๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ด๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ ๐ป๐ผ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ต๐ผ๐๐น๐ฑ ๐ฏ๐ฒ. ๐ง๐ผ๐ฟ๐ป ๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐บ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ด๐ถ๐ป, ๐ฒ๐ฑ๐ด๐ฒ๐ ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ด๐ด๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐น๐ถ๐ธ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐บ๐ผ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ถ๐ป ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ด๐ฒ๐ฟ โ ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐ฏ๐ผ๐๐ต. ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ป๐ธ ๐ถ๐ ๐ผ๐น๐ฑ ๐ฏ๐๐ ๐น๐ฒ๐ด๐ถ๐ฏ๐น๐ฒ, ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ต๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ๐๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐น๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ป ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ผ๐ฝ๐น๐ฒ ๐๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ป ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐น๐น ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ถ๐บ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ป ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐น๐ฑ. ๐ฌ๐ผ๐ ๐ฎ๐น๐บ๐ผ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐ ๐ถ๐ ๐ฑ๐ผ๐๐ป. ๐๐น๐บ๐ผ๐๐.
I have been called many things in my long life, and Mad King is not the worst of them. But a king requires a kingdom, and a kingdom requires walls, and so I have been building walls. Three cities now. Each with a hub of my own design, each with a chain of command that answers, ultimately, to me. The governments of this world are fragile, agreeable things when you know where to press. Give them a paycheck, and they'll turn a blind eye even to genocide. I loathe the lot.
Three cities now: New Orleans, New York City, London. Each manor, estate, penthouse built in the image of the city it resides in. New Orleans was built in the likeness of the French Quarter, New York City โ a penthouse, and London โ a townhouse. Each location contains in it some central, source of truth for the abnormal. Vampires might find comfort in community, or seek guidance if newly turned. Each location worked diligently with hospitals and blood banks to provide a fresh blood supply, and, in exchange, we provided money and blood of our own (to the 'right' people, much to my dismay). Werewolves find safe havens to transition each full moon, or support in surviving the pain. Witches are yet to be given a place to exist... though I doubt they'd deign long enough to cooperate with other species anyway.
My family have all but abandoned me. A shame. There will always be a place for them in this empire, should they find their way back to sense.
In their stead, I met a wily bloke named Soren. The sort of vampire who's roamed the Earth for many centuries. He'd heard of me, in passing. There's a part of me that doesn't trust him, but he has a particular talent for making me reconsider โ which, I've found, is a rarer quality than it has any right to be.
There are moments, in the quiet between one thing and the next, when I wonder โ