- 3 -
Yaro
At the head of four vampires, he returned to the night gates from his evening patrol. The moon's gradual descent towards the horizon signalled that it was the end of the day for himself and his vampire forces. Yaro thought about the night he'd had; he would be required to debrief whoever was switching places with him. An almost pointless task given the desolation of the vampire district when the sun came up. Everyone wanted the job of patrolling it by day. Yaro alone had the unenvious task of trying to control it by night.
But tonight, there wasn't much to tell. It was quiet on his side. Most nights, he'd have several reports of how he had intervened as someone tried to gratuitously provoke a vampire, knowing they daren't react.
The citadel's impressive star-shaped fort, cut directly into the walls that separated the vampire district from the human part of the city. Only one of the five stars' points rested on the vampire side of the night gates. Human guards lined the walls between the two gatehouses, drawing the returning vampires dirty looks and uttering disgusting remarks amongst themselves.
Yaro, as the only human captain of the vampire Guard, received much harsher treatment than his subordinates.
But only when they knew he wasn't looking. He could feel their ire all the same.
He stepped through the entrance of the large stone headquarters, which housed the staging area for all of the Guards functions. The briefing hall was located immediately inside the entrance, a wooden podium at one end of the room. The rest of the room populated by old wooden chairs, arranged in untidy rows and abandoned at jaunty angles.
The podium sported a worn spot on the front where the changing crests of the city's previous ruling houses had rested. Its condition matched the rest of the room; Fenrir's money hadn't quite reached this far yet apparently.
He could hear the night captains from the humans' side of the city briefing the dayshift on the past night's events. As he made his way to the few steps that led to the captain's hall, he heard the four members of his squad creak into the seats in the middle of the hall behind him, remaining in case he had need of them.
"You can leave me." He addressed them forcefully. "Get some rest; I'll report in."
The largest of the group rose from his seat and gave an assertive nod on behalf of the others. Holt served as his unofficial second-in-command. Quite possibly the only vampire with whom he had any kind of personal rapport. He lingered at the top of the steps as the others followed Holt's lead and joined the rest of the mass of vampire guards out in the main corridor. They would have to join the end of the queue that was slowly trickling down into the bowels of their underground barracks in order to escape the fleeting comfort of the diminishing darkness.
Yaro attempted to enter the bunker-like room as stealthily as possible, but as the mouthpiece for the entirety of the vampire guard, both the dayshift and nightshift captains were waiting to be released and relieved, respectively. The group gathered around a massive wooden mock-up of the city sat atop a table. The miniature replica of the citadel could fit inside the palm of his hand, but it would still take fifteen men side by side to cover the area of one side of the city.
The captains were apprehensive. One man had a clenched fist and was visibly shaking with anger. All it would take was one swing and a fight would erupt. There was no one here that would come to his aid.
The last thing he wanted was for the guard to implode. Especially given the strange feeling he had. As soon as he locked eyes with the man, his fist unclenched. With nothing more than a slightly raised eyebrow, Yaro stared through the man. If they did decided to do away with him, which of them would take his place?
There were whispers and small pockets of laughter, but the majority of those present had their attention focused on the day-commander. Benjamin Rothrock was a living legend, the only man to defeat a vampire army for hundreds of years.
What did it matter that the "army" he had defeated was a small group of persecuted nomads looking for a home? People from the city had wanted them dealt with, and Rothrock was only too happy to oblige. Famously an early riser, the vampire guards joked amongst themselves that he woke up for the simple pleasure of spectating the toll the rising sun took on them. Indeed, he was more reliable than a cockerel in detecting the sun's imminent arrival.
He was picking up small wooden pieces denoting squads and moving them around the much larger human part of the city. There was little consideration given to the pieces that Yaro had placed the previous night in the relatively small area that constituted the vampire district.
"I hate to say it, but tensions are rising again." the day-commander said. "I want you to be on the lookout for any anti-vampire activity you may encounter. I don't care what it is. Crudely daubed insults are tantamount to a physical attack as far as I'm concerned. You will come down heavily on any perpetrators and send the message that the city guard won't stand for that sort of behaviour. Anyone who continues to cause issues will be sent to me."
More than likely to be recruited.
As he leaned against the wall, Yaro kept his arms folded, scanning the room for the captains' reactions. It was obvious that many of them disagreed with the orders. They were more inclined to help out with promoting hostilities, but not him.
"I know some of you disagree with my sentiments," the commander continued. "I've heard the whispers among the men." There was an unmistakable accentuation on the word "men." "Let me make it clear to you... This is not a discussion. Your duty is to protect the people of this city and any travellers on the outskirts. And that includes the vampiric people. If you don't like that, you know where the door is."
Yaro half-expected the entire room to empty. He righted himself from the wall and caught Rothrock's attention.
"Alright!" the day-commander bellowed. "You have your orders. I expect you to act on them. Dismissed."
As the day captains left to begin their patrols, Yaro waited patiently. Several of them bumped into him with their shoulders as they passed by. He simply met their gaze and invited them to do more. Once they had all left, Yaro addressed the day-commander without looking at him, "Nice speech. Who wrote it for you?"
"Nobody." Rothrock side-eyed him. "But make sure the sentiment is included in the daily report." The day commander gave a serious look to a man in the corner taking notes.
Oh, the report that goes to Fenrir?
The words did not match the attitude of the man who spoke them. He had been the day-commander for at least the length of Yaro's military career. Another long-running joke held that he had been around longer than some of the more notable vampires in the city. He always kept to the party line. Intelligent enough not to upset the person who bankrolled their entire military.
"Where's everyone else?" Rothrock inquired, as if Yaro might know. In truth, Yaro had been waiting to be alone with Rothrock in order to ask his questions.
"Here!" A voice came from the briefing hall before Yaro had a chance to speak.
Yaro turned around. The rest of the captains from the night shift had returned. These men had been assigned in spatterings to patrol the outer walls. Together in the room, they were all night captains, yet only Yaro had the honour of patrolling the vampire district.
The man who had called out stepped into the room, standing nose-to-nose with Yaro. "Kind of you to still be here. Shouldn't you be taking advantage of the early finish your men enjoy?"
Of all the things to be jealous of.
Rothrock grabbed the captain by the shoulder and separated him from Yaro. "Who would like to go first?" he asked. "Anything out of the ordinary?"
Nobody spoke.
"Yaro? I take it you've got something to say." Rothrock awaited his response with baited breath, eager to hear about his potential failings and the problems he was facing. He took great pleasure in slowly grinding him down.
"Nothing to report." Yaro said, "Unusually quiet."
"Lucky for some," another captain huffed under his breath.
"And why would that be?" Rothrock asked, sounding genuinely annoyed.
"More unrest at the gates, sir."
"So you've got something, but you chose not to speak up?"
"You asked if there was anything out of the ordinary Sir. There's nothing unusual about fights at the gates. It's endemic."
"Vandalism." Another captain spoke up, trying to appease the day-commander's desire for information.
"Where?" Rothrock enquired.
"The unoccupied area."
"What kind of vandalism?"
"I think you can guess," Yaro interjected. "Anti-vampire, was it?"
"Yes." The captain confirmed, drawing out the "S" as he glared at Yaro.
"Of course it was." Yaro rolled his eyes.
"Sympathiser," someone else in the room said under their breath.
Yaro heard him and made sure the man knew he had it by striking him a ferocious look. He then turned to Rothrock, looking to see if he would back up his earlier words. But Yaro wasn't a vampire, and these guards hadn't heard the performance.
"If you catch the miscreants in the act, you know what to do." Rothrock said. "Anyone else?"
Yaro once again scanned the room, hoping that nobody else had anything to say so that he could finally ask his questions.
"Very well," the commander started, preparing to wrap things up and heading back towards the briefing hall. "If that's everything, I will be on my way." Yaro watched as Rothrock placed his foot on the bottom step; he would have to ask now, in front of everyone. "Actually, I have a question."
Audible groans went up from the other captains. Rothrock, as well, seemed perturbed by Yaro's continuance. He turned and stood in the small entrance, blocking everyone's escape.
"Has there been any more attacks on traders outside the city walls?" Yaro directed the question at Rothrock, knowing the captains would not freely divulge any information to him.
"Nothing that's been reported, but that doesn't mean there hasn't been. Extra patrols have been assigned to the outer walls to find and cover up anything that's happened." Rothrock gestured at the captains, who were growing increasingly frustrated.
"What about assigning more patrols at night? We could catch the perpetrators in the act."
"We do not have enough manpower at night to patrol the entirety of the city walls and the surrounding area. Let alone by darkness."
If only we had people who excelled in being able to see in the dark…
"We would have enough if you permitted the vampire patrols to support." Yaro floated the idea with ambition. A cacophony of grumbles came from the assembled captains.
"They may not leave the vampire district. We uphold the law; we do not ignore it when it suits us." Rothrock shot it down just as quickly. "I also have no desire to make a criminal of the very man who pays our salary."
Everyone in the room joined in stunned silence that Rothrock would openly accuse Fenrir, though there was no one in the room that would be running back to inform him of the allegation.
It would be a lie for Yaro to say that he had not suspected Fenrir in some capacity, but something about the theory did not ring true. "But what would he stand to gain from killing small, independent traders? Is he killing for crumbs? And what about the deliberate positioning of the bodies? Every time they attack, they -"
"Give it a rest!" one of the captains shouted. "Some of us have families and beds to get to."
"I think we'll leave it there then." Rothrock said, turning his body to let Yaro slip by him, sparing him the same treatment as earlier from the night captains. "Get some rest."
I'd love to know what sort of speech the day-shift captains get when I'm not there to hear it.
Daylight gave Rothrock and the others somewhere to hide—a safe place for their prejudice.
Despite having more questions, he had outstayed what little welcome he was afforded. Leaving the briefing hall, he headed for the staircase that the vampires had descended. The stone staircase spiralled deep beneath the night gates. The first stop was the armoury, he had to hand in his equipment before finishing for the night. Voices emanated from further down the staircase; this should not have been the case. The only things beneath him on this side of the walls were the vampire armoury and barracks; everyone therein should already have been asleep, for their own sakes.
The armoury would have to wait.
As he made his way to investigate the source of the voices, the stairway turned into complete darkness. He placed his left hand on the inside wall and carefully measured his steps to ensure he did not tumble to the bottom. When he reached the final step, there was finally a small source of light. Small fires burned in the middle of the room to provide heat, carefully contained within metal boxes positioned as far away from the beds as possible to prevent any accidents.
Even from out in the corridor, he could make out the pleasant smells emanating from the pomanders hung or tied to bed posts. A necessity for vampire comfort. Even though they did not emit any bodily odours, there were a great many external factors that could offend their exceptional sense of smell.
From the room's entrance, he could see Holt's large frame casting an even larger shadow against the wall next to his bunk. He was discussing something with the newest member of their squad. A fatherly arm rested on the down-trodden youngster's shoulder… if he was even a youngster at all. It was entirely possible he was much older; his appearance frozen in time when he died.
Holt had been a vampire for a long time and was known for being headstrong and steadfast. If it wasn't for Yaro's acceptance of the position as captain of the vampire guard, thus permitting it to exist, Holt would probably be locked up, or worse…
But Yaro hadn't actually accepted the position. He had gotten it on a technicality. Technically, no one else wanted anything to do with the forming of a Vampire Guard. When it came time to select who would head it up, there was only one person who had put their name forward.
The very notion of a Vampire Guard was only entertained at the behest of Magnus, the evening counterpart to the day commander.
The major difference between the two was that Magnus was a bona-fide war hero. No human alive had the years to remember the battles Magnus fought in, but the man simply oozed military prowess.
Rothrock was almost born into his position, coming from a long line of military professionals. The night commander on the other hand, had spent more than two lifetimes dismantling such families on the battlefield. One of them was theory, the other was pragmatism.
"Everything alright?" Yaro directed the question at Holt, but his concern was for the younger man.
From experience, it was best to speak to the vampires through Holt whenever possible. As long as Holt treated him as his superior, he could see no harm in it.
Although communication with other vampire guards was oftentimes difficult, for some reason, they never had any issue following orders.
Holt looked into the young man's eyes, seemingly looking for his approval to disclose his predicament.
This wasn't going to be a simple problem; Yaro's mind raced to the worst-case scenario.
"He's not afflicted, is he?" Yaro asked in a hushed tone.
It was a serious accusation that Yaro was casually throwing out. But he had to ask.
Holt shook his head slowly. "He's just struggling to adjust... And he made a report on a vampire last night."
"Not trying to be funny, but that is his job."
"It was for something petty. He went later to check on the man in the cells; let him out before sunrise." Holt looked forlornly at the ground. "His prisoner wasn't there. Seems he was taken by the Justiciar."
"Oh," was the only reply that Yaro could muster, quietly acknowledging the fate of anyone selected by the Justiciar.
The man sat on his bunk and placed his head in his hands.
Yaro knew he could offer no insight into the vampire aspect of the man's problems, and he wouldn't dare insult him by pretending to. The man had chosen the name "Ockham" as his vampire name, which everyone agreed was an improvement on "Simon."
The law forced vampires to relinquish their surnames and inheritance rights. In protest, the original vampires that had come to the city opted to give themselves much more eloquent names. A way of sticking a middle finger up to a law that seemed unjust. It didn't take long for the tradition to catch on.
If you can only have one name, best make it count.
"Holt here is a fine guard and an even finer man." Yaro spoke while Ockham raised his head, returning a weak but polite smile.
Holt looked uncomfortable at the praise he was receiving and returned a smile even less convincing than the youngsters.
"It's the same as everything else, just takes getting used to. Repetition, repetition." Yaro said reassuringly.
Holt looked at Yaro, "...and some people would kill to be a vampire." raising an eyebrow as if prompting him to confirm the statement. He considered the irony that actually, he alone would be better off.
"I'll settle for being in charge of them." It was the most diplomatic response Yaro could come up with. "At any rate, the sun is rising. You need a human to tell you you should be sleeping?"
The young man needed no further persuading. He lay down on his bunk and rolled his eyes into the back of his head. Dead to the world.
At least Ockham wouldn't have to suffer the distress of his mind relentlessly going over the problems it told him he had. Something that regularly dogged Yaro's attempts at respite.
Now that they could speak privately, Yaro turned to Holt and adopted a more serious stance, repeating the same question as before. "He isn't afflicted, is he? Tell me that isn't the 'adjustment' he's struggling to make?"
It seemed the bluntness of the question caught Holt off-guard. "No," he replied curtly, looking insulted at the mere suggestion. "Do you honestly believe I would take such a risk?"
Yaro considered the question. It certainly wasn't too far-fetched to believe that Holt would try to help anyone that came to him seeking aid. On the other hand, he treated his duties and responsibilities as sacrosanct.
Simply keeping up his stern stare, Yaro refrained from answering.
The childish contest continued for a moment, each trying to impress upon the other which of them was taking the implication more seriously.
Holt blinked first as he had to stretch out his neck from the aches of the sun's pervasive rays. Even this far down, the sun's presence made itself known.
"In my experience, we would know by now. He hasn't shown any signs that he has any desire for it." Holt finally deflated the tension as he fell into his bunk, causing the others around him to shake violently. "I'll look after him."
"I know you will."
Yaro was unable to tell if Holt had heard his kind words before sinking into slumber. He knew how difficult it was for Holt to take a compliment, but he hoped he knew anyway how much respect he had for him. Without his support, his title would have been even more hollow than it already was.
He would have to rely on Holt to look after the new recruit. His responsibility was to the entirety of the vampire guard as a whole.
Though in truth, he had little to do. Vampires made for perfect guards; they always showed up and never got sick. Routine seemed to call to them.
With the last body in its bunk, Yaro stared as far into the darkness as he could. Rows and rows of bunks stretched into the darkness with barely any space between them. Humans would find the intolerably cramped conditions unacceptable. Vampires, on the other hand, could be laid like slabs one upon the other for the necessity of rest.
This was much less a barracks than it was a cavern. Every one of his vampire guards was here, sleeping. Or so he thought.
He began tiptoeing out of the room, as though there was some risk he might rouse one of them from their slumber. Once he realised his stupidity, he almost tripped as he quickly transitioned back to normal steps. Sound alone would not wake a sleeping vampire. Heading back up the stairs, he could hear the clattering of equipment being put away.
"Here he is," the master armourer called out. "Yaro the sparrow.'
A diminutive figure, locked away behind his own cage. Where he stood was boarded up with planks of wood, giving the appearance of a shop's counter. Without the man's warm demeanour, it would be an ineffective illusion. He was as trapped as the weapons he watched over, with iron bars interring both them and himself.
"What have I told you about calling me that?" Yaro replied, knowing fine well, it wouldn't make a difference.
"But it rhymes. And I'm stuck down here with no one interesting to talk to. Permit me my little pleasures, captain."
Yaro passed over his gloves, dagger, and finally his sword. As a captain, he was permitted to wear his sword while off-duty, but he consciously chose not to. He didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, and if others saw him without it, they would know that he didn't have the expectation of being treated like a normal captain.
He also wanted to be seen the same as his guards. One of them, rather than above them.
"I think that's everything."
The armourer turned behind the counter and handed the items to one of his subordinates. As he reappeared, he placed both hands on the counter and peered over. "Anything else?"
An unannounced figure skulking about in the shadows caught Yaro's eye.
"No." A voice came from the darkest corner of the room. "But he took out that cloak."
Finch revealed himself, stepping into the light. He was without his armour or weapon. He had clearly made a point of waiting for Yaro.
Finch looked Yaro up and down before closing the distance between them. He reached behind Yaro's neck and undid the clasps that secured the cloak to his shoulders.
"This is vampire gear. And last I heard, you did not have that honour."
It was true. The cloaks were one of the specialty items afforded to vampire guards. They were made of thick, coarse material, designed to be resistant to fire. For that reason, they were considerably heavier than their decorative counterparts. There was no benefit to Yaro wearing it other than the respect he felt he owed to the guards under him, who were forced to wear it out of necessity.
"I need this back!" Finch hissed as he tore the cloak from Yaro. He paused for a moment to see if Yaro would rise to the bait before throwing it down in front of the armourer.
Yaro took several slow, deep breaths. He could see that Finch had strained to bear the weight of the cloak. He was already weakening from the sun.
"Any success finding out who is responsible for the attacks outside the walls?" Finch scanned Yaro's face, seemingly fishing for any information.
Yaro's integrity would prevent him from indulging Finch. He quickly tried to assess how the vampire might know about the attacks at all.
Was he simply goading him?
Before he could muster any response, Finch gave him a colder look than any human guard had ever prepared for him.
As Finch took to the stairway, Yaro kept his gaze fixed on him. For some reason, the vampire looked decidedly pleased with himself.
A deep desire to put Finch in his place rose in him, but Finch was popular among his fellow guards. With the sun still rising, he would be considerably stronger than the vampire. Finch wouldn't even be able to defend himself.
"It's all accounted for, then." The armourers' words prevented Yaro from doing something foolish. "Yours was the last; all vampire guard equipment present and accounted for."
No small feat.
"I'll see you tonight." Yaro called back, his gaze still fixed in the direction that Finch had exited.
"Of course. Yaro the sparrow," said the armourer, pushing the cloak back towards him on the counter.
Yaro rolled his eyes and smiled as he took the garment and turned away from the armourer, whose grin he could feel in his back.
He began the climb to the surface, tired but not desiring sleep. Someone in the city knew what was going on with the attacks outside the city walls. Both sides would welcome conflict right now, but Yaro couldn't see what good it would do.
He wandered into the yard, where the newly risen sun almost blinded him, raising his left arm to his brow so that he could see. The lack of vision, combined with the sound of men grunting and wood cracking together made him feel vulnerable. He cautiously followed the noise, finding new recruits in training. He pretended to observe while his eyes slowly adjusted to the light.
When he had fully regained his sight, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed him struggling, half-expecting everyone to be standing, pointing, and laughing. As he took in the scene.
He might as well have been invisible.
The new recruits had not yet been taught to hate him.
Everyone was preoccupied with their own lives. He felt slightly embarrassed that he expected anyone to notice his presence.
He leaned against the nearest wall and crossed his arms, watching the drills and formations that had been set by Rothrock's counterpart, night-commander Magnus.
It was a pose that he frequently adopted. Keeping his arms up at his chest meant that he was always ready to defend himself if it came to it. A habit out of necessity.
The recruits kicked up mud as they practiced marching and fighting; the noise almost stifling.
The yard looked different during the day, overseen by the fresh faces of the day-shift captains that worked on the human side of the city. They hated him too. Just not as much as the night shift. During the day, even the noise in the yard was different. In between the grunting and thumping, the satisfying thud of arrows hitting round straw targets could be heard. A noise notably absent at night.
His men were forbidden from working with the bow. It was considered an unacceptable risk to give such a deadly weapon to soldiers who could shoot in complete darkness with amplified strength. Their acute eyesight also made them generally much more accurate.
This spared him some embarrassment, he wasn't at all skilled with a bow. His father had trained him in the sword from a young age. Any aptitude he may have had for it was clearly overtaken by the part of his brain that dealt with sword play. Though he might be outwardly bashful about it, he knew he had a flair for it.
A look of pride had crept onto his face; he admired the organisation and discipline on display. Even just being a bit-part of this massive machine, he loved it.
He had found a rare moment of peace, but the familiar faces of the night captains had appeared. He had a few seconds to prepare himself, as they too had to adjust to the sun's brightness.
"Sympathiser!" This time, they yelled it out to him. It was one of the more polite terms they had for him. All the same, that was his queue to leave.
He heard them continue to call out as he dodged between the practicing soldiers. "How many vampire crimes did you turn a blind eye to last night?" the ringleader called out.
He refused to acknowledge them as he gracefully made his way through the busy yard. Zigging and zagging between sparring guards. The machinations of the army creating a barrier between himself and those in pursuit. They gave up at the first inconvenience, too tired or bored to pursue him. They knew where he'd be come nightfall.
It was true though. Some of his guards did turn a blind eye to pettier crimes; no point denying it. Better that than the punishment that might be meted out to the perpetrator.
The law was important to Yaro. But so too were right and wrong. Sometimes a blind eye was the lesser of two evils.
When he made it to the walls on the other side of the yard, he jogged up the stairs leading to the ramparts. He looked out over the human part of the city, feeling in some small sense what the vampires must have felt they lost by being unable to travel through the night gates.
He could see large portions of the city in each direction.
While the mock-up of the city was incredibly accurate, it was a tame substitute for the real thing.
The walls that he stood upon ended at the sea, the docks shooting out from where the wall ended.
Towards the centre was the city's university, known to him as the only place in the human part of the city permitted to have a vampire in its employ.
This was his simple pleasure.
Whenever everything got too much, soaking in the breathtaking sights of the city calmed him. It sprawled over the land, as far as the eye could see. It would appear as any other city but for the landmarks that broke up the rows and rows of houses. There was nowhere in his field of view that could not lure his gaze.
It was as though some grand designer had taken great pains to make sure no part of the city could be considered unexceptional.
He stared at the old castle in the distance, atop a hill on an old volcanic plug. He had memories of that part of the city, growing up in the shadow of the castle on a street called "Paupers Knocke."
Movement beneath the walls drew his attention to the part of the city that was closest in proximity to him. Statues of past, famous generals, and people of historical importance were built in the middle of large open squares, framed on all sides by pubs, taverns, and other forms of entertainment. The statues were all turned to face the night gates. Great men made of marble, many of whom sat upon equally magnificent steeds.
From where Yaro stood, it appeared like an epic game of chess, magnificent white pieces arrayed against the black of the vampire district.
On the vampire's side, there were no statues. All their great people were still alive.
Not far behind them was an exquisite building with pillars built in front that led to a smaller square of marble in the style of an amphitheatre. Jutting out from the "stage" were beautiful marble slabs that resembled altars, the sight of which reminded him of Ockham's dilemma.
He shuddered and quickly turned away. The slabs were the perfect reminder of the sinister spirit that partnered the city's beauty.
Finally ready to attempt some rest, Yaro turned back towards the citadel. The operations section was coming to life with the increasing daylight. Small figures caught his attention in the courtyard of this much more officious space. The comisery men, bearers of grim tidings, were preparing to inform families of loved ones who had turned during the night.
Suddenly a thought.
What if some of the traders had become vampires?
Bureaucrats and their damned lists. That's where he might find some answers.