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"From what I gathered, Griffin is currently in debt, mostly to the City Lord." The Necromancer answered. "I traced the money and found out he sent a sum of at least a hundred million credits to the peacekeepers."

Vladimir frowned. "The peacekeepers? Huh. They\'re currently aligned with Yuri, are they not?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well." Vladimir nodded, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers as he considered his next words carefully. "And as was previously agreed upon, for services rendered... at the end of all this, when the dust settles on our victories, I will hand over Ezra Matten to you."

The Necromancer nodded in agreement. "Of course, Count Vladimir. Ezra Matten is... a significant addition to my... collection."

"Indeed, he will be," Vladimir said with a nod. "But remember, this promise hinges on your success and discretion in managing Westside."

"Understood, my lord. You will not be disappointed." The Necromancer replied, bowing once more before turning to leave the room.

As the door closed behind him, The Necromancer quickly made his way to the teleportation room. A grin remained pasted on his face.

He hadn\'t yet decided when to betray Vladimir. The man was much smarter than Griffin had been. He knew Vladimir didn\'t trust him and probably had no plans to hand Ezra Matten to him. Everyone of them were just obsessed with that damned well.

If he were a less ambitious man, he would also be craving the power of the well. But he had his sights on something more. Something better.

The vampire throne.

He didn\'t need to own a relic. He only needed to own a prince.

He sniffed at the displays of wealth as he passed. Judging from what he\'d seen, this had to be a pretty screen to hide what was underneath.

He knew for a fact that right now, Vladimir was broke. He was probably the poorest of the three Counts. He\'d tried investing a significant amount of money into digital currencies while trying to influence the market.

The Necromancer chuckled to himself. "The folly of counts." He whispered under his breath. If the other two counts knew, they\'d focus on eliminating Vladimir before starting their fight.

If Vladimir ever shows any signs of betraying him, he\'d make sure that the information somehow finds its way to the right people.

After reaching the teleportation room, the Necromancer nodded to the guards and teleported away. He appeared in the throne room of the Star Heights hotel, which was popularly known among vampires as Griffin\'s sanctuary.

The Necromancer grinned, taking in the new decor. He\'d had the walls painted dark, making it look like it was completely wreathed in shadows.

He\'d also torn down the banners, putting up his own. The banners were made of black cloth, with the motifs of different nocturnal creatures sewn upon it in white.

He\'d removed Griffin\'s throne and erected his own. The new throne was a formidable structure of bleached white bones that stood out in the relative darkness. The back of the throne rose up high and tapered to end on a skull.

The Necromancer walked towards it, each of his steps echoing softly against the stone floor, his cloak trailing behind him like a silent shadow.

Climbing the dais, he took his seat upon the throne, the unnatural cold it radiated, seeping into him. Darkness began peeling off the throne. He settled into it, allowing the darkness to envelop him, feeling it amplify his powers.

He inhaled deeply, fixing the scent of the room into his brain. Was this what power smelled like? What it tasted like? On second thought, it was probably the smell of paint.

The door to the throne room creaked open, and Z entered. He walked forward, his posture straight but respectful. The Necromancer had been keeping his higher functions active with constant vitality.

He contemplated asking Z to remove the bird mask on his face. He wanted to be able to see the vampire\'s expression. Z wasn\'t an undead minion but instead, an avatar he had been able to seize control of.

Was he as resentful as X? Only time would tell? The Necromancer watched as Z approached the dais and dropped to a knee, his head bowed low.

"My lord, the human minions we have out there still haven\'t located Ezra\'s hideout in Southside." Z reported, his voice a mix of frustration and determination.

The Necromancer\'s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Keep searching." He commanded, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous room.

The search was taking too long. Having someone that could get within striking distance of Ezra without arousing suspicions was one thing. Actually finding Ezra to enact the plan was another.

The plan he\'d used on X wouldn\'t work on Ezra. Ezra wasn\'t always alone.

"We are close to his hideout, I can feel it." The Necromancer said. "Ezra\'s time is running out, and we must be the ones to close the net."

Z nodded, his head still bowed. "Yes, my lord. I\'ll make sure they work harder. We have a few more leads to follow up on."

"Good." The Necromancer replied, already dreaming of the things he\'d do with Ezra under his control. "Make sure that our minions are discreet. They must blend in at all times. We cannot afford to alert him or his allies to how close we are. Use whatever resources are necessary to make this work."

"Yes, my lord." With another nod, Z rose and backed away from the throne, his figure retreating into the darkness of the room\'s edges before turning and exiting through the heavy doors.

Alone again, the Necromancer leaned back in his throne, his fingers tapping against the armrests. The darkness around him seemed to draw closer, like a pet begging for treats.

"Ezra Matten." The Necromancer chuckled. "Do stay safe until I get to you."