"Kill them all; let God sort them out!" - Arnaud Amalric
Had it really already been two months?
Lenore woke up to the usual sight of sunlight trying to fight its way through her bedroom windows' drapes, straining to get past the fabric barrier and tear her body to shreds. Spring was giving way to summer. The sun's assault on her person began a little earlier after every night. And she would need to step into its midst once more, nothing between her and a horrible death except the clothes on her back. Two months of this new life had come and gone, by her estimate. Two months since the day Hector stopped her from ending it all in misery. Although it had not been her first time on the brink, looking back she increasingly felt sure in retrospect that was the day she was meant to die, in the grand scheme of things. She would've, but fortune or fate intervened. And here she was now.
She quietly groaned. As with every morning, part of her didn't want to deal with the world. Outside that bed just lay hurt. Problems rarely stayed solved. But still there was so much do. Blood supplies, defending her position of influence from any aspiring rivals. Perhaps even actual diplomacy. She reminded herself that no matter her feelings of worthlessness, this was an obligation, not a choice. If she waited much longer, Hector, who was probably up as well and looking on with concern, might offer another one of those well intentioned "you can do it" spiels. With one, big mental push, Lenore forced herself out of the bed towards the washroom.
It was, relatively speaking, one of the better mornings.
Over the past week, Lenore, Elansa, and Isaac's advisor Burginus had hammered out a system of incentives and creative methods for replacing the old blood tax. More accurately, Lenore had Elansa work with Burginus, while she ensured the project's political safety, in case anyone urged King Isaac to reconsider. It came to light that Minister Burginus had previously begun work on a remarkably similar idea of paying individuals for blood offset by imposing new taxes, but Codintero, the only other courtier who Isaac had recruited and still retained confidence in, had pulled him aside and shot down the plan before it could ever reach the king's ear.
Fortunately, the mercenary defense minister was more interested in acclimating human soldiers to serve alongside night creatures than relitigating a losing political fight. Even if they already hated each other, Lenore had to give him credit for professionalism. Either way, rather than relieve her eccentric aide and give her more free time for side scribbles, Lenore indulged her own pet project: The Hussite prisoners plucked from Hungary ("tenants" as she insistently called them). Divvying up the blood from those who chose death and the first round of bleeding of the rest, she mailed three quarters of the yield to the Styria's counts and garrison commanders, and held back the remaining fourth for the dozen or so vampires in Styria Keep. Including, of course, herself.
"You made it clear that you were doing this on behalf of Isaac, not just yourself, right?" asked Hector as Lenore poured herself a cup's worth of human blood. She set aside a vial for Elansa.
"Of course. I'm not a fucking idiot, Hector," responded Lenore, taking a moment to savor what was supposed to be her staple food.
"I know. In fact, sometimes you're too smart for your own good."
Before Lenore could find a comeback, someone knocked on the door to her castle apartments. Lenore got up and answered. It was Elansa, papers in hand.
"Lenore, the plan is ready. Do you want to look?"
"Excellent. Yes, I would." Lenore took the paper from Elansa and briefly scanned through it. Minute tax policy wasn't her strong point, but she knew enough to spot anything blatantly corrupt, or unwisely worded. "Was most of this reconstructed from Burginus's old plan?"
"Yes. Humans sell their blood to the government, a new head-tax offsets the extra cost to the treasury, and the government distributes the blood to us at the same cost as before. The only truly new thing we brought was harvesting blood from criminals, which he slowly warmed up to." She spoke with uncharacteristic confidence, as if more comfortable with impersonal policy matters than day to day personal connections.
"Where does he think this will leave us?"
"Hard to say, but he's confident that together there'll be enough human and animal blood to keep Styria's vampires fed, as long as we don't splurge. He said that the plan could've been more aggressive, but he didn't want to anger the human population."
"It's not his food supply on the line," Lenore muttered to herself as she finished skimming the document. She looked back at Elansa. "It works. There is only one change I need," She went back to the beginning of the document and circled her finger around the byline. "We need to remove your name."
Elansa's face darkened. "Bu-But why?"
"Because if King Isaac remembers you at all, it might be for the letter incident. Anyway, Minister Burginus isn't outside waiting, is he?"
Lenore's assistant voicelessly opened and closed her mouth several times as if trying to protest and then quietly said, "Yes, he is."
"Very well. I'll tell him to come back at noon, while you rewrite the first page." Lenore then handed her assistant the vial of human blood she set aside earlier. "For your troubles, take this as a bonus." Elansa glumly nodded in thanks and scurried off to begin recreating the page without her name, while Lenore informed Burginus of the small delay and its cause. He appeared to understand.
When her assistant was done, Lenore found the finance minister, and the two of them made their way to their king. As Lenore and Burginus walked, they spotted a guard leading a grey-haired man clad in robes. Lenore looked at him, and her mood soured. A priest. Worse, it became clear that they were headed in the same direction. The man noticed Lenore. He too stared for a moment and their eyes met in a mutual glare.
Lenore wordlessly picked up her pace. A little confused, Burginus also moved faster to keep up. The vampire diplomat shot the slightest of smirks back at the man of the cloth, whose guide appeared oblivious to the unspoken race.
They reached the door to their destination. "Is King Isaac available?" Lenore asked the attendant in front. He checked inside and confirmed a few seconds later that Isaac was present and willing to speak with them. The two courtiers presented themselves and offered their finished plans on blood to Isaac, who took the document and looked it over. To Lenore's surprise, he actually appeared to read it in earnest.
"This head-tax is only imposed on humans?" Isaac asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It needn't be, my king," nervously sputtered Burginus. Lenore held her tongue. There were better political hills to die on than a tax she and her associates could easily afford.
"And any change to the rate the vampires pay?"
"For now, no."
Styria's new ruler nodded to himself and looked up. "I want the tax on everyone so it looks fair. Otherwise, I approve this and will reissue it immediately. Implement this as soon as possible."
"Yes, Your Highness," Lenore said with her usual affected deference. "Oh, pardon me, but one more thing" Lenore gently added. "I think we have another visitor from the Church."
The king's good mood evaporated. "Oh, fantastic. What the hell does he want?"
"We don't know. We just saw him as we came to present ourselves"'
Isaac snorted. "Whatever, fine. Minister Burginus, you may take your leave. On your way out, tell our visitor that I will see him shortly. Lenore, stay back with me. I want him to fully see Styria's population as it is." The middle-aged man of coin bowed and exited the chamber, leaving just Isaac, Lenore, and the former's night creatures.
"Tell me, Lady Lenore. What is your real objective?" asked Isaac.
The question's tone took her aback. "I – I am your loyal servant, Your Highness," she responded without making eye contact.
Isaac pressed, not directly looking towards Lenore either. "Don't pretend. I know you deal behind my back. I know you went around me and rehired that Elansa vampire as an assistant after she was caught up in the plot against my rule. I know you still resent me for deposing you and killing your sister. I am not simpleminded." He finally turned to face her. "Again, what is your real objective?"
Lenore's face briefly turned pale, even more so than usual. She glanced at Isaac's night creature guards and carefully thought over the answer she prepared in anticipation of this possibility. "I do what I can for Styria's vampires… And the best way to help them is to help you. This is the truth, I promise."
The usurper human thought for a moment, and then nodded as if satisfied. "For once, I believe you. Hopefully I don't regret it."
A partial sense of relief washed over the vampire. "Those who'd fight to the death have already done so. To the rest of us, you are infinitely more preferable to the alternatives humanity has to offer."
"Codintero begs to differ, but this is not his area of expertise. Anyway, we're now on the same page. Let's proceed" Isaac turned towards the insectoid night creature FlysEyes, who Lenore speculated must be relaying the observations of the less verbal night creatures. "Bring in the priest. Make no effort to hide your face. Let him see what Styria is and will always be."
"As you wish," FlysEyes rasped. He exited the chamber. A minute later, the insectoid being returned with the priest. The visitor had an almost incredulous look as he took in the scene before him: The king himself, a stern-faced man of dark complexion clearly of distant origin, adorned with a crown and a few mismatched royal trappings. Nearby, the dark-clad woman he saw earlier, human-like in appearance save a few details such as the unfriendly crimson eyes that practically glowed from beneath her veil. The monstrosities attending to the king. Everything he had heard about Styria Keep was true, and then some.
"Well met, King Isaac," he said, taking a moment to reaffirm his trust in the Lord. "I greet you on behalf of Bishop Jerome, who has established himself in the city of Graz and wishes to meet with you."
"Is there a reason Bishop Jerome doesn't ask himself?" sarcastically asked the king. He noted with private irritation that the man did not show any signs of deference. Was this a Church custom?
"It would be beneath his station to have to personally wait on your acceptance," responded the courier, a much lower ranked priest.
"What does he wish to talk about?"
"Various things. Your obligations as a ruler, the salvation of Styria's people, your own soul's wellbeing perhaps, what to do with the kingdom's vampire problem – "
Lenore couldn't take it any longer. "You do know there is one right in front of you, correct?" She interrupted with barely concealed scorn. There was a time and place for faking friendliness. This was not one of them in her mind.
The man of the cloth shook his head to himself and asked Isaac, "Could you excuse your… attendant from the room for a moment?"
"No. That is Lady Lenore, and she advises me on matters involving people like you. To answer your question," he continued dismissively, "If the bishop cannot bother to show his face, he is free to send me a letter."
After a moment's pause, the lower priest responded. "So be it. May the Lord bless you. I'll take my leave now." Isaac was all too happy to have the priest get out of his sight.
Somewhat underwhelmed, Lenore followed suit, taking her leave as well.
News of the new blood policies spread over the following weeks. For King Isaac and everyone serving him, the reaction was hard to gauge. It came to nobody's surprise that few human commoners rejoiced in the streets at the "opportunity" to sell their own blood, never mind the criminal justice changes or accompanying traditional tax. Yet for whatever discontent it may have produced, no riots broke out. No one uncovered plots of mutiny. It was hard to ask for much more when gauging peasant and townsfolk reactions to unfavorable news.
At least that was Lenore's opinion. She saw herself as a principled vampire, but by no means a "woman of the people." Instead, she focused on first contacting the remaining vampires of prominence to personally reassure them of her confidence that the new normal would be adequate. Unsurprisingly, their responses also were guarded – Lenore had after all won her freedom at the expense of several fellow vampires.
She also took the time to learn a bit more about her assistant, Elansa. What horrible trauma in her life had turned her into the vampire she was now, apparently just forty years old and utterly convinced of her own doom? She pressed, but it turned out that there was not much to see. The most unusual thing about Elansa was that she was a "natural born." Rather than having been turned at some point, two vampire parents had sired her the way a human couple would, a relative rarity among the typically infertile beings of the night. Her father was a captain in Styria's army, while her mom resided in Voitsberg to the east of Graz, Styria's largest city. The only real tragedy in her life had been her father's presumed death after he failed to return from Braila. A cause for grief, yes, but not the sort of thing that would utterly break a person.
For now, the diminutive grey vampire would have to remain an enigma. Thinking ahead, Lenore realized that it would be best to secure access to archives for Elansa, given that her earlier library position hadn't ended on the best terms. Knowing her assistant, she didn't want her to go by herself though, for fear that she might say something unwise.
However, right as Elansa showed up at her door that morning as usual and learned from Lenore the day's agenda, a messenger also came. "Lady Lenore," he said, "The king wishes to speak with you. It's about the Church."
Lenore sighed and looked to Hector. "Sweetie, can you chaperone my assistant and make sure everything goes well? I need to go attend to something."
"Sure," he agreed. It wasn't a big deal, and he kind of felt bad for Elansa, who often seemed bewildered by his partner's constant maneuvers. Hector watched as Lenore followed the servant and disappeared behind a corner. Hector and Elansa then departed as well. As they walked, he tried to make conversation. "So, how has it been working for Lenore?"
"I guess it's been okay." Elansa replied. "It's not as laid back as my old library job, and I'm still a little upset over her removing my name."
He replied, "Yeah sometimes it may come off that way, but she wasn't trying to hurt you. I think she feared how Isaac might react."
Lenore's assistant sighed. "I guess. I don't like all these subtle games everyone here plays. It feels like I'm always the last one to learn what's going on."
Hector cringed a little, relating to her statement slightly more than he wished. "How did you end up in a palace setting?"
"Well…" Elansa hesitated several seconds. "My dad kind of helped me get this job. We didn't have the best relationship, but he knew someone in the library, and that this was the sort of thing I'm good at, so… yeah."
"Lenore mentioned that you said your dad was a captain in Styria's army and died on the Braila campaign. Is that right?"
"Yes… I'd rather not talk about it right now." Elansa fought back a bloody tear. After a moment of silence, she remembered that humans cared for their young too and tried to reciprocate Hector's display of social curiosity. "Did your dad help you get into forging?"
"I'd… Let's not talk about that either," he answered as the two of them reached the library.
Meanwhile, Lenore presented herself before Isaac. The king looked up from a conversation with his ever-present attendant FlysEyes. "Your Highness summoned me?" asked Lenore.
"Just call me Isaac for once. I need a break. Close the door behind you."
Lenore did as told. "Understood. What can I do for you?"
Isaac looked up, seemingly in one of his increasingly common bad moods. "Minister Codintero informed me that the bishop is exhorting Styria's Christians not to take part in your new blood sale plan. Given how damn successful the Church has already been, we have a problem." He paused and then added, "FlysEyes thinks we should arrest and execute Bishop Jerome or whatever his name is, so we send a message that the Church is still here on our terms."
"With all due respect, I think that should be the last resort," Lenore responded. "Killing the bishop risks turning him into a martyr. The king of England once tried something similar, and within a few years the archbishop he had killed achieved sainthood, and the king barely kept his crown. It will be far safer to first contact Bishop Jerome and work something out. He may simply be upset that you didn't grant him an audience, or want a nice bribe."
The insectoid night creature besides Isaac suddenly spoke up. "And… if he rejects?" FlysEyes rasped.
"Hopefully it doesn't come to that." Lenore somehow brought herself to smile at a being whose existence still made her uncomfortable.
The meeting wrapped up soon after that, and Lenore returned to her chambers just in time to run into Hector and Elansa returning from their errand. "How did it go?" Lenore asked.
"It went without incident," responded Hector. "What did Isaac want to see you about?"
"We have Church problems. Elansa, fetch me a copy of their damn Bible from the library. I'll need to brush up on it."
To Lenore's mild surprise, Bishop Jerome was happy to meet with her. However, he attached an odd but absolute precondition: They meet outdoors, in front of the converted building that served as his temporary church. A canopy tent would even be made available, to better shield Lenore from the sun.
She was suspicious. This was the same bishop whose messenger had spoken about Styria's "vampire problem." Now he suddenly seemed amenable. His family name belonged to an associate of the Medici Banking dynasty, so his godly honesty was at best questionable. Yet refusal was not an option in Lenore's mind. Partly because she legitimately feared the alternative course of action, partly because she couldn't let events prove FlysEyes right over herself. She had enough reasons to hate herself without a talking night creature's ideas besting her own. And so, against her better judgement, Lenore assented and made the day long carriage journey from Styria Keep to Graz.
As usual, Hector accompanied her. "A forgemaster and a vampire, on their way to church. You don't hear that every day," he remarked wryly within the carriage.
At first Lenore forced a fake smile, trying to play along, but then she gave up. There wasn't much point in faking things around Hector anymore. "There's a difference, dear. You could give up your ways and join their religion if you wanted to. I could never."
Hector scoffed. "A forgemaster? Really? Bloody Hell, they'd burn me as a witch!"
"Right now, yes. But in theory, you could renounce everything, bang on the doors pleading for forgiveness, and they still may allow you to repent. A vampire enjoys no such privilege. You could be the most righteous, blameless vampire out there, baptized and confirmed as a human youth, and they would still condemn you as a soulless abomination. And even if someone took pity… well, you've seen what their 'holy water' does, right?"
"At a distance, yes." Hector thought back to Braila.
"Exactly." Lenore paused as her mind wandered. "A few decades ago, I married off a pair of vampire noblewomen to the sons of a prominent Venetian as part of a political deal. The younger brother, that moron, took his bride to be baptized."
"Did… she survive?" Hector asked, moderately disturbed.
"Yes, but much of her face didn't." Lenore cringed with self-recrimination. She'd never forget seeing the baroness back in Styria after the marriage's annulment, the scars indicating where her flesh had melted, the feelings of betrayal in her remaining eye. "To be a vampire is, among other things, to know that no matter what you do, the God who created you has forever disowned you."
"Lenore, dear," slowly said Hector, "I don't know if this trip is a good idea."
She dryly responded, "As long as no one tries to baptize me or rips off my veil, I should be safe."
"I wouldn't put it past this lot," he persisted. "What if they simply try to trick you into entering consecrated grounds?"
"You heard how the bishop of Gresit in Wallachia died in his cathedral from a night creature attack? We too have an instinctual sense of what areas are safe to enter. Only priests who truly follow their God can make such hateful places, and they're rare these days."
They arrived in Graz the next morning under a mild cloud cover. Sending an attendant forward, Lenore donned her veil and gloves before stepping out and taking in her surroundings. The "church" was really a refitted and redecorated meeting hall, with a cross nailed to the wall. As promised, in front of it was a large canopy. Amazingly, the bishop had kept his word. Hector also stepped out but remained at a distance. He figured that the last thing Lenore needed was evidence of a human/vampire relationship.
The bishop stepped out of his church. He was a relatively young man who, despite his age, had clearly settled into his gaudy ecclesiastic attire. He walked towards the vampire diplomat, fairly easy to distinguish from any passing humans by her unusual manner of dress.
"Bishop Jerome, I presume?" Lenore asked as he came closer.
"Yes. Well met, Lady Lenore. I look forward to discussing with your ruler's desire to reinstate a blood tax by another name, and why it is anathema in our eyes."
"And how it might not be," Lenore's crimson eyes locked onto the natural brown ones of her counterpart. "What is it that you object to? We are not forcibly bleeding anyone. We are helping the poor peasant farmer earn some coin by giving something he has in abundance."
Bishop Jerome's smile turned into a smirk. "I object… to everything."
"Everything?" Lenore raised an eyebrow in irritation.
"Yes, everything, demoness," he answered. "You wouldn't understand, being a creature so utterly disconnected from God."
"I came here to negotiate, not to hear a sermon."
"Then you do not realize that God is beyond compromise. Just as Satan could not tempt Christ, your honeyed lies cannot tempt me."
Lenore realized she'd allowed herself to be played. Backing out now though would mean humiliation and reaffirming the church in the eyes of Styria's gullible humans. "I thought Christ made all foods acceptable."
"Not cannibalism, which you ask the church to help facilitate through innaction. Gorge your soulless forms on animal blood."
"A vampire fed nothing but pig's blood will die in a decade." Lenore's eyes narrowed.
"That is of as little concern to Christendom as the unrepentant Canaanites were to Joshua," Bishop Jerome replied with a dismissive wave. "Your true self is already dead."
"What was the point of even having me come here?"
"To prove to the masses that your decrees are as empty and soulless as you." A crowed was indeed gathering. The bishop looked at Lenore with a subtle yet smug grin of satisfaction. Lenore tried to find a discreet opportunity to offer cash to resolve their differences, but no such opening came. She tried to confront him head-on on theology, but that quickly went nowhere. However he may have obtained his position, he was still far more familiar with that damn book than she was.
Just as desperation began to set in, Lenore noticed something about the church building and had an idea. She abruptly said, "I find the sunlight is starting to take its toll. May we step inside, inside your church?"
From afar, Hector's eyes widened. Bishop Jerome paused and asked incredulously "Are you serious, Lenore the Vampire? Is this for real?"
"Yes, it is," Lenore sincerely responded. "I want to see the space."
The bishop shook his head in delighted disbelief at her hubris. This couldn't go any better. "Most certainly. Come, let us go inside. I am sure the Lord will make any issues clear." He led Lenore into the building as alarm bells rung in Hector's head. The small but growing crowd followed them.
When both vampire and human reached the altar, the bishop turned towards the crowd. "Behold!" he declared. "Witness firsthand the power and justice of God upon this vampire who dared enter His house!"
A hushed silence fell upon the room. Time seemed to slow. One second turned into two, then ten, then thirty. The triumphant look on the bishop's face slowly gave way to one of alarmed bewilderment.
Finally, after one, painfully long minute, Lenore raised an eyebrow. "Was something supposed to happen?"
"Wh – Why Lord, why!? I don't –"
"Oh!" Lenore interrupted as if she had genuinely had a revelation. "I was supposed to burst into flames, wasn't I?" She slowly but menacingly stepped towards the bishop, who backpedaled with a growing look of horror. He held up a cross in his trembling hands. "I guess a vampire can set foot in a church. What do we make of this?" Lenore said with a sadistic relish, continuing forward. "Could it be that this ground isn't truly sacred? Maybe a priest's personal character really does matter, and the doctrine's wrong. Or maybe it's because I was baptized in my human days. I was a good Catholic girl growing up." Her torments continued. "In that case, could I receive the Eucharist? I haven't had communion since my transformation, and the blood of the messiah must taste great." The look on his face indicated that the last remark had found its mark.
"Blasphemy! Blasphemy! Get away from me, daughter of Beelzebub!" the befuddled bishop blubbered.
Lenore ignored him and practically pinned him against the wall. "And so," she concluded with a grin that exposed her fangs. She pulled out a piece of paper before he tone darkened. "Agree to adjust your message now, before I personally write the Pope that you let a vampire onto hallowed ground!" she hissed.
"I'll… Consult the Vatican immediately!"
"No, you won't!" Lenore hissed. "You'll sign this now. Deal with Rome later!"
"Fine, fine! I will!" Without even reading it, he scrawled his name on the bottom of Lenore's demands. The crowd inside stood petrified, utterly unsure what to think. Without a word more, Lenore turned around and walked towards the exit. The bewildered onookers parted way. Outside, absolute confusion fell upon the impromptu gathering of Graz's faithful. Some pushed their way inside to make sure the bishop was okay. Others held their heads and cried out, asking why God had forsaken them once more. A few fell to their knees and rejoiced, awed by such a display of God's infinite forgiveness, even to a vampire.
The truth, of course, was that Lenore realized that Bishop Jerome's church offered as much divine protection as that of Gresit's bishop – none.
Bumping into Lenore, Hector said, "You glorious schemer, you did it!"
Lenore glumly shook her head. "If by that you mean 'speeding up the inevitable', then yes. I did it. The Church will never forget this slight."
I have long looked forward to dealing with the theological implications of "morally conscious" vampires. Life is so much easier when your enemies are just unthinking monstrosities, isn't it? Of course, the real vampire in Lenore's life is arguably not herself, but something more abstract.