Vanysa cursed herself for not being more specific in her intent to return to the Draconic Kingdom. The gate spell closed behind her, and she found herself in the royal capital. The streets were a bustling beehive of activity, voices went up in every direction, the cobblestone streets were clean of debris, but what stood out to the disguised demoness was that the roads were not yet runic. 'The Queen is probably focused on the roads "between" cities, not in them. But still…' And then her stomach rumbled.
It was hard not to be reminded by her hunger. 'Right, my house is here, I haven't been to it in years, I've just been so busy hunting down holdouts, running down rumors of Theocracy Overseer survivors and Agante members in hiding… not to mention helping Demi with his research… I haven't even been by one of my own restaurants in years. The money keeps rolling in though, so it is doing well…' She touched her rumbling belly and tilted her head back to sniff the air.
The smell of fresh baked sandwiches hit her almost immediately and a hungry grin spread over her face. She made a beeline after the scent and followed it around the corner and just as she expected, Teats & Meats, sat right at the designated crossing point. A key focus of her strategy for her dining chain was always having a place where the people had to cross. Corners at intersections and the white lined places where those on foot could cross in safety. Delays while they waited and inhaled the smell of fresh baked food and the sight of the busty young women she hired to staff the establishments contributed in equal measure to people deciding to 'just stop in real quick for a bite'. 'Thirty percent more business than other establishments not even thirty paces away.' She quoted the last statement she looked at, and she tilted her chin up with smug satisfaction.
The ones who tried to ruin her were dead, the ones who stole her home were sliced to ribbons, 'Even Astraka is now barely 'eeking' out a living in the Southern Holy Kingdom, in fear of the day the two halves are reunited. Now that I think about it,' Vanysa contemplated while she pushed open the door of one of her many small establishments, 'is he even alive? Or did he die in a cave somewhere?' There was no knowing, but he at least served a purpose to her lord before the end, so she put her former tormentor out of her mind.
"Welcome to Teats & Meats!" A raven haired girl with a farmer's tan and a ruby smile on a slender, oval face, said with a cheery air about her. She bounced on her heels just once to bounce her chest, playing to her youthful beauty regardless of the sex of her customers.
"Thank you." Vanysa said and looked the place over while she placed her order, a simple sandwich made with turkey and slathered in meat sauce on thick, fresh baked loaf cuts of bread. The establishment was clean, which she approved of, and she quickly took a small smooth wooden table to eat in private. Of all the simple pleasures, this was one of her favorites, a warm sandwich in a place of her own. 'All thanks to him.' She thought, and in moments like that, she no longer cared if she was herself, or just a doll, a puppet on his strings that had the memories of a girl who killed herself in agony to show her loyalty.
The taste was real, the feel of the crackling bread was real, the rich scent of blended ingredients, that was real, and her pleasure was real. But while she ate and savored the joyful experience of a good, hot meal, she thought about where to go next.
'Vampire legends go back thousands of years, they can't all be him, but…' Vanysa pursed her lips while she stuffed her cheeks with double bites of the ample sandwich.
'If Inta really is older than the Beastmen Empires, that's saying something. The first Curete knew people who knew life without cities. But the cities in the east are thousands of years old, the Tlalmok rose later, but not by a lot, but Inta had to have been Barintacha back before the Devor broke off from the Beastman Kingdom and settled down, and before there was a Beastman Kingdom at all… but they're ancient too… if he forgot everything and became a wanderer? He could have gone anywhere.'
Which left her with the difficult question of where to search for more information, and by the time she shoved the last of her sandwich into her mouth and chewed it up, Vanysa found her answer.
Queen Draudillon sat at the head of the small council table, the few advisors she had, took turns droning on about various points and counterpoints regarding the aid being sent west to the former Slane Theocracy. They were aged men for the most part, save for one, the dullahan General. Most of them opposed sending more than the minimum required by His Majesty for reconstruction.
'Bitter memories run deep.' The white haired Queen reflected while she watched the faces of wrath and fury, snarled lips and bared teeth and practically spitting with every denial.
"They don't deserve a wooden coin more than we have to provide! They should be repaying us for our expenses!" A thick forefinger stabbed into the table and a slightly overweight old man spewed the venomous words out at his comrades.
"That may be. But the longer they take to rebuild, the less influence we have over them." A sharp counterpoint came.
But Draudillon was quickly tuning out and pretending to read the document in front of her, when the time came and the candle in between them burned to nothing, she would use her favorite trick. Present her own idea and say it was an amalgam of the most excellent suggestions she heard that day and hope that weariness from argument and a deep desire to return to their beds would get them to agree since it let them keep their pride. With enough practice, Draudillon was now adroit as a politician and realized that the idea didn't have to actually use anyone's suggestions. They just had to be willing to believe it did, or pretend, if they didn't.
Or that's how it would have gone, except for the guard who pounded on the door. "Enter!" Draudillon called out and the guard stepped within, his fist pounded over his heart and he answered…
"My Lady, there is a visitor here who says you would be willing to meet." The guard had a ruddy, handsome sort of face, a little wrinkled as age slowly overtook him, but his jaw was still solid and his brown eyes steady and clear.
"A visitor?" The Queen glanced at her council, only for them to look to one another with doubt and confusion.
"Who?" She asked at last.
"She gave no name, but she said," he coughed into his hand and cleared his throat, "She said it would be knife to see you again."
"By the bones of god…" Draudillon rubbed her forehead with her thumb and forefinger and let out a heavy sigh. 'What is it with the crazy ones and puns?!' She wondered, but her dismay faded away to be replaced by an overwhelming and very personal sense of guilt. 'It's all your fault.' the voice in the back of her mind said as she recalled the way the servant of the Sorcerer King had been taken on her watch and tortured to the point of suicide.
"We'll discuss more tomorrow, everybody leave, then send her in." The Queen gave the command, and the chairs of the small room scraped over the stone as they were pushed away from the table and the seated members of her council rose to leave the Queen alone.