Darkness crept and crawled slowly over the small rolling hills and gentle creek of the sixty-four acre Three Feathers Horse Ranch in Greenfield, Ohio.
Or as it was known to members of the Triune Nation, their ‘Capital’ city of Nola. A long awaited meeting between the old and new was about to take place. The two story brick, Colonial-Federal, thirty-two hundred square foot home, which was once solely owned by Queen Katrina, had been given over to the nation, along with other properties and holdings from the Queen. Katrina had managed to retain much of her original wealth from the days of Twells.
Once over in the new world, she began buying property and placing it under the care of a mortal she befriend in the year 1911. Now the decedents of Tess Martin oversaw the queen's lucrative business affairs, including her very successful Antique shops. The Martins were the only mortals who knew the true identities of the immortal Queen and her army. She and her council awaited the arrival of the the emissaries from the nation of Kre. Nevin, now considered a Lord, appeared to be having second thoughts about it all. The Queen considered Lord Nevin to be her right hand. He was well aware of the two members of the Kre nation. Midas and Lyndon, both vampires having at one time belonged to the faction that Nevin once led.
But Marlon and other members of the army, were still having difficulties letting go of the bitterness of many centuries ago. Some, they assumed within the current Kre Nation, were possible members of the armies that had attacked Twells, bringing its downfall. For nine years, Lord Nevin and Lyndon had been in talks about forging some sort of treaty between the two nations. However, the Queen insisted that no such treaty for peace was to be extended. She didn’t trust them. The council of Kre were seeking to have five convents recognized among the Triune nation. But the queen held that only three were legitimate. The Krethans also wanted to build a nightclub in the New World, styled like one of their own in their capital of Corra. Corra was known for its nightclubs and wild party atmosphere, which mostly catered to the very rich and often famous of mortals. But still, she held her ground. “Besides,” she told Nevin, “you know as well as I that with the nation of Kre, there is no such thing as a simple agreement of trade. How would we be able to trust them with a more costly commodity, such as peace?”
Marlon, always the cynic, echoed the feelings of the Queen. Assured that this was the council of Kre, possibly testing the strength of the bond that had held in place for almost two centuries between the three once foes.
But in the last two weeks leading up to the historic meeting, Katrina seemed to have a sudden change of heart. Maybe it was due to the puzzling dreams she had began having. Or maybe it was the result of all this talk of 'peace'. She was sure something had begun to stir. There weren't many visible signs, like clouds and blustering winds, that foreshadowed an impending storm, there was, however, this quiet tension she felt deep inside herself. The tension one feels on the string of a violin wound tightly. It was this tension that seemed to grow in intensity that spurred her decision to proceed with this meeting. She closed a deaf ear to the paranoid musings of Marlon.
Deciding to forgo the bitterness of an old grudge that was just as palpable many centuries later. That tension urged the growth of an Army made of stellars unfamiliar with the tactile principles and skills of combat. Trying to hasten the skills and instinct of soldiers to match, in just months, what only centuries of combat could do.
But she didn't have a choice. When the string broke, she wanted to be ready. Ready for whatever she was certain was about to take place.
Before the visitors arrived, Marlon stood in conference with the queen. “No doubt, they must be assured of the power and strength of our queen,” Marlon said to her.
“I must also demonstrate to them the strength of our alliance,” she smiled.
Down inside a deep and spacious bunker, the queen had built a smaller scale replica of the Court of the House of Twells known as ‘The Center,” the space occupied by the queen with her court encircled and seated high above her throne. She sat patiently in her seat, dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple sweater surrounded by the twenty-four representatives of the Triune Nation as Lyndon laid out the plans for the nightclub. After he had finished, Queen Katrina slowly rose from her seat, pacing around the area of her throne. The soft , slow clip-clop of her thigh high boots filled the void of silence.
