Larten gazed up from the dead body of the Vampaneze General. The crazed individual had given him one clue; in his utter urgency to end his life and avoid relinquishing his secret, he had killed himself, which meant that this secret was massive enough to sacrifice an obviously esteemed warrior's life. This small and seemingly insignificant piece of information was exactly what the Vampire needed as evidence. It still might not be enough to sway the iron-clad minds of the Princes, but it was still something, and who knows, they might even spare one or two Vampire Generals to aide him, or at least let some volunteer to come along with him.

Larten didn't honestly care for even catering the thought of taking the long trip up to Vampire Mountain – without flitting – was hardly a prospect that he enjoyed, even juggling around his mind. And something even more uninviting was the fact that he might not even be given assistance in his mission, and might even be ordered off it all together, if he didn't have any significant evidence. This was the only thing that left the niggling feeling of doubt and worry in the back of his mind, the feeling that made him want to hang around this city more and find out something new. But, time was of the essence, so he had to choose. Only both options were chancing fate, and gambling was something Crepsley rarely partook in, and never wanted to.

Fate wasn't even something Larten liked to believe in, something he chose not to believe in, and raise his hopes for something that had no proof behind and had a very high chance of dashing his dreams and leaving him in an emotional wreck. But, every now and then, something happened that made Larten believe in fate, or at least, want to believe, but still find that something was holding him back.

One of these times was when he was a little boy. When he was a little boy, still young, in his first couple of years of school something amazing happened to him, that made him wonder if someone was looking out for him somewhere, if someone was making sure he stayed alive, for some greater purpose. Being a child he thought nothing of it, but it was that, miraculous that it would be hard not to.

Twice times in one day, Larten had been almost killed, two times. The first time, he was taking his regular shortcut to school , observing his fine handiwork on a tree he and a couple of his friends had decided to vandalize – they'd gotten a small hatchet and had hacked halfway through it. Cut short in his reminiscing, he heard a low growl, coming from somewhere behind him. He turned, to find he staring into the eyes of a wolf, blood dried around its mouth – seemingly starving. Before Crepsley could even react, the Wolf had lunged, opening its mouth in a wide yawn, ready to rip him in half. But, with a devastating creak, the very tree that the boy had vandalized had toppled downwards, down onto the wolf below, crushing it completely and silencing it in mid-growl, replacing the ferocious sound with a sickening yelp.

And then, later in the day, when Larten was walking home, he had his next near death experience; once again, he and his friends had been doing something stupid, they had been piling stones in one of the large holes in the side of the roads, where the water was supposed to go in the case of a storm. It turned out that these stones saved his life, because as he was crossing the road – without looking – a horse and carriage roared towards him, obviously in a hurry. Luckily, he had tripped on the massive pile of rocks and had fallen forward, just short of the path of the horses and carriage. If he'd continued walking, he would have been killed, or paralyzed for life at the very least.

It was these experiences, which made Larten believe that there was something else aiding him through life, like a Guardian Angel. Yet, he still tried not to think about it, for fear of becoming the emotional wreck he had seen his very own friend experience, and never emerge from…