Chapter 14
D'Ablo leaned back in his chair, the letter before him still open. Though he had a lamp on next to him, a small red candle burned beside him, it's soft, melted wax ready for its one and only specific use. D'Ablo found himself twirling the pen between his fingers. He scanned his hand writing once more, he made sure there were no mistakes, that there was no issue for the recipient to read it, and that the message was clear. The Vampire found it as perfect as it could get, gently he picked it up and enclosed it in a parchment envelope. His hand reached over and brushed the tips of his fingers against the candle. "D'Ablo?" the vampire placed the letter under the near-by keyboard as the door to his office opened. "What is it Ignatius?" the council president asked, "I need a new sword" D'Ablo lifted an eyebrow. "Why?" the vampire asked. The much, much older vampire laughed "I threw mine through a window." D'Ablo held back a chuckle "where?" he asked, a smile quickly spreading across his face. He nearly lost it though at Ignatius's answer, "at the house of the Tod boy." D'Ablo shook his head, the council president had lost track of how many swords this assassin had lost during his assignments. It was honestly a head ache each time he found out Ignatius had, once again, been careless. The slate colored eyes looked up at the vampire. "Ignatius, how many times does this make?" he asked. The assassin paused, D'Ablo wagered a guess he was trying to count the time's he'd lost his sword by throwing it at his target. D'Ablo and many others had reminded him that it would be far easier to give him a projectile weapon alongside the swords, but he had refused. And it wasn't like they could make him use it, even if they gave one to him that was more effective than his sword. "I have lost count" the older vampire's raspy voice said, he sounded amused at the thought. "Honestly Ignatius," D'Ablo said as he reached down to a drawer on the side of his desk. "You either go too far and break your sword or you completely lose it in situations like this one." The President said. The glyph on the drawer glowed allowed D'Ablo to open it. He had marked the drawer around the beginning of his presidency. Unlike other marked glyphs in the council building and surrounding city, only he could open this one. It was his Elysian name that marked the face of the wood.
D'Ablo reached down and pulled a ring of keys from the drawer, most of them looked ancient and worn. D'Ablo stood from his chair and walked over to one of the cabinets. It wasn't one of the older more ancient keys he selected though. It was one of the newer ones. One that had to have been made in the last decade or so. He reached forward and placed the key in the lock, it let out a soft click as the lock turned. D'Ablo opened the doors and looked inside. Placed with in this cabinet, were swords. All of which, looked remarkably similar to each other. Ignatius's tendency to use his swords as projectiles had forced the council to hire a sword smith. That sword smith had been tasked with making quite a few swords, all of which were a copy of the one Ignatius had lost almost two decades before hand. D'Ablo didn't take the time to really look or select one, he just reached in and pulled one of the many identical blades out.
He turned to face Ignatius, who was looking at his desk with a strange intrigue. "What is it, Ignatius?" the council president asked, "writing a letter?" he asked, D'Ablo showed no emotions. "why do you ask?" D'Ablo walked over to the assassin, who grinned "you don't light that candle unless you plan to write a letter of importance." Ignatius said, D'Ablo kept his face expressionless. His grey eyes met those of Ignatius, who stared at him intently. D'Ablo could feel the vampire trying to riffle trough his thoughts. At this, D'Ablo clamped down on his thoughts and gave the vampire a warning glance. One that screamed 'try that again and you'll regret it', Ignatius shrugged and reached over to take the sword. D'Ablo let him take it, Ignatius looked over it and inspected every inch of it carefully. He then swung it out at D'Ablo's head, just stopping short of the president's neck. D'Ablo didn't so much as blink or swallow, Ignatius had done this every time he'd been given a new blade. He'd never dare to attack the president of the Stokerton council, doing so would mean certain death. But D'Ablo still feared the assassin, just slightly though. He'd lived almost as long as Vikas had. But unlike Vikas, Ignatius had not gained wisdom and a certain calmness or self-control that the Russian vampire had. He was dangerous, unpredictable, and beyond sadistic. The president couldn't help but to ponder how this one vampire could continue moving freely. Even if he was a decent enough bounty hunter and assassin, he could still be a risk in the long run. The president's eyes met Ignatius's, then D'Ablo stepped back and turned "do me a favor, please do not throw your swords at the boy." He said and walked over to the cabinet and locked it tightly before returning to his desk. The ring of keys clinked as he placed them back in the drawer. D'Ablo closed said drawer and turned his gaze back to Ignatius "I grow tired of having to replace your sword so often when it comes to cases like this." D'Ablo said "tomorrow night is a rainstorm, I should be able to get the boy then." Ignatius said with a dangerous grin. D'Ablo didn't show it, but he grimaced at the thought. Something not even he had truly done in a long, long time.
D'Ablo walked back over to his desk and sat down, "can I ask you something Ignatius?" the question slipped from the vampire's lips before he got a chance to rethink it. "Want me to do something specific to the boy?" D'Ablo felt a few of his muscles tense "no, no I don't." he said, forcing his face to remain calm. "Then what is it?" D'Ablo mulled over the thoughts in his head, he then opened his mouth "let's say, in a hypothetical situation, you kill Vladimir Tod. Now, what do you think will happen when those in Elysia find out what you've done?" Ignatius smiled "what does that matter to me? I'll have regained the honor that my foolish son took away when he married a human woman." "Or dishonored your name for the rest of time." D'Ablo said, his voice strict and strong. "Thomas was a much beloved and respected vampire, how much are you willing to bet that his sired children and close friends won't come after your head for killing the boy?" the assassin narrowed his eyes at D'Ablo "why do you ask?" the president just smiled "no reason, just curiosity" he answered, but that wasn't true, it was to also remind the other vampire that the council itself had taken a rather foolish risk to attempt to kill the boy. Thomas was truly beloved and respected by most of Elysia, and even D'Ablo had respected him and considered him more than just his vice president. D'Ablo found himself staring at the flame of the candle dancing in front of him and remembering the bed room in the house back in Bathery. His eyes then lifted to face Ignatius, who had turned to leave. D'Ablo didn't stop him, instead he turned to look out the window onto the city bellow.
D'Ablo had decided to wait a few minutes after Ignatius's departure to pull the letter out from under the keyboard. He didn't want to run the risk of it being seen, not by anyone other than who it was meant for. His eyes flitted to the candle and then back at the unsealed envelope. He knew that if the prophecy was true. And the boy was indeed the long awaited Pravus, it could become a war zone with in the vampire community. With over a third of vampire kind believing in the prophecy, there could be a mess. He knew that he'd have a lot to clear up in the end, he'd taken it upon himself to hide the truth. Even from other followers of the legends. He wanted to make sure, he wanted to see if the boy could perform feats beyond a normal vampire. Powers only the Pravus could possess and use, his sensory abilities were not a defendant proof, neither was the wooden stake through his chest. The slayer could have easily missed his heart and just nicked a lung. D'Ablo's hand tensed and clinched into a fist, his mind swirled before settling on the decision. His fingers grasped the burning candle and let the crimson wax fall onto the flap of the envelope into a small red puddle. He then reached for the stamp, this was not official for the Elysian Council itself, but for him. Just like on the front of the drawer, this stamp was his mark, something specific to him. With little to no resistant or fear, he took it into his hand and pressed it into the cooling wax. D'Ablo quickly realized that if he continued, he would set a course to set not only Vampiric society, but Human society on its head for decades or even centuries to come.