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"It’s alright." She whispered into my ear and rested a hand onto my shoulder. "I’ve seen you with a lot more blood on you that that."
With a corner of her dressing gown she wiped away at the last remnants of blood, moving herself closer to me as she did so. "What happened?"
I sighed and licked the last few congealing drops off my lips, shuddering with the taste. "I got caught feeding." Was all I could bring myself to say.
"Did they recognise you?" there was concern in her voice as she asked the most pressing of questions, and all I could do was shake my head slowly.
"You barely recognise me when I am changed." I stepped around her and more into the centre of the room, feeling her follow me close. "I don’t think that anyone will know that it was me, but now everyone will now that there is a Vampire in Leyawiin."
The soft sound of her bare feet padding on the floorboards reached my ears and she moved closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulders before drawing me down for a kiss. I felt the tingle of desire rush between us, her tongue hungrily entering my mouth and seeking out the hints of blood that it still contained. My own hands ran down her sides, grasping her by the hips and pulling her closer.
"They will look, but they will not find you Mrannd'ssinss." She whispered as we broke apart from the kiss and dragged me onto the bed.
With the guild remaining locked down and its members under house arrest there was even less than normal to do. Viconia and I found ourselves spending a significant portion of our time in our room, whittling away the hours in the pursuit of pleasure and companionship. For two full days we rarely ventured forth from our room, leaving only the satiate our hunger for more than just each other. Eventually we did join the rest of the members of the guild as the house arrest was slowly beginning to fray tempers and eliciting boredom in all.
For some of the members they simply began the arduous process of reducing the guild’s supplies of food and alcohol. As such, it wasn’t uncommon for a significant number of the members to be in various stages of inebriation or severely hungover each day. Others gambled, practiced hobbies and crafts such as reading and wood carving, but for most they got increasingly involved in training and competitions of skill.
By the morning of the third day Viconia and I had joined the rest of the guild in the training area within the basement. An enormous expanse carved from the ground and leaving a space two stories high, it allowed spectators to watch from the comfort of the ground floor. As those on the basement level trained, sparred, fought, wrestled and competed against one another, a large number of other guildsmen and a handful of visitors allowed through the city guards at the doors watched with increasing interest.
It wasn’t long before the friendly competitions turned into something more serious. The competitive streak that every member of the guild had was as wide as Topal Bay, and coins and wagers were made with considerable frequency. Nearly every member of the guild competed against the others in whatever skill they specialised in, and Viconia and I were competing or being challenged by a number of the members.
Viconia won the contest with blades, managing to disarm and defeat every member one by one, including myself. The local giant; a towering orc by the name of Dubok gro-Shagk easily won the wrestling competitions by a considerable margin. Without calling upon my vampiric strength there was no way that I was going to be able to win against such a creature. His biceps were almost larger than my torso and overall he weighed double what I did, easily crushing his opponents one after the other and even four at a time when things became a bit too rowdy.
It was when the archery targets were dragged out that I finally found myself in a competition that I had a better chance at winning. The only downside was that out of all of the members of the Guild, there was two members who were giving me a considerable run for my money.
A soft spoken wood elf by the name of Brodas and a female Khajiit called S’kasha were both exceptionally skilled with a bow. Brodas had spent most of his life as an archery instructor for the Legion and had picked up the habit of wearing heavy plate armours as a result. S’kasha may have been somewhat domesticated in comparison to her earlier life in the wilds of Elswyr, but there was nothing to fault with her ability. While all others in the guild were slowly knocked out of the competition the three of us continued to shoot to a growing chorus of cheers and gasping awe.
Sighing softly, I released my grip on the bowstring and felt the microsecond where the twine slid across the rough pads on the tips of my forefingers. The thick callouses were permanently part of my body and were the only thing that stopped the raw wounds that resulted from firing bows. There was a faint whistling sound for a heartbeat, followed by the crunch of the solid impact hitting the target twenty metres to my front.
Limited by our space and fuelled by a not too small amount of alcohol it had soon become apparent that the skill of us who remained were no longer challenged by the short distance. Unfortunately hemmed in the basement and without any other way to fire at longer distances, someone in the guild had created a different form of competition.
A full deck of playing cards had been pinned to the targets arrayed at the end of the hall, and using nothing but our bows we were spearing them as Statustius stood next to the targets, shouting out the colour of the cards we had to hit. It was a challenge of not only accuracy but also of speed and reflexes. Not only did we have to hit the cards in the centre, but we also had to do so quicker than our other two competitors. The growing rivalry between us was only being fuelled by the increasing catcalls and hoots of amusement from those watching along the walls and upper level. All forty plus members of the guild stood with a dozen or more guests mixed in their numbers, including at least two armoured forms of the city guard. The guardsmen were part of the small contingent who had been tasked to ensure that the guild didn’t leave the chapterhouse for the duration of the house arrest.
I winced in expectation as Statustius checked our latest hits, pulling each arrow out in turn as identifying the shooter by the tiny coloured ribbon attached to the shaft. Brodas and mine were lifted up together while S’kasha’s was pointing to the ground; a fact that left her cursing in her native tongue.
"This one could do with some improvement." She stated flatly, but purring out a laugh. Her arrow had hit the card but only on the edge, while Brodas and my own had hit dead centre.
Glancing to my last surviving opponent I laughed as he winked, drawing out another arrow and running his fingers through the feather attached to the end. "It’s just you and me now Kaius. I bet you a bottle of Tamika’s 399 that I can’t split your next shot in a second after it lands."
I raised an eyebrow at that, trying to make out whether the short Bosmer was making a joke or being serious. Fully clad in plate armour that had taken far too many beatings for any self-respecting wood elf, it was hard to judge his expression as it and most of his face was hidden behind a thick sallet helm.
"Make it a bottle of Cyrodillic Brandy for me and you’re on." I replied, stringing my bow and readying my own arrow.
Half hidden behind the helm all I could see was from his upper lip to a few centimetres below the jaw. Amusement twinkled in the dark depths of the eye slits while his mouth made a bleh motion before breaking into a grin. "I don’t know how you drink that stuff."
"Better than that vinegar that you so love."
Statustius called out from down the end of the training hall, yelling the word "Red’ as loud as he could. Hefting my bow and staring through my mind’s eye I picked one of the red-backed cards on a side furthest from me. Then, watching Brodas staring from the eyeslits of his helm, I quickly choose a different one and released the arrow a heartbeat later.
The arrow impacted into the centre of the red card, slamming a full third of its length into the layers of packed straw. The short Bosmer merely grunted in the second that my arrow flew, the bow twitching in his hands as he too loosed his own a fraction of a second later.
His arrow smashed into mine, splitting the shaft in an incredible example of the ability of his kind with bows. There was a stunned silence for seconds after the shot, broken only by my exclamation of "fuck!".
Lifting his helm to reveal his weather beaten features fully, the grin was impossible to remove. "Want to try again?"
Not being able to do anything else than laugh I clapped him on the back to the sound of applause coming from the packed guildsmen who witnessed the shot.
"Looks like I owe you a drink." I said to him as we gripped our armoured forearms together and shook to his victory.
"That you do." He replied, still grinning with his triumph. "I know a nice little shop nearby with the wine on sale. We'll see whether your drinking abilities are any better than your shooting."
Turning away and looking at Viconia’s amused expression from where she sat against the wall, I clenched and unclenched my hands to work the stiffness out of my fingers. My use of a bow had been fading in the months since leaving the legion, but I was satisfied that my skill hadn’t degraded much.
"Find that amusing, did you?"
Smiling honestly, she held out a flagon recently filled with water. "I did actually. It’s always humorous watching you humbled by your betters."
"I don’t need any help making myself look like a fool."
"On that we can agree on. It’s one of your greatest skills."
Chuckling I sat down heavily and carefully unstrung my bow before starting to rub it down with tallow. Viconia had been maintaining her own equipment by rubbing oil into the inner layers of her chainmail while I had competed and it wasn’t long before Bodras had joined us as well.
The growing wall of noise that filled the interior of the chapterhouse changed in volume and density, and to my enhanced hearing I could hear the bubble of quiet that was slowly making its way through the boisterous mercenaries and their guests. As it moved through and reached the bottom of the stairs to the basement I could immediately see that it was from a trio of individuals, dressed completely differently to the battered and rough Fighter’s Guild members in their various armours and clothing.
"What the?" I murmured, placing the length of my bow down on a nearby table and staring at the trio as they were directed towards us by a handful individuals in the hall.
Viconia and Brodas looked up at my mutterings and they too stared at the individuals making their way across the training room floor, ignoring the way that a handful of fighters had begun sparring with quarterstaffs in the centre. As the loud cracks of wood on wood and the slaps and accompanying yowls of pain from wood on flesh filled the air they found themselves standing before us.
Dressed in finery and flowing silks that would’ve required us spending a significant portion of our accumulated wealth to purchase, the aged retainer leaned heavily on a cane hewed from wood from the jungle depths. Studded in precious gemstones and in a riot of colour, everything he wore spoke of power and authority.
Standing by his sides were a pair of armoured soldiers that unfortunately I knew all too well by their uniforms. Dressed in the flowing white and yellow surcoats and clad in layers of chainmail and leather despite the heat there was no mistaking the heraldry of Castle Leyawiin and the Caro bloodline emblazoned on their chests and shields. For a moment I felt the grip of panic hold me tight, but if they were coming to arrest me they wouldn’t have sent so few, or an aging messenger to do so.
"Master Desin, Miss DeVir?" the elderly man stated simply, looking over us intently. While older than anyone I had seen outside of Ashlander tribe elders, there was no glazing of the eyes or decay of the mind that usually accompanied such advanced years. He knew exactly who the two of us were, which our appearances and the fact I was fully clad in my armour made it ridiculously simple.
"Yes..." I replied hesitantly, looking at the professional glares from the Castle Men-at-Arms as they sized us up instinctively.
Carefully reaching into his flowing robes, the elderly gent withdrew a lavishly made scroll sealed with wax in a liver spotted hand. The signet ring clasped firmly around a skeletal finger announced him as one of the high advisors of the Count of Leyawiin, and there was more power and authority in the wizened figure than possibly the Legates themselves.
Standing up to my shoulders, back hunched with the weight of the years he had lived and wearing his Lord's authority around him like a cloak he seemed to grow in stature as I rose respectively to my feet. Easily eighty years old, there was a high chance that he had served two generations of Counts in County Leyawiin, possibly even three.
Taking the scroll from his outstretched hands with a nod of thanks, I cracked open the wax seal and began reading over the words within while Viconia looked over my shoulder at the elegant script.
"By the grace of his Lordship; Count Marius Caro," The ancient regent began, his voice perfectly modulated to reach through the hall and cease all forms of activities. "I extend the invitation to the Hero and Heroine of Kvatch to meet with the Count and Countess of County Leyawiin this afternoon. This day; the 7th of Morning Star, Year 434 of the 3rd Era."
Despite the trepidation building in my guts and confusion of the invitation, I bowed my head in respect to the Count's messenger. Strangely enough I felt a wave of relief wash through me as deep in my mind I still held the fear of being identified as the vampire responsible for the recent attack. The word on everyone’s lips since the night I got caught was almost talked about just as much as the repulsed daedric assault on the city.
"Tell your Lord that we accept the invitation." I replied, tapping my fist against my chest in respect. "Are we to assume that there is a specific time that we are expected?"
The Count's messenger nodded. "My Lordship has arranged for you all to meet in the next hour. This scroll gives the authorisation to enter the Keep for your audience with the Count, and due to the continuing house arrest there is a troop of Men-at-Arms waiting outside to escort you to the castle."
My flash of apprehension was noticed and ignored by the messenger, and Viconia stood up beside me and took the scroll from my hands. "Now? But we don’t have any formal attire."
"Nothing overly formal will be required." There was an amused twinkle in his eyes as he looked at our increasingly confused expressions. "The Count is not expecting you to arrive in silks and robes, but dressed as you are now; fully armed and armoured. Knowing the young master as I do; if you were to come to the castle dressed in clothing he would take it as an insult."
He bowed, lowering his already hunched shoulders towards the tiled floors. "I bid you two a good day. Please prepare yourselves quickly and present yourself and that scroll to the Men-at-Arms outside as soon as you can. It is never a good habit to leave a member of the Elder Council waiting."
Turning and making his way back through the chapterhouse he left Viconia and I looking at each other confused and slightly apprehensions
Brodas leaned in over my shoulder and whistled appreciatively at the cursive writing on the scroll. "Looks like you have an adoring fan in the castle Kaius." He said, slapping me on the back. "It’s not every day that the Count grants audiences..."
"I guess so." I replied, rolling the scroll up once more and glancing briefly at Viconia as she began shrugging on her daedroth scale armour. "What do you know of the Count?"
Brodas puffed out his cheeks and blew out a long breath. "Other than the fact that he’s mad for all things to do with militaries and warfare , there’s not much to tell. He’s a count, as blue blooded as they come and somehow managed to get into an arranged marriage with Lady Valga of Chorrol a few years back."
"How "mad’ is mad?"
"Well, he spent a sizable portion of his family’s wealth a decade or so ago establishing the Order of the White Stallion. Built the whole fortress out there out of his own pocket and knighted a dozen or so mercenaries, adventurers and an even a few of his guard as the first knights. Everyone thought he was nuts or was going to send his entire linage broke but there’s no way that I’d mess with any of them these days."
"That effective, are they?"
He laughed. "They charged into an Oblivion gate, slaughtered Akatosh-only-knows how many daedra and lost only two of their brothers. In total. You tell me..."
There was a shrug that rattled his armoured plates and he frowned at the sound before rummaging under a plate with his hand. "Plus the banditry and insurgencies that used to be an issue from a few years ago are completely a thing of the past."
"He does sounds a little vigh..." muttered Viconia, strapping her breastplate across her chest.
"If that means what I think it means." Bodras glanced over to her. "Then yeah, he is a bit eccentric. He means well, and if anything I’m surprised that he has been able to hold back for this long with the Heroes of Kvatch staying in his city."
"Should we expect anything strange then?"
Another shake of the head and he finally found whatever was making the noise in his plate mail, grunting with satisfaction and rolling his shoulder with an obvious lack of noise. "Nah. Probably get you out in front of his other bluebloods and give you a toast or the key to the city or something. A few years back he did the same for a few of us who had managed to clear a nest of swamp trolls."
Viconia finished dressing quickly enough, leaning over the chair and giving me the opportunity to look over the form-hugging curves of her chainmail chausses that pleasantly showed off her legs in a surprisingly attractive way. There was something about her fully dressed to kill that seemed to give me a healthy dose of desire.
Quickly rubbing a polishing cloth over the metal plates of my armour I buffed off the extra layers of tallow and oils that blurred the metal somewhat. With a quick buffing, the silver etching of the vines working their way up my torso gleamed and flickered in the light. Every other metal plate was wiped over quickly, but it was far from a ceremonial piece. Other than the silver vines on my torso, there wasn’t a reflective coating anywhere on the surface.
Leaving most of the collection of pouches, travellers pack and other accruements and taking only our primary weapons we travelled light. The gleaming hilts of Sunchild and the Light of Dawn poked from my hip and behind my head respectively, the dagger normally clasped to my chest being left in the chest in our room and my bow was sent up there as well by one of the guild runner boys. Dressed to war to attend a ceremony in the castle we were literally ready for anything up to and including a daedric portal opening within the city limits.
The sound of bells reached our ears as we left the chapterhouse’s interior, the early afternoon being announced with the single sounding of each bell throughout the city. Waiting with the bored expressions shared by all soldiers throughout the Empire on such duties the half dozen Men-at-Arms stood idly, but straightening perceptibly as the commander identified us. Walking side by side, Viconia and I left the shadow of the chapterhouse, being escorted through the bustling streets with a file of Men-at-Arms flanking us and clearing as path with the clatter of boots and shouted orders to make way.
It wasn’t difficult to remember how the castle had looked in the depths of the evening only a few nights previously. During the day the castle appeared regal and awe inspiring, draped in massive unfurled banners depicting the rearing white stallion of County Leyawiin and whitened pennants and banners flapping in the breeze from the very tops of the towers. Guards marched about the walls in twos and threes, and I wondered idly whether that was because of my recent detection or whether that was their routine during the day.
Stepping across the lowered draw bridge and into the darkness of the gatehouse I fell a chill go up my spine despite the increasing heat of wearing my full armour in the Leyawiin sun. Returning to the castle, even during the daylight hours was enough for the claws of shame and self-loathing to sink deep into my consciousness until Viconia was giving me concerned glances.
The courtyard was just as large as what I remembered but during the day the sun brought it out in all its glory. This far south where the touch of snow had never been felt, flowers bloomed in the several gardens and trees were lush and full of life. The cobblestones underfoot had been worn smooth from hundreds of years of feet tramping across them, and I wondered just how many had walked through the towering gatehouse since its construction.
Upon entering the enormous expanse, we laid eyes on the groups of Men-at-Arms marching back and forth in the courtyard, obeying the snap of orders and war horns as their commanders drilled them relentlessly. In a combination of ceremonial and battle drills they marched back and forth, turning sharply and moving with a grace and professionalism that any Legion Centurion would have been proud of. The courtyard was immense, appearing somehow larger in the daylight and yet cramped with the sheer number of guards and citizens moving about it.
To the left of the gatehouse in the northern section the squared walls of the city prison sat, squatting into the stones like a lumpy toad. Doubling as a podium for the Count to make public speeches and announcements and for executions and trials of criminals it contained not only platforms for speaking but an arrangement of stocks and the ominous arm of a gallows jutting from the stonework of the walls.
A crowd had gathered around the platform, the dozens of individuals from throughout the city and from all walks of life huddling around in a mass of humanity. The undefinable cries and shouts of the crowd rolled and merged together into the background noise but the emotions fuelling the shouts were unmistakable. The raw, bitter taste of fear slithered across my tongue as potent as any elixir, making the vampire within me twitch with its own dark lust. Impossible to ignore, the undercurrent of bloodlust, hatred and anger that permeated the courtyard wormed its way into my mind.
"What's happening over there?" I asked one of the nearby guards, slowing my pace and straining to see the source of the commotion.
"Oh, that?" the guard turned and looked in the direction of the crowd with a shrug. "A few nights ago one of the castle guard was caught consorting with a Vampire."
"I heard that she had only been fed on..." Viconia said icily as she stared daggers into my skull, her immediate assumption making me feel even more nervous.
Muttering under his breath, one of the other guards shrugged. "From what the guard who caught them in the act said, she wasn’t exactly resisting the fiend’s attentions."
"So what are they doing over there then?" I asked carefully, feeling my nervousness at the situation mixing with the anxiety of Viconia’s darkening mood.
"They have her locked up in the stocks. If she’s infected and turns the sun will take care of her."
"And good riddance to the whore." Another spat to a chorus of agreements.
"And if she isn’t infected?"
"Then she’ll stay in the stocks until the Count makes up his mind on what to do."
One of the surcoated guards cursed and motioned to the castle entrance a hundred metres away. "The Count should just grow a pair and kill her anyway. Just to be safe. Better that than leaving the vampire’s slut besmirching the County’s honour."
Unseen by the Men-at-Arms I felt my jaw twitch and the skin pull tight with my growing emotions. My shame had been building, as had my guilt but now anger was starting to pump its way through my veins. With a visible effort that Viconia noted I crushed the vampire deep inside with my will and before I realised what I was doing I had turned and started walking towards the crowd.
"Sir?" the Men-at-Arms glanced amongst themselves, suddenly unsure of what to do and finally noticing the darkness of my expression. Without hesitation Viconia followed me and our armoured boots rang out against the cobblestones as we left our escorts milling in confusion. Their orders had been to merely to escort the two of us to the castle and after several moments the commander gestured at us and they broke into jogs to catch up.
Wordlessly Viconia and I strode across the courtyard, once again escorted by the Men-at-Arms who were now all sporting expressions of nervousness and confusion at our actions. The crowds fear and loathing was like dirt across my skin, and despite my nature it was emotions that I shared with them. Their superstitious fear of the unknown left them to vent their rage and fear in the only way they knew how. Repeated cries for blood and murder ebbed and flowed through the packed masses, the very nature of humanity lending the mob psychological strength as their numbers grew to more than a hundred. Some were merely curious, intent on glimpsing with their own eyes a victim of a Vampire's attentions. Others were drawn out of righteous anger at what a vampire’s victim represented but most of the crowd were there to vent their fear on the only physical evidence of their unease.
The crowd parted as I strode through it. Most made way to my armoured form and those that didn’t felt the not too gentle shove of my gloved fists in the spines and shoulders and I simply pushed through. Some turned to complain but the appearance of a hooded and cloaked stranger, fully armoured plated and wielding numerous implements of war stopped them in mid breath. Those who were riding the waves of anger and fear or who had consumed alcohol initially tried to stop me or protest, but Viconia’s and my shared expressions and hands dropping to the hilts of our blades convinced them of the folly of their actions.
Raised over hip height, the platform was designed for where criminals would receive their various punishments in full view of the public. Everything from whippings to beheadings and hangings would be enacted here, and my vampiric senses could still smell the tang of months-old blood on the stretching rank and chopping block. The towering arm of where murderers would be hung loomed above me, blotting out the view of the sky with its promise of justice and lacking any rope at this time. Ignoring the protests of my escorts and the guards standing at the base of the platform, I shouldered my way through, pushing aside shields and glaring at anyone in my way as I clambered up onto the ancient wood.
Half a dozen stocks were laid out in a row, leaving barely a metre between them and consisting of nothing more than the holed planks of wood for securing the heads and hands of the prisoners. Only one was currently in use and I felt the building rage and guilt at the sight. Stripped of her armour and wearing nothing more than rags usually granted to prisoners residing within the dungeons the pale form of the female guard I had bitten had been cruelly locked into place. She had been refused any form of treatment and I could see where my bite had been left to chafe and fester in the heat. Blood had congealed to her flesh as far down to her breasts and had even stained the wood locking her head into place. In a decision bordering on overkill, both wrists were also manacled into the wooden stock as well as the platform itself. No stool or chair had been provided for her, instead she had been forced to kneel painfully in a cruel hunched position usually reserved for rapists or child molesters.
For a moment I stood there, fists clenching tight in my gloves and feeling my fingernails digging into my palms of my hands through the minotaur leather. The anger that was building in me was of such intensity that the last time I had given into such an emotion I had left the Lake Arrius Caverns strewn with gore.
Stomping over to me from his position lounging in the shade, the brutish form of one of the prison wardens superimposed himself between me and the woman. A grin was slathered over his overweight face and for a moment all I could think of was that the only way one such as himself could become so slovenly was if he was helping himself to the prisoner’s meagre rations.
"I'm sorry sir, but you are not permitted up here." he said arrogantly, looking over my armour and equipment and trying to determine whether I was a noble or some other high-ranking official from my unusual appearance.
"Let me pass." I said softly, my voice no more than a threatening hiss that was tightening in rage at the woman’s treatment.
"For your safety, I cannot let you go near her." With a smug grin he pushed back on my shoulder roughly, deciding that I was some nobody that he had rank over. "She’s blood-cursed. Tainted by a vampire. She could turn any minute."
Men like this I had known in the legion, such as the commander that had been behind my decision to desert. Carefully... Slowly I lowered my gaze to where his grubby paw gripped my shoulder and saw how the grease of his last meal had smeared into the pauldron and cloak.
"Do you want to keep that hand?" the moment’s hesitation crept into his eyes as I reached out and burrowed my will into his quivering mind. With a bit too much force I stabbed into his fear, filling his soul with a supernatural dread that made him snatch the hand away as though my armour had been engulfed by a flame cloak spell.

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