Content warning: Graphic description of burns, depiction of hanging, "off screen" major character death, incredibly bleak chapter
"Destroy that vile race from the lands of our friends... Christ commands it." - Pope Urban II launches the First Crusade
A cold autumn night saw Isaac and Hector standing outside Styria Keep. Flanked by men with torches, they waited for the return of the night creature that had accompanied Lady Lenore on her mission to Venice, flying her back ahead of the actual convoy due to the emergency she barely escaped. Isaac sensed his creature was not far away, even if they couldn't see it yet against the backdrop of the dark sky.
Eventually, a black silhouette took shape in the distance. It was barely discernable at first, but as it drew closer, its shape became clearer in the light of the moon and stars. Isaac looked up expectantly. Hector squinted, trying to make out its features. Before long, there was no mistaking it. It was Isaac's night creature, returned home. In its hands was Lenore, wrapped in a protective sun blanket for the multiday flight. The creature circled overhead twice before descending. It flapped its wings and then landed as gently as one could expect of as heavy a monster as itself. And just like that, Lenore was back in Styria. Alive but far from well.
The night creature set Lenore down. Hector went over and helped his partner out of her makeshift cocoon, holding her steady. "Lenore," he simply said when she finally stumbled out into his arms. In the darkness he could just make out the scabs and soiled bandages where the holy water had burned her. She still smelled slightly of the brackish canal water that saved her life, and she was clearly still in pain. Thank goodness Isaac had happened to use a night creature with wings for this particular mission.
"Hector," she responded weakly, using Hector to support herself. The two gingerly embraced. She winced slightly as his touch aggravated a spot of half-dead flesh, causing him to adjust his hold.
After some time, Hector pulled back. "Are you able to walk?"
"Yes," Lenore answered in a pained voice that inspired little confidence. She then looked in Isaac's direction. "I obtained everything we needed, Your Highness" she said. "The cannons are with the main convoy, and Venice signed the non-aggression pact."
Isaac nodded but said nothing as Hector helped Lenore back towards the castle. He felt conflicted. Just days earlier, he had learned of Lenore's covert scheme to save her old colleague Morana, an undertaking fraught with danger even if it succeeded. Having just one of Styria's former queens around was already risky enough as a potential locus for rebellion, never mind two. Yet for all her political danger, he had to admit she had still proven invaluable, and here she was, limping back home from a would-be assassination while serving in his name. The forgemaster king decided he would wait to confront her about what he knew.
Once Lenore was back in her chambers, Hector helped her out of her clothes. The old vampire physician came in to examine her injuries. Their extent became clear once her garments had been removed. The light of candles revealed extensive burns on her side and left arm, as well as parts of her face and torso. Some had soiled, crudely applied bandages. Others were covered in scabs or dead leathery eschar, although a couple appear to have been rendered raw again during the bumpy journey back home, leaking blood and clear yellowish serum. A few areas looked less burned so much as if they had partially melted, like wax exposed to flame.
"How long will it take her to recover?" Hector asked as he watched.
"Fully, including scars and pain? Several months," responded the physician as he removed some of the old bandages and applied tinctures of chemicals. "Serious wounds inflicted by weapons with holy or other anti-vampiric properties take much longer to heal than other injuries. Proper treatment can speed it up though, or at least prevent complications or permanent disfigurement." He paused. "I recall examining a certain Baroness Sylvine who had been married off to humans, who then tried to baptize her, the morons. Her injuries were worse, granted, but the humans failed abysmally at her treatment and ultimately just sent her back half-healed and heavily scarred. That must have been decades ago, but I doubt those ever fully went away.
Wincing as another bandage was being changed, Lenore silently remembered her role in that event. So, this was what it was like, she thought to herself. She recalled that the Da'Traviso brothers said she would be healed in a month. One month apparently turned into one year. Not long after her return to Styria, Sylvine disappeared
After the physician replaced all the old bandages and applied his ointments, he gave Lenore a mixture of human blood to enhance her regeneration and poppy extract for the pain. He then departed, leaving Lenore and Hector by themselves in the candlelit room.
"How are you feeling now?" asked Hector. Bandages now kris-crossed one half of his partner's face. It was so strange to see a vampire in such a position of weakness.
Lenore looked up at him. "I've been better," she sardonically muttered. The poppy extract would take time to work, if it worked at all, and the loss of other distractions did little to help either. While her mind was unimpaired, it turned to other matters. "What is the news from home? What's going on with Morana?" Lenore asked through gritted teeth.
"The plan's underway, but no news yet from the mercenaries," responded Hector. "Minister Burginus demanded additional payment at the last minute, leaving me no choice but to agree or have the whole thing collapse."
"How much?"
"Forty silver, plus an additional forty if the operation succeeds. He initially wanted one hundred, but I talked him down."
"Very well." Lenore scowled and cursed under her breath. Forty silvers. That was more than she paid Elansa in a month. "Anything else?"
"Well, the bishop was replaced – you probably had something to do with that, and…" Hector hesitated as he came to the last item of note. "Isaac found out about the plan to save Morana."
Lenore's eyes widened with alarm. "What!?"
"A servant spotted me. I decided to go ahead and tell Isaac before anyone else could. He's not happy, but he's not going to punish you."
Lying on the bed, looking up at Hector, Lenore said nothing as she digested this news. She didn't know how to feel.
"So be it… I better get to bed."
The next day came, the first of many in her slow, uncomfortable recovery. She remained inside her chambers, effectively bedridden save when getting up was an absolute necessity. The poppy extracts' effects had worn off all too quickly. Any disturbance to her wounds risked another searing jolt of pain on top of what she already felt.
Someone knocked on the door. Hector got up to answer. It was Elansa, her pale gray face full of apprehension. "Good morning, Hector," she said. "May I see Lenore?"
"Of course," The forgemaster led the diminutive vampire to her employer. Upon seeing Lenore, bedridden and covered in bandages, she put her hand over her mouth. Had this been her father's fate maybe? Was this her fate too?... And oh yes, sympathy for Lenore, that too.
"Hello, Elansa," Lenore said, her usual domineering attitude temporarily subdued.
"Hi uh, Lad- Lenore," stammered Elansa. "I… heard something happened to you… So, I brought something for you." She handed her a simple card. It read on the inside: "Thank you for keeping us alive. Now please stay alive."
Elansa picked up on her employer's less than touched reaction to the card and turned reddish. Everything she did outside her comfort zone simply led to hurt. "Well… um… feel better! I need to go now," Elansa said meekly as she backed out of the room with an awkward, embarrassed smile. She closed the door behind her, and then Lenore and Hector heard the sound of her scurrying off in her usual manner when flustered.
"Look, she means well," Hector said as he glanced at the card. Lenore snorted and then winced as she accidentally disturbed another bandage. But it wasn't an unwelcome visit. The same could not be said when another knock came on the door the next day. This time, when Hector answered, none other than king Isaac stood before him. He asked to see Lenore.
Looking up while still in bed, Lenore saw her sovereign and felt a chill run down her spine. "Your Highness."
"Lady Lenore," the forgemaster king responded. He crossed his arms. "Your 'husband' has saved you yet again." Lenore and Hector exchanged a glance. "Tell me, my lady: Did I not explicitly forbid you from using the mirrors without my expressed permission?"
"You had, Your Highness."
"And yet you did so anyway. Once again, Lenore, you disobey." Isaac proceeded to berate Lenore as disobedient. "I spared you, and again and again this is how you reward me?" he challenged. Lenore held her tongue, facing the criticism silently like a rock pummeled by waves, only nodding and shaking her head as his rhetorical questions required. Hector opened his mouth to say something, but Lenore shot him a look that kept him silent.
After a few minutes of this, Isaac stopped and took a deep breath. "Despite this, your merit is still undeniable. And here you are, wounded in my service… So thank you." The king turned to leave. But just as he faced the doorway, he stopped and then looked back. "But do understand, Lady Lenore. Treachery will still carry a high price."
Lenore looked up, a fire in her eyes. "I am loyal to my sister, to my kingdom, to my fellow kin. Your Majesty, to whom was I treacherous?" She ignored a sideways glance from Hector, who fidgeted with the stump of his missing finger.
Isaac said nothing. Suppressing his initial impulse to chastise his subordinate, he thought and entertained the idea. Then, nodding silently to himself, he took his leave.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, which turned into an uneventful week, and then another. Tedium. Boredom. The occasional physician's visit. Changing of bandages. The mild stupor the poppy extract brought. Blood. Wounds healing with painful slowness, dead unregenerable tissue sloughing away. The periodic need to get up. Elansa coming back in to handle more mundane paperwork, cautiously asking how her employer was faring. Ruminations. Fears of whether Hector's feelings towards her may change should she be permanently disfigured. Time slowing to an excruciating crawl.
Then, a few days past the second week of her return, something pecked at the window, interrupting what had shaped to be a continuation of the preceding monotony. Hector looked out and saw his undead pigeon, back from Italy. He opened the window and let it in.
Lenore looked up from her bed, propping herself up with her good arm. "What is that?" she asked.
"The bird I used to deliver instructions to the Italian mercenaries." Lenore's crimson eyes widened as Hector pulled a new message out from the tube harnessed to its back. "They must have news."
"What does it say?" Lenore asked nervously.
Hector read the message, hesitated, re-read it, and then slowly said, "The operation failed."
The words slammed Lenore like a knight's mace to her head. "Wha – But – how?" her tongue failed her.
"They simply never encountered Morana's convoy, until they learned from locals that it had already passed another way. Perhaps they had positioned themselves incorrectly. Perhaps our information was faulty to begin with. Perhaps someone tipped them off, and they diverted their route. They have no way of knowing."
Bloody tears welled in Lenore's eyes. "He -Hector," she stammered, "Please, beg Isaac to let you use the distance mirror one more time, and see Morana's current location. Please."
"Of course, my dear." Hector departed, leaving Lenore momentarily to fend off her darkest ruminations. They angrily surged and roiled under her sense of duty and obligation to live like a water left boiling in an unattended pot.
After what felt like a century, Hector returned. "She's in Rome."
That night, the wounds covering Lenore were the least of her pains.
Two days later, Styria's own convoy arrived back from Venice. A new set of hands knocked on the door to the vampire diplomat's chambers. Hector answered the door. It was Giovani Codintero, Isaac's chief man of arms. "Hector – Right? – I am here to speak with Lady Lenore. May I come in?"
"Wait here." Hector said after a moment's hesitation. He disappeared for a minute, and then came back. "She is willing to speak with you… But she asks that you remember that you are her guest here." Hector led the former mercenary captain to Lenore's bedchamber.
"Lady Lenore," Codintero said when he saw her. Her state took him aback slightly, even though he already knew.
Lenore turned her head and sat up against the bed's headboard. "What brings you here, minister?" she coldly asked.
Minister Codintero hesitated. "First, I just want to be absolutely clear, Lady Lenore. Even against a vampire, there is nothing Christian about assassination."
"Is that so?" responded Lenore dryly. "I was attacked with the same stuff your priests sprinkle on feast days."
"Even Christ gave consideration to Legion after casting him out, granting a new host in a herd of swine." Codintero saw to his mild surprise that Lenore was unmoved by being equated to a New Testament demon. With a snort, he said, "Anyway, our convoy has returned from Venice with the cannons you promised. They are acceptable. Thank you, my lady, for helping make this happen."
"The pleasure is mine," Lenore answered in a voice devoid of pleasure.
"I also see that your guards brought with them a man in chains, the man they say tried to take your life. Apparently, he is a cobbler, the breadwinner of his family, and that is all he will tell us. King Isaac grants you permission to decide his fate. Shall you show him mercy?"
Lenore thought. A twinge of anger at Codintero's suggestion emerged. "Have your men go down to the dungeon with him and see if they can extract more information. And then, whatever they find, treat him as you would were his target a human…" Her voice had taken on a darker intonation. "Is that too much to ask, minister?" she said challengingly.
Codintero's patience ran thin. "You're rather irritable right now."
"You would be too if you just learned that your sister's fate had been sealed." Lenore looked downwards with a scowl.
The Italian raised an eyebrow. "Wait… Is this about Morana the Vampire? Not the burns?"
To Lenore's surprise, his voice carried not contempt but curiosity, even perhaps reluctant, suppressed concern. She thought for a moment, questioning how much to divulge, and said, "Indeed. I learned the other day that she is now in Rome."
"You mean to say that -?"
"Yes. She is in the hands of the men directly under His Holiness himself. Can you begin to imagine what they are going to do to her? Can you understand the pain of knowing that whatever they'll do to her will be done in the name of Christ?" Lenore clenched her fist. "I know you humans do this all the time to each other, but at least you acknowledge what you are doing!"
Codintero hesitated. "No… I don't understand… But I do know that even a Pope can do wrong when he steps outside his duties." He started to get up. "We've known that as Christians for centuries now, in some form or another. I'll take my leave now… May the Lord bless you."
Lenore said nothing but nodded as Isaac's defense minister exited.
More time passed. Lenore's wounds continued to heal, aided by her vampiric regeneration and appropriate medicine alike. Bandages, scabs, and open sores gradually gave way to scar tissue and delicate discolored skin, which in turn would eventually fade almost completely. The physical pain lessened too as weeks turned into months. She spent more time up and about. The emotional pain though, the mental wound inflicted by her failure to rescue her sister, was slower to fade. It haunted her like a spirit. Eventually it too dulled, but in the absence of closure it would remain in some form for the foreseeable future.
From a special, well-covered awning assembled for her, Lenore and Hector watched silently as the Venetian who nearly took her life was dragged to the gallows in the city of Graz. As human guards placed the noose around his neck, the executioner, one of Styria's small population of dhampirs, read out his crime to the half-hearted crowd of humans gathered around. When he was done, he double checked the knot, stepped back, and kicked out the platform from beneath the would-be assassin to the most muted of applause. A smattering of figures fully shielded by cloth from the sun clapped with greater zeal, but overall Lenore noted the weak response. Were they sympathetic to him? Apathetic?
It mattered not. Her would-be assassin had been treated as such a man would be elsewhere, and the visceral warning to potential sympathizers delivered. As it was in England, France, or Sicily, so too it was in Styria, Lenore thought to herself. She was in no mood for mercy. Not after the news Hector's pigeon delivered.
The scene was no substitute for true peace of mind. But it would suffice. In fact, the months of Lenore's recovery appeared the calmest and most tranquil for Styria as a whole since its self-proclaimed king's arrival. The people went about their lives. Those in need exchanged their blood for coin, which kept Styria's vampires fed. The first cannons were affixed to Styria Keep, with more awaiting the construction of new ramparts. Winter came, and the Christians celebrated their Messiah's supposed birthday without causing any major incidents. New Years and the months immediately following it came and went, and no foreign provocations arose. The news outside Styria for vampires continued to darken, but in Styria at least, they were safe.
After months of tribulation, it all seemed too good to be true. Yet it was so convincing, that even Elansa began to second guess her thesis. Perhaps she truly had underestimated Lenore and King Isaac's ability to keep Styria afloat. Perhaps this was not the end of her race, despite the news of vampires dragged from hiding and massacred in London, despite the pope's exhortation to all Christian kings to finish what God began through the "Miracle in Braila."
But before any change of opinions could solidify, events started to show that things were, indeed, too good to be true. As the rays of spring melted the snow, Fate's ephemeral kindness melted alongside it. By now, the last of Lenore's scars were fading. The only permanent signs that she had ever been injured were faint splotches of discoloration on her side that bore the holy water's brunt. However, instead of being able to celebrate, Lenore learned that Austria had entered an accord with its on-and-off rival within the Holy Roman Empire, the kingdom of Bohemia. A chill ran down her spine. With its Northern flank secured, Austria's rulers were free to concentrate on the godless thorn in their side, Styria. Then, matters became worse when the Venetian Republic and the Ottoman Empire resumed their old war that had been called off in the wake of Dracula. Once more, their armies and fleets clashed for dominance over the Eastern Mediterranean. Whatever the war's outcome, Venice would not be in a position to stop any Papal reinforcements should the Holy Roman Empire declare war. At home, the new bishop began to turn Lenore's now dead would-be assassin into a martyr figure, capitalizing on his public execution. In retrospect, that may have been a mistake. All around Lenore, it felt like a new noose was materializing around Styria's borders. Even in Hungary, she learned that Baron Bakonyi, whose realm bordered Styria on the East, had been ousted.
"What was the cause of this?" Lenore asked the messenger.
The man replied, "My lady, the powers who deposed him accused him of being too close to vampires and sent him into exile further east along with his loyalists. He swears this was your sorcery and that time would vindicate him, but it was to no avail."
Lenore paused, and then burst out laughing. Of all the baron's vices, faults, and flaws, it was his one redeeming trait, his willingness to deal with vampires, that led to his downfall.
The moment of levity was short lived. Lenore, Isaac, Codintero, and FlysEyes spent many hours gathered around the distance mirrors to monitor activity in Austria and the Papal states. They saw armies mustering, leaders giving speeches, footmen marching. Isaac urgently dispatched Codintero to begin readying Styria's men, vampires, and night creatures alike, and sure enough, within weeks, a messenger came from abroad and delivered a new document, titled "The Second Ultimatum." It demanded, among other things, the expulsion or execution of all of Styria's vampires, the specific handover of Lady Lenore to the Catholic Inquisition, and King Isaac's personal conversion to Christianity.
Convincing Isaac that any sort of diplomatic delay might just buy more time to prepare for a two-front war, Lenore wrote back requesting to negotiate these demands. Then, they waited. After three weeks, her answer came in the form of a pair of couriers, one from Vienna, the other from the Vatican. Lenore never saw their faces – guards told her that they arrived simultaneously, delivered a letter and a parcel respectively, and then departed. They must have coordinated their deliveries and then left in fear of reprisal.
She opened the letter, delivered by the Austrian courier. It contained a declaration of war by Frederick III, Austrian Archduke and Holy Roman Emperor.
She then opened the parcel delivered by the representative of the Church. Inside sat Morana's severed head.
If this chapter leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, I also added a more light-hearted Blood and Cinder side story that can hopefully ameliorate any queasy feelings.