Their anxiety was evident in the quivers of their state when they first approached the Vampire Queen just mere hours ago. Among the handful of servants under her employment, there were various vampires who volunteered to assist in the preparations for what was to come. The manor was alive, despite the early evening. They were desperate.Īnother sigh left her, and Cecile finally dragged herself out of her office. It was undeniable that the metal-clad soldiers were growing in ranks and strength, and the sight of children, while it was less called for, was sheer evidence of their upcoming plans. There was not a point Maeve made that Cecile could have disagreed with, and they must be prompt with their plan if they wish to take down the Templars. After all, the Queen of Beasts herself reached out to her on the previous day to address the matter on the Templars. The day ahead was expected to be procellous from here on. It had not been long since that night, and today the manor was anything but beamish. It was also one of the few ways for them to comfortably approach her should they feel it would be a worthwhile risk to seek an audience with her.Ī spar was enticing at a time like this, to draw her away from dreadful thoughts however, she needed to recover her energy from the events that transpired at the docks. On the other note, gratefully, there were a few vampires who would visit her from time to time just for sparring. The forge was always hot for her, licking up every bit of creation out of her and bringing it to life.
She was diligent in her reports, keeping them up to date as much as she could while honing her smithing and fighting skills. Neatly arranged papers piled like mountains on her desk, but it was not enough to tide over the long hours ahead of her. For some time now, she debated with herself of tending to her forge, but recent events drained her of any creativity or motivation she needed.
Hebetude grew from remaining idle for too long. Her fingers trailed over the edge of the bookshelf. Blurred images scattered about, mumbled words mixed themselves like an old hymn from the church. Thoughts clouded Cecile almost all day, like a dull blade running down her skin.