"Frei, wait! We need a hand on the night shift!" Suddenly, the familiar voice of his newly found friend sounded from the window of the building of knights' barracks and Frei stopped his walk, turning his head in the direction of the voice. "Come in, I can't shout like this at night."

  The speaker lowered the volume of his voice and Frei waved in response, heading for the massive steel front door of the building. He entered and found out that there was a dim artificial light shining down from the ceiling, or rather the ceiling itself seemed to be enchanted to shine with a dim, warm light. It was the first instance of artificial light Frei saw in the town.

"Hey! This might sound ridiculous, but we appear to be short of hands." Valen appeared with an awkward smile and gestured at him to follow his lead, while he opened a heavy door at the side of the simple entrance hall, the dark corridor behind it leading underground.

"Do you haul the supplies here by hand?" Frei found it strange that the building had not been intended for horses at all, it should be quite troublesome to be a knight without a horse, unless they had some very cool movement spells.

"Ah that, I wondered about it as well when they transferred me here. This base's main task is to protect the border against undead and even though horses make for extra mobility, the ones that can cope with the natural fear of facing undead are too expensive. Not to mention that a horse is sometimes a liability, it is a source of blood and . . ."

". . . and flesh. I think that it is too early to speak of some difficulties of our job." Valen's expression soured when he mentioned the meat part, probably remembering something nasty.

  Frei followed behind the knight down the stairs and the illumination that used to be dim as it was began to fade out even more, leaving them with just enough light to move unhindered. After they had descended the spiral staircase, Frei walked next to Valen and gave him a questioning look, the sudden change in the knight's recruitment plan striking him as odd.

"You see, how should I put it? The others might cause some trouble given your background, but if you take care of this job, I am sure that their attitude will improve a lot." Valen stared with his explanation. "There is this captive Knight Azan have sent us to take care of and we need someone to watch over her and keep track of everything she will say during her stay."

"Eh?" Frei lifted his eyebrows, he was curious about the dirty job the order of knights would task him with.

"You will see the situation for yourself, we are close to the cell." Valen walked in a tunnel with low ceiling for a while before he opened a heavily reinforced wooden door that for some reason had managed to block all the noise up to this point.

"Ah, finally someone came, we will set her up for the night and I am so out of here the moment we do." A rough voice welcomed them when they entered the room. "Your new squire has not run away when you explained the job?"

"No." Valen answered quickly, clearly not wanting to talk at this point in time about the little fact that he had not told Frei at all that he was going to be his squire.

  Frei ignored it and looked around, he saw two men that were sitting on wooden chairs and a petite figure that was thoroughly bound on the floor in front of them. The room they were in looked like a place for interrogation of prisoners, its moist walls reflecting the sparse light.

"You have not even started?" Valen asked, questioning the leisurely attitude of the two men that had their armor stripped off with their swords lying on a table.

"No, how are we supposed to set the interrogation up with just the two of us? It is too dangerous. We will strap her to the table now, when there is finally more of us."

"And leave all the work for the newbie. Shameless." Valen clicked his tongue in displeasure when he saw the attitude of his comrades in arms.

"Shut up Valen, you are not my mother. The interrogation will be done either way as ordered." The two knights turned less friendly when faced with Valen's patronizing tone.

"Let's get to work." Valen chose to ignore it and the four of them encircled the prisoner that was bound on the ground in ropes.

"We will do it the easy way. First, we will place her on the table, then I will unbind her right hand and tie it along the table leg. We will repeat the process one limb at a time, I do not want to get bitten." The man with messy brown hair who acted like the leader of the pair looked around and his eyes lingered on Frei.

"Hey newbie, be careful not to get bitten, she is a vampire. They are stronger than they look. " Frei opened his eyes wide and looked closer at the prisoner that was rather dirty and most of her body was hidden under a cloth, probably to shield her from the light outside when they had been carrying her through the streets. Luckily, the knight mistook his surprise with fear and just grinned.

  It was a quick thuggish work and when they were finished, their prisoner was tied to the massive table face down. The bald knight that had been silent up to this point wordlessly took out his dagger and quickly slashed at her clothes, removing it quickly like he had done it many times ago.

"Are you insane? She is a vampire!" The brown haired knight caught his friend's dagger holding hand while Valen's face darkened. It was fairly questionable what the third knight had intended and why he had placed the prisoner lying face down.

"Get out, both of you." Valen said quietly and the knight with brown hair intuitively wanted to argue, but reconsidered in the last second.

"You do not need us here anymore, you can put it up with just four hands." The bald knight was almost dragged away by his comrade and Valen let out a sigh when they remained alone with the vampire.

"The manners and methods of these country bumpkins won't cease to amaze me. Come, let's lift it up." They lifted the table's one side and put it against the wall, after that Valen dragged over some heavy contraption, probably a torture device, to fix it in place.

"So, the orders." Valen looked at Frei with grim face. "First of all, she is a vampire that has killed a lot of humans, any remorse you could possibly have towards her is misplaced. Vampires are usually controlled by their kin of superior blood quality, but you can sometimes get useful information out of them if their master is careless."

Valen walked to the side and picked up a few small balls made of metal. After holding them in his hand, he stretched out his limb to hand the balls over to Frei.

"The procedure is simple. You make her swallow one of these and let it burn through her body until it falls out. After it is out, you will feed it to her again and again until she talks." Frei was surprised by the knight order's ingenious cruelty while playing with the few silver balls in his hand. The gravity acting on the balls would slowly make them descend through the vampire's body while burning through her flesh.

"It will be a grim work, but it can save lives." Valen was about to leave the cell, but stopped in the door for a second. "And Frei, do not get bitten, their fangs are exceptionally sharp. If there is any trouble, lock the door and call for help. The assholes will be angry, but they will come."

  Valen most likely referred to the knights he had the honor to meet previously, they had clearly a beautiful relationship of deep trust and camaraderie in their unit. Frei could not help but touch his own fangs with his tongue. That would be a hell of a trouble to keep secret, he guessed that his days of wide smiles had ended.

"It will go without a hitch. By the way, a squire?" The term still bugged him. Weren't squires usually young or had this world its own standards?

"We will talk about that one later, you are a replacement. Good luck with the interrogation." Valen left, leaving Frei alone in the cell with the vampire.

"He left." Frei sighed, he could finally stop hiding himself in the vampire's blind spot, because he knew the petite figure.

"You little wench, it seems like tables have turned. Where is Nitarja?" He immediately asked without any pretense.

"Oh, so I have not been mistaken, she stopping me was not an accident. Who are you to My Lady? You are a weakness, a flaw, you make her hesitate and act feeble, indecisive. I will make sure to send you off this world." Ranna turned to him, a torrent of words flowing out of her mouth, insanity in her eyes.

"Look at me, you mistake!" She shouted when Frei still looked into his palm at the small balls of silver instead of her.

"The god is really a joker who fancies dark humor. How far am I going to take this?" He finally looked at the little girl that hanged naked on the table, shouting insults at him that he did not pay attention to, trying to look at him even though she was tied facing the table's damp wood. "Torturing kids it is. Does really power come only to those who are ready to sacrifice anything to achieve it?"

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"Where is the problem? She is your enemy, right?" Crow mixed in and Frei was reminded of his inhumanity. He nearly forgot that the talking cane was still with him, it was probably the reason for many of the knights' strange looks. He had to do something about Crow later.

"There is no problem." Frei suddenly pushed Ranna's head against the table, surprising her by his ability to hold her immobile as his strength was also that of a vampire. His other hand found a sharp dagger-like rod that most likely served as a torture instrument and pierced the sharp object through the side of her head. In a split of a second, Ranna's head was pinned to the table, her both temples penetrated.

"Oh, my hand slipped in self defense, rest in peace little girl." Frei mumbled, but then remembered the ghost mechanics he heard about from the skeletons and just smirked. "Let's not meet again, it will be for the best."

  He was not happy that he had not learned what had happened to Nitarja this way, but there was most likely nothing he could have possibly had done to help her anyway, not to mention that he was not going to torture kids just for a piece of information of a limited value.

"A few finishing touches and I can shout for help." Frei grabbed Ranna's mouth and opened it, exposing her sharp fangs. "Just two deep punctures should be fine, my quick healing should stay a secret that way." Surface wounds would heal quickly, making him needlessly suspicious.

  In practice, it appeared that hiding his identity would be more difficult than Crow claimed, but he did not regret his decision to join the knights. There would surely be more opportunities and less danger outside in the field.

He gritted his teeth and pressed dead Ranna's fangs into his hand with ease, their sharpness exceptional indeed. There was a thick smell of blood, but he ignored it and walked out of the cell.

"Valen!!!" Frei slammed the door of the cell shut and locked it as instructed while shouting loudly. He hoped that the two would not be the ones showing up.

His wishes came only partially true when only one of them appeared.

"Is she inside?!" Shortly, the knight with brown hair appeared, looking sharper than Frei had expected, his gaze lingering on his wounded hand.

"Her body is." Frei responded and the knight unlocked the cell and barged inside without any more questions. Frei waited outside only to hear a stream of curse words coming from the interrogation room.

"You imbecile!" He emerged and hit Frei in his face, catching him off guard. He fell backwards on the hard floor and when he wanted to rise to his feet, he felt a sharp cold edge resting on his shoulder and his motion stopped midway. Frei could not but remember that this situation reminded him of a knighting pictured in an old book he read, but he doubted the procedure would continued as it had on the pages of that book.

  No one would honor him in that way nor he would demand it from anyone. He would never bend the knee to some orders or blood bonds, his will was his own to exercise.

"I should cut your head off for this failure!" The knight was seething with rage, Frei's blunder would surely stain his own record. The knight's hand was shaking, the sword he held was dangerously close to biting into the flesh of Frei's neck.

"What is this about?" Valen's voice sounded, but he did not need any answer to get a grip on the situation, as he could see through the opened door the crumbled little figure hanging lifelessly on the table.

"Your new little pet fucked up and we won't hear the end of it when the Order of Soloniel finds out." The veins on the knight's face threatened to burst with anger, forcing Frei to close his mouth shut tight as he could smell the blood flowing inside.

Some people were so sweet when angry!

"I will take all responsibility, leave us." Valen stated and the knight's temper cooled down instantly.

"Huh, I do not think that he is worth the trouble. Do as you like Valen, it will be your downfall." He sheathed his sword and walked away, giving his last look to the body of the dead vampire. "Vampires as trouble every time, no matter the circumstances."

After he left, Valen faced Frei with serious face and placed his hand on his shoulder. This time, it felt heavier than before on the streets.

"Being able to fight off a vampire's attack, you will do fine out there. Always remember the most important ingredient for a knight that you already have. A good heart." Valen stabbed Frei's chest with his forefinger lightly and smiled, as if he had done nothing wrong. Frei could not believe the knight was so naive, what would he have said if he had found out that he was actually a vampire?

"Come, I think we can still count this as some sort of an initiation. I will find a place to sleep for you." Frei followed the knight while fighting the urge to lick his hands that had still stains of Ranna's blood on them.

How long would he stay undetected under his naive master? And how long would his master live with this kind of an attitude?

Only time would tell.

* * * *

  A figure of a half-beast and a half-woman stood in the moonlight, the silvery light of the moon underlining her sparkling claws and fangs of the same color. Her fur was the mix of black and silver and even her eyes had almost a sickly shade of silver, making the impression of being unnatural, but in some way strangely compelling, no, inevitable.

  She gazed up at her enemy, her ferocity not lessened by his obvious advantage.

  Facing her in the distance was a tall sleek figure with long fiery hair and red ageless eyes that knew no remorse, but a hint of fear could be seen in them even though there were armies much greater gathered under him compared to the lonely beast-woman with silvery fangs, only a handful of followers standing by her side. The mighty force was staring at the lonely group from their high ground atop of a wall, tall towers and elaborate decorations of the battlements shouting into the world about the wealth and power of the tall person calling them his own, but Ungma knew that his fall was inevitable.

Despite the situation she knew who was bound to win, for it had been written in the stars, interwoven with the rays of the moonlight, imbued into the torrents of water flowing across the land, the very moisture everyone drew in along with their breaths, the wind was whispering of the outcome, the undeniable, the inevitable.

. . . inevitable

. . . liberation

. . . Silverfang

From this day forth, that was the name the feral woman would call herself with, spreading fear and hope alike.

  Ungma gasped for breath while lying bend over the counter, she still felt the grip of strong hands around her neck and when she touched her red skin, it was sore. The brute had already left her shop long ago, but his assault did not matter, she was in fact grateful to him. His actions of threatening her life along with some kind of an unknown connection of his to the liberator had triggered the strongest vision Ungma had ever had. She would even call it the vision of a lifetime, its quality different from all the others on a fundamental level.

Yes, that was what the vision was, there could not be any doubts that the prophesied liberator of the suppressed and hunted had arisen in the west.

She had to let the others know that she had been granted the glimpse of their hope, she could not sit and wait for the next witch covenant.

  Hurrying to the back room, she threw away the cloth and some pieces of furniture that were hiding a transparent orb that looked like made of glass, but if any knight had been present, they would have identified it as the tool of heresy, the method witches and warlocks used to communicate.

  The powers of the occult relied heavily on symbols and mystical meaning contained within events. People, their actions or even the simplest of things could contain powers to shake the world if put into the right context as everything was connected in this world and nothing was truly separate. The signs were all there, what greater symbol of slavery was there than the vampire powers of control and enslavement? Twisting that meaning were the silvery fangs of the liberator, the fangs being the tool of the tyrants turned against them and turning them silver meant that their own pawns would become their poison, their deaths

  The power of corrupted symbols had always been incredibly sinister, in witchcraft it was even a whole branch of magic. Taking the symbols of your enemy and twisting their meaning into the opposite was the power of contradiction that many witches had used throughout millennia to bring down foes of seemingly unshakeable power, the technique was especially deadly if the afflicted kept using the symbols even after their meaning had already been twisted.

  Ungma touched the orb and instantly knew that the local knights were unusually active and her means of communications would not remain unnoticed, or even would not reach anyone outside the town, only serving as a whistle to call the zealous dogs to her place to tear her apart.

"No, the time of liberation has come, the moment is now and the puppets of the false gods will not stop what is due." She resolved herself and took out an ornate ritual dagger from under her garment in preparation for a ritual. If she was unable to reach the others, she had to bear the burden herself. It was her duty to all other witches that suffered throughout the western realms, being crushed under the iron heel of the overlords of night and blood. How many times her sisters wailed in despair and their connection turned silent forever, silenced by the brutal dominating might of Morgul and other monstrous vampires that lorded over vast forests, dark valleys and frozen mountains of the west.

No more. The seed she would sow this day would liberate the west that would later on in turn help in the east against the tyrants with altars and holy texts who preached control disguised as good.

She sat on the floor and readied an old-looking book near her, she kept slowly turning the pages until she reached the one she wanted.

  The Curse of Twisted Origin

  At the cost of your soul, curse a principle with a flaw, twisting its meaning. The curse will manifest on a person or an object that represents its twisted meaning the most and the strength of the curse depends on how strongly the carrier defies the original principle he is the bearer of.

The principle keeps being eroded as long as the bearer of the mark defies the principle. The curse is broken when its manifestation no longer exists or stops defying the principle. The ones who also bear the original principle will finds themselves facing an overpowering mysticism when trying to defy the manifested corrupted origin.

  Ungma knew this curse by heart, it was one of the key weapons of the occult. Usually, witches took a holy object and turned it into a corrupted relic that became a weapon against all that was holy. Although the curse was powerful when used correctly, its weakness was that it could not be fooled. If the object was not truly the carrier of the principle, the curse would not work. Similarly, if the corruption originated purely from outside sources and the bearer of the mark had not been corrupted of its own will or as a consequence of its own nature, the effect was negligible as well.

  The strongest effect manifested when holy knights caused one of their brethren to betray them by their own doing, when water mages made one of their own hate water magic, making him wish to evaporate every last bit of it with fire, or when vampires caused one of theirs to hate and defy their very nature, the power of control.

"For too long have vampires kept dominating all the other dark creatures in the west, crowning themselves overlords of the region. No more, let's introduce a perfect weapon that will shatter their powers of control with its mere existence and liberate all my sisters that had been enslaved by their tainted blood." Ungma's dagger moved and first droplets of blood began to appear to create her last work of art and magic.

On the floor of a hidden room of an ordinary trinket shop, a complex pattern gleamed on the floor with ominous light, drawn by blood, only a single intelligible word written among the curved lines and symbols.

Bloodbond