So sorry this has been so neglected! We've had so much warm weather in Britain the last couple of months, and I suffer awfully with brain fog in the heat, and unfortunately Curious just completely slipped my mind.
-YD-
Vlad winced at the way Ramanga leered, tamping down on inappropriate jealousy.
"She is Ingrid, and she is also too young for you."
Ingrid crossed her arms, taking a step back from Ramanga. Vlad hoped she didn't stake him... sort of.
"I'm also completely out of your league. Go have your boring meeting."
Vlad had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the utter horror on Ramanga's face when Ingrid said she was out of his league. Even Vlad calling him old hadn't earned such an aghast expression.
"You dare insult me?"
Thunder rumbled outside in a symbol of Ramanga's ire, but Ingrid didn't even blink.
"I don't even know you, and you're probably six centuries older than me. Plus your aftershave reeks. What do you expect?"
Ramanga growled. Vlad gave Roqueloire a sidelong glance, and the man got the message immediately.
"Count Ramanga, the meeting?"
Well, Roqueloire might yet come in handy, Vlad supposed.
"Hmmph!"
With a dramatic swirl of his coat, Ramanga sank into a chair with very little grace. Ingrid smirked from behind him at Vlad, then grabbed a bottle of blood and disappeared. Drinks were poured while Vlad got comfortable in his chair, feeling very aware of how much shorter he was than the other VHC members again. He made a mental note to get a bigger chair that would boost him up a bit, but there was little to be done then short of asking Renfield to get him a big cushion.
"So, I'm sure you all have things you wish to say. We'll talk like civilised creatures. You first, and we'll go around the table. If anyone interrupts, you'll be fired. If you argue, you'll be dust."
Vlad had intentionally pointed at the vampire furthest from Ramanga, forcing him to go last. As someone quite high up in the vampire world, and the VHC, Ramanga was not best pleased. The muscle twitching in his cheek gave Vlad great pleasure.
"Thank you, Your Grandness" the vampire struggled with the title, but he managed without sounding too sarcastic "my name is Hack. I'm the head of Vampire Resources."
So he was the vampiric equivalent of a HR department? Vlad made mental note.
"Alright. Well, Hack, anything to say?"
"I wouldn't dare disparage the new Grand High Vampire."
"Not to his face, anyway. I'm sure you disparage me plenty to others."
Though Vlad's mind-reading abilities were still pretty weak, he could sense the way Hack clamped his mind shut as best he could against telepathy, which said Vlad was 100% right. Since Hack was apparently done, Vlad nodded to the next.
"And you?"
"Warnock. Minister of Education. I find the fact you have a television in a castle utterly charming."
Vlad raised an eyebrow.
"A vampire who likes technology?"
"We're not all stuck in the past. I've made plans to digitise the entire VHC library, though your predecessor did not think it necessary."
Completely aware Warnock was trying to get on Vlad's good side, but also sure he couldn't have pulled the suggestion of a digital library from thin air if he didn't at least know his way around a computer, Vlad nodded.
"Well, we'll see. I'd want to see those plans for myself before I even consider approving anything, and you would not be left unsupervised to choose what information is digitised. Just in case you felt like changing something and destroying the original."
Warnock gave next to no indication Vlad had foiled any plans, but he saw the black at the corners of his eyes and knew a spark of anger had flared, even for a second, at his being ordered around by the teenaged vampire in the Crown.
Good. Get used to it.
"Anything else you have to say, Warnock?"
"Not at this time, though I'd like to reserve the right to speak with you in private at some other time."
"Well, so long as private includes my bodyguard here."
Warnock simply inclined his head, before leaning back in his seat. Vlad nodded toward the next vampire, feeling Ramanga's ire mount as he was left waiting his turn.
"I am Morgan. Keeper of Vampire Law."
His voice was dry and reedy, and even with the impaired aging of vampires he looked old, his short beard greying.
"Anything else?"
He shook his head, and sipped from a VHC-embossed flask that he tucked back into his robes.
"Very well. Next?"
"Lansley. George Lansley. Vampire Lore expert, historian and blood keeper, officially."
"Blood keeper?"
Lansley nodded.
"I oversee the trade in bottled blood. I'm something of a connoisseur."
Well, he's not going to be keeping that job, Vlad thought to himself.
"Alright. Do you have anything to say about me? Nobody else has really tried so far, and I won't be extending such an open floor again."
"Well, I do have some reservations about your age. As the eldest of the Council, Morgan was set to replace the previous Grand High Vampire. You are the youngest ever by at least six centuries."
The others looked relieved someone had said it, and Vlad made another mental note to keep an eye on Morgan. Despite his calm demeanour, there was no doubt he was pissed that Vlad had swiped the top job from under him.
"Maybe that's exactly why I was chosen. The vampire world could do with a voice of youth, don't you think? The world isn't what it was when any of you were born. How many of you can work a mobile phone?"
"What would we need to do that for? Sir."
Lansley barely remembered to add.
"Well, Slayers are all human. They adapt and improve their technology with every generation. I would argue that staying buried in the past leaves the vampire world woefully unprepared."
Apparently, Vlad used the word 'woefully' now. He wasn't sure why. Lansley stroked his chin, thinking.
"An interesting point. Perhaps you are right, and the vampire world could do with a little advancement in some areas. You must forgive me, I'm rather attached to the past."
"Well, you might have to loosen that iron grip just an inch or two now. And last, we have you."
Vlad turned to Ramanga, who looked ready to leap across and stake Vlad where he sat. Actually, he reckoned all of them would consider it. He was starting to think that an assassination of the Grand High Vampire before him was completely possible, and not by dream-world-Vlad. They all seemed the type, to some extent or another. Except maybe Hack. He looked like he cared more about dinner. Vampires had to really indulge for a while to gain much weight, and Hack had quite the gut on him.
"I am Ramanga. Head of Vampire Clans. My clan have been members of the Vampire High Council since the first meeting."
"Well, then you had better behave yourself if you want to maintain that tradition."
"Why you insolent little-"
Ramanga didn't even finish rising out of his chair before Roqueloire stood over him, keen eyes focused.
"Mind yourself Ramanga."
Absolutely certain he was going to have to watch his back for pretty much forever - or at least until someone staked Ramanga - Vlad watched as he schooled his features.
"Of course. I suppose I just struggle to take our new... leader seriously. You are just a boy, after all."
"A boy who is also the Grand High Vampire, and you will respect that. Or face the consequences."
Vlad let his Crown guide him, felt that strange depth slip into his voice, one that spoke of power and pain to those who crossed him.
"Still, you lack experience. Knowledge. Guidance. Do you even know how to run these meetings, let alone the entire vampire world?"
"Yes. My way. That's the whole point Ramanga, this is my birthright and my destiny. You can resist and whine as much as you like. Make all the digs at my age you desire. But it won't change a thing. I'm still your boss, and you will do as I say."
"Or else you'll do what, exactly?"
Knowing he'd regret it later, Vlad tapped into his powers again. He didn't move, but Ramanga soon did, his hands coming up to try and pull away the invisible death grip around his throat. Vampires didn't need to breathe, but if the grip was tight enough, they'd choke on their cold, dead blood as their larynx was crushed. Vlad held it just long enough that Ramanga knew he was serious, then let him go. Ramanga coughed and gasped for air, before falling very silent and looking very angry that he'd been embarrassed in front of the others.
"Any more questions, gentlemen?"
Unsurprisingly, none of them had anything left to say after a stark reminder that Vlad was more powerful than they wanted to admit, and would only continue to grow more powerful over time. Especially in a couple of years, when he turned sixteen.
"No? Well, in that case, I think we can leave it there for now. You five may leave. Roqueloire, hang around."
"Yes sir."
Ramanga looked ready to stay and challenge Vlad to a duel to the bloodied, messy death, but he seemed wise enough to pick his battles and swirled his trench coat dramatically before transforming and flying out of the bat hole. One by one, the others took their leave too. As requested, Roqureloire remained.
"Well done Vladdy! You showed those old coffin lodgers!"
"Dad, would you give me a minute with Roque here? Is it alright if I call you Roque?"
Roqueloire nodded.
"Of course."
"But Vladdy-"
Vlad rolled his eyes.
"But nothing. I need to be able to run the vampire world without you breathing down my neck."
Snarling, the Count stalked off. Vlad rolled his eyes, then turned back to his bodyguard, leaning back against the table and keeping Roqueloire in front of him at all times.
"Can I trust you, Roque?"
"One should never fully trust anybody. But my allegiance and loyalty is to the Grand High Vampire, and I do have a failure to make up for in not protecting your predecessor. Why do you ask?"
Vlad hummed.
"Despite all his posturing and anger, Ramanga did make one good point. I think I need someone experienced in politics and history for guidance, but I can't just put out a notice in Transylvanian Times, I'll have half the vampire world beating down my door trying to get influence over me. So, as you've been around the block for a while now, I thought I'd see if you had any recommendations for tutors I could at least trust to actually be useful."
Roqueloire cast his eyes off as he thought about it, before he seemed to be struck by inspiration.
"I have the perfect candidate in mind. He's a French half-fang, but he's been fixated on the lore of the Chosen One for well over a century. Well educated, and actually present for a good number of wars in the last four centuries. I expect he'd be honoured to guide you."
"Is he going to try and stake me?"
"I can't be certain, but he would be my choice."
Vlad nodded.
"Could you find him for me?"
Roqueloire nodded.
"Of course. Although I would not be surprised if he came to find you."
Well, that didn't sound ominous at all.
-YD-
Longer chapter to make up for the delay ( I hope).