Chapter 33
Abraxas called the Sacred Seventeen families to Castle Morana. They quieted upon his arrival. His hangover was raging through his skull, despite the potion Astrea made for him. Arman walked swiftly at his side. Since his arrival at Castle Morana he’d taken to watching over Maeve without instruction to do so, and Abraxas spent the previous evening walking Mal off a proverbial ledge over it.
“Primus and the Gods, I am dreading this,” he muttered to Arman.
He slammed a stack of paper smoothly on the table and took up in one of the chairs, rubbing his temples. He skipped formalities and got straight to business.
“Now that the Committee of the Sacred has been dealt with, there are changes you need to be aware of. The Elven people under enslavement curses will be freed, their curses broken, and, for those of you still clinging to such ways, reparations paid from your pockets. They will be given the freedom to choose life on Earth or a new life here in the Dread Lands, both of which come with a hefty sum of gold.”
A shift ruffled through the room.
“Was that a groan?” Snapped Abraxas dryly. “You are all incredibly appreciated and I am hopeful for our future here, but if you desire your old life, go back to Earth. I am not the Double O. I am not the Committee. My court will not be run by your gold.”
He tried to avoid his mother’s gaze, but caught her proud smile nonetheless.
“There is much I’d like to address today,” he continued, Astrea potion kicking in at last. He smiled. “Beginning with the newspaper production. A great idea by yours truly, if I must say so. Hillman, bring in the rest please, now that the nastiness is out of the way.”
Hillman, a Bellator who stood at the door of the Hand’s Hall, left and returned with a handful of Magicals from all sorts of backgrounds. Some Human-born, some part-Elven part-Magical. All of them looking to create a new life in the Dread Lands.
Zimsy was among them. She held a stack of papers in her long, elegant arms. She smiled brightly at Abraxas, who relaxed at her excitement, despite being in a room with some who saw her as less than. She held her ideas for the bakery she wanted to open in the Beryl City closely and took a seat at the table.
Abraxas smiled, recalling how Maeve desired to march in behind Zimsy to ensure no one tried to cross her friend, but Zimsy had insisted on coming alone.
The new world they were creating looked brighter all the time.
Soon he’d be setting foot in Aterna, something he’d dreamed of since childhood. Regardless of how ignorant they were to the knowledge of who was friend or foe, one thing he knew for certain was that Mal was not going to risk another Ambrose.
He was playing chess with long pauses between moves. There would be no haste in his choices, no glory to be found until he was certain they were safe.
The future was barreling at him, at them all, but Abraxas didn’t mind. Rumor told, Aterna had a plethora of enjoyable, exclusive substances he could try.