Kael left the Emperor's private chamber with slow steps, the heavy door closing behind him with a low, definitive sound. The corridor ahead seemed too long, adorned with imperial tapestries, light columns, and tall windows through which the morning light streamed in at a perfect angle, too perfect to match the weight on his mind.
"Vampires…," he murmured almost unconsciously, the word escaping like a bitter taste.
He walked without haste, but clearly detached. The conversations with Hadrian repeated themselves in fragments, fitting together with everything Adalric and Eva had said. Ancient resentment. Suppression. A war that begins before the swords. It wasn't the kind of problem that could be solved with brute force, and that bothered him more than any direct threat.
