He floated in like a bite of cold, a gust of wind, a soft fog. Like the night itself. The room hadn't changed since his last visit. He hadn't expected it to. The same desk, the same worn map, the same books, the same large bed...the same slight, broken figure of a man.
The man's eyes flicked to Walter as he approached, but that was his only acknowledgement. The man stayed silent, his breathing steady. Perhaps he thought Walter would go away if ignored, like a common servant.
He was wrong. "Hello, knight," Walter said, soft and gentle.
"Greetings, Walter, Master of the Eternal Night," the knight replied. He gave up on his pretense and struggled to sit up, body clearly unused to the strain. "What...brings you here? Did you find it so troublesome to take one defenseless maiden from her bed that you had to complain to me about it?"
So weak he could barely even rise from his sickbed, and the stupid man still taunted Walter. It was amazing. A frail body this one might have, but such a bold spirit was worth keeping around for a few days. It would make things all the sweeter when Walter betrayed him.
"It was no trouble at all. She was exactly as you promised, and her betrothed has set off as well. It promises to be a most amusing game."
"Yes, I heard...a week ago, when it happened. What brings you here now?"
Walter leaned closer, close enough to smell the man's sickness, the melancholy spread black and bilious through his blood. His dead breath stirred the man's hair as he spoke. "I simply wondered," he let his hand rise and gently encircle the man's neck, fingertips just barely brushing the skin, "if you felt the slightest bit of guilt for your part in this."
"Ah yes, such guilt I feel for a thing I so carefully planned and worked for." The man's voice was tired as usual, too much to detect the slightest hint of true emotion. He didn't appear to even notice the hand ready to snuff out his now-useless life.
"The maiden swears you will rescue her alongside her betrothed. Her faith is like a mountain, strong and deep."
"And she will see where that faith gets her." There, definite bitterness in the man's tone. It felt like a victory.
Walter smiled. "You say that, and yet..." He let his hand draw closer around the man's neck, until his fingertips pricked with small, sharp spots of pain. "...you have not yet abandoned your faith either."
"Practicality. You are a vampire." The man raised his own hand to Walter's wrist. "But perhaps you are right, when this is over I will confess and go to live as a monk, praying each day for the mercy and forgiveness of God." Walter drew his hand away, mindful of the burns. Sleeping with both crucifix and rosary? The man never did let down his guard. Walter was almost insulted at the slight. He'd sworn not to harm the man until this was over, and he fully intended to keep that promise.
It was after the end the man should be worried about.
"Is that so," Walter said, not bothering to make it a question. "Well, I look forward to it. A guilty conscience stirs the mind towards God, I believe. After all, were not some of the holiest saints former sinners?"
The man let his hand drop in silence.
"But it occurs to me," Walter continued, "A brilliant man. A ruthless man. The kind of man who would send his dearest friend into a trap baited with his beloved..."
"Yes?"
It was tipping his hand. Walter couldn't bring himself to care. There was nothing more Mathias Cronqvist could do to influence events now. He leaned forward again, whispering directly to the man's ear.
"You'd make a fine vampire."