The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 1802: A Matter of Tribute (Part One)

Isabell frowned as she watched the people around her falling to their knees in prayer, or worse, whispering about blasphemy, especially when Rastlan titled his lord as the ’Trampler of the Heavens.’

Perhaps it had been an error of translation, though the herald spoke the king’s common tongue well enough that she doubted that. Even if it wasn’t an issue of language, there was almost certainly a cultural difference that neither she nor the other people on the wall understood.

But then, Isabell had an advantage over everyone else on the wall. She’d met the Eldritch, and she understood that, while there were a few unifying traditions, there was no ’Eldritch’ culture. The people of the Southern Steppe were as different from the people of the Vale of Mists as the people of the Emerald Kingdom were from the people of Blackwell County.

She knew that. She also knew that the people on the wall had been told that the traditions of the Eldritch were different. They’d been invited here to watch and learn about them. But it seemed that some things touched a deeper nerve than either she or Ashlynn had expected, which meant that the sooner she got this over with, the better.

"You have been invited as guests of Her Dominion, Lady Ashlynn Blackwell, the Mother of Trees," Isabell said, refusing to allow Rastlan’s presentation to overawe her. "Present your tribute for Her Dominion, and we will open the gates."

"Tribute?" The Herald said, his voice echoing from the pillars of snow and lightning. "The Hemlock Witch must be mistaken. High Lord Dirar has already presented his tribute, a gift worthy of a Great Lady, given into the hands of Her Eternity herself! Would you have a High Lord of the Steppe pay a toll twice, collecting at each end of the bridge like a swindling peddler?"

"Her Eternity is not the mistress of this house," Isabell said without moving from where she stood. Ashlynn hadn’t told her that Dirar had already offered a tribute to Lady Nyrielle, but even if it had, it wouldn’t change anything in Isabell’s eyes.

If Lady Nyrielle was owed a tribute by a visiting Eldritch Lord, then so was Ashlynn, and she wouldn’t allow the mother of her coven to be slighted at her very first meeting with this lord.

"If you come in peace, then prove your intentions the way your own customs demand," Isabell said, her voice firm and unwavering. "Or, if the High Lord of the Southern Steppe, the Trampler of the Heavens, is too poor to present tribute to Her Dominion after satisfying Her Eternity, then say so, and we will open the gates to offer charity to the destitute," Isabell said as the corners of her lips curled into a smile.

"Destitute?" Rastlan said, holding the edge of his chariot tightly enough that the tips of his claws bit into the gilding that covered the wood of the chariot’s body. "The Highest One’s presence alone is a gift far above what a stinking hovel like this deserves," he said, gesturing at the walls of Lothian City.

"And still, you demand more?" Rastlan seethed. "You think that conquering this pathetic pile of stones gives you the standing to make demands of a High Lord?"

"I think you know as well as I do where the real power lies," Isabell said calmly. "Either you respect my lady with a tribute befitting her status and acknowledge that she has accomplished what no Eldritch lord has in a hundred years by taking this ’pathetic pile of stones,’ or you admit that you have arrived with empty hands and empty pockets."

"Her Dominion is kind and generous," Isabell said. "If you have truly exhausted the treasuries of the Southern Steppe to present a single gift to Her Eternity, then Lady Ashlynn will open the gates to receive you with the promise of a hot meal and dry beds, the same as she would for any beggar who..."

"BEGGAR?!" Rastlan shouted, shaking more snow from the battlements with the power of his voice alone. "The Trampler of the Heavens does not beg! If you will not open your gates to receive him, then I will open them for him!"

Rastlan didn’t wait for Isabell to respond or give her time to open the gates before he moved. His hands shot up above his head with his fingers splayed wide while his lips moved in an incantation that the crackling pillars of snow and lightning failed to amplify.

"Lord Reynold," Sir Elgon asked nervously, his hand already moving to the sword at his hip. "What’s going on...?"

"I wish I knew," Reynold said, sweeping his gaze from the furious herald outside to the people atop the wall. "Maybe we should..." he started to say, only to stop short as five points of light flared into existence above Rastlan’s hands, forming a shape that felt like it had been plucked out of the tales he’d heard from priests at the temple since he was a young boy.

A bow. A Bow of Stars, descending from the air above Rastlan to settle into his outstretched hands.

"Take cover!" Reynold yelled, snatching his shield from where it sat, propped against the battlements, and rushing toward the young lords and ladies who sat nearby.

Charlotte wrapped her arms around Adala, clutching her tightly even as she twisted on the bench to put her back between Adala and anything that might hurt her.

"No, it doesn’t, it doesn’t make any sense..." Adala said in disbelief, unable to look away from the spectacle of light shining from the ground below. "Lady Ashlynn said the Eldritch don’t harm innocents; we shouldn’t be in any danger... Why is he doing this?"

Isabell ignored the chaos behind her. As much as she wanted to usher the spectators to safety, she dared not waste a moment addressing them. She had no idea what Rastlan intended to do with his Bow of Stars, but Heila had explained in horrifying detail what Loman Lothian had done with the one he’d summoned.

If Rastlan’s was the same...