting things to you.

With a sigh of frustration, he got up and rubbed his temples. Fatherhood was such a particular thing, Maduke thought. The undying love of a father had ruined many men – be it someone mindless like Muzaka or someone level-headed like Roctis, they all turned into fools who would ruin themselves for the sake of the children they had put into this world.

He should go and pay the noble Lord a visit as well.

Author's note 2: Yes. Yes I absolutely imply that Maduke prints out his emails and fell for the nigerian prince scam. And yes, I absolutely implied Maduke had at least one child with Garda during her imprisonment.