The doors to the keep swung open with supernatural pride. Inside was a single large hall with a set of staircases at the other end, rising up into a balcony which led to more rooms, further in. The walls were lavishly decorated with curtains of maroon and purple velvet. Sofie stood with mouth agape. Stone pillars protruded from the walls at regular intervals, mounting stone statues of Elven maidens, Imperial knights and snarling gargoyles. She only looked around at this room, this beautiful and enthralling place, for a few seconds, but already the man was stood atop the balcony, revelling in his riches and possessions.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He mused with confidence. "The softness of one's surroundings must match the softness of one's voice," he stopped and rubbed the nearest curtain between finger and thumb, "If one does not want to appear crude. But we must move on, come; I will show you your room, dear, and then I will show you those who will make you a fierce warrior, a predator of the night-" He grew feverish, struggling to stand still in his excitement and anticipation.

"Wait."

He stopped, sighing. "Yes?"

"Before I go on – and know that I put my trust in you, sir, that you are true to your word and intentions," She spoke courteously, as she had been taught. It comforted her, the knowledge that even in her present state she could maintain an air of articulation and femininity, even if she were faking it entirely. Another evil, scheming voice called into her head; that could come in useful!

"Anything you need, dear!" He chirped. "I have eternity; so do you!"

"I must know who you are, kind sir." She declared. He began to pace from one end of the balcony to the other.

"Who I am? I am your supervisor; your protector; your friend!"

"Not good enough." She mumbled, coldly. He stopped dead, and grumbled in disappointment.

"Very well. Count Salvadore Ravenstock of Sylvania, at your service." He bowed with the grace of any nobleman, one arm tucked up against his upper-back, the other bearing a hand with twirled along with his arching back.

"Sylvania? We're in Sylvania?" She muttered. It wasn't that she disbelieved it; more that she didn't want to believe it. She was still coming to terms with her condition, and the reality of the situation had yet to dawn on her. But at least she felt no guilt anymore; no attachment for the ones who had betrayed her and vouched for- No, cheered at her death.

"Enough chat, come on. We have eternity to exist, but not eternity to live! Come on!" He chirped again, almost like a child. Sofie relented and followed him through another corridor.

He stopped at an unopened door and breathed deeply. Then he pushed it open, and with pride declared; "This is where you shall stay!"

The room was beautiful, no doubt about that. The walls were plastered with water-colour paintings, and the floor was dominated by a rug; made from a beastman's pelt, it looked like. The bed was hidden behind a thin cover of velvet that looked like silk, and when it caught the light from one of many candles and lamps, it shimmered like a spider's web holding water droplets. That was all very beautiful, but the one thing that Sofie couldn't keep her eyes off of was in the corner of the room; a small statuette, again a gargoyle, that crouched facing into the bed itself. She could've sworn that she'd seen gusts of air launched from its nostrils. She even thought she saw its thin, black eyes blinking. She found herself walking towards it, ignoring Ravenstock, who was muttering away to himself like a tour guide. She ventured to raise her hand to touch it, but a hiss from behind her made her stop.

"Don't touch the gargoyle!" He seethed. "You're not ready yet, dear!" He spoke with a teacher's anger; that little spike of disappointment and lament, as opposed to that of rage.

Sofie sighed. Alright then, let's change the subject. "Why are you helping me – you know, treating me like a queen and all?" She opened her arms wide like she was about to go in for a hug. She'd never been treated to such luxury before. It had always been humility; a small bed-chamber with just the essentials, which was forever plagued by the machinations of a rat, or some cockroaches, or something. She had no idea how to describe it.

But it didn't matter; Ravenstock brushed it off regardless. "Not now. At dinner, perhaps?" He spoke quietly. The Sister shuffled uncomfortably. "When you can see the moon behind the top of my tower, that is when dinner shall be served. It'll be wonderful!"

"And for now?"

"Oh, you just look around. Be a nice girl. Perhaps you'd better get to know my Armourer. He's in my Fun Chamber!" he chirped again and clapped loudly, smiling warmly. "Off you go, now!" He gave her directions quickly, before swaggering off to do… whatever it is such a figure occupies himself with doing.

Left to her own devices, Sofie soon got lost. Everything was scarcely lit by candlelight, with velvet and scarlet decoration, intricately-carved ceilings and statues and walls, so it was appeared very labyrinthine. She didn't mind, though. Her quiet, aimless walking gave her time to think; just as well, too, because her head had been spinning wildly since the execution. She was surprised she hadn't gone delirious.

You're siding with a vampire, she reminded herself, and you are a vampire. Hm. Maybe she had gone delirious after all. Another turn, this time to the left. Nothing looked like a 'fun chamber'; a small hallway branching off in two directions like the tongue of a snake. A cleaner with an arrow-head stuck through his temple, clumsily brushing up dust and muck.

I'm not ready? I'll show him I'm ready. She seethed in her head. Her head was spinning, but there was also a thrill. The sort of thrill you get when you know you're crossing the line, but you do it anyway. Siding with a vampire, after so many years in servitude to an Empire and God who had condemned her to death. Entering his home – what a beautiful home it was! – As a guest, with no idea what was going to happen, or for how long she was to stay.

And I'm a vampire as well. She smiled wickedly as she turned another corner and took in cold, fresh air. She was at the end of a balcony now, though she had no idea how she got there. It was open on both sides, but it was sheltered by a thatched roof held up by wooden beams. She hadn't even began to think of the connotations. The thirst for blood – that delightful liquor can't have been anything else- and the strange warmth that darkness gave her. The speed, the strength; she'd seen that already. The sensations…

She paused. There was a rhythmic banging. She followed it across the balcony, down some winding steps. She found herself faced by a portcullis, framed within a large picket-fence. She peered through, and saw that the wall met in a large circle, a good 20-or-so metres in diameter. The banging continued, off to the right. She couldn't see its source. Quite the 'fun' chamber, she mused. She let her eyes wander to one of countless stains on the stone-tiled floor. Blood. She licked her lips and pulled at the portcullis. It began to buckle and break, but before she could tear it free, it began to rise itself.

"Ooh!" A deep, guttural voice groaned, "This challenger's very eager! Let's see what Goldback has for it today!"

Sofie wandered through; accepted the challenge. There was the grating of a pulley and the portcullis buried itself in the ground behind her.