Kermit and the Master sat in the Master's study, where one of the minions had brought them each gleaming silver goblets of a thick dark fluid. Kermit tilted his goblet, inspecting the thickness of the fluid, and decided that while there was definitely wine and blood in the mixture, there were also flecks of some sort of herbs. Remembering his limited experiences with the so-called fine art of wine tasting, he took a careful sip. "Did they put ginger in this? And ground beetles?"
"Yes," the Master's smile showed many sharp teeth.
"I'd never had beetles with red wine. Only with white wine and seafood," Kermit leaned back in his chair and took a second sip. "Very different."
"One of my minions had aspirations of being a chef. While that is now very unlikely, I let him tinker with the bloodwine. It keeps him obedient and is less messy than some of the methods that I am forced to use with the others," the Master's voice hinted at those other methods.
"I suppose you probably use more direct methods with some of your underlings as a political vampire than the ways I tried to keep order at the theater," Kermit nodded, thinking back to the Muppet Theater. "Especially the technical crew. The theater would have fallen apart without them."
The master chuckled, "Few would compare keeping vampire minions with running a theater."
Kermit shrugged, "I'm not exactly your average frog, am I?"
"A very good point," the Master agreed. "You picked up a bit of weather magic while serving as a news crier? I suppose they are called reporters now…"
"Yes, as a reporter and weather-frog. Nobody else wanted the weather part, and I didn't have enough seniority at the station to get out of that part," Kermit took another sip from the goblet, and glanced up at the vampire. "Learning a bit of magic after I met the Count was tricky. Almost everybody was avoiding him."
"But you didn't," the Master refilled his goblet from a carafe, and arched one brow. "Why?"
"I've always been too curious. That's one of the reasons that I left home, and part of why I tried being a reporter. The Count was just…" Kermit paused to think of a better way to describe how things had started. Somehow he doubted that 'strange and different and horribly fascinating' would go over well. "There were just too many things that screamed about a bigger story with him. I should consider myself fortunate that very few vampires care for the taste of amphibian."
The Master made a face and a noise that sounded remarkably like 'blearghh'. After another swallow of the bloodwine, the Master agreed, "Amphibian is seldom a large part of the menu of a vampire. Unless they are French or perhaps Cajun."
"Another reason to leave home," Kermit shuddered at the memories.
The discussion turned to sorcerous theory, leaving Kermit very grateful that he'd spent so much time in the Count's library. They were discussing the relative merits of water scrying as opposed to using a mirror when there was a tap on the study door.
"Master? You gave orders that you were to be informed immediately on the Count's return," a voice called from the other side of the door.
"Do his two guides still have all of their pieces?" The Master sounded calm, unconcerned but absently curious about the fate of his minions.
"They are both physically intact, but Alex is mumbling about lamprey demons, orange demons and lightning," the voice replied.
"Send the Count to me," the Master ordered.
It was a very, very short time before the purple vampire opened the door. The candle light gleamed on the monocle and on his fangs as he smiled. "Kermit! I did not expect to see you here! How vonderful!"
Kermit rose from his chair, and poured a goblet of the bloodwine for the Count. "Hopefully you'll enjoy this, I particularly like the ginger."
After the Count accepted the goblet, Kermit pulled the pill bottle from his pocket, shook out three little green pills, and held them towards the Count. "Take these, they'll help you focus and stay calm."
"Von, two, three little green pills," the Count ate them individually, counting each before he swallowed. "I thank you for bringing them. Paul the now wery penitent minion ate the thirty six pills that I had brought vith me."
"He was mentioned when Danny and Darla picked me up at the airport," Kermit commented. He wasn't certain how to ask if the Count was done with Paul without sending the Count off to repeat the lesson a little more if he'd already finished.
"I am not surprised. Some of the minions seemed rather disturbed. Perhaps they felt that I am too short to face a taller opponent," the Count grinned at the idea. "I have had centuries to get used to facing taller opponents."
"Well, when most of the people out there are taller that you are, and you know that isn't likely to change…" Kermit shrugged. It wasn't an uncommon situation among the people that he'd known on Sesame Street, or those that he'd gathered for his theater. "Honestly, I'd rather face someone human sized than Piggy in a bad mood."
"She is most formidable. The wampires of the world are fortunate that she vas not called as a Slayer," the Count took another sip from his goblet, and sighed. "Slayers are much easier to deal vith, you simply awoid them or kill them. But Miss Piggy… that is another matter. She has asked me to build her a castle vhen her career takes off. It is already designed."
Kermit only nodded, unsurprised that Piggy would want a castle of her very own. "Yours have always looked impressive. She probably wants one a bit less shadowy, and without the bats."
"I have newer figured out vhy people don't like the bats," the Count sighed. "They are amusing, I can spend hours counting them, and they sing along vith the pipe organ."
Kermit noticed the surprised look on the Master's face, and decided that it would probably be unwise to get into a long discussion about why bats at a castle was a good or bad thing. He wasn't even going to mention that it wasn't common to encourage them. All he said was, "Most people don't play the pipe organ."
"A very good point, Kermit," the Master agreed. "Playing musical instruments is becoming a much less common talent these decades."
"So is a proper understanding of anatomy," the Count shook his head. "Paul did not ewen know that there are fifty two bones in the feet. I believe his hands vill be next. His hands permitted him to do things vich he should not have done, and so they much be removed. Properly, of course."
"Properly? Is something wrong with a forceful application of a sharp blade?" the question slipped out of the Master's mouth.
"Such a thing is wery quick, and gives little time for the lesson to sink in," the Count explained. "I am leaving detailed notes for the aspiring doctor among your minions."
Kermit blinked. So did the Master.
"Please excuse me, it is time to complete Paul's lessons," the Count drained his goblet and headed for the door.
"Williamsburg," the Master grumbled.
"Similar but without the public discovery," Kermit agreed. "I'm assuming that your minions talk to other people's minions, and to independent demons and vampires. Stories about Paul's lessons are going to get around. At least nobody will tamper with his medication again."
The Master only refilled his goblet again.
End part 10.