Noble V: Greylancer (11 page)

Drawing a bead on wherever the target might be, stopping at nothing to shoot through
its jugular—such was the meaning of the wicked bow’s existence.

The proud, even arrogant expression on the Noble’s face vanished instantly like light
snow upon looking at the lithe shadow. “Leticia.”

The girl, who adored the nameless troubadour, shook her pretty head. “Who was it that
sang that song for me?”

“It was I,” Greylancer answered.

“Who are you?”

“Greylancer—overseer of the Northern Frontier sector.”

“Then I do not know you.” Leticia’s voice sounded exceedingly mournful and clear at
the same time. “The man who gave me my song was someone who traveled distant lands.
Someone who’d promised to tell me about all the things he’d witnessed and seen. Someone
who’d bashfully composed a very lovely and sad song. Why didn’t you feed on my blood?”

“I must take my leave.” Greylancer set out toward the wagon. A siren blared from the
open door. The emergency alarm. “Someone must have discovered my blood victim. I commend
the rest to you.”

“Is that why…you came?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to drink your blood. Your brother has only been hypnotized.
I will release him when I’ve left the village. I wish you a happy life.”

The giant exited through the barn door and returned pulling a cybernetic horse. After
hitching it to the wagon, he climbed on and said, “Fare thee well.”

The girl pointed a pale finger outside. “You should go to the West Country Highway
and head north by northeast.”

After a breath, Greylancer said, “You have my gratitude,” and flicked the reins.

The wagon sped off out of the barn.

Leticia stood there until the rattling of the wagon left the property and receded
into the night.

Dance, will you

Dance, will you

Cut the strings of fate into the night

Several minutes later, Arrow returned and informed Leticia that he had avenged the
death of their parents, who’d been killed by the elusive third ghost spider.

Greylancer had scarcely driven
an hour out of the village when a gyrocopter appeared in the sky.

A floodlight shone down upon the wagon on the highway and its driver. Greylancer did
not halt the wagon as the light chased after from behind.

“We are with the patrol force under Lord Mayerling’s command,” said a voice issuing
forth from the gyrocopter. “Excuse me, but you bear the appearance of a Noble. Please
state your name and destination.”

“The name is Greylancer. My destination—”

“Yes, I thought it might be you,” the voice of the patrolman interrupted. “My ignorance
notwithstanding, please forgive my impudence. Allow me to escort you to the overseer’s
castle.”

“No!”

“Pardon?”

“I intend to return directly to my dominion. Tell the others I want no more interruptions
during my journey.”

“That would make me delinquent in my duties.” The voice of the patrolman sounded rattled.
“The reports of your disappearance came directly from the OSB attack force, and the
Capital has issued a search order throughout the world including the Frontier. It
is an honor to find you here in this territory, of all places. Please come with us,
I beseech you.”

“What is my name?” The Noble’s voice that seemed to spout from the earth shook the
gyrocopter.

“Lord Greylancer.”

“I will not go, I tell you.”

The voice from the gyrocopter fell silent. After the wagon began to creep ahead of
the floodlight, the patrolman said, “But…”

“If you require an excuse, tell Mayerling that I find him disagreeable.”

The wagon continued on its way.

Five minutes later, a massive gyrodyne appeared before Greylancer.

This aircraft exceeded one hundred meters in length and bristled with military accoutrements
reminiscent of lances and swords. It was plain for anyone to see that this aircraft
belonged to a Noble, no less one from a long line of war hawks.

“What is a warrior the likes of Greylancer doing riding such a rickety box?” said
a booming voice.

Peering up, Greylancer said scornfully, “Zeus Macula…” and continued to drive the
wagon.

“Wait, wait. As surly as ever, I see. I knew you would turn up alive somewhere. Well
now, perhaps the fates have conspired for us to meet. I’ve been visiting with the
invertebrate…er, I mean Mayerling. What say we renew old friendships?”

“Reprehensible!”

Zeus let out a full-throated laugh. “Yes, yes. I expected as much. I didn’t imagine
you’d get along with the boy.”

“Or with you.”

Zeus was silent, and then, “All right, all right. But surely the Northern overlord
cannot leave the West without paying respect to its ruler. Besides which, you’ll be
interested to know the Privy Council has made several decisions during your absence.
With that wagon your return to the North will take three nights. Perhaps you’d care
to know sooner.”

The wagon stopped.

Three minutes later, Greylancer and Zeus were drinking from red glasses in the Western
Frontier sector overlord’s sitting room.

“What is this swill? Hardly anything to serve a guest.” Zeus slammed his glass on
the table and began to pace the room with long strides.

“Synthetic blood.” Greylancer drained his drink and stared at the glass, the crystal
cup sparkling a different hue of red than the drink it once contained. “If the overlord
drinks it, then his vassals can only do likewise. The humans are spared from having
to pay blood tribute, which is why, far from being hated, Mayerling is extolled as
a compassionate ruler.”

“He’s merely playing the hero. Nothing more than a young buck ingratiating himself
to the humans and reveling in his own reputation as a benevolent dictator.”

“Point that finger somewhere else,” Greylancer said.

The Eastern overlord lowered his right arm. “Pardon me.” As injured as Zeus sounded,
he gave away no hint of anger. His rival was simply too formidable.

Anyone knowing Greylancer well would say that he was the image of equanimity. Zeus
had informed him that the attack on the OSB moon base had succeeded; the surviving
OSB fled to Mars. Not only had the battle ended with fewer than ten Nobility casualties,
Greylancer’s corps had returned unscathed.

Zeus held back from revealing the Privy Council’s decision until Mayerling joined
them.

“What are you plotting?” Greylancer arched a brow.

“Nothing at all,” protested Zeus, but his entire being seemed to conceal a hundred
machinations. The ruler of the Eastern Frontier sector was a man born for chicanery.
“Now don’t besmirch my good name. Why must you think such things of me?”

“Because you’ve brought me here. Knowing you, I would have expected you to send me
on my way and then fire a missile at my back.”

“Now, now, I’m wounded that you see me in such a light, my friend.”

“You misunderstand the concept of friendship.”

“Now, now.”

“I told you to point that finger somewhere else.”

Zeus did not yield this time.

Realizing the Noble was not pointing at him, Greylancer turned around.

A figure shrouded in a purple cape stood at the door, which had opened unnoticed.

A youthful, handsome face curved the same red lips as the others into a smile.

This was Lord Mayerling, overseer of the Western Frontier sector. “Welcome, my lords,”
he said, dispensing with calling them by name. He approached the others, and noting
the glasses on the table, he said, “The drink doesn’t agree with you, I see. No matter,
you can well savor the sweet stuff in your respective sectors. Lord Zeus Macula, forgive
me for keeping you waiting.”

“Not at all, Lord Greylancer here has been a welcome distraction. Going out to collect
him helped pass the time.” As magnanimous as he sounded, the words were dripping with
sarcasm.

Unruffled, Mayerling began, “I’ve had a look at the Privy Council’s missive. So tell
me what brought you here.”

“Then I’ll leave you two to your business,” said Greylancer, turning on his heels.

“Wait, wait,” said Zeus. “You must hear me out. I’ve already notified the North of
my intention to visit. This fortuitous gathering couldn’t be more convenient. A godsend,
really.”

“Let’s have it,” Mayerling said.

“The Privy Council was greatly pleased by the victory on the OSB moon base and has
declared the day a worldwide day of celebration,” began Zeus. “A matter of common
knowledge to all save one.”

The
one
sipped the synthetic blood after pouring himself another glass from the gold carafe.

“The Privy Council has come to another decision, perhaps buoyed by their latest victory
and the imminent day of reckoning,” Zeus continued. “In four days’ time, on the Sacred
Ancestor’s birthday, they have decided to wipe out the OSB vanguard lurking all across
this world.”

Mayerling looked back at Zeus in shock, while Greylancer stopped the glass at his
lips.

“Why were we not informed?” asked Mayerling, fighting back anger. He need not question
the veracity of the information. Zeus Macula’s information was known to be infallible.
There were rumors that Zeus was a bastard child of a member of the Privy Council.

“How do they propose to do it?” Greylancer asked, the glass frozen in his hand.

“Their plan is to carry out a plasma attack on the locations where OSB infiltrators
are believed to be hiding. Plasma weapons are only fatal to the OSB and local human
populations. I suspect the decree will be handed down tomorrow or the day after.”

“That’s absurd!” roared Mayerling.

“I assume your outrage is directed at the Privy Council who chose to slight us.” After
shooting an icy look at the young Noble, Zeus looked meaningfully at Greylancer and
at Mayerling again. “Of course, this is hardly the first time the Capital has decided
to disregard the Frontier. The Privy Council thinks of us as a bunch of country Nobles
who’ve fallen from the Capital’s good graces. This sentiment is also what begat this
slight. But let us not forget, since the Capital and Frontier were established we
overseers have been accorded complete control over the Frontier.”

Zeus Macula was referring to what was called
absolute managerial
rights
.

As long as each of the sectors supplied the Capital with the blood tribute it demanded,
the overseers were given complete administrative control over the Frontier’s political
and economic affairs. Furthermore, it was the overseers that carried out the Capital’s
orders, but whether such orders were carried out or not depended entirely on the overseers’
consent or refusal. In a way, this tolerant, albeit lax system reflected the magnanimity
of the Privy Council but was also influenced by the immortality of the Noble race.
As long as those in the Capital were kept sufficiently sated with blood, thereby relieving
them of worries, they did not concern themselves with trivial matters.

In this case, the human population was a trivial matter.

We will allow you full reign over the Frontier so long as you do not interfere with
the Capital’s decisions.
This implicit agreement simply did not pass muster with the three overseers.

Nobles that they were, vampires valued pride above everything else. However, the rigor
with which the overseers sought to preserve it in the Frontier vastly differed from
the vampires residing in the Capital. No, that chasm between the Privy Council and
the overseer was one surpassing the realm of tragedy, verging on the comedic.

“Given their disregard for our managerial rights, we must take measures to make the
Privy Council acknowledge their wrongdoing. Any objections?”

The handsome young Noble cast an icy look at Zeus’s fevered face. “How do you plan
to do it?”

“Answer me first. Do you have any objections?”

“What say Mircalla in the South?”

“The female persuasion can be tricky. I thought to discuss it with you first.”

“I believe I was an afterthought,” Greylancer said casually

Zeus’s expression tensed. “Well, now…” he said, an audible smile in his voice. He
grimaced and continued, “My seeing you here is a fortunate coincidence, to be sure.
But my intention has always been to seek the approval of the overseers.”

“Whichever the case, I intend to go to the Capital before raising any objections,”
Mayerling declared. “I refuse to overlook such an act of barbarism. I shall roundly
denounce the members of the Privy Council myself.”

“Now don’t go off half-cocked.” Zeus held up both hands with an air of reluctance
and smiled bitterly, knowing well the young Noble’s impetuousness. “If you do that,
we will all be removed from power. You will be putting all of us in the crossfire.”

“I don’t give a damn about the rest of you! See if they dare use their plasma cannons
against my people. On my life and family name, I shall put a stop to this madness!”
Mayerling said, seething.

“And what then?” countered Greylancer. Mayerling froze. “If you resign your post,
another Noble will take your place. Do you think he will rule over your people as
you have?”

The young Noble could say nothing.

“Greylancer is right,” said Zeus. “Your benevolent rule over the humans will come
to naught. Let me handle the Privy Council.”

“After they’ve fired their plasma cannons?”

Zeus turned toward Greylancer, aghast as if he’d read his mind. Taking no more than
a second to hide his shock, he asked brazenly, “What ever do you mean, Greylancer?”

“No meaning at all. Merely stating a foregone conclusion. The Zeus Macula I know would
do exactly as I stated.”

“Yes.” Zeus nodded emphatically. “That is exactly my plan. If I persuaded them to
suspend their attack and succeeded, I would only become beholden to the Privy Council,
and that would be—”

“Meaningless?” Greylancer’s eyes emitted a certain light that seemed to see through
Zeus’s eyes.

“Just what do you plan to do after the plasma attack?” said Mayerling, stepping forward.
His anger had killed any expression on his face. Only his scarlet lips burned in his
pale white visage.

He stopped about five paces short of where Zeus stood. A Noble lacking self-control
would never be entrusted with overseeing the Frontier.

With an unflinching gaze, Zeus answered, “To bring official charges against the Privy
Council for violating our absolute managerial rights and for the indiscriminate slaughter
of its subjects. To purge the Privy Council of its current members and to create a
new decision-making body.”

“With you as its head, no doubt,” said Mayerling quietly.

“Exactly right. And what of it?” Zeus thrust out his chest, both Mayerling and Greylancer
nearly dimmed by his dignified air. “Have you ever pondered the notion of immortality?”
Zeus circled the room and took up a position where he could regard both men. “This
very nature that has promised the Nobility eternal prosperity has now become our greatest
enemy. You must have sensed it for yourselves every time you entered the Capital,
sensed the unspeakable malaise the entire city—from the Privy Council to the research
facilities and affiliate organizations—has been mired in.

“It is an inevitable outcome of immortality. Our scientific progress to grant us our
physical wants has also contributed to this. Eternal fulfillment—is this not what
every intelligent being covets? Surely, there exist more evolved beings than the Nobility.
Could more civilizations exist in the distant stars? Could our science achieve greater
discoveries? Such questions were the foundation of progress. But time has passed since
the rulers in the Capital have showed any interest or appreciation for such pursuits.
Our civilization has come to full maturity. You see that, don’t you? We have run against
the limits of eternal life. It is an unspeakable tragedy. It is my opinion that the
OSB invasion has done more to help us regain our fervor to live than anything else.
With weapons in hand, we have plunged into battle once more. Our blood boils again.
Who but we will break through the limits of the Nobility world and open our people
to new possibilities?” With a wave of a hand, Zeus Macula concluded his speech, spellbound
by his own rhetoric.