POV: Haruki
Waiting, for sure, is an annoying thing, especially the goosebumps of not knowing if your plan worked or not. It has been a week since Lord Severin died. Seven days, yet no word from Lord Alaric or from House Manthar in general. The king insisted that Severin's funeral be held here in the capital, as Severin was very dear to him, but House Manthar did not attend. They didn't even send an envoy or anything, though the king merely said they were grieving and did not seem to take offence, at least not publicly. That does not fit at all with Alaric's personality.
According to Dorian's memory and my own observation, Severin seemed to have a very good relationship with his nephews. He took them in as his sons after most of his own sons died for one reason or another. His eldest nephew, Alaric, is his heir, and he sees him as his hero. In the last three years alone since the unification of the Carmilla faction and the Tepes faction, he participated in more than seven duels because someone insulted Lord Severin. Alaric won each of them, successfully defending his uncle's honour. And the insults were, for the most part, rather inconsequential, like someone from the Carmilla faction mocking Severin's clothing or petty remarks about his manners, yet Alaric tolerated no insult to his uncle or to his house, no matter how trivial.
From Dorian's memories, as well as my brief interactions with him, Alaric strikes me as impulsive, quick to take the shortest path to a goal, but logical enough once he has the facts. His impulsiveness and impatience should not be confused for lack of intelligence, though he is no genius by any stretch of imagination, but he is competent enough. In fact he is competent, and shrewd enough to surround himself with men who balance his flaws with steadiness and reason. That in itself shows awareness.
But is it possible that I misjudged him? That I could not entirely rely on Dorian's knowledge was proved by his sisters' abilities and personalities. But even Severin, who should know Alaric best, seemed to mirror my thoughts on Alaric's likely reaction. So why is he not doing anything? He should be summoning his soldiers and acting against House Vladi or Drachenthal as soon as he received Liliane's message. Yet there is no news of him doing anything. In fact, there is no news from him or his territory at all. He has closed off his domain. Naturally, I suspect he is at least calling his allies for war, but I am still worried.
It has been almost two months since I began my mission here, yet I have nothing to show for it. I have gotten no closer to the royal family at all, and I have no lead to the artifact. I only have four months remaining before the ritual is broken. I need to hurry. Alaric taking his time, while logical, is not what I want.
I heard a knock from the door to my study.
"Come in," I said calmly.
The door opened to reveal a golden-haired woman, Vaelith.
"Lady Delilah is here for your appointment, my lord," said Vaelith politely.
Ah, yes. I have been invited to a gathering by Casmir Vladi, the second son of Lord Vladi. I don't really like him, I have avoided him as much as possible. My betrothed, however, is his great friend, as was the original Dorian. Which tells you all you need to know about Casmir.
I sighed and rose reluctantly; the chair was too comfortable to leave.
"You could perhaps try to look less like you are going to a funeral and more to have a fun meeting," said Vaelith.
"Meeting?" I said with exaggerated cheer. "I love meetings!" I declared with fake enthusiasm.
She just laughed at that, which made it worth it. Vaelith, despite her easygoing nature, has been less accepting of this "new Dorian," so to speak. While Selvara is more calculating and cunning, she simply saw an opportunity in my change of character and is working hard to make herself indispensable to me, likely believing that if she shows herself as useful I will be less inclined to return to my past behaviors. Vaelith, on the other hand, just seems terrified and is waiting for the other shoe to drop.
After I accepted Casmir's invitation, I invited Delilah to accompany me. She has only visited me once in the capital, though not for the lack of trying. But I was firm that she not come visit, and Lady Vauclair was rather thankful for that. Inviting her now serves two purposes: testing her family's reaction, and exploiting Delilah's network. While Lady Vauclair has been doing her best to limit her daughter's ambitions, like not allowing her to come to the capital as often, Delilah is not one to be easily contained. She has made quite the circle of friends outside of it, quickly befriending many from the Tepes faction. She doesn't care about the ideological conflict between the two factions, but her own. That makes her useful to me.
I walked to the living room and was greeted by the beautiful appearance of Delilah. Her silver-platinum hair, long and wavy, cascading over her shoulders in soft curls, with a delicate crown braid encircling her head, enhancing her graceful aura. Her complexion was pale, her skin smooth and even, giving her a clear, polished look. She wore a dark violet dress with black undertones, layered with ruffles and trimmed with pale lace that stood out against the darker fabric. The dress was cut off the shoulders, leaving her collarbones and part of her upper chest exposed.
"Lady Delilah," I said, "you are fair as ever, a welcome sight in troubled times," I complimented with a smile.
"And you, my lord, as beautiful as ever. Why, the grief has not marred your beauty in the slightest," she said with a smile.
It is likely meant to be a back-handed compliment that I do not look like I am mourning the death of my supposed surrogate grandfather. She must be really annoyed at me if she is being this unsubtle with her insults.
I took her hand and kissed it gentlemanly. Her hand was light in mine, smooth, and entirely devoid of warmth. A perfect emblem of her personality.
"My absence in the capital has been noted," she said lightly, though her eyes sharpened as they locked onto mine. "I had thought my betrothed would have greater interest in presenting himself with his lady by his side. But perhaps I ask too much."
Ah. Straight to it. That saves me the pretense of small talk.
"Your modesty, my lady, astonishes me," I replied smoothly, releasing her hand with studied care. "One would think a woman of your brilliance would find no difficulty in gathering admirers without the tedious necessity of my presence."
Her lips curved, though there was no affection in the gesture. "And yet, my lord, a lady should not be forced to seek admiration outside what is hers by right. People do whisper, you know. They ask why Lord Dorian keeps his beloved so far away. I cannot help but wonder myself."
She is testing me, measuring how much I intend to tolerate. The old Dorian would have stammered out excuses or placated her with promises. I am not him.
"Whispers are the occupation of idle tongues," I said, tone almost casual. "Those who indulge in them are beneath our notice. Surely you, of all people, would not debase yourself by lending them credence?"
A flicker of irritation crossed her pale features. She masked it quickly, but I caught it, and that was enough to make enduring this performance worthwhile.
"My lord mistakes me," she said sweetly. "It is not that I listen to whispers. It is that I see with my own eyes. Other ladies, after all, are granted the delight of attending the capital alongside their lords. It is strange, is it not, that I am the exception?"
There it is. The accusation veiled in courtesy. She has a talent for it, I will give her that.
"An exception only in circumstance," I countered, keeping my voice light. "It is precisely because you are above the common fray that I would not drag you into the suffocating pettiness of court at every turn. You deserve better than to be paraded about like an ornament."
Her gaze hardened, though her smile never faltered. "How flattering. And yet, ornaments are often displayed because they are valued. One wonders whether your reluctance is truly protection… or something else."
This is where she reveals her hand. She wants to be seen, noticed, adored. She craves recognition like a starving animal craves food. And I despise her for it.
"Then let me assure you, my lady," I said, inclining my head ever so slightly, "that no one values you more highly than I. If I were less restrained, I would summon you daily, simply to silence the envy of those around us. But I have found, in my brief experience, that too much of a good thing lessens its savor."
Her laugh was soft, deliberate, and entirely without joy. "So I am to be rationed out like wine, only sipped on occasion lest you grow weary of me? How fortunate I must be to inspire such restraint."
"Indeed," I said, meeting her gaze without a flicker. "Few men possess such discipline. You should take comfort in that, if nothing else."
For a moment the silence between us thickened, brittle but charged. She studied me with the same care I afforded her, as though she suspected a stranger had slipped beneath the skin of the man she thought she knew. And in that, at least, she is correct. Dorian for all his faults was smitten with her, indulging her in a lot of things. Of course, he sometimes tended to have mood swings and completely ignored her, but she has always been excellent at adapting to circumstances and turning them into her advantages. She matched Dorian's fantasy and quickly gained his favor. She likely thinks I am having one of those mood swings and believes she can guilt-trip me into doing her bidding. A mistake.
I then smiled at her and gave her my hand.
"Well then, my lady, shall we?" I said.
She took my hand. "Of course, my lord," she said coldly.
And we went to our carriage leading to Lord Casmir's mansion.
———————————-
Casmir's castle is, like all members of the vampire nobility, exaggeratedly huge. Honestly, it's as if they're competing with each other to see who can waste more stone and labor. House Vladi is by far the most powerful and richest of King Tepes's vassals. There are six dukes in the Tepes faction, yet it would be no exaggeration to say that even if three dukes were to combine their wealth and territories, they would still be poorer than House Vladi.
House Manthar had their great rise in power thanks to Severin, but even with that, they're not nearly as rich or big as Vladi. And Vladi makes sure the others never forget that fact. Even King Tepes himself treads carefully around Lord Vladi, measuring his words so as not to offend him. The royal court is stuffed with House Vladi members or their puppets, scattered across key positions like ticks burrowing into flesh. The current main wife of King Tepes? A daughter of Duke Vladi. That marriage was the price the king paid to secure Vladi's aid back when his uncle tried to usurp him a couple of centuries ago.
The only other house that can rival Vladi is House Drachenthal of the Carmilla faction. Which is why those two houses dominate the current united court like twin vultures on a carcass. One of the main sources of Vladi's obscene wealth comes from their "food farms." Food here, of course, doesn't mean bread or wine. It means blood, human blood or the blood of other creatures. The rarer, the better. Dragon blood, for example, is among the rarest and most expensive substances in existence.
Right now, House Vladi is invaluable. The vampire dimension is locked, which means exports and imports to other supernatural realms are heavily restricted. If you want blood, and especially rare blood, Vladi is who you crawl to.
I looked around the huge hall of the mansion with Delilah in my arms. From the entrance stairs, my eyes swept over the sight laid before me, and the only word that came to mind was hell.
I saw countless lesser nobles indulging themselves with humans. It was a stark contrast to my appointment celebration at the royal castle. There, things had been controlled, polished, masked by ritual and pageantry. Here? They weren't even pretending. They were really letting loose.
Orgies sprawled across couches and marble floors. Vampires drank blood straight from veins while taking sexual pleasure at the same time. Human boys and girls, so young I didn't dare guess their ages, were being used in ways that turned my stomach. Some nobles casually tore hearts from living humans and ate them right there. The floor was soaked with blood and semen, a foul mixture being lapped up by humans wearing collars like dogs. Others were whipped and shouted at to clean faster.
"Clean it with your mouth, whore," I heard one vampire sneer, tossing a woman to the floor and ordering her to lick it spotless.
I could barely breathe. I circulated my holy power around my entire body, as if it could wash away what I was seeing, calm me, keep me steady. Delilah glanced at me, confused, as I excused myself. I forced my face into the same cold mask I always wore, but inside I felt poisoned.
I slipped away, headed straight for the washroom. Inside, I closed myself in one of the lone stalls and cast concealment magic so no sound would escape.
"Bluurrgghhhh."
I vomited into the handwash. Again and again. My body convulsed at the memory of what I had seen. What was that? How could they be so disgusting?
Death to all those who defile humanity.
The words came back to me, the oath of the heroes. I wondered if this was what they had seen before swearing it. Maybe it was. Maybe it had to be. Seeing this made their vows understandable in a way I had never felt before.
I stayed there for minutes, heaving, until I finally steadied myself. I cleaned everything with magic; every trace of vomit gone, every scent erased. No one could know. I would need to prepare an explanation for this.
Then I walked back out. I returned to where I had left Delilah, but she was gone.
"Dorian, my man," said a voice behind me.
I turned. A young man stood there, blond hair, red eyes, grinning like the world itself belonged to him. Casmir Vladi. Delilah stood at his side.
Casmir stepped forward and hugged me like we were old friends reunited. His arms around me felt like shackles.
"You suddenly disappeared, my love. Is everything alright?" Delilah asked, her voice smooth, her concern so carefully crafted it almost felt real.
"Everything is alright, dear. I simply remembered something I needed to inform my sister regarding her duties," I answered easily. Naturally, I had already made sure to be seen sending a crow with a message, insurance in case either of them tried to investigate my absence.
That was all I said, and yet Casmir seized the chance to close in tighter, wrapping me in the suffocating warmth of a man who believed we were brothers. His perfume was too sweet, cloying, like rotting flowers.
I kept my face calm, even pleasant, though inside I wondered if my cloak would burn well enough to end this charade in one blaze.
"Dorian, my man," Casmir grinned, gripping my shoulders as though he thought I might vanish into mist and leave him. "You vanish from me too often these days. Tell me, what crime have I committed that you avoid me so thoroughly?"
Ah. He's noticed. Of course he has.
"My dear Casmir," I replied smoothly, "you wound me with such words. Me avoiding you? Perish the thought. You know well how I value our friendship. Indeed, the only crime here is that of my many obligations, dragging me away when I would rather spend time with you."
The sentence slid from my tongue with practiced grace. It would have impressed even the most silver-tongued courtier. Yet to me it tasted like ash. Casmir, of course, beamed as if it were a love letter.
"You always were the flatterer," he said with a laugh. "But you forget, I have known you since before you could lie so elegantly. When you avoid me, I feel it. Truly, it hurts."
And I would have happily let that pain consume you, if only it spared me your voice. But I had no such luxury. I was Dorian here, and Dorian and Casmir were inseparable.
"Do not be so dramatic," I said lightly. "If my absence pains you so deeply, then let this night make amends. Consider me yours, in full and without condition."
Delilah's eyes flicked between us, her smile too smooth, her silence too sharp. She had been waiting for this. She wanted me to be seen with Casmir.
"How touching," she murmured. "Two friends reunited, like a tale told too often and yet never growing dull."
Her tone suggested the opposite, but Casmir ignored her.
"That settles it," he declared. "I will not waste such a promise in the crowd. The hall is filled with fools and animals, and you, my old friend, are neither. Come with me. The private room awaits, the place where real friends speak freely. You remember it, don't you?"
Of course I remembered. Dorian remembered. I had no choice but to follow the thread he had woven.
"How could I forget?" I answered, smiling though my eyes stayed cold. "Lead the way, Casmir. Let us have fun."
Casmir had brought us into a luxurious room, already occupied by eleven others, all at ease, all indulging themselves. Old friends of Dorian's, and thus, for tonight, mine. I had played the role flawlessly, greeting them as he would have, jesting as though I had known them for centuries, weaving myself into their circle with ease.
Drinks had been prepared: rich, dark, intoxicating. In the great hall earlier, it had been humans who were torn apart for pleasure. Here, the rules were different. Only two humans were present, both serving Odran Drakovar of House Drakovar, a duke of the Tepes faction. His particular fondness for human blood excused what would otherwise have been considered vulgar. Among high nobles, mortals were too lowly to present openly.
The rest of the chamber displayed rarities: magical creatures acquired through coin, violence, or black-market theft. Delilah, of course, had made a spectacle of herself, feeding languidly from a tiger-yokai woman, striking in her beauty, no doubt purchased illegally. Others amused themselves with elves, both light and dark, or other exotic beings. I merely drank dragon blood from a bottle. Capturing one alive was beyond even their arrogance.
We sat together on a vast, circular couch; plush, sprawling, obscene in its comfort, each noble feeding, laughing, debating. The current subject was human breeding.
"I am still fascinated by your new breed of humans," said Nerissa Auvray, second daughter of Duchess Auvray, her voice cool but tinged with genuine curiosity.
"Why thank you. They are my masterpieces," Casmir replied, alight with eagerness. His voice carried the easy pride of a man desperate to lecture.
"I have long been dissatisfied with our practices," he began, smooth, deliberate, almost reflective, though in every syllable lurked delight. "For millennia we have lived as our instincts dictated: we take, we feed, we discard. We harvest men and women as one harvests wheat, without design, without order, without vision. A crude economy of blood and flesh. Inefficient. Vulgar. It was not until a mere few centuries ago that we, lords of the night, deigned to treat the matter of their supply with the seriousness it demanded. Only then did the notion of the human farms truly take form."
A murmur of assent moved through the chamber. Casmir let it linger, then sharpened his tone.
"Yet even this refinement was lacking. For though we kept them penned, still they remembered. For man remembers. They remembered fields not owned by us, skies unchained, stories whispered in the dark of liberty. They remembered, and that memory bred resistance. Hope, even the faintest glimmer, made them dangerous. My grandsire told me often, 'a beast that recalls the taste of freedom will never be docile'. He was right. A food that talks back, that dreams, is no food at all. It is a waste. It is an insult placed in the mouth."
Soft laughter rippled through the nobles, whether from amusement or unease, I could not tell.
"So," Casmir went on, spreading his hands as though to reveal some divine truth, "I resolved to perfect what my ancestors began. No more crude farms. No more chance stock. Not chaos, but cultivation. I asked myself: what if the human was bred not merely to feed us, but to suit us? To be shaped – mind, body, and spirit – into something that no longer recalls, no longer resists, no longer hopes?"
His voice rose, relishing every word.
"Through careful selection, compliance becomes hereditary. Fear becomes instinct. Dullness of mind, a virtue. Every spark of defiance extinguished, every strain of wit culled without mercy. Until what remains is no longer truly human, but a thing crafted; docile, obedient, incapable of rebellion, incapable even of conceiving rebellion. A herd that feeds us and depends on us. If we perish, they perish. Their dependency is their chain, their loyalty, our triumph. Thus mankind ceases to be our adversary… and becomes our inheritance."
He paused, smiling faintly. "I tell you, my friends, this is not cruelty. This is art. The shaping of an animal into its perfected form. A race that kneels by instinct, that loves its master as it loves its breath. That is the future I have bred into their blood."
The silence that followed was heavy, almost reverent. Casmir let it stretch, then allowed the edges of his smile to sharpen.
"There will come a day when the human no longer remembers the word freedom. When the thought itself has vanished from their blood. On that day, we shall have achieved perfection: food that walks, speaks, and pleases… yet never dreams of being more than that."
Laughter and applause broke the tension. Some faces glowed with cruel delight, others with unease they dared not voice. Casmir drank it all in, savoring. Then he clapped his hands once.
The double doors opened.
From the right, fourteen young men entered. Tall, lithe, androgynously beautiful: each body sculpted to perfection, each face soft, delicate, crafted like art. From the left, an equal number of women, movements fluid and graceful, symmetry almost divine. They could have adorned the courts of mortal kings as living jewels. Yet their eyes betrayed them: vacant, dulled, hollow.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Casmir declared with a flourish, "I present to you the new breed of humanity. Perfectly bred to be your food, your pets, your adornments. They will never rebel, never whisper of another life. They will live and die as we have designed, with gratitude for the chains that bind them. Please… indulge yourselves."
The nobles rose as one, laughter mingling with hunger, claiming the living dolls like hunters taking prey. I remained seated, glass of dragon blood in hand, the holy power within me wound tight, restraining me from tearing Casmir apart where he stood.
I observed as they sank their fangs into the so-called new humans. I despised myself for not acting. With my holy powers and the element of surprise, I could most likely take them on. But would that I could. Killing these sorry excuses for sentient beings would accomplish nothing. Where would I take all the captured humans here? The dimension is closed… I need to focus, to find a way to quickly achieve my goals.
I looked at these new humans. They smiled as the vampires drank their blood, likely bred to find such things pleasurable. Could they even be considered humans? They looked human, moved like humans, yet they were stripped of everything that made a human.
"Not impressed by my show, I take it," said Casmir, the only other occupant in the room not feeding on them.
"I am impressed," I replied casually, "yet I find I have changed my taste these days."
"Oh? How so?" he asked.
"Docile targets have become too boring. There is no excitement in feeding on them." It was the excuse I used to avoid drinking human blood.
He chuckled. "You always had an interesting taste. I admired that. A breath of fresh air compared to most of the nobility. We should organise a hunt, like we used to. It could perhaps awaken some of your passion."
I shrugged.
"In any case, I noticed you did not feed on any of the food I prepared."
I raised an eyebrow at that.
"Perhaps my fiancé is feeling bored," said Delilah as she approached us, holding a human woman by one hand and a tiger-woman yokai by the other. She threw the human aside and stripped the yokai with her hands. Her fingers massaged the yokai's ample breasts, her movements deliberate, calculated. "Perhaps both of us pleasuring you could stave off your boredom, my lord," she said, her voice low, licking the tiger-woman's ears slowly.
I gave her a disinterested look. She was likely offering me a chance to avoid insulting Casmir. Always striving for prominence.
Casmir looked merely amused, noting my reaction. "I have prepared a surprise for you, and also a late congratulations for your appointment to the court," he said. He clapped his hands, and the door on the right opened. Servants entered, guiding something behind them.
At once, the room stilled. Even those who had their fangs buried in flesh froze mid-motion, transfixed. Pupils widened, lips parted, hunger rippled through the air like a wave.
What walked into the room was unlike anything that should have been paraded before a court of predators.
It was a unicorn.
A tall, slender, horse-like creature, its body a flawless white that seemed to carry its own faint radiance. Its mane was long and silken, glimmering with a subtle shimmer like starlight, each movement of its neck casting light across the marble floor. Upon its brow curved a horn of pale ivory, spiraled and gleaming faintly with a soft luminescence that made the torches seem dull by comparison. Its every step was measured, graceful, soundless, as if the ground yielded beneath it rather than bore its weight.
The eyes, however, those halted me. Deep, liquid, and unflinchingly intelligent, as human as they were alien, filled with quiet knowing. They looked upon the room not with the emptiness of livestock, but with recognition, and with sorrow. It was the look of something aware of what had been done to it, of what would continue to be done, and powerless to resist.
Melancholy clung to its form, subtle but undeniable, like a shadow wrapped around its beauty. There were faint marks along its flanks, hidden but not entirely erased: evidence of chains, of whips, of being forced into submission. Tortured, beaten down, broken into obedience. And yet, for all that, its dignity had not wholly been extinguished.
It stood in the center of the circle of nobles, the purity of its presence a silent accusation against everything in this chamber.
The vampires stared as if beholding divinity. Tongues brushed lips, fangs glinted. Unicorn blood, one of the rarest. Said to burn like fire, to heal as it destroyed, to intoxicate beyond measure.
The sight of it here, debased as a spectacle, churned bile in my throat. I forced it down, letting holy power flow through my veins as a shield against the hunger thickening in the air.
Then its eyes met mine. For an instant, they held me. Intelligent. Mournful. Damning.
"What do you think?" said Casmir, seeking my approval.
I could feel my hunger rising. I smiled at him. "Casmir, you know me too well. This is excellent."
I grinned wickedly. He blushed faintly at that. I had to pretend. To refuse the gift would be an insult.
I walked to the unicorn. Its eyes followed me. Human in their intelligence, gentler than any human gaze had ever been. I touched its mane, then sank my fangs gently.
The taste was unbearable in its perfection. Liquid light pouring into my veins. Purity twisted into desecration. My chest burned with hunger, but my mind recoiled, screaming apologies words could never carry.
Do not be sorry, a voice murmured in my mind. Not sound, not thought, something deeper.
I stiffened, still feeding.
To die is no sorrow, Haruki Yamashiro. Not here. Not before these walls. It is better than the fate they would bind me to.
My eyes widened. "You–" The word died unspoken, but the thought reached her.
Yes. I hear you. And you hear me.
Her voice was innocent, yet carried a depth that tightened my throat. A creature of light, degraded into a chalice.
Listen well. Freedom is not in the living of one's days, but in their manner of ending. A life unchained for a moment is worth more than a century in bondage. I would rather perish as myself than remain here as their slave.
The blood thickened on my tongue. Too sweet. Too wrong.
Do not linger. If you must, then kill me swiftly. Mercy, not regret.
My grip on her mane trembled.
And you, Haruki, do not lose yourself. Drink, if you must. Kill, if you must. But do not gaze too long into their abyss. For it gazes back. And if it finds you hollow, it will keep you here forever.
Her presence dimmed like a fading star. Only her words remained, heavy.
I closed my eyes. For once in this charade, my grin slipped. I drained her fully, ending it swiftly, without pain. If a vampire willed it, the victim could die in bliss.
After I finished feeding on the unicorn, we simply continued our conversation as if nothing had happened. The taste still lingered on my tongue, bitter and oddly metallic, as if it wanted to remind me of my own shame. I had eaten the thing, and for what? A demonstration, so that I keep character, so that I can accomplish my mission. Unicorns, it seems, are peculiar creatures. Their death affirms certain dignity, that standing upright in defiance is preferable to kneeling in life. Yet why must the choice even exist? A civilized mind would craft a condition beyond that dilemma.
The others prattled on in their usual manner, each one convinced their words possessed the weight of prophecy. The subject was slavery, or what passed for it here. The treatment of the lower-class vampires and the mongrel half-breeds.
Miralda Drachenthal, the fourth daughter of Lady Drachenthal, spoke with a strange urgency. Her tone was polished but firm, a rarity among those who usually drowned themselves in detached elegance. She claimed such treatment only invited unrest, just as human societies had learned to their cost. Her solution, if it was genuine though I doubt it, was that society might fare better without chains at all. A dangerous statement in such company, though perhaps she enjoyed the thrill of scandal more than the weight of conviction.
And then the door opened. Another figure entered, and for a moment, I faltered. Eric Manthar. Alaric's brother.
What in the hells was he doing here? Should he not be with his brother, preparing for war, rallying their banners? And yet, here he was, strolling into the House of Vladi as if it were a garden party.
"Miralda, my delight," Eric said, inclining his head with practiced grace. "Beneath those sweet breasts beats a tender heart. But listen, and let an elder speak. The world is not governed by kindness, nor by rebellion. Appearances often lie."
Casmir all but glowed at his arrival, smiling like a child given a new toy.
"Appearances?" Miralda echoed, narrowing her eyes.
Eric clasped his hands behind his back and let his voice settle into the calm assurance of someone who had never been denied a stage. "Yes. You see only cruelty in bondage, but cruelty is not the essence of it. Slavery is not the disease. It is the marrow of hierarchy. Remove it, and you hollow the bones of our society until it collapses under its own weight. Consider the great estates, the halls we dine in, the libraries we inherit. Do you imagine they rose from the hands of their lords alone? No. They were built and maintained by the low, by those whose worth is in their labor, not in their blood."
Miralda frowned, though I could not tell if it was outrage or calculation.
Eric pressed on. "If every vampire, high or low, were forced to till the fields or quarry the stone, none would have leisure to study the old grimoires or devise the intricacies of blood magic. If each of us spent our nights mucking stables, who would have cultivated the refinements of state, or the discipline of war? You speak of revolution, but there is no civilization without subjugation. For one tier to ascend, another must remain beneath. The pyramid cannot stand upon its tip."
His tone was so smooth it could almost pass for reason. Almost.
He sat with us and began to easily debate with the members. I simply listened and tried to make sense of what he was doing here. He took one of the yokai present and sank his fangs. He talked and joked with those present for a while. Until he asked to talk with me in private, which Casmir prepared happily. We entered a private room, and Eric began to use his own concealment magic. It seems he does not trust Casmir not to eavesdrop.
"Forgive the paranoia. But one can never be too careful these days," he said with an apologetic smile.
"Don't worry about it. It is only expected," I said casually.
"It has been a while, Dorian. I am glad to see you again," he said.
"Likewise. Though I doubt this is merely a social call," I replied, getting straight to the point.
"I am afraid not," he said. "Lady Liliane sent us a troubling letter. A letter detailing my uncle's last moment," he said carefully.
I motioned for him to go on. He explained what was in the letter, and I listened silently. He naturally believes that I did not know about it, for he does not know of mine and Liliane's relationship. He explained what Severin believed to be the traitors and his list of suspects. After he finished, "I am told he told you of this as well," he asked.
"I wish he had not. But during one of his lucid moments he called for me. He saw me as one of his sons and I likewise saw him as a father. I loved him deeply, for how could I not," I said in a fitting voice.
He smiled at that.
"He told me only of those who knew about his mission, which he believed to be responsible for the betrayal, for no one else knew of it. He made me promise him," I said calmly.
"What did you promise him?" he asked, curious.
"To prevent a war by finding the real culprit and bringing him to justice," I said.
He looked down at that. "That is so like him. Worrying about the vampires as a whole," he said sadly.
"And I could not refuse him in that state," I said. "So I promised against my better judgment to remain calm and seek proof of the traitor instead of declaring war as my heart tells me to," I said, anger marring my voice.
He touched my shoulder. "My uncle is kind. He seeks to avoid conflict. But it is good that you promised him, at least he died content you will try to honour his legacy," he said.
"A promise to a dying man must always be kept. Yet my wrath tells me to kill them all," I said.
He smiled at me. "Indeed, you promised, and you must keep it. However, do not worry. We will have our vengeance," he said angrily.
"How?" I asked.
"You promised him. We did not give our word that we would not retaliate," he said with a wicked smile. "Alaric is already calling his banners. We will make House Vladi and Drachenthal pay. We believe both Lord Vladi and Lady Drachenthal were responsible for the act. However, we cannot afford to wage war on both of them," he said.
"Why do you think that? Lord Vladi has always been a great friend of Lord Severin. Isn't Lady Drachenthal more likely to do so?" I said.
"That is what we believed at first. But Lady Drachenthal has agreed to marry her heir to Lord Vladi's son. This was done in secret just before my uncle left for his mission. It is clear they are in alliance. Lord Vladi's greed has made him forget his friendship," he said, fury in his voice.
"That would change things. How did you find out about that, then? Is it reliable? Because there is no rumor in the court about this," I asked.
"The handmaiden of Lady Drachenthal, Elmenhilde Karnstein, told me. I have secretly courted her and put her under my spell years ago as my spy, but who would have guessed she could be so useful," he said with a smile.
I pretended to be shocked and impressed at that.
"Then what are you going to do?" I asked.
"Make them pay, of course," he stated easily. "However, we need leverage against either of them, to make sure they do not help each other."
I smiled at him. "Then how fortunate that I happen to know Lord Casmir has a certain appointment outside the capital in three days, and I can find out which way he will take," I said calmly.
He grinned. "Excellent. Then it is only normal you tell me of this as your and Casmir's friend. It is not strange at all. Friendship is, after all, very important," he said.
I told him many of the details, and he thanked me and went out to chat and laugh with the people he wants to wage war on and kill. I just love when everything comes together.
Elmenhilde Karnstein is the sole member of her house and is technically the duchess. But she is considered too young to rule on her own, being only seventy-nine, and all her relatives were killed in an ambush decades ago. Queen Carmilla made Elmenhilde handmaiden of Lady Drachenthal to learn leadership and gain experience. Liliane told me that Elmenhilde had a secret relationship with Eric Manthar, but she did not know the details.
So I investigated, and what I found was extremely useful, and funny. Eric managed somewhere in the past to enslave Elmenhilde with crude magic, turning her into a spy back when the Tepes and Carmilla faction were at odds. I naturally freed her from this mind control, which made her extremely thankful. She despises House Manthar and wants to see them fall. But she was loyal to Lady Drachenthal, which was less than ideal. So I manipulated her carefully. Subtle persuasion magic, carefully placed lies and half-truths, to make her believe Lady Drachenthal was responsible for the ambush of her family back then. I convinced her Lady Drachenthal wanted to control House Karnstein and used her betrothal with a son of Lady Drachenthal as proof of this conspiracy. How Elmenhilde was going to be controlled by them.
It was surprisingly easy to convince her after having freed her from literal decades of mind control and not the best state of mind. I felt sorry for the girl. She sees me as her hero and savior and believes anything I say. So I told her to still pretend she was under Eric's control and feed him the information I tell her. And she did. It was merely a contingency plan in case Alaric did not come to the conclusion I wanted him to, and it seems it worked perfectly.
I enjoyed myself with Delilah and the others after that. Truly happy.
AN: enjoy.