Battles over the soul were different than those over the flesh. For one, they did not exactly happen in reality - rather somewhere just around its corners. An unprepared layman might die without ever knowing their very spirit was under siege. Yet anyone worth considering had built fortifications. A domain of sorts. Reflection of the psyche, spirit, and power. Like a fortress surrounding the core of one’s essence. To claim it from another, an attacker would need to either sneak past all and any defenses or completely shatter them through sheer might.
Undeniably, the soul eater attacking Reginald was going to attempt the latter. It looked like a storm of mirror shards to the limited perceptions Reginald possessed here; each of the pieces was tinted slightly scarlet and varied in size. Souls existed somewhere in between reality and not. Some rules were… bent, yet most applied. And there were layers - for the lack of a better term - separating their battle from everyone else who might be physically close to their bodies on the outside. Rather, as far as Reginald understood, each soul had their own personal layer which… melded when two or more were made to struggle.
The form Reginald's sanctuary took was a midnight forest. He had carefully crafted it, down to the slightest details. It was common among vampires, perhaps the most common form a vampire’s soul took. Anyone looking from the outside would see the dark woods and think it nothing strange. Viewed from outside, any observer would see the endless woods and vast starless skies. And they would know most of it had to be a mirage. Because most domains leaked power which took on a form to a complete the image. Rather, they would project the scenery that completed a small core. But common sense dictated that the majority of the forest and the midnight skies were not real. Exactly as Reginald wanted them to.
It could not, however, be neglected, that the scarlet mist was approaching. Reginald watched it and realized it might have fought vampires before just like this, or perhaps similar beings. Because it writhed and shaped itself like a maw. It knew that much of the domain would be just hollow power completing an image. It tried to estimate where the fake forest ended and real began. Where was the boundary between the true night of Reginald’s soul its false reflection above.
Knowing was such a funny thing. When every assumption fit, people stopped thinking about whether they could be wrong. Which was why Reginald watched with glee as the mist was allowed to pierce for a few seconds; deep enough that it could not really retreat. Then he returned his domain to solidity. It bore down on the mists and grabbed them. Squeezed them until they could no move, straining.
No one looking would have thought his domain was anything but average. Which was exactly why he had crafted it that way. Because they would see the forest and skies, then assume them false. See the expected and forget to think of the inconceivable. Look but not truly see what lurked both above and below. The mist tried to syphon the power but it was too solid to be affected. The weight of the very heavens stood behind it.
“Oh, what a shame I cannot feast on souls like you do,” Reginald smiled at the trapped attacker as its form writhed. “But a stalemate will do. I cannot kill you like this but neither can you harm me. What I can do is hold you here until the brink of dawn. Perhaps that will teach you a lesson,” and give Artorius more than enough time to make the final spot impossible to feast in, at least for tonight. As for tomorrow… Well, a plan was brewing in Reginald’s head. He would need to confirm some things first but if he was right… oh, if he was right…
Waiting was not difficult. Reginald could be more patient than anyone if it was demanded of him. It also gave him ample time to sort his thoughts. Scheme and consider what he would do. He was missing just a few clues to make everything fit together. Nothing had happened to his body on the outside thus far and hopefully it would remain that way. Reginald's attacker never spoke; a shame since they probably could have had a conversation to pass the time.
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It was less than twenty minutes before sunrise that Reginald finally let go, returning to his body. He caught the flicker of the three red eyes in the mirror as they fled and he too immediately hurried away. It would have enough time to finish feeding in most of the remaining spots, which would leave just a single point needed to complete the ritual. And it would not be able to tonight.
Upon arrival it was easy to find Artorias. The man who was so enveloped in his protections for the mind and soul. Incredibly well made, particular attention was also given to making sure it would be immediately noticed if they ever failed. The thought process was clear: If they were ever breached it would be obvious that their user had been compromised. And they were, indeed, incredibly well made. Incredibly for mortal hands that is. And Reginald had whole nights to figure them out.
“Now, magister, I will need you to answer my questions,” Reginald wove through them with artisan’s skill. For a mind was the canvas he preferred. And he was careful that whatever he did, the protections would register nothing. Perhaps a full analysis might reveal traces, but those would not be held with priority without the protections indicating anything wrong. “Tell me: When would your Mender of Aeons come here personally? Do you know what the creature we are hunting truly is? Does the Order know my true name?"
“Depending on our progress…” the magister thought without a change in expression. Reginald would not be so crass as to let the man realize his mind was even being usurped. “The Mender has confided in me that if the local vampire leadership got involved as our opposition and could feasibly get the Reaver before me he would come with overwhelming force. A Reaver, that is what we call it. The Order is uncertain of their exact nature, however, much like ghouls and vampires they procreate through parasitic transformation and share similar weaknesses such as sunlight. We were in the relatively early stages of research into their nature and use. The one we hunt is our original subject which has escape their confinement. As for you… your unabridged file merely states ‘old aliases unknown’ besides 'Reginald'.”
“Excellent… Beyond excellent,” the vampire could not stop his grin. Then he commanded the unwitting puppet: “Report to your Mender that I have been slain by the Reaver. Say that the local Marquis has caught wind of it and his entire court will go out in full force tomorrow night. Have you reported the formation we have recovered yesterday?” the magister shook his head at that. “Then make a believable fake one with the same final point attempting a different spell. Believe that I have in fact died and haven’t met you here. Disregard any discrepancies in your logic and/or memory. Otherwise proceed as you normally would,” he finished his commands and vanished, severing the sway he held. It was not his best improvised geass but it would last at least a few days, more than long enough.
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Right after that, Reginald sprinted away. He could feel the DOOM of sunrise just a few minutes away. Yet he did not head to his habitat. Instead, he ran towards the very center of the city. The middle-class district flew by him in moments as he jumped over the closed gates of the richer communities. Mortals did not notice him through both sheer speed and his unwillingness to be seen imposed on any passerby's mind. At the very heart of the city, there stood a massive mansion. Tall and imposing with a garden that required staff in the dozens. A monument to pride and hubris.
Someone would have certainly stopped him upon his approach just half an hour sooner but not like this. Not when the time until the first rays of sunlight could be counted in seconds. Reginald had to admit the timing had been a bit tighter than he would have liked, thankfully, he avoided having to dig underground for the final stretch and remained blissfully unburned.
The mortals did not see him as he trod by, their minds easily subverted. He walked deeper into the unfamiliar mansion. Even though he did not know the layout he knew he only needed to go down. Deeper and deeper below until he was close enough to feel it: The blood of kin calling to him. Unrestrained auras of the privileged few who lived here. They were arrogant and incautious, most of all their leader.
And it was easy. No one even noticed Reginald as he trod into the inner chambers. The mortal guards wore protections for the mind yet so pathetic it did not grow any harder to mute their perception. His kin felt comfortable enough near each other to slumber in mutual vicinity without a single one standing guard. The only thing more repulsive was that no one here had taken advantage of that weakness.
Nothing worthwhile was left here. Just decadence and stagnant rot. Children which had managed to forget their very own nature. It was one of the few things that could make Reginald genuinely upset. Furious. They could be out there, hunting worthy prey in the wilderness - bleed night after night and emerge stronger. Until their former betters could only kneel and be devoured too. That is what Reginald believed to be the right answer. Feast until even the laws of nature did as he would say. Until the only beings unafraid were those ignorant or too unworthy to scratch his thirst.
Despite his sparkling anger, he headed deeper in. By the rooms dedicated to senseless depravity and needless pride. Torture rooms for bored sadism or chambers made to sate empty lust. Until he found himself before the most opulent door of them all. Behind it he felt a presence decently familiar, though not that great. He pushed it open and behind, playing chess of all things with a clingy mistress; the woman their own spawn judging from the melded presences. "The little vindictive bastard," he grunted. They had made his hiding significantly more unpleasant.
“I wonder what you might be doing here… Reginald, am I correct?” a cruel smirk appeared on the Marquis’ lips at the appearance of the latest distraction. The ongoing game was forgotten in a moment. “Have you come to personally pay a tithe? I am sure arrangements can be made - once you have been taught you place, of course.”
“That will not be necessary,” Reginald stepped in and closed the door behind himself. “You know, today, for the first time since your inception, you will take part in something genuinely worthwhile.”
“Perhaps we should resume once you are on your knees,” the woman hissed at the insult, standing up.. “without the thighs attached, naturally,” the she rushed at him. All anger and eagerness. Never taught to contain it. Never forced to learn.
Even as fast as she was moving, it was comparatively glacial. Reginald could have just killed them. Still, they irked him. Enough he wished to put them in their place. So he grabbed her will - poorly guarded for a species so proficient with bending the mind - and squeezed. Until she squirmed and shrieked. Until she collapsed like a marionette with strings cut, suddenly made prisoner in her own flesh. Some connections severed - enough that motions became impossible yet not so many as to erase the senses. A mortal would have died; a vampire had no such luxury. “I am unimpressed by your pointless displays of self serving sadism. I find your actions unworthy of your very bloodline. You have forgotten fear. And when you stop to fear all your prey, you are a farmer, not a predator.”
“Rose!” the Marquis’ mind caught up from the surprise. Which meant he had probably ignored the earlier words. It had taken him ridiculously long for a mind as fast as that of their kind. “Who are you? You are not the rot blood from my demesne. Did the courts send you? My siblings?”
“For you to presume I care about your petty clan, playing at court with a misguided Queen,” Reginald scoffed. “I despise your game at deception for its own sake. Politicking where only one right should matter. But just this once, I will gladly use it to break itself.”
“Ergo you are claiming no protection or affiliation,” the Marquis glare turned murderous. “And here I was worried for a moment instead of putting you down. I wonder if I will be able to steal that trick you pulled against my companion.”
“Clearly, you were not paying attention,” Reginald shook his head. The Marquis was even faster. Moved at a speed where mere mortals would consider any further acceleration academic. Claws of blood flashed with emerald green flames. Dragon fire, even if from a lesser one. Such was the nature of vampires, after all. They could steal from the essence which they drank. Undoubtedly, the Marquis had been spoon-fed the essence for they were not mighty enough to best a pure blooded dragon on their own. Unearned or not though, it was still a formidable tool against most opponents.
Then again, Reginald had no reason to hold back against soon-to-be ash. He moved with the speed of living wind and the fae. With the raw strength of mountains and oceans. For they could all come alive, with magic coursing through them like blood. Therefore, they could all be drunk dry. Had been, a hundred times over. Reginald tore of both the Marquis arms before the other vampire registered him move. Then he pinned him to the ground and unravelled the mind, helped by every living or extinct creature to ever hold any magical or symbolic sway over thought. And how it felt good to finally be himself, if even for just a moment.
“Listen carefully, little thing,” Reginald… Yes, still Reginald whispered words that could not be refused. “You will contact the fool which calls herself your Queen and you are going to beseech her. Tell her that the Mender of Aeons is coming with an army. Tell her they seek something of incredible worth… Yes… tell they wish to reclaim a weapon prepared specifically against our kind. Tell her how the Order has brought captured sunlight to slaughter your charges. And lastly, tell Temna they spoke of Urgolath,” Reginald commanded, the names both passing his lips like venom. The marks of his failure. Of his fear.
Yet things were finally coming together. He had been patient and now, the die were cast. It was sooner than he had dared hoped but finally, he would have a chance. A shot at finally undoing his own inadequacy. Reginald smiled, glancing at the two worthless kin: One sprawled at his feet, the other obeying his commands perfectly despite writhing against them deep within. At least he would not be thirsty while waiting for dusk.