(Warning: Contains crude conversations about sex and male genitalia.)

To say it was like walking into a carnival would be wrong.

It was more like… please, those of you that are reading this that were there that night, please don’t take offense, but it was more like visiting a freak show. There was no strong man or bearded lady, but it was similar to that kind of atmosphere. It was certainly not a party. There was no music, no dancing it was more like… It was like a collection of little parties and pastimes all put together into one room. A collection of booths, of small groups of people that weren’t together, but were just in the same room.

The first thing that caught my eye was that a naked man was standing on a rock. He had long dark hair that was draped over his shoulders and down his back. He was standing with his right foot forward and on a slightly higher protrusion of the rock that seemed to have been placed there for precisely that purpose. His left hand was resting on his hip where it had formed a fist and his right hand was placed on the pommel of a sword that was resting, point down, on the stone in front of him, the sword was obviously large and impractical with jewels and tracery in the blade. He seemed to be staring into the middle distance, as though he was looking out over some kind of magnificent vista or surveying an invading army. It could have gone either way.

He was quite the most beautiful man that I have ever seen. Muscles were clearly defined without being grotesque, strong chin, cheekbones starkly defined, blue-grey eyes that seemed to show a strong but sensitive soul. Although I have never been attracted to the male of the species, he was certainly beautiful to look upon. There was a magnetism to him, he drew the eye towards him as though he was a candle flame in the darkness.

It was easy to imagine him as being the subject of romantic poetry or being immortalized in oils to be placed on the walls of lonely housewives, young daughters, and over-worked servants.

Yes. For those people who are thinking in the lewd variety, his manhood was indeed, large enough to make me feel inadequate.

The room itself was large, imposing, and domed at the top with huge wooden beams holding up the dome itself. Dangling from chains from the ceilings were a number of small cages that, to my eyes, were just large enough to contain a body of human proportions, crudely designed and brutally made like the kinds of cages that you can find decorating roadside gibbets in the less friendly parts of the North.

Like so much of what I had already seen tonight, I wondered if they had been deliberately placed there for my benefit, put there to draw my eye and elicit comment. They were certainly in stark contrast to the rest of the room. Hanging there, absolutely still with their black metal bars and black metal chains.

Otherwise, bright hangings had been used to decorate the walls which added to the strange atmosphere. There was no artistic design to any of it that I could see unless there were either things going on that I didn’t know about. I don’t know, maybe Vampires see things in different ways than we do. According to a friend at the academy who spends his time playing with crystals and candles, there is more to light than humans can easily accept with our boring, human eyes and maybe Vampires can see those bits of light that we can’t. In turn, that would mean that there was more going on with these decorations than I could see.

Beyond that, there were lots of these small vignettes of people moving around. Sometimes interacting with each other but otherwise seeming to move independently. It was like watching bubbles in the water when you’ve added soap to that water. Bubbles clump, break apart, form, interact with each other and burst before flowing away

There was noise, definitely noise. But it was clashing and jarring. When someone spoke there was no consideration for volume. It was like someone speaking in a library but no one being otherwise affected by the sudden burst of noise.

The same with movement, I don’t know how to describe it. It was like watching a dance but there was no rhythm to it. People just wandered from one vignette to the next without talking to each other or interacting in any way. And it was deathly quiet to my ears. It was a party without sound, without noise. People were speaking but there was no… people weren’t shouting at each other. At parties, people want to shout over each other and that leads to raised voices which, in turn, means more shouting. The musicians have to play louder for the dancers to hear them and eventually it all just combines to create a kind of a mess of noise.

Something that my mother would eventually call a “din”.

I have experienced this noise in palaces, manor houses, and roadside taverns. Now, I was in the halls of the Vampires amongst their elite, and that din, that wall of sound. Was not here. I had not noticed it until I felt its absence.

“We should go in,” Ariadne told me, tugging gently at my arm.

“Where do I start?” I must have gasped it.

“Go where you are drawn.” She suggested. “I will get you something to drink. Regis has a number of talents but he really is an excellent brewer.”

“I will need quite a lot of what he can give.” Kerrass muttered as Ariadne vanished into the throng.

I say throng, there were maybe thirty-five to forty people here.

In the end, I went to look at the naked man. He positively dominated the room and it was impossible to ignore him. Up close, I discovered that there was hair on his chest. Not the thick curly hair of the Kaedweni or the people of Skellige. This was just a light smattering of hair. The kind that a more artistically leaning University friend of mine would describe as being there to “emphasize masculinity.”

I had not seen that effect on anyone until today.

“Would you like to take him for a ride?” A male voice said next to me.

I turned to stare into the pale eyes of someone who I only describe as male because of the depth of his voice. His skin was paper white, his eyes were pale blue and his hair was long, straight and just the yellow side of Gold. He wore an arming jacket of simple grey, his trousers and boots were the same color. The cost of maintaining that must have been absolutely overwhelming.

Where the man on the stone next to me was rugged and male, this newcomer was beautiful to look at. But there was no… attraction there. No gender or sex. Certainly no desire.

Another academic theory that I had dismissed long ago came to mind. I remember being told that when you meet someone, you assess them. Apparently, it is an instinctual thing that you have no control over, leftover from primitive humanity. First, you assess the stranger as a potential threat, and then you assess the person as a sexual being by asking yourself whether or not they could be a potential lover or whether there is no interest there. Either on your part or on theirs.

After these primal questions, there are supposed to be other considerations such as an assessment of status, wealth, intelligence, charm… that kind of thing. It was one of those theories that I had always found a bit reductive. It was impossible for me to consider the vast breadth of human and non-human interaction and reduce it to something so basic and instinctual.

This was the first time that this… opinion of mine had been challenged. I didn’t think this person was a threat. I could not tell their gender with any degree of certainty and even that might be reductive given that I was almost certainly speaking with a Vampire. So obviously he was a threat. But there was nothing of sex or desire or attraction between us. Either on my side or his I thought.

“What?” I said.

“Ah,” the Vampire nodded sagely. “You are taken aback by his beauty.”

“No,” I said automatically. One of those times where my brain just turns itself off and I start speaking without really thinking about things. “I will admit that he is certainly an attractive individual. But I do not know what you mean.”

“Ah.” The being nodded to me. “As best as I can manage, this one,” they gestured at the man on the rock. A rock that I saw had been placed there deliberately as it was of a different color to the surrounding stone. And now that I could see it clearly and up close, it was also chiseled and carved into this specific shape. It was an artistic mounting block. The way a sculpture or a painting might have a stand, in order for the sculpture to be placed on. This man before me had a stone to stand on in order to put across his best… appearance I suppose.

“This one,” The blonde being told me, “is the result of decades of work. I am attempting to breed the absolute pinnacle of the male of your species. And by pinnacle, I mean the absolute peak of physical appearance in arousing sexual and romantic desire.”

“I see.”

“And I was wondering if you wanted to have the use of him.”

I felt the need to clear my throat. “Is this a test?” I wondered. “Is this one of those times where you are all trying to assess what you can persuade the new human male to do? How long it will take to embarrass him and send him screaming from the room?”

“I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean.” The being said. There was no emotion in their voice. Maybe a little bit of confusion. “As the ultimate expression of male beauty, I wondered if you would like to partake in that beauty. Touch him, caress him, fellate him or do anything that you will with him. He will be quite agreeable. He would be more than willing to perform any number of acts of intercourse with you. There would even be artistic merit in it. Make beauty conquered, or the male beauty conquering. I would ask you to just wait while I send for canvass and oil.”

“No thank you,” I said. Something in my mind had snapped as it so often does in circumstances for which I don’t really have any frame of reference. “Although I thank you for the offer. Beyond a small amount of intellectual curiosity, I’m afraid that the male form simply does not interest me in that way. I can acknowledge, of course, the physical beauty of a man, but my sexual tastes are rather strongly tilted towards the female.”

“Ah.” The Vampire said. “Such a shame. Among other things, I was looking for feedback on the shape of his reproductive organs and sexual stamina. I do not feel such urges in general and as such, I have often wondered as to the difference. I did experiment with the prospects of female beauty, but in dividing my attention between the male and the female, I found that I was neglecting the one for the other.”

“Why male then?” I wondered.

“It struck me, at the time, that female beauty is more fleeting.” The Vampire said. “A woman can be beautiful in the morning, but ugly in the evening. Ungainly and clumsy in youth, elegant and graceful with old age. There is an indescribable something about female beauty which is impossible to breed for. The male form, however, that is far more definable.”

“I see,” I said. “If I might ask, how did you approach such a pinnacle. Is there magic to it?”

The man on the rock, the subject of our discussion had blinked, he was certainly breathing, but otherwise, he showed no signs that he could even hear us, let alone was listening.

“Only the magic of proper control and biology.” The Vampire told me. “After identifying the characteristics that I was looking for, I was able to identify the three things that can contribute towards a male’s physical beauty.”

“Go on?” I prompted. I will admit to being fascinated. I guessed that this person thought of themselves as an artist and as such, it would not take much to get them talking about their project.

I was correct.

“The three factors, of course, begin with genetics. A handsome male bred with a beautiful female will produce beautiful children. Further to that, the breeding of individual characteristics, the one with the next, can also contribute.”

“So working on the strength of a chin, find two people with a strong chin and breeding them together will result in a strong chin.”

“Precisely, I see you have caught upon the concept although, obviously, that is a gross simplification of the topic.”

“Obviously,” I said. The being completely missed my dryness and accidental sarcasm. “What are the other factors?”

“Diet mostly, you people would really be astonished as to how a proper diet can affect the way your body works. Small changes can have huge differences.”

“And the third thing?”

“A proper exercise regime,” they said. “And by ‘proper’ I mean the kind of regime that will accentuate and add to what has already been begun by the breeding and diet program.”

“Fascinating,” I said, borrowing Ariadne’s favorite word. “Well, sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“Not at all,” they said with a slight bow. “Do you think your companion might be interested in the artistic and scientific endeavor?”

A flash of mischief ran up my spine.

“You will have to ask him,” I told the pale being next to me. “I would warn you that, as far as I know, his tastes run along the same lines as my own, however.”

“Ah, that’s a shame.” The being said. “I am especially curious as to how I am progressing with the shape of the male sexual organ.”

I had nothing to say to that. My mouth disagreed with me though.

“My understanding on such matters,” I heard myself say, “is that although size can help, there is such a thing as being too big.”

“Interesting.” The vampire said.

“Also,” I carried on speaking despite my best efforts to stop. It was like watching an overloaded wagon beginning to tip over. There was no way at all that the thing could be stopped, you would never get there in time and you would be crushed if you did try and do something, so all you can do is watch, in horror, as the thing collapses under its own weight.

“Also, there is simply no substituting for technique,” I said. “According to my sources, a man might have the most perfect, flawless… sexual organ on the continent, but if he doesn’t know how to use it then that can only lead to problems.”

“Interesting.” they literally produced a notebook. “So what you’re saying is that beauty in this regard is an unknowable something. It is a matter of knowledge rather than any actual physical capability.”

“It depends on what kind of beauty we are talking about.” I countered. “If we are only talking about aesthetic beauty, then I suppose, long smooth, and straight with an average girth is certainly nice enough to look at. But a person of my acquaintance claimed that, during the act of congress, the best she had ever experienced was an ugly, misshapen, bent, veiny… the words she used were ‘monstrosity of a cock’. Apparently, it was awful to look at but once the man in question started to use it…”

I shrugged as words finally failed me.

“Fascinating.” They were scribbling something down. “So beauty is in the art of the beholder then.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“A fair point.”

“But I think that there are two different forms of beauty here,” I told them, it seemed that the words were back. “Two different forms of art. Are you crafting the perfect physical form in order to create the perfect lover? In which case the crafting of the skillset, the crafting of the motivations and the character of the person as well as the crafting of the emotions involved must take a certain amount of thought. Or are you crafting for the sheer aesthetic beauty of the human form?”

“Can the one not lead into the other?”

“Certainly. But different people like different things out of their lovers. It is true, or so I’m told, that many would find plenty of enjoyment to be had at the hands of a lover like the man that you have produced here. But it is also true that not all women would appreciate that. Some may prefer a slimmer lover for instance. Others may prefer taller or shorter. I once met a woman that swore that the presence of too many muscles in a sexual partner was problematic as the presence of a hard, lumpy body in her bed made her physically uncomfortable.”

The vampire was scribbling furiously, at a speed that made me concerned that the paper might catch fire.

“However,” I said. “The very worst problem for someone with your aesthetic considerations is this. Some people would simply not be interested in the male at all.”

They stopped writing and stared at me for a long moment before nodding. “Thank you,” they said. “I believe that you have given me a lot to think about. I had been becoming concerned that I was reaching the end of my project and was left wondering in what directions I could head in the future. You have shown me that there is much more, far more, to explore than I could possibly have begun to contemplate. I am also left to wonder if I have possibly limited myself in confining myself to the male form. Thank you again. You have given me much to think about.”

“It was my pleasure,” I said as the Vampire turned from me, scribbling furiously.

I looked up at the man standing on his rock. “Can you talk to me?” I wondered. “Is that allowed?”

Just for a moment, he looked down at me, smirked, winked, and returned to looking into the middle distance.

I grinned and moved on. I was beginning to have the sense that, if I hadn’t been warned to be worried about Ariadne and the Elder, then I would probably be having a good time.

Kerrass was watching a chess match. One of the players was dressed as a monk of the Nilfgaardian cult of the Eternal Sun. Heavily robed and cowled enough so that I could not see their face. The other was dressed as a Kaedweni nobleman. Heavy, fur-lined clothing and an equally heavy-looking broadsword on his hip. If I didn’t know better and was able to see the knap on the clothing moving in the breeze made by the passing people, I would have been prepared to swear that the two players were statues.

“They haven’t moved yet,” Kerrass whispered to me the way you whisper to a friend in church. “Literally, they haven’t moved. I’ve been watching for a while and they haven’t moved. As best as I can tell, they are only about four moves each into the game and they haven’t moved.”

“Hush.” Said another member of the audience. “They have been playing for longer than either of you have been born.”

Kerrass raised an eyebrow. “I am nearly a hundred years old.” He said to the audience member who looked confused.

“Enjoy yourself,” I said. “Be careful though. There’s a Vampire around here, dressed in white, who might ask you to comment on the shape of a penis.”

Kerrass just turned and looked at me. I laughed at him and moved on.

Ariadne found me briefly and passed a cup into my hand. There was a hurried, “there are people that I need to talk to,” and then she vanished back into the throng.

Another exhibit caught my eye. There really was nothing else that it could be called. A woman was sitting on a cushion, looking at a block of stone. The woman herself was unremarkable. You pass a dozen like her on the street at any one time, late teens, early twenties, northerner by her coloring. She was sat, cross-legged, skirts divided to accommodate this as she stared at the stone in front of her as though it had insulted her parents and killed her dog.

Nearby there were the tools of a stone carver, just out of reach of her hand. As I watched, periodically, her hand would flex as though she was reaching for one of the implements.

I watched for a while. There were a few other Vampires watching, clutching their own drinks that were, presumably, some more of Regis’ private reserve.

(Freddie’s note: They weren’t as a matter of fact. They were in fact from the private stocks of Lord Geralt’s estate. He had been approached by some intermediaries and saw no reason not to accommodate a private party. The opportunity to spend time with so firm a friend as Regis was an extra sweetener to the pot.)

The other Vampires were watching the display intently, many of them frowning at the block of stone just as hard as the young-looking woman was. I had no idea if she was a Vampire herself or if she was as human as the man on the rock. My confusion must have shown as a woman approached.

“The point is not about what she sees.” The woman told me. “But about what you see.”

“What?” I turned to look at the cold, forbidding beauty next to me. My chosen response, no wittier than the last time I had used it.

She was not a tall woman, but she seemed to wield her personal presence as a blade. At first, she seemed to dominate the area with this kind of unsettling aura that inspired me to back the fuck off and leave her alone. Or maybe to cower before her and offer to lick her boots. It was hard to tell. But then the aura seemed to shrink as she smiled and I found myself letting down my guard. Her face seemed to be made out of cheekbones and angular planes. A long chin and small nose. She was certainly beautiful but not in the classic way of the Sorceresses or any of the other ladies of the various courts that you might be thinking of. She made me think of a haughty aristocrat. Some kind of noblewoman although she didn’t look like any noblewoman that I ever met.

Which is more telling than you might think. As I may have mentioned before, most nobles of all the realms look something alike. There is a kinship of breeding, but also fashion, healthcare, learning, and lifestyle that combine to make us all look slightly homogenous together. This woman looked like the proto-aristocrat. It was as though the first-ever aristocrats had seen her and decided “Yes. That. We want to look like that.”

She had dark red hair that was curled into a formal style and blue eyes that seemed to look out at the world as though she found it all rather amusingly disappointing. But rather than giving the impression that she was laughing at us all, she rather looked as though she was including us all in the joke. Or that the only thing keeping her from pointing out what was funny was the social situation that we all found ourselves in.

She was dressed in dark shades in a style that had gone out of fashion some years before. It looked wonderful on her and if she were human, I would guess that she would be the kind of human that had decided what suited her and was determined that she would damn well wear what she wanted. Screw fashion.

She also had that feature that I was beginning to recognize as a feature of Vampirism. Her upper jaw seemed slightly larger A factor born from the fact that her upper lips are drawn over the large fangs in her upper set of teeth.

“You must be Lord Frederick Coulthard.” She said, offering her hand to be kissed. She was far more practiced at concealing her fangs in conversation than any other Vampire I had met up until that point.

I took the offered hand and kissed the knuckle. It seemed appropriate.

“You have the advantage of me, Madam,” I said.

She laughed. “Not really. You have no idea how pleasant it is to not be recognized sometimes. I am Orianna.”

“Not ‘Lady’ Orianna?”

“Not at the moment.” She said. “What do you think of my little display?”

“I am not sure that I understand it,” I admitted.

She laughed again and put her arm through mine. It seemed the most natural thing to do in the world.

“I love humans.” She said. “Something that I share with Cousin Arach…”

I frowned.

“Oh, forgive me. I understand she goes by Ariadne now.”

I nodded.

“Humans have no problems at all admitting when you don’t understand something.” She finished.

“On the contrary,” I argued. “I know many people who would protest the accusation with some vehemence. You would put something on display that had literally no meaning and people would argue themselves purple about what you were trying to say.”

“And that is the point of what is happening here.” She told me, steering me back towards the front of the crowd. “I know that you are not particularly artistic yourself. But at least you know something about what happens.”

“Something, certainly.”

“So you know that when a sculptor is given a lump of rock, they spend time visualizing what there is there, trying to see what the sculpture is going to be before they set to work.”

“I am aware. The sculptor Tuomas Holpainen said that he did not carve something out of stone. He released the thing from the encasing marble.”

“And that is true. But here, she has not started to carve, so what is the purpose of the artwork?”

I frowned. “It’s not about what she sees in the stone,” I said. “It’s about what we see in the stone.”

“Close,” Orianna admitted. “Very close and a very human answer as well if I may be so bold. In fact. The purpose of the sculpture is to ask ourselves the question, what do we want her to see? And of course, when exactly is she going to start. It’s about the frustration, the anticipation of waiting for her to take up her tools and begin.”

I watched for a while longer and could now see several of the other Vampires frowning at the girl and the stone.

“This is ‘your’ display isn’t it.” I said. “It’s designed to annoy your fellows.”

She smiled again. “I will leave you to your viewing Lord Frederick. And congratulations on your pending Nuptials. Your intended is a good woman and I do believe that the two of you are well suited to each other.”

She vanished into the crowd. I stood there for a while longer before moving on.

And that was what it was like. It was like I was walking past small displays, like walking through a museum where each particular exhibit was made out of living creatures while also interacting with the people that were doing the viewing. There was the silence of the museum but not the reverence. There were the small knots of people that were standing together and discussing the things that were being displayed.

even more interestingly the things that people were commenting on were not always being displayed. They were still being commented on as though they were pieces of artwork.

One example of this was the man that we had been warned about that only wore the skins of animals that he had killed. He was an interesting sight. Looking at him I had to remind myself that Vampires do not look like people. If a Vampire exercises, they don’t necessarily gain muscle mass. If they eat salad, they don’t necessarily lose weight. When I had been warned about the man that only wore the skins of those creatures that he killed, I imagined a heavily muscled man with lean calves, a slight frame, and long fast hands. I imagined broad shoulders used to the thrusting of the spear. I couldn’t decide on whether there would be a beard, but if there was a beard, I imagined it to be long and unkempt.

I could, possibly, have got it more wrong if I had really worked at it. The man was relatively short and if he had been human, I would have guessed that he was a heavy drinker. He had the large, florid nose of the heavy drinker, the large torso with a pronounced belly that had a certain amount of overhang suggested by the way his clothes seemed to hang off him. His arms and legs were relatively slight and from what flesh that I could see, there was relatively little muscle mass.

There was no beard.

And he moved like a Witcher. For all his bulk, he was incredibly light on his feet, weight towards the ball of his feet, eyes moving even when he was talking to someone. There was no doubt in my mind that this man was a predator and I found myself wondering what he would look like in a set of formal robes.

And then the thought occurred to me, sounding a lot like the voice of Orianna. I distinctly remembered to think “Maybe that’s the point.” Would I even notice this man if I passed him in the street? Would I move past him, dismiss him from my mind along with so many other overweight, greedy-looking men who had more money than sense. And was that the point of what he was doing? Was he in disguise here, as much as anyone? Or was this a reflection of his true self? He was showing us that he was a predator whereas, in his day-to-day life, he had to hide that sort of thing.

I didn’t speak to him. I found him incredibly unnerving. And again. I suppose that that was the point.

I did speak with Queen of the Night. A fascinating lady and I now have a standing invitation to go and visit her in her establishment in Vizima. Of all of the people that I met that night, she was perhaps the most human in her behavior. She told me that she wouldn’t have come by choice as she finds the company of Vampires to be quite tiresome. But the opportunity to see Regis again was too much to be denied.

Apparently, she and Regis had once been a thing and now that he had “cleaned up his act” she was hoping that they might be that again in the future.

That and when the Unseen Elder calls, it is never wise to deny him.

She was made famous by the works of the bard. A lot like Regis had been. Lord Geralt, and therefore Professor Dandelion, had some involvement with her during the uprising of Jacques de Aldesbourg. She wasn’t involved and it was only as a matter of a side task that Lord Geralt took at the time in order to make some extra money to finance his ongoing endeavors. I refer you to that particular work if you would like to know more.

I asked her how much of that story was true. She said that the account was mostly accurate except that it was Lord Geralt that spent the night with her and her three daughters, not the Bard himself as had been popularly reported. She had offered, but upon finding out the nature of the Lady’s daughters, Professor Dandilion had begged off and preferred to interact with some of the more human employees in the House of the Night.

She laughed at the memory, telling me that, for her amusement, she had instructed one of her Vampiric “daughters” to entertain the bard anyway but to not allow her true nature to be revealed. The Lady of the Night found it funny.

She also told me something interesting. She told me that the people of Vizima had refused to believe the story that she, and some of her “daughters”, were actually Vampires. They thought that Lord Dandelion was using some kind of… artistic license in order to illustrate how the courtesans of the House of the Night were leeching the virtue from the people of Vizima. She had not complained at the initial publication on the grounds that she was not afraid of the forces arrayed against her and that she was approaching the point of being ready to move on anyway.

Then business started to really boom and the hordes of Church Knights utterly failed to turn up at her door. She had been ignored when the Nilfgaardians invaded on the grounds that the Nilfgaardians didn’t believe in Vampires, so obviously, she couldn’t be a vampire. She had even demonstrated her Vampiric nature on more than one occasion but it had been dismissed as a “marketing technique” that she would have paid a Sorceress or a Mage to set up.

Queen of the Night was also something of an exhibit herself. Partially, that was due to the fact that she was presenting a very sexual, sensual figure. Low cut neckline, high cut thigh slit. Her hair was properly done and makeup to accentuate an already beautiful face. It was not a factor to do with the Vampires finding her attractive. It was more of an intellectual discussion about how and why humans, especially human males, might find such a thing beautiful.

More than once I was asked my opinion on the matter. I told them that I considered myself spoken for and as such, although I could look and appreciate the aesthetic beauty of a beautiful woman, I would not think of them in such a way as to consider them in an erotic way.

More than one Vampire expressed disappointment in that answer.

Queen of the Night seemed to find the entire thing really funny.

As her other display, she brought three of her “daughters” with her. Passers-by were invited to partake in the bodies of her daughters in order to experience what it was like. The game was for the onlookers to guess which of the three daughters were vampires or not, from the Bruxa line. It was also an opportunity for the various Vampires to experience what it was like for humans to take part in the act of paying for sex. The Vampire had to negotiate with the daughter, explain their desires and then enjoy the act. One, older-looking man was taken behind a screen as I watched.

Queen of the Night confided in me later that all three of the girls were human. She had trained them to behave like Vampires. All three were volunteers and as well as whatever they made from their “customers” the Queen of the Night had offered a considerable bonus as well as an offer to pay a mage to remove the memory should it be wished by the daughter afterward.

Again, she seemed to find this incredibly funny.

Like the fact regarding her vampiric nature, I was encouraged to publish the truth when it came time to write all of this up. She was of the opinion that the people of Vizima would still believe it all to be some kind of elaborate marketing gimmick, and the Vampires that might read it would acknowledge the fact that they had been tricked as a “point well played.”

“So how do you feel?” She asked. She had commandeered a bottle of Regis’ special vintage and we were sharing it. I had asked for quite a bit of water to be added to mine on the grounds that I needed my wits about me and she complied without comment.

“In what way?” I asked.

“Two ways.” She answered. “The first is… I am a professional and more than one person has come to my Halls for comfort. I recognize an injured man when I see one.”

I nodded and considered my answer. I have discovered that many people, especially those in the know, will not take a simple “I’m fine” as an adequate response and that I needed to properly consider my answers.

“I feel better than I have in a long time,” I told her. “But I am still coming to terms with the fact that I will never be ‘better’. As I stand here and speak, it seems impossible to believe that it all happened to me. I feel as though I was being silly and that what actually happened was not as bad as I remember. That I just needed to pull myself together and sort myself out. I needed to stop complaining about things.”

She nodded. “Are you aware of how bad it really was though?”

“I do,” I said. “Ariadne, Kerrass, and others take pains to remind me on a regular basis.”

“Good.” She said. “You have done good work Lord Frederick. Both in the pursuit of showing people that many of the more intelligent, sapient monsters are people too. Good, bad, indifferent, and a combination of the two. But also, I have to say, that your championing of “working girls” has been particularly pleasant to see. So many of your social strata treat my daughters as though they have a right to do whatever they want to them. They say that, in selling our bodies, we are selling them in total, to do with as they please. They say that we are low forms of life. I know of several priests that decry our way of life on one day and disguise themselves in order to come and visit us on the next. People don’t understand that it’s a job, not always a pleasant one as well. It is a rare person that acknowledges that and rarer still to go out of your way to make the experience pleasurable for the other.”

“It seems only fair to me,” I commented. “Also, the act of giving pleasure…”

“Gives you pleasure. Yes, I know. You would be surprised how rare that is.”

“How depressing,” I commented.

She laughed. “You have no idea. But it is important for me to thank you for that. And also, how are you doing with dear Ariadne.”

“You are one of the few people here that seems to be using that name.”

“They all know about it. It is no secret and you would be surprised as to how many people here follow your writings. They know what Ariadne prefers to be called.”

“Then why is she having to tell people that.”

She laughed again. “One of the things you must learn as you walk around this hall is that there is always more than one reason for everything that we do. Everything. You will have noticed the level of stillness around you. That is because those people are considering what their next move should be. As a people, our tendency is to do nothing unless it has a purpose or a meaning. And if it has neither then it is not worth doing.”

She filled up her cup again.

“How do you know if something has a purpose, or meaning as well for that matter?” I wondered.

“And that is why so many of us become paralyzed with it.” She told me with a smile. “It is why many spend so much time asleep. We retreat to our holes in order to process everything that has happened and to let go of those things that overwhelm us. To consider things and let our minds rest. It is strange because humans don’t seem to do that. You go looking for the purpose and the meaning and you do not stop until you find it. Even doing things with no meaning or purpose can find their meaning or their purpose.”

“We do not have the time that you do,” I said. “Three score years and ten. If we’re lucky. We do not have time to be patient.”

“Interesting thought.” She answered. “I wonder if Elves feel the same way.”

She lost herself in consideration for a while. Then she shook herself free of the thought.

“You are contagious.” She accused. “I wonder if humanity is catching. I find myself analyzing far more than I would normally. But I was explaining why we are forcing Ariadne to state her preference in front of you..”

“You were.”

She smiled.

“It is not just for her, they are seeing how you would react to that, so small of insults to your lady.”

“She warned me not to react to such things.”

“I am not surprised.”

“So I am an exhibit here too. I had wondered if that was the case.”

“If it’s any consolation, you are likely to be the most groundbreaking exhibit here, or that our society has seen for centuries.”

“Then I shall have to think about what to do to surprise them.”

“I think that that would be simple. Continue to love Ariadne with as much of your heart as you can spare and you will astound all of us.”

“Including you?”

“No.” She said. “Well, maybe a little. How are you doing with her? You are still in love?”

“Yes.”

“So confident?” She commented. “I like that. I warn you though, you have done well to take your time. The two of you totter on the edge of the cliff and one day, someday soon, you will fall off the cliff. Prepare yourself for that moment so that when you go, you go together.”

“You speak in riddles.” I accused.

“Are we not supposed to?” She asked. “In the journey of the hero.” She gestured to me. “The stranger advisor is supposed to speak in riddles in order to confuse, annoy and inform.”

“I didn’t know that I was the hero,” I told her.

“Of course you are.” She replied with a smile and a wink. “You saved the Princess in the tower. She is calling for you.”

“Who?”

Lady of the Night laughed again and pointed to where Ariadne was beckoning me over.

“You do well for her.” Lady of the Night told me. “She is older than I am by a clear five hundred years. She could squash many of us like a bug beneath her heel and yet, in your presence, she seems young enough to be almost human. I wish you joy Lord Frederick. And put in a good word with Kerrass for me, would you? I have always wanted to try a Feline Witcher. If I can collect a Manticore Witcher then I will have the entire set.”

“I thought Manticore Witchers were extinct,” I commented as I kissed the offered hand.

“I have heard different. But if that is true, then I shall convince another Witcher to dress in a suit of Manticore Witcher armor, wear their pendant, and then I shall have him until he cannot stand.”

I laughed with her while being undeniably intrigued by the image that she invoked.

It took me a moment to find Ariadne. She was standing to one side, waving to me but with the discreet kind of wave that comes with the more genteel parties of the nobility. It took me a while to realize that she was not alone.

Next to her stood a diminutive figure, wearing a shapeless hooded and cowled robe. The shade of the robe was a dull grey, maybe a brown or a deep blue. But the effect of that was that the figure seemed to fade into the background. To make matters worse, the figure was completely still. Absolutely still.

Try it, the next time that you have five minutes to yourself and nothing else to do. Try to stand completely still. The effort was helped by the fact that I could not see the figure’s face and that the robe was deep enough that I couldn’t see whether there was any movement of breath there.

“Lord Frederick,” Ariadne began formally, “it is my distinct honour to present my mother. Mother, this is my betrothed and the man that I love.”

Then the figure moved.

I swear to the flame that up until that moment, I thought she was a statue and I jumped.

“Mother,” Ariadne chide with a tired sounding amusement.

“You have to admit,” said a female voice, “that it never stops being funny.”

The voice sounded dusty and creaky. There was an accent to the voice as well. The sound of a person that had forgotten how words were supposed to sound.

After I had managed to calm my racing heart, I took the offered hand and shook it. The grip was firm and dry, the skin was soft, surprisingly warm and it felt thin. I have no other way of describing it. It felt like the hand of one of those ancient people that you occasionally see and if I looked down, I felt sure that I would see veins and liver splotches on the hand. But instead, as I say, the hand was perfectly formed, the flesh was firm… I just don’t know how else to describe it.

I didn’t look though, I was too busy trying to see a face in the depths of the cowl. I thought that I could maybe see a chin.

“My mother is currently serving as one of the attendants to the Elder,” Ariadne explained. “As one of the oldest of us still awake, the Elder likes to keep her close.”

“He’s like that.” The figure said.

“Oh show him your face mother.” Ariadne snapped in something approaching exasperation. The interaction was reassuringly human.

The figure moved again, blindingly fast, and again, reflexively, I jerked backward from the movement.

“I apologize,” said the skeletal figure of a woman that emerged from the cowl. “The Elder demands that there be as little movement in his presence as possible and what there is should be quickly done so that we can get it out of the way as fast as possible. It is so ingrained now that I forget how fast it appears to human eyes.”

If she was human, I would have described her as being the victim of famine. Her eyes were sunken in her skull, her bone structure was stark and stood out against the skin and she was completely bald. I could see no blemishes on the skin which appeared to be a papery white and when she had accepted that I was done with her hand, she pulled both hands inside the robe and clasped them together. Her fangs seemed small to me and her eyes, despite their sunken nature, glittered with amusement as she waited.

“Well?” She asked. “Have you finished your inspection?”

“Forgive me.” I shook my head to clear it, reaching for some advice a friend gave me about meeting a future inlaw. “I was just dazzled for a moment.” I went on. “I can see where Ariadne gets her beauty from.”

I only narrowly kept from cringing the moment the words were out of my mouth. But the cowled figure laughed.

“I like humans. I look forward to my turn being over so that I can go out among them again. It has been centuries and I miss their little attempts at humor. Do they still make those delightful little seasoned meat rolls that they wrap in a flaky, buttery covering?”

“It’s called Pastry Mother,” Ariadne told her. “And yes they do.”

“How wonderful. I have so missed proper sustenance.”

“When you do emerge Madam, I would be glad to be your guide,” I told her.

“I would doubt that.” She said. The words appeared in the air without her lips moving. I definitely heard them but she didn’t seem to be speaking. It wasn’t telepathy, nor was it the feeling that happens when I speak to Ariadne through the link that we share. It was much more immediate. I was hearing with my ears, not with my mind.

“Apart from anything else, even if my daughter takes steps to prolong your life, I shall not be done with the Elder for Centuries yet. Which will put my emergence, long after you have departed this world and gone… wherever it is you mortal creatures go when you die.”

“In any case,” I said, moving past the terrifying implications. “It is my honour to meet you.” I bowed.

“Is it?” She wondered. “How can you tell?”

“Tell what?”

“That you are honored. Is it some kind of instinctual thing?”

“It is a figure of speech Mother,” Ariadne told her. “He is saying that he is pleased to meet you. He is paying you another compliment.”

Ariadne’s mother’s eyes twinkled and I got a sense that she knew that but was winding her daughter up. I kept my face blank as she saw me looking at her.

She winked at me.

“Well.” my future mother-in-law said. “As this is likely to be the first and last time that I get to meet my new son, I would like to speak to him in private as I have words for his ears only. As your father is not around, I must put some fear in his bones and remind him of what happens should he choose to mistreat my daughter.” She turned to me and leaned conspiratorially close. “That is still how things are done is it not?”

“It is,” I answered. I was still unsure of where I stood with this new person but when my mouth starts just talking without my input, it has rarely steered me wrong. “However, such warnings are normally ignored. I will pretend to set my knees to knocking and you will pretend to be grumpy before making a sincere warning. I will accept it although the thought of such an acceptance will make me angry. But the prospect of familial peace is more important than any protest that I might make.”

The figure nodded. “As I recall, it is also tradition for a mother-in-law to get on with her son-in-law.”

“That is normally the way it goes, yes. In the relationships with the parents of the people that we love, it is the opposite genders that we most commonly seem to get on with. Mothers like their sons-in-law and Fathers like their daughters-in-law.

“But there is no hatred like the hatred of a Father in law towards the man who takes his little girl away. Nor is there hate like that of a mother who is losing her son to the painted hussy of a seducer that is taking him away.”

I considered what I said. “Less of a problem in noble circles as most marriages are arranged, but it still comes up occasionally. Fortunately for your daughter, my mother is now in the convent and although we hear word that she will be released to attend our wedding, I don’t think she will have time to get much disapproving done.”

“And Ariadne’s father is far away.”

“He is still not returned?” Ariadne asked carefully.

“He has not.” She turned to me. “Ariadne’s father and the Elder had a disagreement about the future of our society. The Elder wants to keep us back and ready for us to return to where we came from whereas my husband wants us to live in the world. To take part in it. My husband was no match for the Elder when he was angry though and he went into the ground to recover. He has not been seen since.”

“When did this happen?”

“Oh…” The figure waved her hand dismissively. It was a little too fast for that gesture though and it looked as though her limb was vibrating. “A century or two after our second child was born. The two of us were encouraged to breed by the Elder. My husband’s curiosity combined with my way of thought were a potent mixture that helped us to survive those early years.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” I said.

“Don’t be. He was very foolish, even though I loved him for it. But challenging the Elder was foolish.” She turned and glared at Ariadne. “You are still here.” She protested. “I promise I won’t eat him. Nor shall I steal him from you as a way to alleviate my boredom in the cave below us. Be off with you.”

There was a power to that last order and I saw Ariadne turn and march away as though someone had jammed a red hot poker up her rear end.

“We have certain advantages over our children.” The figure said when she saw me looking askance. “Just as the Elder can order all of us who are descended from him, which is everyone in this room and many that are beneath the ground, we can also command those of us that are born from us. Which is less.”

I nodded. “I had wondered about that.”

“There is also a bond between children and parent. Ariadne and I are in a similar level of communication to what you and she share. So I know all about you Lord Frederick.”

“Oh.” I said, “Alright.”

She took my arm and led me around the edge of the room. I don’t know if she did something but in leading me, she seemed to make us both invisible.

“I am not going to warn you about the dangers of breaking my daughter’s heart. She is far more frightening than I am in that regard.”

“That’s... nice,” I said, absently.

She chuckled. “I have not learned your written language but Ariadne has read me your exploits. You seem to have a healthy fear of her.”

“Is that good?” I wondered.

“Love should be fearful.” She said. “Love can make fools of us and that fear can keep us from making too many mistakes. Love is also about trusting the other not to hurt us and from that fear comes a passion that can be awe-inspiring. I was so afraid of Ariadne’s Father. He was wondrous in his passions and he scared me as much as I loved him. Just as he claimed to be afraid of me and to love me in return. I miss him so much and I long to feel his touch again.”

She shuddered, both in longing and in fear. “I miss him.” She said.

“Is he dead?” I wondered.

“I have no idea.” She said. “I doubt it though. Age is a powerful thing among us and he was older than me. He claimed to be among the firstborn to those that came through the portal with the Elder. So he would be powerful indeed should he wake from his slumber. The only person who might know for certain is the Elder and he is not telling. He likes to keep his secrets. It gives him power over us and we fear and hate him for it.”

“Where are the other Elders?” I asked. “The ones that came with him.”

“Many went with the other clans to the East and West. Some went North and South. My daughter has told you that we are lonesome creatures. Lone hunters. We do not enjoy each other’s company except in rare circumstances. The youngest of us are always better at that kind of thing. The majority of the Eldest now attend upon the Elder, or are in the ground in our own tombs waiting until we decide to wake up.”

She shivered. “I myself have slept away a couple of centuries. It is strange that now when I am awake, I long for the peace and rest to be found in the deep places. But after a year or two, I find that I long to feel the sun again. I have a particular love of the sea and it has been some years since I saw it last. It is so big, so terrifying. So wondrously chaotic but given time, you can train yourself to understand it. I like that.”

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She looked at me sideways.

“You have more questions. My daughter warned me that you would have more questions. ‘Always more questions’ she complains without understanding the irony that she asks questions at the same rate. If not more.”

She laughed at the thought.

“My curious mind and my husband’s methodical thinking. Put them together and we made a scientist. The horror.”

I laughed and for a moment I forgot that I was walking next to a woman that was older than… well… anything. And I was going to marry her daughter.

“What’s it like? being the attendant of the Elder I mean.”

“Intensely dull.” She told me.

“You know that I have to ask you to clarify what you mean by that.”

“I do. I am trying to think how to explain.” She tilted her head to one side in a gesture so utterly like Ariadne that I wondered if it was a genetic trait of Vampirism or whether it was a learned behavior. A daughter watching a mother move and choosing to copy the one to the other.

“I am not the oldest living Vampire that is both awake and not the Elder.” She said after a while. “I was born after our race got here. I can prove nothing of what I think and I cannot ask anything. Those that are older than me either do not remember or are ordered to say nothing, which is the same thing. It means that we do not know where we come from or what we were before we got here. To my mind, it makes much more sense to believe that the Elder knows and has instructed my elders not to say anything.

“Why would he do that?”

She looked at me sideways suddenly.

“Sorry, you are going to write all of this down in some of those marvelous articles that my daughter has read to me aren’t you?”

“That is certainly the intention,” I told her. “As well as the conversation that I have with the Unseen Elder himself.”

She laughed. “That might explain why he is so angry. Where was I?”

“Why would he order people, including my parents, not to tell us what world we come from. Why would he not say what we did while we were there? Why will he not tell us who we are? I think that the answer is that he is ashamed.”

Talking to her was like talking to a statue. Her legs moved although I never saw those legs. She might have been hovering along the floor by some unseen, magical mechanism for all I know. But her face had no expression that I could read apart from when she reminded herself to have an expression. At which time her face became animated and, dare I say it, more than a little beautiful. Then she would forget to keep that expression going and her face would become a mask again, all the while, she talked without her lips moving.

“What could he be ashamed of?”

She thought about that for long enough that I wondered if she had gotten bored with the conversation and drifted off.

“There is a theory among some of the younger ones that we were soldiers before we came here. It is argued that our natural abilities, clinical nature, and the fact that we actually become more powerful the more we are hurt, means that we are almost perfect for war. That is true, but I have an alternative theory that is more borne out by the evidence.

“I think we were slaves. I think that our lack of emotional development, something which seems far more common in other races, is particularly telling. I think we are bred towards calm utility.

“You will ask what evidence I have for that?” She looked at me out of the side of her eye.

“I was literally about to ask exactly that.”

She laughed. “For all that your race has the capability of surprising us, sometimes, you are just so predictable that it’s funny.”

“I feel as though I should be insulted by that,” I told her. “But I’m not. It seems to be an entirely fair criticism.”

“Do not be too insulted. I have not studied your world as much as my daughter has, but I can see the similarities in our own young. But I was talking about evidence that we were once slaves.”

“You were, and I was busy being fascinated.”

She smiled, genuinely this time.

“The first is to look at our actions when we came into this world. We did not conquer as we were more than capable of doing. If we were soldiers, we would have gone to war. If war was all we knew then why didn’t we… war. Instead, we cowered. I think we were waiting for our masters to return to us, or open a way through to this world for us so that we could return to service. We were afraid of what would happen if our masters came and we were not ready for them, ready to depart immediately.

“When it became clear that that wasn’t going to happen, the other clans fled to look for other avenues to return to our masters,”

“Or to flee the much-feared wrath now that they had tasted freedom and decided that they liked it.” I offered.

“That is a good insight. Yet more reason why she likes you I think. Imagination is another one of those qualities that we lack. This leads me to my next point.

“Look around yourself. As a race, we gather, on average, once every five or six decades or so. We come together and talk about our projects, our lessons, and what we have learned. So look around yourself for a moment. Just for a moment. And ask yourself what the Vampire culture is?”

I did as I was told, and I will admit that I didn’t see it until she started to point things out.

“Everything we have, every artistic expression or every element of our culture, such as it is, is copied from humanity or, Elven culture.”

“To be fair though.” I heard myself say as I started to absorb that statement. “A lot of human culture is absorbed from Elven…” And then I petered out as what she said started to sink in.

“Chess is a human game.” She said. “I understand that there are many different forms of it in the world which would suggest that it comes from all throughout the different spheres that came here during the conjunction. But everyone has it and we are absorbed by it. Have you ever heard of a game called Gwent?”

“I have,” I replied carefully.

“Don’t get between two Vampires playing Gwent. They will be there for years. Where are the Vampire games? Salador is very proud of their ultimate expression of male Human beauty. But I saw you talk to him. I didn’t listen, but I know what happened. You gave him ideas, things that he had not considered and is now consumed by. The carving exhibit of Orianna. She is literally trying to make art out of human artistic expression. That is not art, that is showing people other people’s art. I understand that in the human world, she is considered a great patron of the arts. She is fascinated by art, but cannot make any herself.

Then there is Queen of the Night or whatever she calls herself. Showing everyone the vast wondrousness of the human mating ritual. It all looks wondrously complicated and intoxicating. I loved my husband and he loved me and when we came together it was as though we could barely contain ourselves. Back then, we believed that we would be like that for centuries.

“And we were.

“I cannot imagine what it would be like if we could have used the human version of anticipating how it would work. The thought alone is… exhilarating.

“I like Queen of the Night and presuming the Elder doesn’t need me, I mean to go to talk to her. I wonder if she will share my views.

“The one that I am most proud of though is Regis. He does have a form of artistic expression. He brews his little wines and his little cordials. He brews them because he enjoys the process and because he enjoys making his friends happy. They are uniformly delicious but no two bottles are the same. That brewing is an art although he would be mortified if you told him that.

“But I have talked to my daughter about art and I know that not all art is permanent. If you really want to fuck these people over, sing them a song. They will not understand it. Tell them a story, they will laugh, cheer and then they will weep. They will hate you for it because they will simply not understand the mechanics of storytelling. You would not even need to be any good.

“Every element of what we pass off as being ‘our’ culture is, in fact, your culture that we have appropriated and adapted for our own purposes. But where is the laughter, the song, the dance, the music? I understand it to be captivating. When my time with the Elder is done, presuming my husband has not returned, I mean to go and look for that music. I would like to hear it and see if it is quite as enchanting as I have been promised.”

“It can be,” I told her. “But only if you let it.”

“There is more evidence.” She said, either not hearing or not caring about my previous comment. “There is a truth that I have heard repeated which is that what you learn to do first, you do in a crisis. Our sin in that regard is emulation. We have copied something. I asked where and what our culture might be and I think I have the answer. Our culture is slavery.

“When we got here, we looked around for beings that we might enslave and we found none. The Elves were annoyingly elusive until humanity came and mucked everything up for them. So we created some. Bruxa, Fleders, Alps, Plumard, Echidna, all of the rest, in order to serve our needs. Instead of learning how to do it for ourselves, something that, again, the younger generation is better at than we are, we created other things to do it for us. Where did we learn to do that exactly?

“And lastly, it is the nature of people to copy, to look up to and emulate those that are our betters. Children look up to and copy parents. Merchants copy Kings, peasants copy everyone that they can. My daughter has talked to me about Fashions in clothing and hairstyles, makeup, and jewelry. She says that a prominent person steps out into the public gaze looking like this or looking like that and suddenly, everyone who wants to curry favor with that powerful person wants to look exactly like them.

“I think we have done that. The only person, the only thing that we know, for sure, that remembers what it was like before we came through the gate, is the Elder. He doesn’t do anything unless circumstances force him to.

“I love my daughter, but the proudest moment of my motherhood was when she managed to get the Elder to agree to meet with you and to answer your questions.

“But otherwise, he stands there, sits there, or hangs off the ceiling if he’s feeling particularly frisky. And he watches that patch of air where the portal used to be.

“What do I do as his attendant.? I feed him. I wipe his arse when he defecates, we clean him as best as we are able. We wear heavy clothes so that the swishing sound of moving cloth does not distract him. We do not move or leave in case the sound of movement diverts his attention. I even have to keep myself bald so that the movement of hair doesn’t snag on something.

“Very occasionally, we bring him news of the outside world. He does that less and less now as he has come to realize that whatever we tell him, nearly always makes him angry as he sees signs of his children disobeying him everywhere.

“Instead of doing anything about that though, he just returns to his place and watches for signs that the portal would open. Knowing that if he orders, when he orders, we will have no choice but to follow him back through the portal. I wonder what will happen then.”

"Is that likely to happen any time soon?” I wondered. I suddenly had an irrational fear that the portal would open tomorrow and take my love away from me.”

“What?” She seemed startled. “The portal? I doubt it. There have been no tremors in it since I have been watching it and I have been watching for centuries. It is undoubtedly a magical phenomenon and as such, it needs a mage to do a proper investigation of it. One of the reasons that my daughter was encouraged to pursue that particular pastime was so that I could persuade the Elder to let one of our own perform an investigation. The Elder said no.”

“Why?”

“Again, I am just guessing. I think that the Elder is actually remarkably childish in his outlook. He is being childish. The answer is that he is afraid. What if she tells him that the portal is never going to open? He loses all authority and suddenly knows for certain, there and then, that he has wasted millennia. Literally, millennia, watching for something that is never going to happen.

“Worse than that? What if my daughter tells him that the portal will open tomorrow? Suddenly he must set his will against all of us, to do something that many of us, including me, do not want to do. And then he must return. Return to his life of… at best, warfare, at worst, slavery. Where everything he is trying to become will just smack him down and return him to his former place of service.

“He is trapped in a prison of his own making. Staying there is terrifying to him. Leaving is worse. The real… vampiric apocalypse? It’s not that we all decide that we want to rule the world or turn you all into cattle to be farmed for your blood. Something that was not as pressing a concern as you might have thought, or that others might have led you to believe. The real Vampiric uprising happens when this conflict of going or staying that exists in the Elder’s head, finally drives him mad.”

I considered that thought for a moment.

“Not a pleasant dream is it.” She told me.

“It is not.” I agreed.

She laughed. I know that I have a habit of overstating people’s emotional responses. When I describe Kerrass as laughing, it is more of a wry kind of chuckle. When I say that he grins, it is only a slight upturning of the lips when it is a genuine emotion. I have trained Ariadne to smile and laugh easily by laughing at her whenever she tries to conceal or reduce her obvious signs of emotion. But even so, she hides it a lot. So as not to intimidate people really.

But in chronicling our lives together, when I see it, I am forced to describe it as laughter because where one person merely chuckles, to them it is the very height of guffawing with hilarity. Whereas to others, they laugh with ease and abandon at the earliest opportunity and the slightest provocation.

This woman laughed like that. She laughed without a care in the world. She laughed as though no one was listening and she laughed at the slightest thing. She laughed at my expression when she described the process that they had to go through in order to wipe the ass of the Elder Vampire. About how they had to lift up the tattered remains of whatever clothes that the attendants had persuaded him to wear the last time that he had been forced to wear clothes. She laughed as she watched “The youngsters”, which is what she described the other Vampires that were around, as they “played at being human.” She laughed at my observations and even at my feeble attempts at jokes in the face of all the terror that was surrounding me. She laughed when I introduced her to Kerrass and she laughed as he flirted with her.

It was in talking to her that I found myself beginning to dislike the Unseen Elder. I was already aware that there was a display being put on for me. That I was being shown things that someone wanted me to see. I hadn’t known who it was up until that point but it was about here that I began to suspect that it was the Elder himself that was trying to make a point.

I had no idea what that point was of course, but it struck me as cruel that the woman that I was walking with, was confined within a cave in order to take care of a being that was more than capable of looking after himself. That she was forced to remain there, not moving, for years at a time. When she did move, she did so in order to feed and clean and other, even less stimulating options, the person that ordered her confinement. She told me that she spent a lot of that time talking with her daughter and her other children, which she refused to clarify for me, but living vicariously through the life of another is not life.

I found her charming, intelligent, and more given to curiosity than her daughter had been when she had first emerged from the tower. She was obviously not human and didn’t hide that fact. When she laughed, her fangs were obviously on display, she had little to no body language except when she reminded herself that she needed some, then she would laugh at herself when she got that wrong.

She was self-aware, self-critical, I would call her uneducated but only because she lacked access to the tools that she needed to be educated and I was also very aware that by “educated” I meant educated to a human standard. She learned second-hand through her children and it was here that I found out that Ariadne would literally read things to her mother at night when everyone else was asleep.

She was beautiful as well. Not attractive to me as for me she would need a bit more meat on her bones. But there was no pretense to her. There was no subterfuge and that openness of her face, even when it wasn’t moving, was beautiful.

I found it all intensely sad and more than a little bit upsetting.

“Thank you.” She said towards the end of our time together.

“What for?” I wondered.

‘For making my daughter happy.” She said. “It is a new experience for her and I like the look of her with it. I have been worried about her, more than any of the other children that I have had and I have not had many. She was the most curious, the most intelligent, but that has tended to make her morose. You make her smile. You challenge her in ways that she could not conceive and surprise her in ways that she does not understand. I like that in her. I look forward to hearing stories about your sexual prowess.”

I laughed and as had been my habit with this lady, I wondered if I was being teased in some way.

I was.

“And see,” I said. “You were doing so well in not making me feel uncomfortable and now I find out that the woman I love is going to be sharing stories about our bedroom antics with her mother. If ever there was anything that was going to reduce my libido to the point of no return, it is the thought of the two of you gossiping over the size and shape of my manhood.”

“Apparently it has a bend in it.”

“I’m not rising to that,” I told her.

She giggled. Literally like a twelve-year-old girl. “Hehehe. You said rising.”

I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and said nothing.

“I love her,” I told the Vampire beside me. “She has taught me so much about simply being and the nature of the world by merely being who and what she is. She challenged me and called me out on my bullshit in ways that I could not have conceived. Would I know about my own learned racism if I had not fallen in love with a non-human, let alone a traditionally considered monstrous one? I don’t know. Would I have challenged my own faith, would I have done half of the things that I have done? Would I have even begun to conceive of the simple truths that there is more to life and living than just the human experience, let alone the human experience of a privileged younger son of a nobleman? I don’t know the answer to that.

“There are two people that have taught me to look at the world with greater focus and emphasis than with the tools that I was given at birth. One is Kerrass and I will forever be grateful to the Eternal Flame that he was put onto the doorstep of the inn when I needed to meet him.

“I mean,” I went on. “It could have been Letho. Or even…” I shuddered. “Lambert that I met. I mean, can you imagine?”

She laughed. I didn’t ask how she knew of those two men.

“There are others who have had a profound effect on me too. I think of Marion often, who has had a huge impact on the way I live my life and taught me more about love than I had ever thought existed. Father Jerome, I look forward to seeing him again and telling him how important he was to me despite the short time we spent together. There are friends like Chireadean, Rickard, Helfdan, and his crew. But your daughter?” I shook my head.

“I hated the man who came upon us that day. Lord Dorme was his name. I prefer to call him other things like Fuck-face and worse. He did horrible things to me. I have nearly died several times during my travels but he was the first human that came close to really killing me intentionally rather than because I was there and I might have some money. He was worse than… Cavil and his son because those two really really hated me. And it was me that they hated which meant, in turn, that I was almost valued as a figure of hate. But to Dorme, I was just a means to an end.

“But if he hadn’t been riding down the road that day. If he hadn’t done the things that he had done. If I hadn’t been poisoned and on the verge of death, would I have had the nerve to do the things that I did to make a strange, otherworldly, terrifying lady become interested in me? Let alone love me.”

I shook my head.

“That sounds a little painful.” She said quietly. “To be grateful to someone that you despise.”

“A little,” I admitted. “But on the other hand, I consider just how much it would annoy him to know that the thing that he wanted to make an instrument of his own ambition, and one of the people that orchestrated his downfall, have fallen in love and risen to a height that he could not have conceived. I think of just how pissed off that would make him and I find that I feel a lot better about it.”

She laughed. I laughed and we laughed together.

“I love your daughter madam,” I said. “I will love her for as long as she will let me.”

“Do not do that.” She said quietly. “Love her for as long as you can. No longer. If you love her for as long as she lets you, then you will still be alive when the world ends and you will be quite, quite mad. Love her for as long as you can, but when the time comes then you will need to make her let you go. It will be the hardest thing you ever do and you will both see it coming.

“That is the beauty of humanity.” She said. “It is not a new thought but it’s the thing that you have over us, over the Elves and the Dwarves. From what I understand, Halflings are close to the human idea because they understand that true beauty must be fleeting and is most often found in the most simple of things. Dwarves are capable of making truly beautiful things but they are never satisfied and that will be their undoing I think. They will always set aside their forgings and their statues and their buildings and wonder how they could make it better without realizing that they have made something truly remarkable.”

“What do you mean?”

“My daughter’s engagement ring is Dwarven make is it not?”

“It is.”

“I bet that when the jeweler was done, he took away detailed notes and was muttering about improvements.”

“He was.”

“That is the point. It is a beautiful ring. Humanity can enjoy ephemeral things. The fleeting moments that are here and then gone. No one else can do that. It is why we hate you, the Elves and the Dwarves and things. Even when we tell you, and tell ourselves that we don’t. We envy you that thing. To see each sunset as more than just the scientific truth of what it is.”

She did the head tilting thing again. “I have forgotten what my original point was….”

“Something about me letting…”

“Yes. Really beautiful things are beautiful because they will end. A statue can erode away. A painting can fade. Poetry, plays, and stories are never the same when you hear them, or read them after the first time. No two performers give the same soliloquy the same way. Love is beautiful and your love will be beautiful. And one day, it will end. It must end or it will be soured. Love her for as long as you can. Even that will be far more than the normal span of years that you have been given. Make the most of them. And when the time comes, you must be strong for both of you.”

I nodded.

“And remember.” She grinned nastily. “You’ve got to screw her till her ears bleed.”

I laughed and groaned and made appalled noises all at the same time.

“It was really good meeting you, Lord Frederick.” She said sadly. “I doubt that I will see you again, but I will endeavor to keep up with you through my daughter.”

“It was a pleasure,” I said. Absolutely meaning it. “I wish…”

“You wish what?”

“I wish that you could be there. I find I like you more than I like my own mother in some ways.”

She nodded. “And I already love you more than I love some of my own children. You make me laugh and I can see why she loves you.”

I hugged her impulsively. She froze for a moment before returning the hug gingerly. When we pulled apart, she turned and vanished into the shadows. No matter how hard I tried, I could not follow her passage.

It is a strange thing to miss someone when you have only just met them.

That conversation really took the wind from my sails and I found myself sinking into a bit of a depression. I skirted around the edge of the party but what my Mother-in-law told me became starkly obvious. I could see signs of it all over the place. As well as the exhibits that I had already talked about, I found myself listening in on conversations. Floating around the back of the entire thing, I heard all kinds of things.

I heard a group of Vampires discussing the need for romance in humans. They were talking about the human need for romance and love in their lives and commenting about how it would just be easy for everyone, including the female if there was a heat system the same way that dogs or other animals go into heat and then the male does the deed so that everyone can get on with their lives.

Another group of Vampires was talking about the number of poisons that “the humans” put into their own bodies. The alcohols, the narcotics, the fats, and the oils. The tobacco smoke and the various other things that I would describe as being the kind of things that make life worth living. They laughed at the foolishness of people before, and I swear that this is true, they turned around and commented about how one of them had managed to feed on a human who had been drunk and that the extra spice that this had added to the feeding experience was something that everyone should experience.

I found out that it was only humans that ate spicy food for fun. The conversation wished that we didn’t do that because it did not improve our flavor. I resolved to start eating more spicy food that very moment.

I heard a discussion about sporting events that one Vampire had seen being played in Northern Temeria. Where a pig’s bladder had been inflated and a group of street children was competing in trying to get the bladder into a hoop. They were arguing about what the point of this entire thing was. Why it would be done and how this might be achieved.

Another sport that was discussed, obviously because we were in Toussaint, was the sport of jousting. It was commented on that humans actively enjoy watching ourselves physically hurt each other for sport. I am sure that either Guillaume or Gregoire would be able to properly explain to these people that the risk of potentially being hurt is part of the fun. It is part of the enticement to succeed and be better than the other person.

I did not. Nor did I explain to the people discussing darts or barrel balls as to the fact that the point behind playing these games is because it’s fun. And for those of us that are not as physically talented, it becomes fun to be able to watch these things, comment, gamble, and enjoy the athletic skill of the players. But I didn’t, I walked on.

I stumbled onto one of the girls that Queen of the Night had brought with her. A vampire was with her and the two of them were making love. I say that they were making love, she looked as though she was making love with all of the artistry that I know can be involved in such a situation. He was just there. He was watching the movements of her and the expressions on her face with avid curiosity.

I found myself imagining that when it was all over, he would thank her politely and without obvious emotion with a kind of guarded “Yes, that was quite pleasant.” I don’t know though. Ariadne has made a big fuss of telling me that Vampire erogenous zones, pleasure systems, and reproductive systems are close enough to human ones that a Vampire making love with a human is more than enjoyable for both partners. Or rather that it should be.

But I also know that no species is quite as skilled at separating themselves from their physical emotions and sensations as Vampires are.

I escaped as soon as I could.

The more and more I looked around at what was going on around me, the more and more obvious evidence there was that my mother-in-law was correct. They all spoke as though Vampires were superior to humanity in every way. But they couldn’t stop talking about humans. They wanted humans, they were fascinated by humans, they watched humans and commented on what they were doing.

Those Vampires that had actually taken part to, at least in some way, properly interact with humanity were almost looked down on. The Males of the species were standing around the small dais where Queen of the Night sat with her “daughters”.

(Freddie: It’s a business term that she uses. Most brothel madams use the term “girls”. It seems that Queen of the Night uses “Daughters” in order to increase her mystique)

They made jokes and derogatory comments about the Queen and her daughters, their appearance, and their occupations. But I noticed that they couldn’t look away and that one of the men that was watching later went off with one of the daughters for his own… I don’t know, needs, enjoyments, whatever.

The names of Orianna, Detlaff, Regis and Ariadne were all talked about in derogatory fashions, along with other names but I don’t want to give those names away, for wanting to interact with humans on an equal footing. To live their lives under the influences of human society.

I did find out a bit about the, now deceased, former terror of Toussaint. I found out that Detlaff was a private man who was fascinated by and enjoyed, human society from a distance, but found it rather overwhelming. There was an underlying disgust about the fact that he had been taken advantage of and that his naivete had led to his obvious and inevitable downfall. All the while they wondered how such a man could have possibly allowed himself to fall for the charms of so ugly a sow as that.

I found it quite insulting. Not just on Detlaff’s behalf but also on Syanna’s. By every measurement, Syanna is a beautiful woman and when she turns on the charm, I could not think of many people that would be willing and able to turn that sort of thing away. And if even a fraction of what I have heard about the man in question is true, then he would not have had a great deal of choice in how his emotions went. He loved humanity and therefore, it seems quite understandable to me that he fell in love and when he did, he loved fiercely.

He made toys for children. Nothing on a par with what the dwarves are capable of course. But he didn’t charge much. Just enough to cover costs, rent and similar. Apparently, he was also something of a clothes horse which earned him a new round of mocking from the other Vampires here. Something that I found especially funny on the grounds that there were many other people in the nearby assembly that were wearing things that could only be described as being from the very height of fashion.

I didn’t say anything. I wanted to and it might be a bit cowardly of me not to say anything but I was reminded both that I was a guest here and that if anyone took offense at anything I said, then they could easily eat me without much difficulty. Both literally and figuratively.

Of all people, it was Regis that rescued me. Literally plucking me from the crowd by the arm and hauling me out of the situations that I found myself in. He dragged me over to the bar where he poured me a stiff drink.

“You have the look of a man in need of some medicinal strength alcohol.” He told me as he poured a shot for himself and a shot for me. “Down in one. Best not to let it touch the sides.” He said, his eyes twinkling as he spoke.

I did as best as I was able. It tasted vile but something strange happened as it hit my throat. It warmed me all the way down, leaving me with a pleasant kind of tingling sensation and a strange feeling of a dangerous mood lifted. It was very alcoholic.

“That was…” I said before accidentally coughing. This was a mistake. “That was… what was that?”

“Do you know,” he began, corking the flask and reaching for a different one which he used to pour a much more generous drink. “I never thought to give it a name. It’s a joke you see.”

“Are you teasing me, Regis?”

He laughed. “Good gracious me no.” He laughed some more. “However some of the other Vampires? Yes. Them I am teasing.” He passed me the cup over and we clacked the rims together. “There is a, not small, school of thought that is of the opinion that humanity is inferior in every way. So I was challenged to create a drink that would cause humans great discomfort so that the vampires could feel all smug and superior. The truth being, of course…”

“Oh of course.” I agreed. Whatever was in the new cup tasted like liquid moonbeams and I began to wonder if there was any kind of narcotic in the drink. For someone that I didn’t like very much, Regis certainly seemed to be on my side.

“The truth is that the rate of alcohol consumption varies from individual to individual, same as it would for anyone. But I found the request so completely insulting that I had to do something about it. So I brewed that. It tasted disgusting but to humans, it would provide a distinct warming sensation as well as a feeling of security and safety. To you, it should be a similar effect to lying in a warm bed with a warm woman on a cold winter’s day, looking at the ice trying to clover the window panes of wherever you are spending the night while you have no possible need or reason to rouse yourself from your bed. It is a calming draught to you. To Vampires, it would just taste vile and so alcoholic as to essentially be undrinkable.”

“But it’s not alcoholic is it?” I whispered.

“It is a little. But to most, it would seem to be much worse than it actually is.”

“So all of those Vampires that are looking at me right now?”

“Yes, they are waiting to see when you are going to get drunk and pass out.”

“And when I don’t?”

“They will think that I have watered it down. At which time, they will come over and demand a drink from the bottle, at which time they will learn that I have not watered it down at all and that it still has an effect on them a lot like drinking raw solvent would to you. Then, with a bit of luck, they will look at you with some newfound respect.”

“That’s a little mean Regis.”

“It is.” He agreed with me. “But it’s also a little funny. And I have learned that it is sometimes best to take your entertainments where you can find them.”

We drank together in silence for a while and I could feel myself beginning to unwind.

“I saw you talking with Grandma,” he said.

“What?” I found myself laughing.

“Grandma,” he said. “Grandmother always sounds so formal. Whereas a lot of the other, more affectionate terms don’t seem to do my respect for the lady justice. Meemaw, Gamma, Nana and the rest. Therefore…. Grandma seems the most fitting.”

“My mind boggles.”

“Ah, you know what you need for that?” He said, topping up my cup with a smile.

“Are you trying to get me drunk Regis?”

“Not in the slightest. You will need some of your wits about you when it comes time to meet he who is Elder.”

“Your smile is not that convincing.”

“Well. She is the one that convinced me to go out into the world. All of our society can be traced back to an older generation. We don’t know that we are all children of the Elder but that seems to make the most sense to us. She is my Grandmother, Aunt Eightlegs’ mother and there are a number of us around. She gave me curiosity and for that, I will forever be grateful. But you have the look of someone that is taking what she said a bit closer to heart.”

“It struck me as being very sad.”

“That was about right. She warns all of her children and grandchildren about the eventuality of what happens. Our only hope of survival is that we are asleep when the time comes for either of her eventualities. I certainly hope so. I despise violence even when my form makes me remarkably good at it. I can even admit to a certain amount of cowardice on occasion.”

“My understanding is that bravery doesn’t exist without cowardice.”

“Ah yes, you are quoting Constable Natalis.”

“As well as Sirs Sloma, Kasak and Warchol. Indeed, every real military leader that has ever written anything on the subject of courage. Men who have never had to fight to guarantee their own survival tend to see it differently. But I understand that you walked into Stygga castle knowing the risks. That you stood up to Detlaff knowing what could happen, given that only an Elder Vampire can really hurt or kill another Elder Vampire. These are not the actions of a coward.”

It was not the first time I have seen a Vampire blush. But it was the funniest.

“However,” I said. “Before you get a bit too big for your boots. I notice that you haven’t been over to see Queen of the Night yet.”

I timed it perfectly to see a Vampire Spit spray his drink across the bar.

“I love Dandilion.” He said, grimacing. “We traveled together for a long time and saw an awful lot of hardship together. Not least of which was Geralt being an ass and trying to push us all away on a semi-regular basis. But his insistence on recording absolutely everything that he sees and publishing it is more than a little bit of an annoyance. Even in those situations where he was only present on the periphery. A lesson that I am pleased to see that you have… mostly learned I notice.”

“I try.”

“For your information, Queen of the Night and I have come to a little bit of an understanding. In that, we mean to have a long conversation should I survive my penance with the Elder. After that, we shall simply have to see how things work out. But still Lord Frederick, you have not been entirely successful in diverting me from our topic. We were talking about my Grandmother and what she told you.”

“She told me that what passed for Vampiric society was merely an imitation of humanity while also looking down on humanity and being derogatory about it.”

“I imagine that she used more words, but that sounds about right yes.”

He was definitely trying to get me drunk.

“It has been observed that many of us only live by emulating human behavior.” He said. “We are eminently suited towards the killing, but such a pastime would become tedious after a while. So what other culture do we have for our own? Sooner or later, most of those of us that actually spend some time looking around the greater continent come to the conclusion that Grandma will have shared with you. She is not wrong. I have not seen a Vampiric work of art that wasn’t in some way, derived from a human work of art or from the banners of the clans that we brought with us that are not far off being the same thing anyway. The closest is Orianna’s work but I feel sure that if you tried to display what she worked on, let alone trying to sell it, I rather think you would be laughed out of the museums and the auction houses.”

“A little harsh,” I thought aloud. “Her subject today seems to be more than worthwhile. The moment of artistic inspiration. The moment just before the brush descends upon the canvas.”

“Indeed. It is a worthwhile topic. However, I can’t help but point out that there are already many paintings in Toussaint alone that depict just such a moment. Orianna is a far better patron and critic of the arts than she is an actual artist herself. She knows it too and she would not, I hope, be particularly insulted when you publish that particular detail.”

“Are the two of you related?”

“Probably. Distantly anyway, although we haven’t done anything as crass as sitting down and discussing family trees or anything. We are friendly, but not friends. I think... although again, it’s not that important to the likes of us. But I think that she’s related to Queen of the Night. The slight taste towards hedonism is more pronounced there but I could not be sure.”

“It sounds as though your people inherit more than just looks and small character traits from your parents,” I commented.

“Not an unfair distinction. Your intended would be able to tell you more about the genetics of memory and character and the like.”

We sat and talked about the wedding between me and his aunt. I offered him an invitation and he told me that he would like to come, but the probability was that it would not be entirely safe for anyone if he went. Vampiric society was outraged enough with the pending wedding. It was also true that the Elder might not yet have let him, Regis, off the hook yet for whatever crime and punishment was being dished out.

“Will anyone else want to come?” I wondered.

“I think plenty of people will want to come.” He said. “But I don’t think many will. I think people will be watching from a distance. They will be watching carefully to see how it goes and how it influences our society. It would not be at all surprising to discover that if it turns out to go well, that more than one of us will suddenly turn out to have a human lover tucked away somewhere. And want to get married. Still more will be watching the two of you carefully to see how it goes with her living as a Vampire openly.”

“Queen of the Night still does that doesn’t she?”

“Hah.” He said. “I care about that woman deeply. But if she really wanted the continent to know that she was a Vampire, then the continent would know that she is a Vampire. She could hire a mage to tell everyone that the effects of her growing claws, turning into smoke, turning into a bat, any of that, was not magical. She could have red-hot irons brought, pick them up and wander around with them. Actually drink blood. That one always works in my experience.”

We talked a little while longer before he paused to stare me in the eye. “How are you feeling now?” He wondered.

“What?”

“How are you feeling now? Feeling any better?”

“Much, yes.”

He nodded sagely. “It can take people that way sometimes when you speak with Grandmother. But a good conversation with a friend can cure most of your ills. I love the woman fiercely, but speaking to her can be a real downer. And anyway. I have monopolized your time enough when you are supposed to be taking in everything that Vampiric society has to offer.”

“How much more of Vampiric society is there for me to see?” I wondered.

He laughed. “If you really wanna fuck with them.” He said. “Sing a song.”

“What kind of a Song?”

“Any kind of a Song. One from the heart.”

“I’m not a very good singer.”

“You will not have to be.”

I finished my drink and he poured another one. “How much longer before the Elder calls for me?” I wondered.

“Impossible to say I’m afraid.” He said, topping my cup up so that I could take it away with me. “He hasn’t called for me in a while though so I suspect that he is waiting for something.”

“What for?”

“If,” he began as he started mixing a drink for a nearby younger-looking Vampire, “if you can ever manage to figure out what is going through the Elder’s head at any given time then you should let me know. There is a market for the information and you would make a fortune.”

He turned away.

Regis does not make a good first impression. He is arrogant, righteous, always needs to have the last word, and is kind of smug in his attitudes. But he is also insidious with his charms. He is extraordinarily true to himself and cannot, and will not be swayed away from those things. He is who he is, take it or leave it. But he does care and is fiercely loyal to those people that he chooses to like. It was becoming clear as to why he was so popular in the particular circle that I found myself in.

I moved away.

The party seemed to be… building towards a crisis of some kind. There was a building of a kind of pressure. If it had been a human party then I would have assumed that the band was about to be produced, or that the feast was about to begin. Or that the guest of honor was about to speak. That sense of anticipation was in the air, but instead of it being a kind of… benevolent kind of thing, there was sullen anger about it all. They were impatient for something and I don’t know what it was.

I saw Orianna arguing quite vehemently, with someone about the merits of whether or not humanity was worth studying at all and whether or not their artistic measurements could even be considered because, “After all, everything that humans learned about art, they learned from the Elves.”

A criticism that isn’t entirely unfair.

The group of people watching the chess match were arguing. Apparently, there had been a few moves in the intervening time where I had been getting to know my inlaws and now people were arguing over whether or not these particular moves had been correct. The two people actually playing the game seemed oblivious to all of it and simply kept on staring at the board, frowning in thought in the new lull in play.

I saw one couple, I say couple… I have no idea if the two of them were actually together or not, but that was what they reminded me of. He was angry with her. Really yelling at her while she seemed to be reading a book.

A hand came out of the darkness and dragged me off to one side.

“Wait here,” Ariadne told me before vanishing into the throng again, soon emerging with Kerrass. Apparently, he had been discussing the finer points of swordsmanship with another Vampire who knew about such things.

“What’s happening?” I wondered.

“There will be violence,” Ariadne said. “The pressures of keeping us all together are bubbling over. We occupy ourselves with petty things and try to make existence more tolerable but we are lone hunters. Occasionally we might take on younger or smaller or weaker fellows to mate or to keep from being too lonely or so that we can learn from each other. But here, you have upwards of forty, lone hunters confined into a small space while we await the Elder’s pleasure.”

“I don’t follow,” I said.

“Have you ever seen a captive wolf-pack?” Kerrass said, watching the throng. “In the wild, a Wolf-pack is a family of hunters, they work together to survive and leave no one behind. But in captivity, even if it’s only a few of them, they must strive for dominance over the limited resources that they have been given.”

“I thought that theory had been proven to be bullshit,” I commented.

“It depends on the wolf-pack and the state of the captivity.” Said Ariadne. I found myself wondering how she knew that.

But then a space opened up in the middle of the hall and two people were taking off their clothes. I don’t give them genders because they had already turned into feral beasts and I couldn’t tell. Both had long hair, both wore trousers and shirts. The heads became elongated and their fangs grew to protruding levels. The ears did the same becoming large and pointed. Much larger than that of an Elf and more grotesque and monstrous with it.

Both of the figure’s hands elongated into claws, one of the two’s feet elongated in the same way.

Then they prowled around the edges of the circle that had formed around them. The other Vampires were deathly quiet. That was more off-putting than you might think. Humans start shouting and cheering when this kind of thing happens. Elves do the same, Dwarves definitely shout and holler when a fight erupts.

The Vampires were utterly silent.

Regis joined Ariadne in pushing Kerrass and I back into a corner. They stood facing the, well, the mob and linked arms. Queen of the Night pushed her three human “daughters” into the group and joined Regis and Ariadne, linking her arm with Regis I noted. Orianna and another man that I did not know joined as well, pushing the girl that had been part of Orianna’s sculpture exhibit into the group with us. The beautiful man sculpture was nowhere to be found and I would never find out what happened to him.

The two prowling figures howled and yipped at each other a bit before suddenly, there was movement. A sound a lot like tearing silk, a howl, for all the world like the howl of a puppy. Another tearing silk noise only wetter this time and then one of the two vampires was crouching over the bloody remains of the other, still tearing at the fleshy ribbons and strands sending the dark red goo flying through the air to land among the crowd.

Ariadne’s nostrils flared, Regis’ mouth hung open and his ears elongated a little so that the Queen’s eyebrows raised. Regis saw and nodded to her. The four Vampires protecting us tightened their grips on each other.

“I thought that it was…”

“Hush Freddie,” Ariadne warned.

And then it was all over. All over and suddenly, so very quiet.

They were looking at us.

“Give them to us.” A voice came out of the crowd,

And that was it. The entire group of Vampires was facing us, utterly silent.

“No,” Ariadne said calmly.

I could still hear the sounds of a body being torn apart behind the assembled mass of Vampires.

“Come on.” Said a woman’s voice. “You brought the party favors for everyone didn’t you? Why not share?”

“Return to the party,” Orianna said. “I would not share my own indulgences. That would be crude and unworthy.”

“There is still plenty of my cordial’s to be drunk,” Regis added. He was swallowing deeply as he spoke, breathing steadily through his mouth.

“Give us a human.” someone hissed, there was some animalistic growling and hissing in agreement but my sense was that the tenseness of the matter was passing and descending into a sullen kind of undercurrent. I could see people on the edges of the mob starting to move off. There are always people like that, as far back as the village with the Nekkers. Always people on the edge of a mob that realizes just how awful the thing is going to be and just how far this might go. Then they realize how bad it might get and decide that they don’t want any part of it. So they quietly slink away.

Then, as now, people were afraid. No member of any mob wants to be the first person to jump forward and meet the Witcher’s sword. Or in this case, to meet the claws of an angry Elder Vampire protecting their friends in the case of Regis, their loved ones in the case of Ariadne, or their charge or property in the cases of Queen of the Night, or Orianna.

There was little doubt in my mind, or in Kerrass’ mind judging by his expression and the way that he was palming another potion into this mouth, as to what would happen if the mob attacked. We would go down, torn apart in order to feed the blood lusts of the assembly that had suddenly been triggered by the splattering noses that were gradually lessening in the background. They could get us, they would get us, but some of them would suffer in the attempt.

It occurred to me then that for all of their vaunted superiority and arrogance in the face of humanity. They were a lot like us. Then I wondered if they were like this because they were like this, or because they had copied their attitudes and way of acting off us.

I carefully filed that opinion away for my own use and later consideration.

The tableau held its balance for a bit longer. No one wants to leap forward and be the first to attack. Again though the difference was that there was no noise. They were silent. You could hear the dripping of the blood from where the fallen Vampire had been torn to pieces. There were no tearing noises now.

Ariadne took a breath.

“These people are the guests of the Unseen Elder and his attendants.” She said, speaking slowly, clearly, and fully pronouncing every consonant and syllable. “He has guaranteed their safety and as such, any attempt to do them harm will result in his wrath.”

“Do you speak for him?” Someone called from the depths of the mob. It’s never the people at the front of the mob that does the questioning or the shouting.

Some more people at the back of the mob were peeling off. I saw the two figures that were playing chess had not moved even slightly.

“No,” Ariadne admitted. “But I carried that message to them in order to persuade them to come. Their safety was assured by the Elder.”

“I too was guaranteed the same,” Orianna said. “My exhibits are my own and not to be shared. My deal with these people extends to myself only and I will not allow other people to take advantage of their trust in me.”

A couple of people growled at the confrontational tone.

And then the mob just dissolved.

Our little group of humans and Vampires just watched it all for a long moment.

“And you told me that I would be bored at a Vampire party,” I commented to no one in particular. One of the daughters snorted while the sculptor outright laughed at my words. The laughter seemed to echo in the hall.

“The evening is unusually fraught for this kind of occasion,” Regis said. “People’s temper is up and there is a tension here that I have not experienced in some time at a gathering.”

“There are more of us than there would be normally, for a start,” Orianna said. “I am going to take my little sculptor home. I think I have made my point.”

The sculptor made a disappointed noise. Orianna gestured, bringing the girl’s eyes to her own and the girl passed out at the feet of the rather imposing woman. “I will need to ensure that she doesn’t remember this. It’s always a difficult one. Regis? Queen? I shall return as soon as the matter is settled as I still feel that we have much to catch up on.”

She bowed to Ariadne “My deepest hopes for you.” She bent and picked up the unconscious sculptor and slung the unconscious form over her shoulder before departing.

Queen of the Night took her “daughters” off to one side and resumed what was happening there. In the meantime, I was drawn to the still twitching remains of the loser of the fight. Ariadne, Kerrass, and Regis came with me, still watching the surroundings. There was no sign of the victor.

“I didn’t think that you were allowed to kill each other,” I commented.

“Oh, he’s not dead,” Regis said. “See, he’s still twitching. I will just take him a while to reconstitute himself in the face of that amount of physical damage.”

“Does that kind of thing happen often?” I wondered.

“Not often,” Ariadne said, scanning the other Vampires who were returning to their former activities. “Killing each other takes effort, timing, and a very specific set of circumstances. It also takes a certain amount of will. However, especially among the younger of us, it can occasionally be a good way of settling disputes to have a quick explosion of violence. That one went further than I expected it to go though.”

“I think I will just…” Regis reached into the bloody mess and took hold of something and dragged the entire… well… bloody mass of broken bones and gore off and out of sight. The fact that it all seemed to stick together was a significant clue. With that sort of mess, I rather thought that you would need to clear something like that up with a shovel rather than with a pair of hands.

The atmosphere of the party was still tense. I realized that I had stopped thinking about all of this as some kind of strange, otherworldly Alien party and was thinking about it like it was a collection of humans. With that in mind, I was left feeling that there was tension in the air. The beautiful human exhibit had vanished and I could no longer see the individual who had created it. The two chess players were still going although I rather thought that the entire magical population of the continent could have a fireball throwing contest around them and those two would just ignore it.

Beyond that, there was still a sullen feeling in the air. There was pressure here as though the air was being weighted down by something.

“What’s happening?” I asked Ariadne.

“I don’t know.” She said, looking around. “I need to…”

She turned and headed into the crowd, leaving Kerrass and I together.

“Drink?” He asked me.

He led me over to the bar. Regis was still off somewhere doing, whatever it was that needed to be done with the remains of the other Vampire. Kerrass sniffed a couple of bottles before selecting one and pouring us both a generous measure. He avoided the one that Regis had warned me about earlier.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” I told him.

“I am. I very much am.” He said, drinking happily from his cup. “I am surrounded by enemies, there is a beautiful woman over there that is interested in spending time with me. If even one of these bastards decided to tear me limb from limb there is little, if anything I could do about it.”

A passing Vampire wearing a Temerian doublet flinched at Kerrass’ tone of voice.

“What?” demanded Kerrass of the figure who just shook their heads and headed back into the crowds.

The crowds that were watching us.

“So I find that I am thinking that I should just kick back and kind of enjoy myself.” He said. “Death has not felt this close for some time. I have friends next to me, a promise of an experience that I have not had before.” He gestured to where Queen of the Night was back towards sitting on her throne. “Life is simple.” He said. “After all that nonsense with the conspiracy, it’s good to have a nice simple problem to deal with. A nice, everyday situation that can either be succeeded at or will kill me. I feel pretty good tonight, being honest with it all.”

The Vampires were all watching us, occasionally whispering in each other’s ears. I felt exposed, fragile and afraid.

“What’s going on here Kerrass?” I asked, sipping my drink.

“I have no idea.” He said happily. “I feel like a bear, dancing for someone’s amusement.”

“If that’s the case,” I said. “We have been dancing all night.”

“We have.” He said. “Some of us more than others. And I imagine it’s going to keep going until this Unseen one calls for us.”

“And how long is that going to take?”

“I haven’t got the slightest idea.” He laughed before stopping to frown into his cup and shook his head. “Geralt told me about Regis’ brews. I should have taken the warning to heart. Here you.”

A passing vampire was stopped and did an almost comical double-take.

“Yes, you,” Kerrass said. “When is the Elder Vampire going to send for us?”

“When the Elder decides.” The Vampire told us before scurrying off on his way.

“What do we do?” I asked Kerrass again.

He shrugged. “Dance I suppose.” He said and strode off into the crowd purposefully.

I thought about this for a long moment and finished my drink at a swallow. The rock that had been used for the beautiful male to stand on was still there. I tapped it to make sure that it was definitely stone and that there wasn’t some kind of trick to standing on it before climbing up on top.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” I began. I said it again because my voice squeaked in the middle of saying “Gentlemen.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” I tried again, turning in a circle. “Gather round please, I beg of you, so that my fragile human throat does not need to strain so that all ears may hear me.”

I was rewarded with a couple of bits of laughter. Including a shout that seemed to be one of surprise.

“I wanted to thank you all for your most generous hospitality.” I went on. I could see Regis in the crowd. He was moving through, topping up glasses and cups. “I have seen things and heard things today that I would not have expected to see and hear had I lived to be ten times my own age. And the night is not over yet.”

This time the laughter was more genuine.

“However, I feel that I must apologize to you all for my rudeness.” There were some rumbles of confusion and I knew that I had them. “Yes. my rudeness. I have been very rude. You have all been good enough to display wondrous examples of your culture and the things that your people have access to. So much so that I am overwhelmed by it. And in doing so, I have forgotten myself as I have not brought an expression of my own artistic interests. Allow me, if I may, to present to you a song that I have come across in my travels. “

I didn’t know what I was going to sing until I actually got up to sing. It was a similar feeling to those times when you just stand up to speak, or that you don’t have any idea what you are going to say to a group of people before the time comes. Then you are there, in front of all of them and you have to say something.

I sang a sea shanty. One of the songs that I had learned while sailing with the crew of the Wave Serpent. One of those songs which has a repetitive cadence, where it’s easy for people to make up new verses on the spot. Where the chorus line and overall tune is simple enough that anyone can sing it and that no matter how else it sounds, there always seems to be some kind of harmony that can be sung along with it.

Professor Dandelion calls it a “call and response” song. Very much like a marching song where you can keep marching and rowing and riding for hours and hours at a time without a break. Carried by the harmonies of the song that you are inspired to call out automatically. A thing that you cannot help because… the song calls to you. Dandelion claims that these songs are rare. That you can’t really sit down to write the song, it just grows out of men, and women, living hard lives in harsh environments and just doing everything that they can to do more than simply survive. To live and experience a small amount of joy in the horrible world that they find themselves in.

This particular song was a sad song. It was appealing to the protagonist, someone called “Johnny” to leave a nebulous “her”. Who “her” is was a matter of some friendly debate between Kerrass and me. In the end, we came up with three theories, the first being that the song was calling out to Johnny to leave his lover or his wife onshore so that they could go to sea.

The second theory was that “her” was the ship that they were sailing on. There are many verses and it can go on for hours, but a good number of those verses are to do with the horrible nature of life aboard ship, which meant that Johnny was being told that it was time to leave behind this ship and move on. His fellows were pointing out all of the things that were wrong with the ship and life at sea. That he would be better off on shore with… whatever.

The last theory was that “her” was the sea itself. I am told that the sea is a calling to a certain kind of people. It calls out to you and once it gets its hooks into you then it can be more demanding than any other love of your life. The point behind the song is telling Johnny all the problems with life at sea before the sea gets a hold of him. The melancholy of the song, and therefore the singers, suggests that it is too late for them, but that he still had time to “leave her”.

The last suggestion, which we didn’t hold with, was that “her” was the shore. That life at sea was so wonderful that Johnny should leave “her” despite all the problems that came with life at sea. I didn’t like that interpretation though. It didn’t ring true for me.

But the true beauty of the song is that it doesn’t need you to be a good singer in order to sing it. It is simply a matter of singing it. Even if your voice, like mine, is a little weak and lacks the proper body for it to carry.

Professor Dandilion described my voice as a nasally tenor that, with much practice and tutoring, could be passable in a chorus.

But these working songs, the sea shanties and the reaping songs of the villages, they don’t need a talented voice. They just need someone with the right amount of feeling.

So I sang and as I sang I found that I missed those men on the sea. Svein, Perrin, Haakon and the rest. I missed the creak of the wave-Serpent and the rattle of the ropes as they strained against the sail.

I thought of Dan, the best shot with a bow that I have ever seen. Possibly the best in the continent. The old poacher would sit by the campfire at night, staring off into the night as he sang the quiet songs of his childhood. Always about some lost woman or girl that he had loved from an incredible distance despite the fact that his actual wife, who he loved fiercely, worked in the castle kitchens.

I thought of all of these things and I sang, putting as much heart and soul into it as I could.

Again, Dandelion would say that I was caught up in the moment. That the power of performing before an audience had overcome me and that all I could do was ride the audience into whichever ending was chosen for me.

The people of Skellige would say that I was in the Skald trance. The Skalds believe that the story, the song, or the saga is a living thing and that all that the Skald can do is to ride the moment and act as that conduit.

Whatever I just stood on that stone and I sang. I heard a couple of voices joining in with me during the chorus. It was dark beneath me and I couldn’t see who it was or who it might have been. I strongly suspect that Regis would have known the song. A couple of the voices were female which gave the song a new texture to it that would not have been there otherwise and I suspect the daughters of the Queen of the Night. I know that Kerrass didn’t sing.

There are many different verses to the song. But I began to feel the pain in my throat that comes with singing for extended periods of time. The ache and raspiness of an untrained voice, so I chose a verse about the love of home to finish on and drew out the last note.

The crowd did not applaud.

They barely even seemed to move.

Regis was waiting for me with a flask when I got down. He seemed unaffected by what happened although there was a glint of enjoyment in his eye. A certain little twinkle that suggested enjoyment and amusement at what had happened although I didn’t understand the sentiment at the time.

“Here.” He said, pouring me a drink. “It sounded like you were beginning to struggle a bit there towards the end.”

“It was certainly something,” I said. I was surprised by how much of an impact that song had had on myself let alone on other people. “I’m exhausted,” I commented to no one in particular.

“We don’t just take blood,” Regis said. “We can also take emotion as well. You were being drained dry as we all fed off the emotions that you were feeling.”

I stared at him in horror.

“Oh, not literally.” He chuckled. “But we are like an emotional sponge, we take in what was happening and absorb it into ourselves.”

A male Vampire approached and took my hand to shake it. He tried to say something before he just shook his head and vanished into the throng. It was then that I noticed that there was a space all around me, I existed in a bubble now and there wasn’t anyone that was willing to enter that bubble.

“Where’s Ariadne?” I asked of Kerrass as he walked up.

“I have no idea.” He said. “Not bad, Freddie. Just so long as no one expects me to sing a song, or recite an epic poem.”

Kerrass ruined his vocal cords during Witcher training. Witchers can sing when they put their minds to it, if they put their minds to it, but too much screaming at the bars of his cage rendered Kerrass’ voice harsh and not really usable.

“How about a dance.” Regis teased him. “There are other methods of expression that can be used to inflict beauty on these poor souls.”

He was definitely laughing quietly to himself.

“I would still be happier knowing where…”

“I am here Freddie.” Ariadne walked up with a similar glint of amusement in her eyes. “Although I trust that I am not the person that Johnny should be leaving.”

I looked at her. I cannot deny that for a moment, all I could think of were the metal bars and the gulleys that were made for the blood of the humans to flow down. I tried not to think of those things. I really tried to keep it all from my face. The same way that I used to try to keep my fear of her away when I was with her.

I was not entirely successful and I realized that, despite my conscious brain and my own real efforts into the matter, my fear had returned a little bit. I think it was this disappointment that showed in my face more than anything and I saw it register on Ariadne’s face as well. I saw her hands twist in the skirts of her dress as her face went carefully blank,

I deliberately closed the distance between us and kissed her cheek. “Never,” I said, I think I saw her nod.

“Well done.” She said. “You could not have had a more profound effect if you had slapped all of them in the face, nice and hard.” Her enjoyment was back, or maybe she had hidden her pain a little better.

“What’s happening?” I said, looking at all the people and suddenly realizing that they were literally cowering from me.

“You have done the same thing to them as you do to me every day,” Ariadne told me. “You have made them feel something. They don’t like it.”

“While at the same time, they long for it,” Regis added.

“And it would seem that the Elder has finally done with waiting,” Ariadne told us.

“Because I sang a little song?” I wondered.

“It might have happened,” Ariadne said.

“I would not have put it past him,” Regis said. “to have decided that he didn’t want to speak to you after all and as such, was kind of hoping that one of the others would eat you,” Regis said. “But none of them will come near you now.”

“Why?” I wondered.

“You might make them feel something again.” Regis smiled, suddenly looking like a priest. “Good luck. I shall hope to see you soon.”

Ariadne led us from the hall. I stopped and took one look back. When I had entered the hall, it had reminded me of attending a village fair, or a freak show. Now it reminded me of a puppet that had had its strings cut. Now it just lay there looking all forlorn and untouched. There was no color now. No life.

Then the truth occurred to me that there had never been any life. That it had all been a pretense of life.

“Tell me something,” I said to Ariadne. “How much of all of tonight is the Elder fucking with everyone?”

“Who?” She asked.

“You,” I said. “Me, Kerrass, Regis, Everyone.”

She didn’t answer me.

(A/N: It is the intention of the writer that the song that Freddie sings is the Continent’s version of “Leave her Johnny”. Also, there might be a delay before the next chapter. My laptop is not a happy laptop and needs resetting which might delay me a bit. Thanks for reading)