"She better not play with him too much, we need the idiot to make us the army"
Carmilla sighed as she and Striga remained in the conference room. For 5 hours they had mapped out the invasion of Braila, counted the troops, and taken inventory of all the resources. But by the time it was over, Carmilla felt ready to take a bath and forget about it all together. "Why won't they just fucking do the plan as I state it? None of this is going to be a problem if everybody just listens to me" Carmilla kept thinking to herself throughout the hours of lecturing from Morana and Striga. It didn't help that Lenore was even more detached than ever, throwing in pointless fucking questions like "What was Hector like in Dracula's court?" or "Can we get some dead animals to bring to Hector?" if Carmilla was human, she would've popped a blood vessel from hearing the second one. Despite these moments of having her almost miss her good for nothing piece of shit late husband, by the time the meeting ended, they were all in perfect sync. It's as if all the chaos and clashes were necessary to make sure the sisters reached the best solution possible. And they loved each other more for it. It was a cycle, really. Each meeting started with a plan, followed with dousing that plan with fire and insults, and finishing with an even better one. Come next day, it would start all over. Her three sisters would probably be the only vampires she felt like she wanted to rip apart one moment and embrace the next.
As for Striga, she hated pointing out the blatant flaws of logic in Carmilla's ramblings. Not because of confrontation, but because they were so obvious that she felt like she didn't need to. Striga lived her vampire life as she did her human life- one of reason. She couldn't sympathize with Carmilla's flare of emotions and zeal for the unconventional. By the time each meeting was over, Striga felt like she had lost a few brain cells hearing Carmilla's tantrums. However, somehow the bitch always made it work in the end, and Striga respected that. Deep down Striga even felt a bit envious, for how could Carmilla come up with these crazy but brilliant plans? At the end of the day, Striga never let those feelings get to her. She had her role to play in the quartet, and she knew how valuable that role was.
"Carmilla?" Striga murmured as the queen began walking towards the exit
"Oh what, for god's sake?!" Carmilla snapped back. We've been here for fucking hours. she felt. If any one of the sisters had a chance of capturing her interest, Striga was the least capable. For all Carmilla knew, she probably wanted to talk about some mundane logistical matters that were outside her realm of expertise. Was it really important enough to extend this meeting towards the break of dawn?
Striga paid no mind to Carmilla's attitude. She had a burning question that needed to be answered- a question too important for Lenore to hear.
"If Hector pledged his loyalty to Lenore, and the rings make him loyal to us, wouldn't he have had to pledge loyalty to us too for the magic to register?"
Carmilla paused. She was caught off guard.
"The rings are linked Striga, Lenore said that." Carmilla answered. It was a valid question, but one that she did not currently have the brainpower to think it through. She had overworked her remaining brain cells 15 minutes ago when Morana asked about the logistical parameters of maintaining the Carpathian border.
This was an answer Striga would not accept. She understood that Carmilla was exhausted, ready to call it a day. But the warrior knew that such questions were better asked sooner, rather than later. She had to press a better response from the queen. A simple word of goodwill from the sister who excelled in lies was not enough for her.
"Yes, but even so, how do you know our rings have the same effects as hers? Why was she the only one wearing a ring when he made the pledge?"
An awkward silence filled the room as Carmilla finally registered what Striga was saying. For a good minute she struggled to come up with a decent explanation before blurting "I'm sure Lenore thought of it when she went to the magician." It was the best that the queen could do.
"Did you put yours on?" Striga questioned Carmilla, disappointed by the lack of urgency the question imposed.
"Yes… Of course. Did you?"
"No."
"Good food?"
Lenore offered as she and Hector sat alone together in the makeshift dining table, sampling the lavish assortment of turkey, dairy, and pastries sprawled out in front of them. Lenore had stressed to the chef that tonight's meal had to be perfect. She knew that Hector wasn't in the mood for reconciliation, but wanted to do her best in trying. It was the best she could do given the circumstances.
Hector never ate such hearty meals but today was better a day than any to try. He might as well celebrate the official end of his autonomy.
"Yes.. Thank you. I suppose anything is good when you're hungry" Hector replied with a hint of bitterness in his voice, his lips resting on the fork. He was determined to show no enjoyment from this dinner, despite how delicious it was. Lenore had manipulated him, enslaved him, beat him. He may as well call himself her slave if he were to enjoyably subject himself to her gestures. These subtle acts of defiance were the best that the disgraced general could do.
"I take care of my pets. What's the point of being with me if you can't enjoy it?" Lenore smiled sweetly at Hector, ignoring the icy undertone of his last sentence. This is going to be a piece of work she realized. She was skilled at reading dissent among people- a product of years perfecting her craft. She had analyzed his facial expressions intently from the moment he saw the turkey to when the food hit his mouth. They ranged from anger to disdain-that was it. She had to either try harder, or find another avenue to loosen the forge master.
"Try the wine!"
She insisted as she pulled an aged wine bottle from underneath the table. She uncorked it, then poured Hector a glass, implying that she would not take no for an answer.
"Alright..."
He muttered as he began to cautiously sip the wine. He never drank alcohol- he hated the way he felt so dull afterwards. But today was as good of a day as any to try, he had no doubt that this would be far more refined than the potato water he was offered by the villagers.
Lenore didn't show it, but she felt a bit of guilt for resorting to such a tactic to negotiate with Hector. She would have liked to reconcile in a more organic fashion, but her sisters pressed her for more expedited measures, with Morana even suggesting torturing him to forge. The gesture felt justified- the alternatives were far worse for him.
Hector pouted as the first gulp of wine passed through his throat. To his dismay, he had enjoyed the wine more than he would have liked. The aged grape and chocolate undertones played gracefully against his taste buds, eliciting a sensual joy that he seldom experienced.
From a purely philosophical standpoint, Hector had more enjoyment eating the maggot bread when he first arrived in Styria. To him those meals felt like a choice, a symbol of willpower and perseverance in a time of pain and suffering. There was no Lenore in the picture. What was particularly nightmarish about this particular dinner was that his mind went from wishing he ripped her throat out the first night they met, to being mesmerized by the reflection of the firelight in her eyes. Each passing burst of anger was neutralized by Lenore, her smiles and affection slowly breaking down his stoic demeanor. Hector hated himself for it. He wanted to stick to the plan, wanted to protect the most vulnerable parts of him to her. But at this rate, it seemed like Lenore would ruin it quicker than she had ruined the illusion that she actually cared for him.
"Tell me about your day"
Lenore gleamed, permitting a subtle flush to radiate through her cheeks. She knew he hated such conversations, but was at a standstill. The only alternative was silence.
"Uhm, what?"
Hector blurted, his fork stuck in middair. She enslaved him, locked him in a room for 8 hours, forced him to eat dinner with her and pretend that everything was normal. Do you really want to fucking know?! he glared as his heart rate climbed.
"Your day. I want to know how your day went"
Lenore's smile never broke, trying her best to play ignorant. If anything, it got wider from seeing Hector try to rack up a response.
He pictured himself gripping the table and flipping it towards the vampire, emptying the contents of the dinner over her pristine dress. She would be in total shock as he lunged out the window and escaped the castle, flying to safety by one of his night creatures. He would then return to his hut on the outskirts of Targoviste permanently, killing any vampire that dare come close to him, friendly or not. However, midst fantasizing, his thumb ran over the ring and logic began to take over. He composed himself and delivered the best response his temper could handle. His barriers were up again.
"It was.. Good. As good as it can be when you're in a cage."
"You're not in a cage, Hector. You have free roam of the castle"
"Just a bigger cage for me to die in."
The statement came in harsher than either Hector or Lenore had anticipated. He felt the anger rise from his stomach to the back of his throat, bubbling like a volcano. A wave of heat flashed through his face.
"I told you, Hector. I gave you what you really needed. What would have been your alternative? For you to be tortured in the cells? You didn't even have a pair of shoes before I came to see you"
"The alternative would've been my freedom."
Hector's internal firewall began to break.
"And such a freedom it was. Freezing to death on a stone floor. No shoes either I may add."
"You said you wanted to leave with me"
"And I did. But, as I also said, that would be a betrayal of my sisters."
"I trusted you Lenore."
Tears began to well up in Hector's eyes. He couldn't contain the frustration any longer. He was shocked on how quickly the emotions came, ashamed at his sudden lack of control.
Lenore was silent. After the moment of tension began to ease, she took his hand and rested it gently on hers, caressing his knuckles with the end of her thumb. She wore an expression of sorrow and sympathy, looked at him unflinchingly, and exclaimed "I'm sorry for the miscommunication, Hector. Moving forward, lets promise to be as open to each other as possible that way neither of us gets hurt again, shall we agree?"
Those words were honey to Hector's ears, but he was too flustered to fully feel the impact of them. He didn't know what to think, how to feel. His mind was racing with a thousand ideas of how Lenore could hurt him even more. He had been so unsure of himself and his feelings the past few days, but nothing amounted to the uncertainty he felt right now. He wished he was back in his farm, where the only thing that mattered were his pets. They never betrayed him, never gave him the pain and suffering this woman had. As he scrambled to find some footing in his identity, some way of navigating the moment, Lenore said "Stand up, please"
Hector instinctively stood up. Lenore moved close to him, graced her other hand on his cheek, and tenderly wiped a tear off his face as her eyes met his.
"There, that's better." she purred.
He wasn't sure who initiated it, but Hector found his lips on Lenore's, tenderly caressing her as his mind forced itself to push back the pain. The next few moments were a blur for him, his body tuning into autopilot. His silver head of hair found its way on the pillow of the bed, as Lenore saddled him. His heart paced rapidly without his consent, and his arousal burned without him really knowing why. His memory faded to black quickly after the climax. The last thing he remembered was Lenore's face resting on his chest, breathless. Her tiny hands wrapped around his shoulders as her legs rubbed gently against his.
"Good pet" Lenore thought as she listened to Hector's heartbeat. She knew the wine would've loosened Hector up a bit, but she was pleasantly surprised on how well it worked. She had hoped for a kiss or two from him, but this was beyond her wildest expectations. "I haven't lost him yet" she thought. She couldn't believe that Hector had spent his whole life without ever realizing how charming, talented, or different he really was. Carmilla had warned her that he was clueless, but even Lenore was shocked to see such potential go to waste. She was excited to see where the next few months, years even, would take them. The thought of it made her giddy with anticipation.
She dreamily played with his hair as she began to doze off to the warmth of his body and the beat of his heart. "So this is what it feels like" she thought as her mind faded to black.
"Good morning, Hector"
Lenore whispered softly, her fangs playfully biting the tips of his ear. He shifted a few inches back from her to regain some form of privacy as he groggily responded "What happened last night?"
"You don't remember? We agreed to be totally honest with each other and we made love all night. You were amazing, Hector. I never knew you could be so tender and commanding at the same time."
Hector felt more confused that ever, and struggled to materialize any concrete memories of the ordeal.
I will build an empire
The words pierced the air with conviction.
Isaac positioned the distance mirror and gazed into it until it landed on a city similar in size to the one they had just conquered. It's stone walls imposing, but not impossible to invade. It would require no more than 50 demons, Isaac calculated.
"Gather 50 of the demons"
Isaac ordered the philosopher. Eyes fixated on the mirror.
"Yes, forge master" The demon obeyed and scurried from the marble chambers. Within minutes an assembly line of Isaac's soldiers entered in the chamber, waiting for Isaac to give the orders.
"Today, we will conquer another city! When we transport there, we shall kill all of the humans, but leave the buildings intact! You!" Isaac pointed at the demon philosopher once more, the demon scurrying towards him before finally stopping.
"You will remain here with the rest of the army. Keep watch of this city, and leave no survivors if one tries to invade"
"Yes. May I ask a question, forge master?"
"You may."
"What shall we do if for some reason you do not return?"
Isaac was taken aback by this question. Frankly, the thought of perishing did not cross his mind until now. He pondered for a brief moment, his surprised nature noted by the philosopher, before finally commanding.
"If I do not return within 10 days, gather the rest and travel to this city and burn it to the ground. Leave no survivors or remnants that anything existed here."
Isaac replied coldly, his response creating an aura of gravity and morale to the soldiers.
"Yes sir."
"Good. Now, to conquer" Isaac concluded as he coldly focused the mirror on the walls of the city, instead of inside the city. He wanted to give the citizens some feeling of fear as his demons destroyed the last bit of security their little minds had. Isaac relished the thought of his army destroying that wall bit by bit, unleashing the gates of hell upon a tainted species.
Isaac transported to the edge of the city.
Isaac landed on the patch of cold dirt with his army, the walls imposing its authoritarian glory on him. "Just another one of humanity's instruments of fear, soon to be joined with the dirt" Isaac mused. Just as he was about to give the order to attack, he heard what seemed to be hundreds of footsteps behind him. Not footsteps of his own army. He turned, and saw a small unit of 100 men on horseback, ready to tear down those stone walls as much as Isaac. They were equipped with poorly crafted iron plate mail, lacking in any sort of uniform or organization. His jaw dropped in surprise. The mountains surrounding the city must have clouded his ability to see the invaders, a number small enough to pass by unnoticed. He now realized that he and demons were sandwiched between a rock and 100 soldiers, ready to be slaughtered if he didn't act now. What sort of timing have the gods given me? he mused, he was used to dealing with far larger forces. Their bodies will help me take this city he concluded
"Attack the soldiers!" He commanded after a moment of hesitation.
What came next was a blur. Bodies flew past him. In the chaos Isaac attempted to navigate the cluster of men and demons; brutally raising arms in what seemed to be an endless bloodshed. Isaac was not used to fighting with such numbers. He swiftly started taking down as many soldiers as he could, his confidence growing with every conversion. In no time, he concluded, he would convert this army too, adding a valuable asset to his repertoire of demons. As he was slicing away, he heard a whiz and instinctively moved to the left, avoiding a flurry of arrows. Another whiz, and he moved to the right- another close death. He quickly glanced the arena and saw the source of his misery- a group of archers to the far right perimeter. As he began to charge towards the archers, he suddenly felt a piercing pain radiate through his left shoulder- an arrow had just landed. Had he worn armor, it would have been a simple reflection. However, his tunic allowed that arrow to pierce deeply into his thorax. Isaac started to feel weak.
Before he knew it, another arrow had pierced him, this time his right lung. He collapsed on the dirt, gasping for air as he struggled to move an inch further. The last image he remembered was a demon being mauled by 5 men, its cries helpless in the onslaught.
~~An unspecified amount of time later~~
"Momma! He's waking!" He heard a little girl's voice scream
"Shhhh! Don't be too loud, he needs as much rest as he can get" An older, womanlike voice said.
Isaac began to regain his vision and saw that he was laying on what seemed to be a cot. His surroundings- a wooden hut with a kitchen, single bedroom, and what seemed to be a shed?" He could barely make sense of what was going on. His left arm was wrapped in a makeshift bandage, his right arm bruised beyond use.
"Thank heavens you're alive, we thought you would've been a dead one for sure." An older woman in her 40s exclaimed as she stumbled across the kitchen holding what seemed to be a bowl of porridge. Her chestnut hair and hazel eyes complimented the aging lines on her face, for this woman seemed to have lived a life of experience. Her simple outfit suggested to Isaac that she was village commoner, and that he was in the home of a lower class citizen of the city. Isaac reflexively pulled out his dagger but felt a rush of pain permeate half his body. He was in no position to fight.
"No worries! Not here to harm you. Just some porridge, dear" The lady noticed as she started to approach more slowly. The hand with the bowl stretched out to Isaac.
Isaac cautiously took the bowl from her, then asked
"Who are you?"
"I am Samantha, and the child you just saw is my daughter Susan. You are in Admont, you were among one of the casualties a couple days ago. They found your body during the cleanup and saw that you were alive and not wearing the same uniform as the invaders, so I took you in and tended for you."
"Invaders? Who were they?" Isaac asked
"I was hoping you'd know. We haven't seen a night creature in ages. As for the soldiers, I reckon they came from one of the mountain Kingdoms- luckily they didn't make it past the walls. Few do. You're safe now."
Isaac did not know what to make of this situation. So it seemed neither his demons nor his opponents survived the battle. He was seriously injured, with no demons, and under the care of a stranger in a foreign village. "How strange" he thought to himself.
Isaac took a sip from the bowl, it warmed his insides as a jolt of energy rushed through his body, his blood sugar rising to normal levels. He began to think more clearly.
"Thank you, but I am afraid I have nothing to give you, so show me the way out and I will make my leave."
"What?! Nonsense, you're not going anywhere with those wounds on your body. And I'm not asking for anything either. Drink your porridge. If you want some more, just holler" Samantha stated as she wobbled back to the kitchen. Isaac observed her with curiosity and bewilderment.
"An act of kindness for free? Perhaps I am dreaming" He concluded as he finished his porridge. He sunk back into a slumber, this one voluntary.
