RD 5 Ch 14

The click of her heels echoed down the stone hall. The red velvet curtains and tapestries that she so favored did little to muffle the noise. But it was her castle, and she'd be damned if anyone took it from her.

"Saintess!" Two of the Mul Branova, rounded the corner and spotted her immediately, falling to their knees and bowing their heads. Her hair was sheer and temptingly cut for their Lord Bran.

Though he had disappeared, Simone would continue to lead the Mul Branova and carry on his wishes through them. 

"Rise and honor Lord Bran with each of your actions," she intoned, dipping her head to the two young ladies, and continued on her way.

The battle with the other three queens over their holy land was growing fiercer by the day. Simone ground her teeth. How dare they encroach upon her holy land? Bran had once given them the Citadel of Blood. And though they could no longer live within the now war-torn structure, she'd be damned if anyone else claimed it for their own. 

Simone came to a pair of double doors and pushed them open without concern for who lay inside. Within her castle, her word was law. The Mul Branova were devoted to her in every sense of the word. 

"Saintess," two of them said breathlessly and knelt before her, dipping their veil-covered heads as Simone strode up to the stone throne.

She fluffed the meager cushion that kept her from becoming entirely numb while she sat on it and faced them. Both wore the red habits of the Mul Branova and the nun-like veils. Though the cut on all of it was certainly not something a nun would wear, the Mul Branova embraced their bodies rather than hid them.

"You're early. Is there something important that I need to know?" she asked, looking at the two ladies. 

"Saintess, the evil witch Circe has launched an attack against Princess Almeria. We have word that Winnie and her sect are watching the situation closely," they reported. 

Simone was somewhat baffled by their incompetence, for this was some of the most basic information she could imagine. She’s already heard this hours ago, yet it seemed the two newer Mul Branova were trying to prove their worth.

The two's eyes darted back and forth, as if accusing each other with each look. "Perhaps the Mul Branova should intervene in all of this," one suggested, grasping at straws. 

"There is value in that, yes," Simone conceded, deciding to coach them. "However, I do not believe that our people are in a situation to take the full brunt of the attention in this war. Tell me, how has recruitment continued? How many more wish to understand the lifeblood that Lord Bran offers." Simone laced her fingers daintily and waited for the good news.

Only they didn't seem to be in a rush to deliver it.

"At present, recruitment is strained," one hesitated, as if she thought she was about to be hit.

Not that Simone would ever do that to her precious Mul Branova.

"Strange," Simone said, leaning back in her chair and staring down at the two. "I was under the impression that things were picking up as of late."

"Well, they were," one rushed to answer, however didn’t or couldn’t provide more.

"And it seems they are no longer?" Simone knew that her tone came out harsher than intended.

"There are doubts. There are idiots who doubt our Lord Bran.” One banged her head against the floor in frustration.

“There will always be doubters," Simone coached, keeping her voice calm. "What is important is that we solve those doubts by helping people convert into devotees and showing them the power they may obtain via an SS ranked class. Not to mention our pool of Bran's blood brims ever full."

Both ladies looked at each other in consternation. "About that mistress," one ducked her head. "The pool is..." She hesitated.

Simone's eyes grew sharp at that. "What do you mean? Something has happened to the pool?”

“Forgive me." the Mul Branova dipped her head again. "But I cannot lie to you, Saintess. The pool has stopped refilling."

Simone nearly threw herself out of the chair. That had been their lifeblood, their source of power, to create new recruits and, from Bran's endless pool of blood, giving them strong bloodlines. It was an absolute advantage against someone of the same level and an easy way for the young devotees to level. 

"And there must be some explanation for this," she said quickly, a small amount of hope trickling in the back of her voice. Simone couldn’t panic in front of the two.

"Yes, of course," one of them hurried to answer. "We are… it is our top priority to solve this mystery, but until then we do have, we may suffer some difficulties in recruitment. Offering the pool has always been our most valuable form of recruitment."

"Yes, it has been," Simone nodded along, understanding where the problem lay. Within the pool had been Bran's beating heart, a sign of his splendor that even with it removed, it still pumped blood.

Both ladies looked unsure of what to say next, until Simone cleared her throat.

"It’s no longer in the pool," one of them got the courage to speak and Simone did her best to rein in her reaction, for that answer was amongst the worst possibilities she could ask for.

"Are you certain? This is not something that we can afford to take lightly." Simone held her breath for the answer.

"We are, Saintess," the other looked up in acknowledgement. 

Simone ran a hand through her hair, brushing her veil and revealing the two demon horns that she had gained with her Lilim Saint class. Unlike the rest of the Mul Branova, she was not a  New Devotee of Bran. Instead, she had once been his closest confidant. 

Though sadly, those days were long gone.

With little other option, she dipped her head to the two ladies. "Do what you must to increase recruitment. There is no wrong answer in doing your best to serve Lord Bran." She looked between them and gave them a soft smile. "After all, we are all here in service of Him, and the best thing we can do is remember that as we serve him to the best of our ability. In Bran we trust."

"In Bran we trust," they echoed her. 

Simone's eyes flitted out an open window. The sky around her castle was dark. Not a morbid thing, but rather a necessity. An old enchantment of Bran's still remained and protected her people to this date.

She looked out the window with a sigh. "Bran, I do hope you find your way back to us eventually," she thought, for she missed Bran dearly. It had been ages since she last saw him.

Now it almost seemed like she had forgotten his face. The bust of him in the castle never seemed quite right. Not that she would tell the rest of the Mul Branova that their faith and trust in him was something that Simone couldn’t even recognize. 

Tonight was yet another night that she found herself gazing out the window in simple hope that Bran would reappear, that he would retake his role in ensuring that his people were well cared for.

It was a travesty that the Mul Branova had fallen to the state that they were forced to remain passive, because they simply could not compete against the other women that were claiming his holy grounds. 

A small tear slipped from Simone's eyes.

They would have to continue to play it cautiously, in hopes that perhaps one of these days, the Mul Branova could rise up again and become the terrifying force it had once been when Bran had been at the head. In some ways, Simone felt like a failure, that she had let her love's prized organization falter under her watch. 

Her musings were interrupted.

"Lady Simone, saintess!" a woman shouted, running haphazardly through the hall. 

Simone regained her poise, refusing to let the Mul Branova see her morose mood, lest it become infectious and damage their efforts moving forward.

“Yes, come in." She sat up straight on the throne.

"A man has invaded our sanctum." The woman was incensed by something. She had known Clarice long enough to know that she wouldn't react so violently to just any man stepping foot in here, though all were banned. The Mul Branova were for Bran alone.

"And what has he done that has you so offended, dear?" Simone asked.

The woman scoffed several times. Whatever it was, it was horrendous. "A man has come claiming to be Lord Bran," the woman said with disgust. 

Simone couldn't help but lean forward. "Blasphemy," her voice was scathing.

Though there was a small amount of hope that had been inside of her when she first heard the words, it rapidly turned to disgust. The disgust for someone to falsely pretend to be Bran was tantamount to suicide within the Mul Branova. 

"Have him brought before me at once. I want to see the face of the man so bold as to desecrate our faith." 

The woman, Clarice, seemed to expect that, turning back to the doors and shouting through cupped hands, "Bring him in." 

Chains rattled against the stone as several of the red-robed Mul Branova dragged in a bleeding man. It looked like the ladies had already put him through the wringer. Though he lifted his head up, it was not the visage of their lord. But there was a fire and determination in his eyes that vaguely reminded Simone of him. 

"What do you have to say for yourself?" She found herself glaring down at the soon to be dead man, only slightly curious as to what he might say for himself.