“I"m very disappointed in you,” Vincent Wilder said in a bitter voice and stared coldly at Anathema. Belkeep, the capital city of Meraxor, was cool in the dwindling afternoon sun, but the demons" presence warmed up the reception hall where Vincent had called them for a lecture.
The immense castle lay in the centre of the nation of Meraxor, all other buildings built in concentric circles around it.
The castle had been painstakingly built by slaves from the villages the Brotherhood had conquered, many of whom died building it. But the results were impressive—a huge wooden castle, reinforced with iron girders and covered in handcrafted golden leaves. When the sun shone on the castle of Belkeep, a thousand beams of golden rain glittered over the nation.
Eight turrets reached into the air, t
