Walking up the long winding staircase and back into the corridor leading to the main hall of the manor, Epim took his time, taking in the enormity of the location he was in, the craftsmanship of the Bloodsucker’s. He wondered how the design of the manor differed from the castle up on the cliff.

These thoughts carried him without thought to his destination, to Bayt who waited for him. His curiosity was evident on his face, and he took no steps to hide it.

Epim looked up at Bayt, the thought of his species origin running through his mind. He didn’t fear him, not in the slightest. But it tugged at his brain, the thought of knowing their history, their collective birth.

“I see” Bayt’s voice echoes out soulfully. “I’ll take it you met with our ancestor, the first of our kind. I’m curious, what did he tell you? Everyone hears their own tale.”Bayt’s hand slides across the ground. “Why, when I was a pup, he told me of his adventure far out on the sea.” Bayt clearly spoke with a quiver at the thought, the memories being far, far gone and only dug up through a forcefully drawn recollection.

Epim looks to Bayt, and tells it all. The story makes his eyes open wide, and a smile appears on his lips. “Why, I didn’t know you were that ignorant. You mean to tell me… you had no idea at all, at who we are?” Epim shakes his head up and down slowly.

“Heh… Hahaha!” Bayt lets out a torrent of laughter, rattling his large old frame. “The story of the Bloodsucker is well known even outside the woods I’ve heard! You must be traveling from an awfully odd place to have never heard of us. Well well… tell me then, what did you think of the story of our lord?”

“I’m confused, to tell the truth. He sounds like a very good man, but then it doesn’t make any sense. Why would he send you out? Haven’t you sent someone to the castle to learn the truth? How have things gotten this bad!” Epim throws his hands forward and palm raised upwards, the momentum of his body following the passion of his words.

Bayt’s eyes constrict, not expecting such an outburst. “We are as ignorant as you when it comes to our lord's choice. And we have been, since he sent us out.” Epim’s eyes go wide.

“And it remains this way, because all we have sent to the castle have never returned.” Bayt’s eyes look off in the distance of the manor, not really looking at anything. “It has been this way for five hundred years. Do you really think we stood here idly?” A bit of anger worked its way into Bayt’s speech.

Epim looks down to the ground, clenching his teeth slightly. “Then…”

The conversation between the two is interrupted as Prose flies into the room, the bag in tow behind him. “I brought dinner!” He looks at Bayt, who is slightly posed in anger, and Epim whose head is down. Both are slow to react to him, blinking with blank expressions on their faces.

Bayt immediately restrains himself a bit more, and looks at the bag floating next to Prose, quite flabbergasted. “Is that a magic tool of yours? How peculiar.”

Prose flashes a smile at this. “Not at all, this is one of your town’s bags. Do be more analytical, Elder.” He laughs haughtily. “This is simply a special feature of mine.” The bag plummets to the ground, stopping right before it hits the ground, and then gently laying itself down. And as if to make his point, he then uses his ability on a torch within the hall. It spins around in the air on its own, the flame sticking to it even as it performs the maneuver.

Bayt had never seen anything like it, and admittedly his mouth opened in gaped shock. Epim looked on with a nice smile as well, enjoying the show his friend took indulgence in. Shortly, Prose places the torch back in its holder, and takes a bow in the air.

“Incredible!” Bayt stays stunned for a moment, before remembering that he sent Prose out to observe. He clears his throat, regaining his dignified expression. “And what did you think of the garden of our people?”

“Quite nice, quite nice. Run by a raggedy old bat, but she was nice enough. The children were quite erudite, truth be told. And they helped me understand something. I quite like this place, where hate seems a distant thing.”

A very kind and heartfelt smile creeps up on Bayt’s face, and the previous aggression he had shown towards Epim had quickly dissipated.

“I’m glad to hear it. We really do live in a quaint place.”

Prose looks over to Epim, and while he is showing quite a bit of joy on his face, there’s a deep conflict hiding in his eyes.

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“Hmm, The Shade hasn’t returned yet. And here I thought he’d be the most punctual.” Prose speaks out loud, trying to elicit a laugh from Epim, which he succeeded at. The joke falls deaf on Bayt’s ears, but he understands the meaning well enough.

“I sent Bart out to go get your friend. I’m sure they will be back soon, let us wait for them.” Bayt went silent at this, closing his eyes and content to pass the time in silence. Prose is not, and goes over to speak to Epim of his own small adventure, and to hear of his own as well.

The time it takes for them to recount each other's stories was not too long. Prose did not have too many questions, simply accepting the tale as fact. Though, he did portray a great curiosity at the mystery of the castle. As for Epim, he was eager to hear about the children Prose had met and the varied agriculture. He found the crown of multi-colored flowers on Prose’s head quite flattering of him, and the thought of Bart’s young niece going out to find him dispelled quite a bit of angst he was feeling.

After their individual stories, they waited quite a longer bit still for the Shade and Bart to return. To the point where Epim felt himself to get worried, and the light nap of Beyt turned into a heavy slumber.

By the time the sun set beneath the red sea, they walked through the doors. Bart was looking quite dazed, and the fur on his body was fuzzed. The Shade walked with its usual pride, though if one were to look close they would notice its right hand quivering.

The cause of their absence was actually a combination of a series of events resulting after Baat’s death. Bart had to explain to the doctor of the request to the Shade, to which the doctor grimly understood. And then, after the Shade had left the room and Bart had gotten it to follow it, Bart asked the doctor that had first taken in Baat if they knew where he could have contracted the disease.

There was no definitive answer, though he had recently been around the outskirts of the woods in a relatively rare move for members of the Bloodsuckers. They believed it must have been a rare pathogen found in the rarely explored woods, but there was no consensus, and no one would go out to check.

Bart did not fully believe this explanation, and he felt that the Shade did not as well. After this, they both left the hospital and aimed to make their way back to the manor. They were interrupted, however, by the niece of Bart. She had been on her way to verify Prose’s story, and burst into tears at the sight of Bart.

After comforting his niece, they both intended to set on their way until the Shade had grown an interest at the castle up on the cliff side. His eyes stilled on it, and it wouldn’t move for a fairly long period of time.

Bart then had to convince it, begging and attempting to drag it, to stop it from going up to the castle alone which it very nearly had tried to do. Only by invoking the name of Prose and Epim did he manage to calm it down enough to divert its course towards the manor.

Now they were all reunited, and Bayt had woken back up. He truthfully did not understand the Shade’s appearance at all, and was quite puzzled by it. But before he could question it, Bart spoke up.

“Elder I’m sorry to say… the disease has taken Baat’s life.” He glances at the Shade for a moment, but only for a moment.

Bayt sighs, a deep trouble runs through his body and he seems to age in an instant. “He was one of the best of us, oh… But we will grieve another day, as a collective. Today, we must treat our guests with honor.”

Bart nods, looking over to Epim and Prose who had already been approached by the Shade. He was glad to see them altogether, and he wished to go over and hear about their day. But before any chance of familiarity could occur, Epim stepped forward.

“Elder! Now that we’re all here, I hope you’ll listen to me.”

Bayt bows his head, signifying for Epim to continue.

“Since we’re just travelers, I think we’ll go to the castle and visit. And if they don’t let us in, we’ll knock our way in.” Epim spoke resolutely, clenching his right fist forwards.

Prose laughs. “I’m of the same thought. I have to pay back the fruit I ate.”

The Shade crossed his arms, standing behind Epim in a show of force.

“Nonsense, we’d much rather you stay in the village and help out than go to death! No one in five hundred years has come back alive. Don’t be rash, we are still strangers. Don’t you think it’s foolish, Bart?”

Bart looked at Epim, a warmth spreading through his heart. He had asked them for their help, and while they had not given him their absolute assurance, he still held out the hope in his heart that they would. And now that hope seemed to have been answered.

Now, Bart felt a different feeling overlapping his happiness. It was fear, and doubt in his own decision. If he was sending them out to their death on his behalf then-

‘Elder, I wish to go with them! I need to see if the lord that is worth serving still really sits in that castle!” Bart spoke without thinking, and it felt him with such joy that the words that came out of his mouth were the ones he could stand by proudly.

Bayt looked to Bart, incredulous. “Bart, do not throw your life-”

Bart responds quickly to this. “Elder, you don’t know but I was taken by mercenaries two days ago. No one reported it to you, because you spend your time sealed in here watching over the dead. It was these three who saved me!” He had saved this information, not out of malice, but because he had wished not to force the undue expectations of others. But now, he would stand beside them.

Bayt didn’t know how to take this information, and the apparent insult to himself. “Well…” His voice stilled. “At least can we eat? Our friend brought us a collection of the fruit from the garden. Why don’t we take advantage?” He had switched to a very friendly tone, though it was apparent he disliked the idea to a great degree. Still, he would not stop them. “And stay the night too, won’t you? At least we know our lord is awake in the day, so he will be up to receive you.”

It wasn’t a rare sentiment, for those to believe in the lord that was never seen in the village of Bewit. Still, it was a waning one in the village, and Bayt knew that the confirmation of the contents within the castle was much needed for the village to continue on.

The group agreed, and they ate a feast of fruit in the manor. They spent their night in the village speaking of things of no major importance. Bart spoke of stories of his youth, and Bayt of his. They spoke of the fruit itself, and why they enjoyed its taste.

Never brought up, or spoken about, were the mice that lead the trio to Bart. Not out of forgetfulness, no. Bart remembered, and it left him quite conflicted. Prose remembered, and he understood something about the nature of the man who commanded them. Epim thought, the fear of what could be true pounding through his brain.

Much unlike the first night the trio had experienced, they were stricken by thoughts of the unknown as they waited for the night to pass.