Vanysa flopped down on the bed, it was subpar even by village standards. 'What an inhospitable place. I should have returned to Nazarick, or stayed in my own home in the city until morning.' She briefly contemplated reaching out to her master for his help, or calling upon Shalltear… either would likely have had a spell cast for her in an instant. 'Shalltear would probably want to have some fun with me first though… pervert.' She thought without a trace of bitterness.
The amoral Nazarickians were unapologetically themselves at all times, and evil or no, it was endearing in its way. Vanysa crossed her ankles and stretched out with her hands folded together under her head. 'What was it Lord Sebas said? That the gods created them to be examples to aspire to? That their creation was the fulfillment of divine will? That's what he said the Pope concluded…'* It felt right, she had to admit.
She yawned a little, 'Am I a created being too?' She wondered and traced her hand over the cloth and pressed down to feel the skin of her belly beneath. 'I wasn't created from nothing. I was a corpse, she was a corpse… I certainly have demonic urges. But I guess I wasn't too far from that before anyway. If I am created, do I even have a purpose? Or was it just that master didn't want them to have a victory in my… her… death?'**
'Or did he miss me?' She wondered, out of all the people she'd ever known, Ainz stood tallest among her favorites. The pope who heralded him, the demon who served him whom she called her 'Demi', the demon who taught her to fly***, and whom she offered herself to for anything, and chose to make her scream with bliss when she all but dared him to do something, anything, instead of nothing.**** Even out of all of those, it was Ainz she loved best, a state that endeared her even to the Three Geniuses.
She brought a hand to her mouth and gave a deep yawn. 'You're thinking too much. At the end of the day, every day, you're his servant and puppet or not, that makes you luckier than most of the world.'
It was a comforting thought to fall asleep to, and sleep she did, drifting through shadows and dreams until sunlight streamed through a crack in the wood and struck her right in the eyes.
They flew open in an instant and her entire body tensed for a brief moment before she was fully awake and flung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Her limbs stretched out and she groaned like a cat that was just waking up. There were countless tiny pricks against her skin, and one glance told her what it was. The old straw poking through the mattress and multiple pieces prickling at the back of her neck had gotten lodged in her hair.
'No, their Headman is definitely not well liked.' Vanysa snorted with derision at the thought, plucked the straw free and threw it down to the dirt floor, other crinkled and broken bits lay scattered about, and it took only a moment to realize she wasn't the first to get this treatment.
She stomped an annoyed foot down and cracked the back of the straw and opened the door, flooding the dank old shed with light. Rather than close it up again, she chose to leave it open and allow the warmth and light to remove some of the musty air of the place while she left it behind.
The hour was still relatively early, but in true country peasant fashion, people were already getting up and going about their day, men carried mattocks, hoes, axes and bows, women were herding their children or going about the long, twelve hour process of preparing food for their households. Preparing the wood, building fires, hauling in grain to turn into flour, all while managing the household affairs.
They didn't appear to be discontented at least, 'Life hasn't changed much out here, not even with the coming of the Empire. Fewer fears, maybe. Some more trade, but they barely register a difference between yesterday and today.' She chortled a little, 'Give it another generation.' She told herself.
With that thought she walked through the cool sunny morning air to the front of the house of the Headman and rapped her knuckles against the door several times.
"Yeah, it'choo?" The rough old voice came from within, "G't on in."
Vanysa opened the door, stepped within, and closed the door behind her, she didn't 'quite' slam it shut, but it was a sharp crack that startled the old man nonetheless.
He sat at a small table with a round green flat bottomed bottle which was open at the top. The smell of cheap, sour wine tickled the demoness's nose. She approached and reached for the splinter riddled old chair opposite him.
"I didn't sayta use'at!" He snapped at her, her hand lingered on the top of the chair's back, and he mumbled, "S'my wife's chair…"
"Oh, is she in the field?" Vanysa asked and removed her hand from the seat, it was only when she did that she noticed her hand came away with dust coating her skin.
She wiped her hand on her clothing while the old man glared at her. "If by field, y'ah mean grave. Aye. Dead. Dead fifty years now. But thas her chair an id'n nobody gonna sit there but her."
"Oh, I'm, I'm sorry." Vanysa bowed her head. "Beastmen?"
"Nah, vampires. Group of em used to hunt out here, ranged all over this here part of the Draconic Kingdom. Nobles, knights, 'venturers, back when I was a wee lad, ah used to see folk c'min through sayin they'd kill them vamps but…" He shrugged. "All we ever got back'r bodies or 'venturer plates. Or jus'nothin, nothin'atall. Might find a piece here or there, a bone wash up or a bit of fabric what looked like it mighta come from what one of em wore when we last seen em. My wife… she was one of the last…" A lump rose in his throat and threatened to leap out of his mouth until he snatched up the bottle and began to chug the sour alcohol down like it was cold water in the desert and he was near death.
"Vampires were a problem out this way? I came from the south east, we didn't have any of those, just beastmen." Vanysa prompted him, and he nodded.
"Aye, them blood sucki-fuckis, moved around a lot, some didn't mind too much, they took one or two people a year an when there was bandits, they'd actually clear the criminal filth an leave us alone. We thought we's lucky. Then they got my Jirak when she was out travlin, takin goods to market on account of my leg was busted an we ain't have no healer to fix me right up in time. She never came back… found scraps of cloth, an she got seen in the company of a sucker, but she weren't herself no more… rest of them folk what went to market in the same train… they up an died. Tried to find her… but I never did."
"I'm sorry… I thought you said she's in the field… in a grave…" Vanysa said and cocked her head down at him.
He nodded. "From what I hear tell, she had a different name, went off, far, far away… someone said all the way cross the far sea, an died. Her body came back, an I got her home at last…" His eyes welled up, "She's in a nice dress, same one we married in, an she ain't aged a day, like time done stopped for her when she went miss'n. I ain't got a lotta time b'fore I'm b'side'er again, now… if'n you c'n tell me whatcher here fer, hurry it up. I'd like ta get back to inch'n toward the space 'b'side'er."
He held the bottle up between them and shook it, sloshing sour wine out the narrow top to splash over his wrinkled old hand.
Vanysa abandoned all her planned elaborate lies about why she was there. 'I've got enough.' She acknowledged, "I'm just passing through, that's all, just restless." She went with the simplest lie she could, and to her surprise the old man actually smiled a little.
"You'da liked her… She wanted to see the world… couldn't see that the village was enough. Begged me ta'letter go on her own out there… things now, they safe, at least safer. Back then… was my fault she done got tooked. You may enjoy your walk, young'n, but be careful out there, an you hurry right home an stay there safe, ain't nobody what needs more ta'mourn."
"I-I will." Vanysa said, offering up a half truth to him at last, "I'll be on my way, and may you rest easy and soon." She said, and the old man laughed.
"Thas one way to wish a man dead an make'im thankful. Be off with you, then." He waved toward the door, and Vanysa inclined her head politely to him, then slowly withdrew. When she exited, she closed the door quietly at her back, listening as the old man within began to chug his wine once more.
The area around her was empty, she popped her wings out of her back in a flourish, crouched, and sprang toward the everlasting sky. 'That was all I needed to know, at least from here.' She told herself, and soared north again, on the long, long flight toward Nazarick.
*Written on the Heart
**God Rising: The Cult of Ainz
***First Flight
****Desires of a Demon