Sleep did not come well for Al, plagued by dreams of lost loves and old battles. The irritation of nightmares awakened him periodically. This was both a blessing and a curse, given the unfamiliar figures around him. Waking up groggily, he cast his gaze to the four figures that crowded his bed. In the twilight, their shapes were indistinct, but their intentions were obvious.

One brandished a club, ready to pummel sleeping beauty. Unfortunately, said sleeping beauties were Al and a surprisingly sleeping Alek. The clubs descended, hitting both of them several times in quick succession. Once the deed was done, the men stripped their captives of their weapons and attire. Leaving only the essentials before binding their hands.

Before they could hogtie Alek, one attacker gasped at his pale sight. There followed several murmurs on the topic of why a corpse was sleeping a few feet away from their quarry. A few mentions of heresy, along with mislabelling Al as a vile demon corrupted sorcerer. They shifted focus away from the corpse and to their target.

Time passed; the captors settled with their leader seated on a chair. Al hogtied and sprawled on the ground before him. Dropping his hood, the leader, in a red robe with the symbol of Pyrus, revealed his face. The term rugged fit him perfectly. He was old, around mid-forties. The weathered look, thin brown cropped hair and the many scars conveyed much about him. He is a killer, pure, his gaze brokered now by disobedience or fools. Another robed figure gestured and kicked Al awake.

Snapping back to consciousness, he took stock of his surroundings. Upon regaining consciousness, he realised he was tied up around the wrists, stripped down to a tunic, and surrounded by robed figures. "I would be surprised, but this isn't the first time this has happened," he said.

HIs words seemed to stun the robed men, neither of them expected such a cavalier reaction. “You have a habit of being tied up?” The seated, robed man asked in a stiff voice.

“Unfortunately, it has been a thing in my life. The detriment of being a wanted man, I suppose. I would be flattered, but you know.” He gestured to his restraints.

“That must be some life you have lived. I am not surprised; sorcerers deal in dark matters.” The seated man stated.

“Sorcerer, I apologise, but I am unfamiliar with your use for the term. Could you explain?” Al asked.

The seated man furrowed his brows, turning to his cohorts with a perplexed expression. “You do not know what you are?” He asked, puzzled.

“I know what I am. I'm just curious what you think I am? Explain this sorcerer's term?” Al queried, flexing his shoulders.

The robed men gave each other questioning looks. Their forms came into focus and Al realised there were three men and one woman. It was a mere detail at this point. He was more curious about the seated fellow.

Eventually, he spoke up. “Alright, I will educate this heathen. Sorcerers are of the blackest spirit; they profane all that is holy. Their magic is that of the uttermost darkness. If that heresy wasn’t enough, they summon and cavort with demons, as you do heretic.” He finished his holier than thou speech and now waited for the heretic to speak.

“So let me get this straight. A sorcerer is an evil wizard that uses black magic and deals with demons?” Al queried and received soft murmurs of affirmation all around. Nodding a few times, his gaze cast to the still sleeping Alek. although he seemed more dead than in slumber. He wondered why the vampire hadn't awoken. There was a lovely smorgasbord available for him to chow down on.

Little did anyone in the room know Alek was not just sleeping, but dreaming. Vague images crossed his undead mind. Rooms filled with cheering indistinct faces and wide, expansive forests shrouded in darkness. He wanted to run, to be untethered from this strange situation. Yet his body would not move. He was a passenger, observing events go by.

Back in the waking world, the leader of the robed men stewed in anger. Not only did the evil sorcerer show no fear of the leader's holy wrath, but he was also now debating and critiquing everything he had been taught.

“This whole sorcerer being evil seems like a case of poor public relations. I mean, I will admit I have met some rough customers amongst the infernal populace. But some can be quite reasonable. I have not met many demons around here. But I heard there is an entire nation of demonic citizens. The federation sounds like a nice, democratically founded and civilised place.” The captured man began his heresy in earnest, speaking of rationality and logic.

The leader of the robed men was having none of that. “Silence heathen, you speak lies. Not only do you attempt to deceive us about the wretched nation of Demonus. But you lie and dare to claim you have not cavorted with demons!” The holy man roared indignantly, surprised at the cadence of his own voice. Quickly, did he pull himself back from his rage and settled into his calm?

“Really drank the cool aid, huh? No worries, I don’t judge. Still, I don’t know what you mean. I have met no demons around these parts.” Al explained, genuinely puzzled.

The leader snorted, swallowed, and then spat on the floor. “More lies from the heathen.” He equally spat, glaring down at his captive.

“Well, that was unsanitary.” Al commented rather smugly.

This only enraged the leader of this holy band even more. Leaning forward until they are face to face, he snarled. “Now listen here, you disgusting heretic. We know you cavort with a demon in the shape of a young boy. It is the nature of demons to be vile and deceptive. You can either tell us where the demon is or face the wrath of Pyrus.” He concluded his rant with a rather forceful expectation.

Ironically, Al felt like doing the exact opposite. This came about for a variety of reasons. It was clear they were after Felix and mislabelled him as a demon. He was a vampire, not a demonic entity from the infernal realms. Al knew the difference. It was all a matter of origin, at least from his perspective. If you consider races and species based on their culture and origins. It is clear the difference between vampires and demons.

Al tried to explain this to all present. The articulate words of reason flowed out, only to be stomped by stern ignorance. Then they physically stomped him as well, because being a reasonable fellow apparently demands a beating. Once they had finished, the leader finally shifted from a physical threat to a magical one. Cupping his hand, he produced a fireball, presenting it like a gift. The gift of burning ones face off if they don’t talk.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Deciding he had enough of this, Al took a deep breath and blew at the fireball, like a five-year-old blows out a candle. Instead of getting his birthday wish, the fire gorged itself on the excess air and combusted. The leader took the blade face first, knocking him off his chair, singed from eyebrows to chin.

His cohorts looked down at their leader, stunned by the silence. Eventually, they came out of their stupor, helping up their leader. Casting an accusatory glare at their captive, Al only smiled, as if he was completely innocent. That was until he whistled softly, sending a thin trail of air slicing his captor's cheek. A thin trail of blood dribbled down from the cut.

“Looks like blood's back on the menu, boys.” Al commented to one person in particular.

That person was all but dead, laid carefully on the ground with a sheet over his body. Before anyone could realise, the dead man sat up, the sheet still draped across his face. The thin material revealed red eyes glowing through it.

In a flash, the form that could have been featured in a low budget horror flick disappeared. Leaving behind a fluttering sheet, slowly descending to the ground. Appearing behind them, the now awake Alek battered aside two of the robed men. Lunging on the leader and sinking his fangs into the man's neck. Blood gushed out like a geyser; it was not a clean bite. Alek pulled and teared like a bulldog with a chew toy.

The nameless leader screamed his head off. It was not a manly scream. Macho does not last long when a hungry Nosferatu tears a chuck from your neck. The lackeys were stunned, but not for long. Al whistled again, sending several wind blades to slice through his restraints. Rising to his feet, free as a bird. The lackeys were both horrified at the vampire's rampage and the sudden freedom of Al.

Banking on this moment, Al raised his palms, sending a gush of wind towards the two most nearby. It sent them flying to crash into a nearby wall. They slumped to the ground, knocked out of the fight. The last standing was a woman. She raised an amulet in her defence. It reminded him of a priest trying to repel a demon with the power of Christ.

Strangely curious about what would happen, Al manifested a wind barrier and braced for impact. Nothing did, and that only made her even more frightened. Instead of laying down her holy weapon, she turned it upon Alek. The vampire was still chowing down on the now dead zealot. He was not paying attention. He paid for his ignorance when a holy light emanated from the amulet.

This holy radiance burned to the vampire, sending him scurrying back against the wall. Crouching behind Al's bed, he could escape some of the attack. Deciding to intervene, Al sent a gust of wind, sending her flying into the wall. She stumbled, dropping her holy relic. Seizing the opportunity, he lassoed the item with a wind blade, pulling it to him.

The artefact leapt off the ground, landing in his open palm. With his prize in hand, he didn’t even hesitate, presenting the weapon towards Alek. Just like before, when he channelled the exorcist, nothing happened. This failure pissed him off way more than the last time. So, in that moment, he vowed he would rip the secrets of holy relics from these zealots.

Now that he has dealt with all enemies. He turned to Alek, finally peeking out from his hide hole. The vampire, covered in blood, proved that he was indeed a messy eater. Al apologised for trying to smite him with holy might. It didn’t bother him, at least he made no facial reaction.

Now that the vampire was chill and no longer trying to eat anyone else. Al wondered why no one was disturbing them. He had an idea and so pulled his magic glasses out of thin air. Examining the room, it became clear what was what. A silence spell covered the entire room. Likely the zealots brought some sort of magic item or one of them knew spell craft.

His eyes glanced all over, noticing anything with a magical flux. One item intrigued him the most. The robe used to tie him up emanated an odd wavelength. It was magical of a form, yet how it interacted with its surroundings was odd. It seemed to draw in magical energy. Thinking it over, Al concluded.

“No way is that an anti-magic rope. Or a magic siphoning rope?” He queried no-one.

Thinking it over, he understood why the zealots seemed so confident. This rope would have negated all his runes and spells. Luckily for him, an air spirit blessed him with spirit magic. With that in mind, he tried to think about his next move. Shelving that for now, he turned to regard Alek. The vampire seated himself on the bed, licking the stray blood splatters covering his hands.

The act reminded him of a dog, or perhaps a terrifying cat. Still, he had awoken the vampire to escape, but also for an experiment. Recalling last night when Alek fell asleep, the simple fact intrigued Al as a dead man could sleep. He relived the events of last night, his mind going back to the past.

Checking him out while he slept, Al noticed he appeared perfectly dead. Examining the corpse with his magic glasses, he verified that whatever energies that animate him were still there. Dubbing this unlife force, he compared them to his prior evidence.

“From prior examinations, there is an energy force that animates the undead vampire sub type, designated Nosferatu. This unlife force noticeably reduces during physical activity, the reduction is even more noticeable during cellular regeneration. Once this energy reaches a minimum, blood is required. Feeding replenishes this energy and the vampire can go about its business.” Speaking out loud, he confers to his notebook.

“Based on measurements, if the vampire reduces their physical activity to the minimum, they can go without blood for a week, perhaps even several. Further experiments may be required.” Writing a few notes, he turns to the sleeping vampire.

“Another more interesting observation is during sleep or more accurately death like hibernation. Their unlife force is completely static with no noticeable reduction. Theoretically, that means the vampire can possible hibernate indefinitely.” Finishing his thought and jotting down a few more notes.

Examining the vampire, Al thought about what to do next. Then an idea struck, accompanied by a cheeky grin. “Let's begin a new experiment. How do you wake up a sleepy vampire?” He wrote before placing his notebook on the bed.

Leaning over, he wondered how to handle this. Several ideas crossed his mind, but one was superior. “Wake up!” He repeated a few times, to no avail. Resorting to snapping his fingers over the man's face. Still not even a twitch. “Good morning, Vietnam!” He bellowed a quote from a beloved film. Unfortunately, the power of Williams could not stir the vampire.

Coming back to the present, he made a mental note that blood was an effective tool for waking up a vampire. It was an obvious method, yet he felt it was too obvious. Still, he couldn’t refute the evidence and slotted space in his journal.

With his mental notes made, he turned his mind to his companions. Briefly leaving his room, he checked on the others. They were all snoozing in their beds. Joan was snoring loudly. Her brother seemed to sleep through it. Perhaps he had gotten used to the sound.

With the notion of their safety firmly in hand, he returned to his room. The first thing he did was check on Alek. He had not consumed the captives like they were an all you can eat buffet. With that in mind, he left the vampire to chill; he appeared well fed and content.

Searching through his captives, he found several interesting articles. Three of the zealots had amulets of their faith. Likely, they were used to channeling the power of their patron spirit. He wondered if Ventus had such a religion; he hadn't thought to check on the temples. Deciding to shelve that for later, he gathered the three amulets, pocketing them for later study.

The other objects were more of the mundane, some Helgosian currency, a few parchments of written messages and a small crystal. The parchments contained several traded messages. They were all from the other side of the conversation. One stood out, detailing Al's arrival in Helgos.

“So, they had spies in the city. Great.” He muttered.

Despite that, the rest of the parchments had little information. Sighting mostly of potential demons and heretics. A man asserted possession, while a woman alleged seduction by a demon. Al's thoughts immediately went to Arthur, deciding to give him a warning when he gets the chance.

Turning his attention to the crystal, giving it a cursory examination. He determined it was an enchanted item, probably created by a wizard. It contained a basic silence spell that encompassed a certain radius. The fact of its faint glow means it was likely active and maintaining the soundproofing.