A Journey of Black and Red

Chapter 116: The Tourist.

Kingdom of Hungary, a week later.

The Corbeau moors in the port of Fiume long enough for Sheridan and myself to disembark. The ranger is more than pleased to find solid ground under his feet after a turbulent trip through the Adriatic, and we take a few hours to enjoy the shore. I recognize Italian architecture in the tall buildings lining the seafront, and the Habsburg Empire also makes its presence known.

It takes half an hour for us to be reminded of our status as guests in these parts. We are barely in view of the Cathedral, a squat, circular building, when a tall man in a black uniform accosts us. He has a rotund face that would appear benevolent except for a pair of cold blue eyes. Our auras touch with polite reserve. He is a strong Master.

“Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Ariane of the Nirari?” he inquires with a respectful tone.

“Yes.”

“My name is Lazlo of the Dvor, it is my privilege to make your acquaintance. Please, follow me to the train. My men are already taking care of your luggage,” he says, and turns around. We follow.

Fiume is part of the Kingdom of Hungary, and Hungary lies deep within Eneru territory. Both Eneru and Masks currently undergo a period of detente as both carefully monitor the revolutions wracking Europe, so transport should not prove too much of an issue for an independent agent like myself. I still need to behave and keep my identification papers with me at all times.

We walk through the semi-deserted street, only encountering a pair of drunk men wearing a sheepskin and a bell, for some reason. The train station is a single building with a joined roof to protect travelers from the elements. Its quaint nature is made all the more obvious by the imposing convoy currently parked before it.

A massive locomotive lies there, black and shiny like a beetle. Wagons trail behind it in a long procession of grim sheet metal. The windows tower above us. They only reveal embroidered curtains and, here and there, a piece of mahogany ceiling basked in amber light.

“The first carriage is used by the staff. Carriages two and three are reserved for our companions and persons of import. I will kindly request that you leave them untouched. A restaurant occupies the third carriage, where our guests may enjoy the services of a chef at any time. You will also find willing company there that you may bring to your cabin if you so wish.”

He means food, although some prefer to feed during lovemaking.

“We request that you exercise restraint. Male vampires occupy the fourth carriage and the gentler sex, the last. You will find your cabin and a salon there for your enjoyment. We ask that you respect the privacy of the other guests, and the male fumoir is invitation only.”

“How about the female salon?” I ask. Some of these remarks could be considered as insulting, as stating the basic rules of politeness sometimes is. I want to know where he stands.

“It is invitation only as well, of course,” the man continues with a smart bow. The gesture might be anodyne to a mortal. To us, it shows respect beyond any doubt. A hostile train butler would not show deference.

I decide to give trust that he is honest, and nod in acknowledgement.

“You have full access to the train and so does your Vassal, within the boundaries of the aforementioned rules. The Lady Viktoriya of the Dvor and her Courtier, Jence, are already aboard. We are still waiting for Master Karoly of the Dvor.”

“I understand.”

“Before we depart…” Lazlo continues in English, now slightly bashful,“I must regretfully ask you to leave your weapons in our custody for the duration of the trip. Except soul weapons, if applicable, of course. Rest assured that this rule extends to every guest and is there for your own safety. Your protection is guaranteed by clan Dvor while you travel with us. I apologize for the disruption.”

I take a good look at our guest and he does something rare; he opens his aura by releasing his control over it. I feel embarrassment. If he is faking, his control matches that of Sinead and I somehow doubt it.

“Fair enough,” I reply, and turn to Sheridan. The tall Texan is clearly uncomfortable, but he eventually shrugs when he realizes that I remain unconcerned.

“When in Rome…” he comments stoically.

We climb on the first carriage with the parts of our luggage that contain our gear. The interior is cramped and spartan, with many small cabins stuck to each other. Lazlo leads us to a locker secured behind a steel door.

The entire train is enchanted, I notice, and the armory more than most. I detect nothing intrusive, just reinforcements and alarms.

“If you please,” Lazlo offers with a smile, pointing at a nearby table.

Sheridan and I exchange a glance.

He removes his belt and his personal Colt, still in its holster. I place the knife I always keep on me on the table. Sheridan grabs and deposits his second revolver. I rummage in my bag and place my belt of throwing knives, my short sword, and a secondary dagger. Sheridan drops a massive cutlass that can only be called a knife if a spear can be called a toothpick. I drop two boxes of enchanted ammunition and both halves of my spear. Sheridan reaches in his boot to find one last blade. I place a bandolier of bullets and the needle rifle’s sheath on top of that. Then, two powder charges. I finish with my gauntlet.

We wait.

Lazlo seems a bit at a loss before the arsenal.

“Is… is that all?” he asks in heavily accented English.

“Yep.”

“Yes. Are you quite alright, sir?” I ask.

“Of course, of course. I just did not expect…”

“We had a busy trip,” I suggest helpfully.

“Pirates!” the Ranger entones.

“... amongst other things,” I finish.

The poor Dvor Master finally recovers his phlegm.

“You can rest assured that your belongings will be returned safely at your destination. Oh, and please do not start any wars before the train has had the time to depart for its next destination.”

“Don’t worry pal, we’ve never done anything bigger than a city-wide revolt.”

“I am immensely relieved to hear that,” the train conductor deadpans.

With our host thus appeased, we decide to split up for the night. I pass by the restaurant to find a snack. I manage to invite a dark-haired woman to join me in hesitant German. It turns out that, while they do not expect sex, all donors are ready for this eventuality. I send her on her way without taking advantage of her enthusiastic offer.

Now set up, I decide to visit the salon. Time to greet the locals.

I flash my aura to announce my presence and enter a narrow but long boudoir cluttered with couches, seats, and pillows. Warm yellow lights bathe the red upholstery. The place is gaudy, too much for my taste, and yet there is no denying that it feels welcoming.

Two vampires await politely as I step in.

I can never get tired of how poised we appear, and how predatory we really are. The two ladies sit daintily at the edge of puffy little seats around a tiny coffee table containing two books and a small bell. Their postures are straight and elegant and their smiles flawless, but their immobility reflects their true nature. I see it in the depths of their mirthless eyes. This is their territory I am intruding on, and we must reach an understanding first and foremost. I am almost certain that I can kill them if it comes to this, but it will not. I am their guest here, for they are Dvor and we are on Dvor territory.

I can be polite when I want.

And so, I smile pleasantly, and curtsey low enough to convey sincere respect.

“My name is Ariane of the Nirari, miladies. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Am I speaking to Lady Viktoriya and Jence of the Dvor?”

“Oh, no need to be so formal, dearie,” the older one lies. “Come, join us!”

Viktoriya is a dark-haired beauty. She has the appearance of a very young, voluptuous maid with an honest sort of charm. Meanwhile, Jence appears slightly older, around twenty, and has an ethereal, delicate presence. Her skin is extremely pale, and she averts her blue eyes delicately when I turn to inspect her.

I take a seat. If the customs here are the same, Viktoriya will decide the direction of the conversation.

“I seem to remember that the old monster had sired a sane child, for once, somewhere on the new continent. Are you her?”

“I am. I had the fortune of finding good friends who helped me throughout the more difficult years.”

“And modest! It must have taken more than luck to find one good friend in your position. Is this your first time in Europe?”

“It is! I am excited to visit a bit before politics inevitably drags me back to my territory.”

“Oh, you already have a city? Jence here covets her own, though it will take time before she can take ownership of one. The poor dearie dreams of taking over Vienna!”

The blonde Courtier sputters and lowers her head in embarrassment.

“Mistress! Must you tell someone we only just met!?”

“My prerogatives include the teasing of young and ambitious spawns, my dear. Ariane darling, tell the poor girl what you had to do to get your territory.”

“Nothing too bad. A bit of politics, a few assassinations, and a massive werewolf hunt.”

“Hah! Such a good method. I approve! Do you know that Budapest’s dominion was decided over poetry? Poetry! I swear, vampires these days forget how to grasp prizes with their own bloody claws. Now, they only know how to recite Byron, count money, sway their hips, and lie. I blame our training program. You know what my training was? I stabbed a wolf with a pitchfork. That caught my sire’s eye. Have you ever stabbed a wolf with a pitchfork, Ariane?”

“No, I was more a musket kind of girl.”

“Oh, that is perfectly acceptable. Just as violent and you get no blood on your dress! Jence dear, remind me to bring you bear hunting sometime.”

“I am not sure that Wladislaw would approve, milady.”

“Pfah! If that old baggage dares complain, I shall strap him to my saddle so that he can kiss my—”

“And how was your trip over here?” Jence interrupts in a shrill voice.

“Boring. I dread the return trip. The only high point was a little incident involving pirates.”

“For a trip this long, you need a library and three strapping young lads. For variety,” Viktoriya advises.

“I will certainly prepare the return trip better. The library does sound tempting.”

“If I may ask,” Jence interrupts with a respectful voice, “what brings you to Europe? Would you like to visit Austria and Hungary?”

“As a matter of fact, I was planning on visiting Torran of the Dvor. He… invited me.”

I try to remain calm when I see the lady’s inquisitive eyes, but they, of course, narrow with interest.

“Did he now? Oh, I heard that his prowess in bed are legendary.”

Dammit. I would have blushed if it were possible.

“Hah! I knew it! That codger finally found a sheath to his blade ey? Oh, when that withered hag Nina hears about this she will be livid. Or even more livid, in any case. She had designs on that tasty morsel.”

“Ahem,” I interrupt, a bit put off.

“Oh do not mind my foul mouth Ariane dear, he is certainly a prize of a man. You cannot blame me for feeling a little bit of envy.”

“Lord Torran remains one of the Dvor’s most yearned after bachelors! It would be amazing if he finally got involved with someone, even if that person is a foreign lady with her own territory,” Jence observes, her gaze heavy with calculations.

“Yes, yes, we are glad for you, girl, if he took an interest in you. I was starting to think he had gone cold. Oh, it appears that we have a visitor!”

I tense, but then I feel it at the edge of my perception. Someone is coming, a master judging by the aura. Viktoriya smiles knowingly when my eyes drift to the side. Now, she knows how far I can detect things, although she cannot do much with this information. It annoys me that she reads me so easily. Fortunately, she does not appear hostile.

The man who knocks politely and enters is quite easy on the eye. He has sandy hair and very light blue eyes that give him an angelic aura. The power of a master emanates from him in controlled waves. Jence’s own quivers with excitement and we all politely pretend not to have noticed.

“Karoly! So kind of you to join us,” she babbles.

“Jence, flower of my soul, you are as beautiful as always!”

Sleek bastard.

“You are too kind, sir!”

“Karoly you sly dog, stop standing there like a lamp post and sit down before you give me a stiff neck.”

“Of course, milady. I merely needed your approval. Will that be acceptable with your… new companion?” the smarmy man says, turning to me with curiosity.

Jence’s aura betrays her annoyance. I hold back a smirk.

“Since Lady Viktoriya trusts you, you have my blessing,” I cordially allow.

“Keep in mind that you defend the honor of European males, Karoly. Behave,” the lady tells him with a hint of edge.

We spend a pleasant time listening to Karoly’s recounting of his experience in the Ottoman Empire. He is a fine storyteller who wields light sarcasm as well as descriptive prose. Even I, who consider him with distrust, have to admit that he possesses a sharp mind and an unusual outlook, one that he must have developed over years of travel. He apparently struggles to find a place to settle and call his own, a peculiarity for a Dvor. Most are sired already attached to a land. I wonder what happened.

After a while,Viktoriya grabs me by my hand and kindly requests that I walk her to the restaurant, which I do. Jence’s aura bubbles behind us.

“Are you not afraid that he would have his way with her?” I ask as soon as we are out of hearing.

We walk up through the now-moving train. It rides pleasantly and smoothly with a soothing ‘kacha kacha’ sound as regular as a clock. Outside, the mountainous countryside beckons, with its ancient farmhouses hidden in craggy valleys.

“Oh, I fully expect them to be naked and pinkish within ten minutes. I do not begrudge Jence her fun, and Karoly has everything she was taught to love in men. Power, wit, money, beauty. And he is good at lovemaking, if the tales are to be believed. Better to let her get it out of her system. I cannot work with a frustrated youngling. Too much hissing.”

“Even we can be heartbroken.”

The old matriarch dismisses my concern with a wave of her hand.

“You are correct, my dear, but it matters not. How did it go again? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than to have not loved at all. She will spend time with the man of her dreams, get properly bonked, then realize that it is not enough to make a relationship. Not without children and not with how long we live. How often did you talk about money and moving into Torran’s castle when you were together?”

“Errr. Never.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

We sit in the restaurant wagon even if Viktoriya is not thirsty to begin with. I use the opportunity to order coffee to the lady’s surprise. The human staff does not react, leading me to deduce that they played host to Hastings vampires before.

“I feel the need to warn you, my dear, I fear that Nina of the Dvor may have plans to visit your lover’s haunt. He cannot refuse her passage on his land since she is a lady, but he will refuse her access to his castle. Do not let yourself be intimidated.”

“Any advice?” I ask, since she knows the foe.

“Are you after the favor of the Dvor and a long-term relationship with our ruling council?”

Most of us American rulers agree that we will be at war with the European factions at some point in the near future. It would be a waste of time to establish a good relationship now.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then you will do fine. Remember, Nina is no fighter. In the end, she can only do to you what you allow her to do. Stay polite enough during your inevitable conversation, then say no and leave.”

“Understood. Worst case scenario, I have not yet tasted Dvor essence.”

Her smile turns predatory.

“Just be sure to do it as part of a sanctioned duel, dearie, otherwise I would have to hunt you myself.”

“Only as a last resort. I have come for a good time.”

“Duels to the death are a good time. Ah, here comes Lazlo. Ariane dear, do you mind if I invite him over? Poor lad spends his days taking care of that big thing. Let us remind him that he is part of our community, yes?”

“I would be delighted.”

The dour train conductor turns out to be a fine conversationalist, with a dry humor and pleasant deadpan deliveries.

“Why does Nina think she and Torran will make such a good pair?” I find myself asking.

“Because, milady, we call Torran the Old Wolf, and Nina the Old Bat. She must be going for a theme.”

And so on.

At some point, Viktoriya asks me what my first years as a fledgeling were like. Seeing that most of it is public knowledge anyway, I share my experience with them, omitting anything that concerns the Likaean or Loth’s more sensitive topics.Viktoriya immediately picks up on my grief when I mention Dalton.

“The loss of a Vassal marks us forever. I applaud you for not falling to the usual trap of control. Many become overprotective of their next Vassal, forgetting why they exist.”

“It would defeat the purpose,” I grumble, having battled those tendencies.

“Indeed. You and I know how difficult and painful it can be to fight your instincts to their bitter end.”

The Dvor lady and I exchange a glance. She allows me to touch a peculiar element of her aura and I recognize something there, a sort of... looseness. As if some chain had been broken. She almost turned feral too. We are marked, for better and for worse.

I smile and nod at her, appreciative of her sharing the experience, then realize that Lazlo is still here. He politely inspects my cup of coffee, thus giving us a moment of privacy that I appreciate.

I decide to share some of my hunts with Loth and Dalton to lift the mood.The tale of our attack on the Ascendency compound and the flaming pigs disaster that ensued leads them to share their own calamitous outings. Lazlo accidentally rammed the train into a poultry car. The staff could still find the odd feather three weeks after. Viktoriya had to distract a local master as part of an investigation. She ended up as the referee and announcer in a naked battle where contestants had to wrestle in a mud pool. I end up smiling at those tales of shame and depravity.

We retire shortly before dawn. I realize that I had spent a pleasant moment, and offer both Lazlo and Viktoriya to contact me if they visit America. I know that we will end up on opposite sides of a war before this happens. It matters little. We have centuries.

Hopefully.

I make contact with Sheridan after. The man blushes when he sees me and I realize that he also made use of the offered company. Said company made him take a bath, for which I am grateful.

“Not staying pure until marriage, I take it.”

“I, hm, it would have been rude to refuse.”

“But of course.”

We left Zagreb behind the night before. It takes little time before the train stops at a sleepy village on the border with Austria, our destination. We step down to a breathtaking mountainous vista of tall pines, snow-capped distant peaks and vampires.

“Good evening, milady, are you Ariane of the Nirari?”

The streets are deserted. Houses here are large, with walls painted white and roofs of brown wood still close to the ground. They are squat and must get snowed in during winter, but staying close to the ground means that they will be easier to keep warm. I can spot light through windows, but no one is about. Dogs bark a street away.

The vampires are two women, Dvor masters of middling talent. They wear rich dresses and costly jewelry, looking out of place in that remote area. No coats, and no luggage.

“That is correct,” I reply.

“Lady Nina of the Dvor requests the privilege of your presence while we wait for your host,” one of them says, making it clear that this is not, in fact, a request. That was fast.

The pair looks condescending. Smirks adorn their carmine lips. They look like two smug teachers who caught the class clown red-handed. I hate them already, but it would be rude to refuse and I cannot insult another one of Torran’s guests.

“Of course. You may lead the way,” I answer, and turn to Sheridan who bravely shoulders his luggage.

I realize that I will have to carry my own or leave it here.

This will not look good.

And then, a group of men emerges from the still waiting train. They grab my belongings and make to follow, faces grim.

I catch Lazlo through a window. He winks. I smile in return.

I turn again to find the two hags slightly put off. No doubt that this was intentional on their part. I find their level of pettiness truly staggering.

“Well?” I ask, feigning impatience. They grit their teeth and walk away.

We move in silence. I am studiously ignored and use the opportunity to inspect my surroundings. We head towards the only tall building in this hamlet besides the church. The absence of people can only mean one thing. They know. Otherwise, no self-respecting gossip would ignore two women in lavish clothes escorting one in sensible travel gear through their land. The Dvor form the core of the Eneru faction, I remember, I just did not expect them to extend their reach so far out. The village cannot be home to a permanent vampire due to its small population. Their influence reaches even here.

I know that our presence will be revealed to mankind sooner rather than later. I wonder if we could first become an open secret, a presence known to a significant portion of the population, and then make our presence official? It seems to work here.

We enter our destination, which turns out to be an inn. No staff comes to greet us, though a fire burns in the hearth and lanterns and candles provide ample light. I direct the trio to deposit my belongings near the entrance and thank them for their assistance. They lift their hats and depart without hurry. Sheridan makes his way to the bar and helps himself to a beer, his scowl a clear indication of what he thinks of our games.

I climb the stairs up to the second floor, one ‘companion’ before and one behind as if they were leading me to the gallows. They even display the proper, solemn countenance.

The second floor is right below the rafters. Some doors led to rooms, no doubt. It left most of the space free for a large table next to which three more vampires now sit.

Two of them turn out to be masters, bringing the total to four, a show of force for the lady enthroned in their midst. My guides step up quickly to take prepared seats. I am left with the remaining spot, the one with its back to the door. The one opposite the five others. One more petty insult.

“Sit,” the lady starts.

She is beautiful in a very distant sort of way. She was turned in her thirties, I think. Her heart-shape face is full, and her lips pink and plump. She has this unmistakable charm of the femme fatale, the consumate demoiselle of the court whose velvety eyes hide a thousand secrets. Her aura tastes of scheme and hidden sin.

The lady brushes an errant strand of raven hair with a dainty finger. She opens her mouth to speak as I sit.

“Thank you for having me,” I interrupt, “oh you prepared tea! How thoughtful of you.”

Nina’s eyes rest on the table, which was made with cutlery and plates. I grab a cup and fill it with lukewarm liquid from a nearby pot. The tea is horrible, but only I can drink it. I then slowly remove my cloak and hang it on my chair.

“Are you quite done?” my improvised host snaps.

“Whatever do you mean?” I ask without a smile.

This was one of Sinead’s lessons in dealing with sly remarks and innuendos. The most basic answer is to request explanations. Experienced pricks will find workarounds, especially if they are in a position of authority, but it will break their rhythm and ruin their game. I use that method now.

“I have summoned you here for a grave matter, Ariane of the Nirari.”

She summoned nothing, but it would be rude to interrupt and correct her, and she would ask me to stay silent. It would lead to an immediate argument, and I would rather hear what she has to say. I sip on the tea with an eyebrow raised.

“You must be at no loss to understand the reason for this meeting. Decency, respect, nay, common sense, must tell you why.”

“Indeed not. I was not expecting to meet you at all,” I remark, and take another sip while I recline in my chair.

“Very well, if you must choose to be obtuse then I will only act with the integrity that qualifies Dvor women. A most alarming report reached my ears a few weeks ago, one that I simply cannot quite believe, for it shows such a reckless nature that can only lead to disaster and premature doom in any civilized country of the world. For the sake of Lord Torran and that of all our honors, I had to come here in person despite pressing business and make sure that such dreadful rumors were baseless, and indeed, unimaginable.”

By the Watcher does that harlot like the sound of her own voice.

“What would that be?” I asked in a bored voice.

“A scandalous idea that our most esteemed Lord Torran, member of the council and one of the few soul smiths in existence, would invite a foreign woman on his land, one from the Frontier and without a situation here no less, to engage in amorous relationships! Although, it must be a terrible invention rife with falsehoods, for no gentleman of his stature would stoop so low as to engage in such careless behavior.”

Silence and pointed looks. I wait. I sip more tea. Our auras are calm so far, a tribute to our collective control.

“It appears to be a question aimed at Torran himself,” I remark.

“Do not play coy with me, miss, I aim to know whether or not you have designs on our most esteemed host?.”

“Sure I do.”

My immediate answer ruffles their feathers. They did not expect a candid answer, maybe?

“I mean, have you seen Torran? Great man, great lover, great warrior. And that ass…”

“ARIANE OF THE NIRARI! YOU DARE!”

“Yes, I dare.” I calmly reply.

We do not move now. Our assembly might well be statues. Nina stood in her anger, though I suspect most of it is acting, and stares down at me.

“Let me explain the trouble you find yourself in. Lord Torran is one of the youngest and most promising members of our council, a rising star in the highest political spheres of our most ancient and noble clan.”

Bullshit. Torran hates politics.

“His position is a peculiar one. As a soul smith and a warlord, he forms one of the cornerstones of our might. His position and wealth are well-ascertained, and we already have enchanting prospects that will bring him the balance and direction he needs, though he may not know it yet. Lord Torran deserves only the best for himself and his growth and tranquility.”

“We agree on that last part,” I interrupt once more.

“Then,” she continues in a low growl, “you would do well to consider your own interest in the matter. One like you who lacks support and reputation cannot thrive in this environment, and a match would only be damaging for your own reputation. You would never obtain the power you crave.”

Heh.

Somehow, it…

Hold on.

I close my eyes and push the irritating voice into the background. I end up in the core of my mental palace and rush outside. Rooms and mazes blur as I reach the border of my domain.

There, at the wall of thorns, lilac-colored limbs of smoke snake their way through my defenses. Subtle. But not subtle enough.

I change the nature of the border, imagine the thorns turning thirsty. From passive and hard, they turn fluid. Questing. The smoke breaks. Some of it retreats.

I open my eyes to see the master on the left flinch, one with short blonde hair and a soft face. She withdraws her hand from the table.

“You nasty little twit,” I growl.

“You forget yourself!” Lady Nina screams once more, but this time, I am done. We were done the moment they stepped over the line.

“And you forget who I am, cur.”

Five auras jump on mine to suppress it, and it works. I feel my presence crushed and a weight settle on my shoulder. I still manage to stand up to my full height with effort. Another attack. Rage pulses softly in my chest. It burns brighter with each moment.

“You still sit here as if this one had not attacked me.”

“You are delusional,” the blonde woman spits.

“You think your clan is ancient, but mine was the first and we remember the old laws. We respect the law of hospitality, which you just broke, mongrel.”

“You will regret those words,” the blonde retorts, eyes narrowed.

“I accept your challenge,” I calmly reply.

That stops them.

“You want to make me regret my words, yes? I choose the spear. You can take whatever weapon you fancy, I care not.”

“We are not in your Frontier where conflict solves everything,” the blonde says again. I cannot taste her fear with my aura suppressed, but I know it is there and I smile, fangs out.

“Have the Dvor lost their courage?”

That gets me a few hisses. Nina is next to speak.

“You may retract your challenge now, or I will be her champion,” she remarks with just a hint of smugness.

“I accept the substitution.”

More stunned silence. Clearly, they did not expect that, and I wonder why? Have the Devourers lost their reputation?”

“You overestimate yourself, Ariane of the Nirari. You are not your sire. The gap between us is not one you can bridge.”

“You would not be the first lord I kill,” I inform her, and my smile widens. The conversation took a strange turn for the worst but it appears that we ended up exactly where I wanted.

“You do not understand me at all. I care not about your court, your council, and reputation. Your threats are laughable, and your little trial, pathetic. You simply miss the point. I am here to find my lover on his own turf and spend a very pleasant time in his company. You would have realized it if you had taken the time to judge me, but you naturally assumed I was the same ambitious devious bitch that you are yourself. And now, we will meet on the field and I will drain you dry. I choose the spear and gauntlet. You can take your soul weapon, if you even have one. It will make no difference.”

I drain the glass of tea and place it back on the table. Sephare spoiled me. This tea is a tragedy.

“Do not take too long.”

I sashay out before she gets the chance to remember that she can set the date of the duel.

I barely have to come downstairs when something happens that makes me smile. The ground rumbles. I move out and stare in the street.

Torran gallops into the city atop his massive Nightmare, Krowar, with his aura deployed and thunder on his brow. He looks regal in a tailored rider outfit in dark leather and a strange high hat. His long grey hair is held in a tight braid.

I smile like an idiot when I see him and, since I am alone, I jump and wave in excitement. The tenderness in his gaze leaves me breathless, but soon his attention returns to the door as Lady Nina and her entourage make their way out. His grey eyes gain the intensity of a hawk, and his demeanor turns positively glacial.

“Ariane, my star, I apologize for the poor welcome you received,” he begins in a low voice. I can feel the barely contained rage behind it. His aura fuses with its surroundings in a very peculiar way and I realize what it means. He is on his own land. He feels stronger here, more solid, and since he was already strong and solid, the result is simply awe-inspiring. I want to spar him a bit. Later.

“Lord Torran,” Nina starts with a reasonable tone, so that Torran appears angry while she is calm and composed, “we merely—”

“You were leaving when I arrived. Did you sense me, or did they pull something?” he asks, ignoring the interruption.

I have no reason to defend them.

“The blonde one tried mind magic. I was about to grab my spear and demand satisfaction.”

“A groundless fabrication, Lord Torran, this savage lies liberally. You should—”

“SILENCE.”

Torran’s aura washes over us, smashing over any defenses like a midnight tide. The barking dogs in the neighboring houses whimper and become silent. The wind dies down. Even the fluttering candles diminish. The impact extends to every aspect of reality, including the ground beneath my feet.

“Do not tell me what I should or should not do in my domain, woman. I have tolerated your antics for too long. Leave.”

“As a lady of the council, you may not deny me access,” she retorts, a proud chin lifted in defiance.

“You may extend your complaints to the council, Nina. After your prompt departure.”

The stress on the prompt is unmistakable, as is the underlying threat. Torran has reached his limit.

Nina huffs, and turns around with the dignity she can muster.

But, I have not had my due yet.

“Not so fast…”

A challenge started must be finished.

“Ariane?” Torran asks as the women stop in their tracks. “I would consider it a personal favor if you could let the matter drop. Please. For me.”

Aaaarrrrggg if he asks like that.

“Oh, very well.”

He had better compensate me!

I sulk a bit, but soon I forget all about it and jump on Torran when the hags are gone. I reveal my aura to him, to let him see how happy I am. I am probably as joyful as a vampire can be. His laugh is deep and full of mirth.

“Hahaha, come on, leave your luggage here and ride with me!”

“I did not bring Metis,” I tell him. “The long crossing would have killed the poor creature.”

He appears surprised.

“You do not know? Have you not guessed that they do not travel as we do?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Have you not noticed how our Nightmares always seem to be around? They travel through the forests of this world and others. Come. Try to call her.”

“Surely, you jest!”

He does not appear to be jesting.

“Oh well. Metis!”

I hear a nearby gallop.

“No way!”

The proud pony herself rounds a corner at full speed, then prances around. She bumps my chest with her head, causing me to laugh.

“Yes, Metis, I am so happy to see you too!”

“Come on, my star, let us ride!”

We do so. Krowar, his Nightmare, moves with absolute surety. Torran’s aura seems to smooth the passage wherever we go, through narrow mountain trails and deep pine forests. We ride for an hour until we stop by a crystalline spring in a lonely valley.

“One of my favorite places, even before I became a vampire. Do you know what I find amazing with you Ariane?”

I cross my arms, quite proud of myself.

“Would you like the list thematically or alphabetically?”

“Hah! No, I am serious, what was your plan for tonight?”

“Well, I thought that, perhaps, we could visit your bedroom first, then a spar?”

Ooooh I would blush if I still could. Torran only smiles.

“Exactly, this is all about us as people. We will do as you propose later. Sparring will help with your recovery.”

“You are quite confident.” I mock reproach.

“No, not with our lovemaking. With your forging! I have your measure and I have prepared well. Everything is ready. We will make your soul weapon tonight.”