Vero felt exhausted from the long night, but thankfully it meant they would not have long to wait until dawn. They took off Fatima’s jewelry, which Vero gave to Dora, as she had no interest in it.

The men held out each of Fatima’s hands, and Vero separated them at the wrist with her longsword. The dead flesh parted like soft butter, but did not bleed. They repeated the process with her feet at the ankles. Finally, they bound her in heavy ropes until they were certain no movement was possible.

With their prisoner suitably disabled, each of the men readied their weapon, and Vero removed the stake. The creature looked up at the three armed individuals standing over her. She hissed and spat at them with her nature fully revealed, her eyes glowed a baleful red. Vero brought her blade up underneath the monster’s chin, which stopped her fit at once. Instead, the monster gazed up at her with absolute loathing.

“That’s better, little mosquito. Now perhaps we can talk civilly about the thing that did this to you.”

The creature laughed, but the sound was hollow. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, mortal.”

Vero smiled with more genuine humor. “I’m afraid I know more about this than you, little mosquito.”

The creature considered her position a moment, then abruptly changed her tact. Her foul aura receded and her eyes dimed to a smoldering auburn. “You’re right. They turned me a week ago, I don’t know anything yet...”

Vero lost her smile. It was only too obviously a ploy, but she felt she had to give the vampyre at least one chance to cooperate peacefully.

“Who turned you? Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know. He attacked me… I awoke- hungry…! I was so hungry… and scared…”

“It was a man or a woman? Where were you when they took you?”

“I was working- on the street. A man attacked me; I never saw him before… never saw him again… will you help me?” A drop of blood welled up around her eye and slid down her cheek.

“I am going to help you,” Vero directed her eyes to the moon, barely visible on the absolute edge of the horizon. “I swear so upon Luna’s grace. Now, tell me about the man. What did he look like?”

“He was strong. You’re obviously not a normal woman, but he’s stronger than you. He was dressed well. He’s rich, rich enough he can give you more then you’ve ever imagined.”

Vero felt her stomach churn. “He gave you the jewels, didn’t he? And the dress? Was that before he killed you or after?”

“I… don’t remember.”

“Where is he, Fatima?”

Fatima craned her neck out towards Vero. “Release me and I can take you to him… have you ever felt the pleasure of the vampyre’s kiss? It’s like drowning… in love. I can show you, if you will only… let me.”

Vero returned her gaze and then forced herself to smile. She stepped back and turned to her allies. “She just tried to entrance me. Do not meet her gaze.”

“Where ah- where should we look?” one of the guard’s asked.

“Anywhere else, it shouldn’t be difficult.” Vero turned her attention back to Fatima. She was relieved to see that the vampyre had resumed her antagonistic posture. “Tell me where he is, now.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“I think you will. Because if you tell me where I can find your master, I’ll give you something in exchange.”

“All I want from you is what flows in your veins-” The vampyre must have felt her point was too subtle, because she further clarified by raving, “Blood! Blood!”

Vero waited for the creature to regain its composure. She could hear Dora ascending the stairs onto the roof behind her. “You’re close, it won’t be mine, but I’ll give you something else to compensate you.”

Dora put down a heavy blanket and a cage containing a rat. Seeing the monster on the ground, the animal instinctively shied away to the farthest edge of its cage.

“I would never degrade myself by consuming that disgusting thing.” The vampyre spat.

“You'd be surprised how difficult it was to catch this. Well- it may look more appetizing to you sometime soon.” Vero motioned to the east, where the sky was beginning to grow pink.

The vampyre looked, and her eyes widened with fear, but she said nothing.

Vero continued. “I’m not a mathematician or architect that could calculate the angles precisely. But I believe you will find that – even with my limited knowledge – we’ve arranged you in a place where those buildings further up the hill…” Vero used her sword as a pointer. “…should keep you in the shade for some time. So, that will give you the opportunity to consider your best interests. Then-”

Vero raised her sword above the city skyline, where dark purple clouds were already growing lighter.

“The sun will rise higher. Its light shall begin to creep forward across this roof, starting at your legs. The ropes will give you some protection, of course. So, the light will cut you in slivers. They shall be long thin blades of radiance taking slices from you, like a sausage. That’s also something to think about if you try to loosen those ropes, mind you. Then the light will continue forward, past your knees, along your hips, and up to your chest- burning you to ash piecemeal as it goes. I believe that you’ll be surprised at just how little of their body an undead creature needs to survive. I once saw- well, now… you won’t want me to spoil the surprise for you before its time. For the moment I shall only say that you will see it for yourself, very soon.”

The vampyre screamed and raged for some time. Then, the sun appeared over the horizon.

Fatima became torn between the abject exhaustion the day caused in a vampyre, and the absolute horror she held at her fate. She appeared to desperately desire to sleep, and yet her body was also clearly in rebellion, demanding that she flee. Occasionally she would struggle in instinct to loosen her bonds, before recalling that doing so would only expose more of her bare skin to the sun’s judgement.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The sun reached her dead flesh, and the screeching reached a new intensity. Dora had since placed the rat cage inside and stood off to the side, holding the blanket at the ready. She watched, totally mystified at what was taking place in front of her.

Vero tried to send her away, but Dora refused to go and Vero let the matter be.

It was a great credit to the vampyre’s loyalty that she held out until the beam had nearly reached her thighs, but she broke all the same.

“The King’s Field! He stays at the King’s Field!”

Vero motioned for Dora to throw the blanket over the vampyre as she shrieked, over and over. They dragged the covered vampyre back inside where Kitty was waiting for them. They let the rat loose in an empty storeroom and – despite her feeble state – the blood sucker launched itself at the tiny vermin, like a horrible human sized grave worm.

Kitty watched the mutilated vampyre tear into the rat with her bare teeth impassively. “I’m familiar with the King’s Field, but you may have difficulty infiltrating the establishment. They don’t hire locals; all their girls… and boys… are slaves sold by the elves. Or sometimes pirates.” She sounded bored by the whole matter.

“That would explain how they came to possess Fatima in the first place. But slavery is illegal in the Republic.”

Kitty shrugged. “The whores don’t know that, most of them don’t even speak Imperial. And they rarely keep them for long.”

“Isn’t it unusual for the same brothel to offer both female prostitutes and catamites?”

“Very. But gender isn’t really the determining factor drawing their clientele. They have a reputation for allowing the clients to take liberties, shall we say, with the staff. That sort of customer only wants their twisted fetishes met; they don’t care what you carry in your small clothes.”

“I’ll get inside.”

“What shall we do with this one?” Kitty indicated Fatima, who had curled up into slumber around the drained corpse of the rat.

“Keep her, for the time being.” Vero closed the storage room door. “Haven’t you ever heard it said that killing the elder of a coven can cure his spawn?”

“I presumed that was only a foolish old wife’s hearth wisdom. Have you ever actually seen it happen before?”

Vero shook her head.

Vero and Dora slept most of the day, and woke about an hour before sunset. Upon awakening, Vero enlisted Dora’s aid cutting her hair short.

“It’s such a shame to cut it. It’s so pretty,” Dora said, standing over Vero’s crimson locks on the floor.

“Don’t worry, it’ll grow back. It always grows back. And then I just have to cut it all over again.” Vero bound her breasts tight before getting dressed. It was uncomfortable, but also a familiar and welcome sensation at the same time.

A curious confluence of emotion.

“I’ve never been in a battle before. Not before yesterday- I mean.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Vero started lowering her voice to become at ease speak at a more masculine register.

“It was terrifying, and I didn’t even do any of the fighting myself.” Dora was evidently feeling contemplative.

Vero finished with her binding, and started to pull on her breaches and doublet.

Dora looked up at her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“Well, we could borrow some men’s clothes from Kitty I suppose…” Vero stopped dressing to press her face into Dora’s dark curls, they smelled like jasmine. “…but then we’d also have to cut your pretty hair.” She traced the plunging bust of Dora’s dress. “You’ve also got quite a bit more chest to bind than I do.”

Vero returned to her trunk and pulled out a small crossbow, which she handed over to her companion. “If you want to come with me, wait outside for me with this.”

Dora held the weapon as though she feared at any moment it might try to bite her. “You want me to shoot someone with this?”

“Definitely not. Because I’m certain that if you try, the only thing you shall wind up hitting is me. I want you to wait outside and keep it hidden, my armor too. I have no notion of what I’ll encounter there and I may need it. While a gentleman often carries his sword with him to drink, he rarely takes a crossbow and chain shirt unless he intends violence. Do you think you can handle that?”

“I think so.”

“That’s settled then.”

Vero finished getting dressed and they left.

The King’s Field was busy, but not well advertised. It seemed to just blend into the surrounding block, which was so tight the buildings were put up wall to wall. It was also directly across from an open sewer, and Vero was very glad to go inside.

She left Dora to follow her from behind so they would not be seen approaching together.

Inside the lighting was low, probably to distract the patrons from the fact that many of the employees were not particularly attractive. The alcohol was cheap and plentiful, likely for the same reason. Most of the girls looked as though they had been roughly handled, recently and frequently.

The customers looked mostly as she expected. None of them dressed ostentatiously, or seemed obviously lecherous. Instead, the entire brothel had an air of quiet desperation.

The obvious feature of the establishment to Vero, was that few of the patrons seemed to have bathed in the past fortnight. The whole place reeked of fornication and stale sweat. A few of the more upscale clientele smelled of lavender, or some other perfume, but they only mixed with the bodily odor of the more impoverished to create an alloyed stench Vero found even more oppressive.

Several stares followed Vero as she walked towards the bar. She wore tan breaches and a blue doublet, with her long sword belted to her waist. The clothes were old, but they had been washed since she had last worn them. She could feel in her mannerisms that she was still behaving more feminine than she would have liked, a result of her role as a laundress the past several months.

She shook the tension out of her muscles and moved further inside.

The décor was no doubt intended to appear richly anointed, but was more garish than anything else. Vero needed to elbow her way through the crowd to reach her destination. She sat on a stool upholstered in worn velvet, and marred by stains she did not care to speculate on. At the bar she ordered a glass of wine, but when it arrived, she was disgusted to find it sour.

“Hello, my friend. I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.” A man with strong traits of an elven heritage took a seat next to her.

He was comelier than most, and quite athletic besides. His age looked like a median between the terrified young waifs and the hollow-eyed veterans. He had short brown hair and was well shaved. He dressed in plain cotton pants and a shirt which were both clean, and stood in stark contrast to the surroundings.

What really drew her attention, however, was the sapphire butterfly on a gold collar hanging around his neck.

“No, indeed. I’ve just arrived in the city. My name is Virgil.” Vero graced him with a smile and took another drink of her wine, trying not to wince as she did so.

He returned her smile and clearly saw her disapproval of the wine. “You needn’t try to be polite; the drinks are awful and we all know it. Virgil’s a very unique sounding name, mine’s Lucien. Your accent... Velian? What brings you to our city?”

“I’m the secretary for Caius of house Dace, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of them.” Vero felt the man’s hand on her knee, and it began to work its way along her inner thigh. She did her best to slow his movements – without raising suspicion – while still preventing him from moving far enough to make an unfortunate revelation.

“They’re one of the merchant houses, I take it?”

“One of the smallest.” Vero leaned forward, under the pretext of offering a kiss, and found what she was looking for. A very precise parting of the flesh along the jugular vein, probably made by a knife blade.

The man broke away from her and looked very intently into her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any house Dace on the docks. Tell me about them.” There was force behind the command, but Vero’s mantras warded it away.

She refused to flinch or give any other sign of discomfort. “No, I don’t suppose you would have. We’re very small, and mostly deal on the overland route between here and the northern cities. May we continue this conversation in private?”

The man cocked his head to the side quizzically for a few moments, and then broke into a broad grin. “Of course, friend. You have got coin to rent a room upstairs, I suppose?”

Vero patted the purse affixed to her belt. “Certainly, will you lead on?”

“Follow me.”