They sat around an oblong table about two feet apart. They were cloaked and their hands were gloved in black leather. To Alex, it looked as if they were weak, afraid of everyone and everything and he felt he could intimidate them. It was a very strange sensation.

“Truly arrogant to think so,” said Julius, scanning through the boy’s thoughts.

“There is great anxiety in you, I sense,” said Lord Augustus. “You have fear, anger, confusion, and hate.”

“You do not need any of these,” continued Lord Tiberius.

“All you need is obedience,” said Lord Otho.

Alex turned his head to the voices and looked at them angrily, trying to intimidate them.

“You would make a fine ally, I’m sure,” said Julius slowly, putting weight behind each word, “You are powerful. Yes! I sense much strength in you, but you are on the wrong side.”

“Do you know who you are?” spoke Lord Claudius.

“Yes,” Alex said plainly. He added, “Your enemy.” This brought about evil cackles from the Twelve.

The laughter died down. There was a long hard moment. “You have made yourself that, young Falsifier,” continued Claudius, laying a heavy ruthless emphasis on the last word.

“What do you mean by that?” Alex asked.

Vitellius said with scorn, “You think such a man as you can bring down an Empire that has been standing for two hundred thousand years.”

“Christ did it with the Roman Empire,” Alex said.

An awkward silence arose once again, this time much longer. Alex sensed their nervousness.

The Twelve were irritated. The only way to learn the secrets of the Regnum from Alex would be through sincerity, kindness and good intentions, characteristics which none of them had.

“You may leave,” Julius said quickly. The fires extinguished, leaving Alex groping around blindly in the dark. But then suddenly the double-doors opened and he saw Daniel and Nikolas waiting for him patiently.

As he stepped out of the threshold, the doors slammed shut.

“So?” Nikolas asked.

“Nothing at all.” Alex shook his head, “It was pointless, I guess.”

“Well, have they told us to come in?” asked Daniel.

“Nope. They just told me to leave.”

The doors opened once more and Nikolas and Daniel entered, while Alex looked at the guards, and wondered what was coming next.

Out of respect for the Twelve, Nikolas and Daniel walked with their heads bowed. Then they prostrated themselves before the Twelve. The fire roared up again and the Twelve looked down at them. Domitian asked Daniel, “What is the enemy doing here?”

“He, my lords,” Daniel said, smiling at Nikolas, “is no longer an enemy, as aren’t the other Rebels.”

“How can we be so sure?” asked Julius. “After all, even till the last day our king trusted him, but he played a double-game all along. Surely,” he said, a bitter irony in his voice, “you know this.”

Daniel’s face flushed. “Yes, I know.”

Nikolas spoke, his voice firm and steady, “My masters, I beg you to give us one last chance. Since the Last Battle we have been nothing but guinea pigs for you. But now we are fully ready, instead of being forced, to serve Lord Anaxagoras. If you allow it, I will get what information I can from the Falsifier, without any interference or surveillance. He knows of the Regnum and its plans. I will comfort him and since he is already in my trust, he will be easily manipulated into spilling the secrets of our enemies. Please, if you don’t believe me, let me tell you something no one knows.”

“And what that might be,” asked Julius, leaning forward.

“He is the son of Aidan and the grandson of Anaxagoras,” he said simply, with a blank face. “He is born of a human and has the blood of both races. That...” Nick paused for effect, “is why he is called what he is. I have earned your trust once before. I went to the Land of the Eight Kings, and didn’t try to escape.”

Tiberius laughed. “Escape is impossible.”

“Nevertheless,” Otho said, “we will look into the matter. For now, because of your son, you will remain free to do as you please as will all the other Rebels. If the blood analysis proves what you say, you shall be trusted. Leave us.”

Nikolas backed away, bowing before turning to leave.

Daniel remained there. As the door shut, Cassius said in more relaxed tone, “Now, Daniel. What is this turn of events? Did you know of this?”

“Yes, I did. My father told me before this meeting.”

“I don’t sense any danger,” said Tiberius.

“Nor do I,” said Vespasian.

“We must be cautious, nonetheless,” added Nero.

“And what about the projects? Shall we continue?”

“As promised, yes,” said Julius, “And now is the time to send the ultimatum. We know now, as we have always known, that they have weapons. Send it immediately.”

“How long should I give them?” Daniel asked.

“Twelve hours.”

*****

John timed himself as he planned the words of his speech. He was no longer nervous and sensed things would be in his control. He knew everything would go according to plan, provided he received the ultimatum. He had his frequency set to the vampires’. This special connection was established for diplomatic situations such as these. He knew however, this incoming message would be a cry for blood and war. He stared at the empty, black screen on his wall. He checked the clock in the office and the watch on his wrist: they both showed 8:25. Kurt would be coming in five minutes, which gave him enough time to prepare for his speech.

The office was filled with old war relics, which John loved collecting. Some he had bought at auctions and exhibitions before the Coming of the Vampires. Life was good then. Politics were sensible. There was no constantly changing government like there had been in these twenty one years. A white marble bust of Napoleon, John’s favorite general, sat on the coffee table watching his every move. Two comfortable leather chairs were placed near a large fireplace opposite a library full of books about war strategies. The collection also included classics by Dickens, Dumas, Bronte, Hugo, and Shakespearean plays, of which John was a huge reader and adorer. His desk stretched almost twelve feet long, carved out of the trunk of an oak tree and varnished with a dark reddish-brown lacquer. A pile of cluttered files lay on it along with a computer and many books bound in leather. These were John’s own works on the vampire race. The vampires’ vast and authentic history had always intrigued him from the very beginning. In comparison, the history of the human race seemed short, tragic, and redundant. At least ninety five percent of vampiric history was conclusive. Their history was filled with extensive facts and there were no contradictions. John’s fascination grew to the point where Aidan had instructed that he be the unofficial historian for both vampires and humans alike. Aidan wanted John to convey to future generations, when the time came, the history of the War for Existence, which took place before Alex’s birth and the War of Vengeance, which he named the Coming War.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said and the door opened. The man standing at the threshold was of medium stature with a long thin face and whiskers for a mustache that were the fieriest of orange. He grinned like an innocent child as he saluted John. He walked to the desk and John told him to sit down. “It’s good to see you, Kurt,” said John, smiling.

“Same here, General,” said Kurt, his grin growing double. He ruffled his hair, which was the same color as his whiskers and sighed, “It’s been too long, I’d say.”

“Yes,” John said. “Definitely too long. You should keep in touch more often.”

“Ah, you know, with the training, and the work I got at home...”

“Work?”

“Yeah, I’m actually writing a book.”

“Really?” asked John. “What about?”

“I’m compiling a history of the Regnum. It’s still in its initial stages, but right now, I’m interested in the latest development.”