VRMMO: World's First Glyphborne

Chapter 332: Yap, Yap, Yapping. At my Chamber Door

Returning to the small country of Gaelven, a pillar of shadows shifted into the form of the Matriarch as she manifested inside of her own chambers within her own castle.

"How to find her... How to find her..." She muttered to herself, gliding across the floor with the same ethereal gracefulness.

"How did that little whelp do it the first time? He mentioned... Oh what was it again? Ugh, All these little whelps keep talking and talking, why couldn’t they make it interesting enough to pay attention to."

A massive black mass in the corner opened a single tired eye. Cracking it open just enough to peer at the Matriarch, before it let out a low, grumbling grunt and closed its eye again.

"Ah yes, the pendant. Thank you dear." The Matriarch snapped her fingers as she smiled brightly. With that in mind, she turned to the door and glided over to it, humming happily to herself until she reached the door.

On the other side, she could hear a muffled argument going on, the thickness of her wooden chamber doors doing their best to keep their mistress undisturbed by the noise.

"You have already been told, the Matriarch is resting after another battle with the Light born scum. She must be allowed to recover." One of the Grotesques, the Matriarch stone guards, could be heard saying.

"Yes, I know that! But this is of the utmost importance and cannot wait! You need to let me in so I can-"

A second voice started to shout, before his voice leapt back into his throat and crawled back where it came from, as the Matriarchs doors slammed open.

The man who had been shouting was dressed in expensive silks, with bright colours and a puffy cravat that swelled with the ego of a noble. His face paled and his expression turned to absolute horror, as the Matriarch herself glided out of the gloom of her chambers. Her face sunken into an expression of utter annoyance and disdain for what she saw before her.

The entire antechamber grew deathly silent at her appearance, as if even the wind was afraid to whistle lest it earn her wrath. All except for the Grotesque that had previously spoken, which let out a resigned sigh at his mistresses sudden appearance. An appearance that went completely against his favourite excuse.

Now he would have to find another one to use for the next hundred or so years, until they forgot about this one and he could use it again. Just wonderful.

With just a narrow eyed scowl, the Noble man immediately stood up straight. His back straightening so quickly and so rigidly, it was as if a steel rod had been rammed up his backside.

He grabbed at his cravat, tugging it down as he pointed his chin to the sky, before clasping his hands behind his back.

"I-I greet the Matriarch!" He shouted, his voice trembling. Although he had come here to see this very woman, he had not been prepared for a meeting like this. He seriously considered that he might be executed on the spot for his transgressions, yet despite that he didn’t run or make any move to escape.

That would only cement an as-of-yet uncertain fate.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" The Matriarch asked, her voice low and monotonous. Completely devoid of the joy and personality she had been displaying moments before, and instead carrying a domineering aura that threatened to crush everyone under its weight.

A feat that she was absolutely able to achieve, and quite easily at that.

"M-Matriarch," The Noble stammered again, beads of sweat trickling down his temples as he stared at the ceiling,

"There is a Blooded who has appeared and speaks of an alliance he made with one of our members. But no one has reported a Blooding in at least a decade. We... We don’t know how it could be possible, but worry that someone has stolen a Blood Root and betrayed us."

The Matriarch narrowed her eyes more, increasing the pressure bearing down on the pale noble, causing his knees to tremble from the unbearable weight, before it finally lifted from his shoulders as she spoke.

"I will meet this man."

The stilted noble turned on his heels and led the Matriarch through the hallways of the castle, which were unfamiliar to her despite having lived in the structure for countless centuries. Not that she would acknowledge such a thing, or that anyone would ever accuse her of not knowing something so basic.

When they entered the castles Great Hall, they were met with a tense situation. Dozens of men and women, some of them heavily armoured and some of them dressed like respectable nobles, stood with their razor sharp teeth bared and weapons draw as they surrounded a confused and scared trio.

The trio in question consisted of a man dressed in the armour of a high end noble, but one that had seen wear and tear from battle rather than a simple ornamental piece that most nobles would wear to certain functions. A cape, embroidered with the crest of Redmarch clan, hung from his shoulders and had a woman clinging to it as she hid behind him.

The woman clinging to him was a pretty blonde thing. Nearly perfect features with supple and smooth skin, and a smile that could light up the room. Although that smile was not present at the moment, as she was looking around in shivering terror.

They were features that suggested some kind of Child of Light lineage, although diluted through the generations and stripped of all its benefits, until good looks were the only useful thing left.

The final member was another woman, a maid. Who had skin like obsidian and long, pointed ears. Her expression was fixed into an uncaring nonchalance, despite her situation, and there was a hidden danger about her.

The tension in the room shattered at the Matriarchs appearance, as all hostilities ceased and submission became the immediate priority.

Weapons were sheathed, or simply dropped to the floor, and teeth were put away as everyone stood at attention. Chins raised high, and hands clasped behind their back.

Curiously, the Redmarch man sighed in relief at the sight of the woman who could kill him with less than a thought, and whose castle he was supposedly trespassing in.

"Ah, Matriarch. I am Duke Lucian Redmarch the Fifth, and It is my great honour to be in your presence." He declared, as he sunk into a deep and respectful bow. Tucking his chin into his chest and bowing his head down so low that his back was parallel with the floor.

It was an act of respect that gained him a chorus of angered growls as an air of bloodlust rapidly grew, before being banished at the slightest parting of the Matriarch’s lips.

"Show me your hand, your blood must be taken." She demanded, as the Duke stood up straight and glanced around in confusion.

He clenched his fist, pulling his hand away slightly to push his wife further behind his back. That particular action gained not anger, nor bloodlust. Not even a small amount of annoyance.

That action, that pitiful little action that one would not even think about in any normal circumstance as it was not even conscious, earned the Duke an entire rooms worth of shock and horror, as if the sky had ignited into flames.

The Matriarch smiled, for the first time that anyone in this room had ever seen. It was a strange, devilish and almost hungry smile as she leaned down to look into the Duke’s eyes.

"Tell me, did you meet a young woman? Is she the one that Blooded you?"

The Duke glanced around nervously, before looking into the Matriarch’s eyes as he nodded softly.

"Yes Matriarch. A Young woman that helped me correct the mistake I made in the array. A young woman with a Shadow Demon as her familiar."

"Is that so?" The Matriarch’s eyes sparkled, and her twisted smile stretched even wider, before she shifted. She glided around next to the Duke, squeezing herself between him and his wife, as she placed a warm hand on both of their backs.

"Come with me, New Bloods. We have much to talk about, and I think you will be perfect to help me find who I am looking for."