It wasn’t until noon when Dominus Titus and his guard approached the cottage hidden deep in the wood. The mayor, emboldened by his delayed departure, had insisted on showing the overseer his ledgers. Duty-bound to act the part of a true dominus, he served his emperor by placating the demand.
Shining splendidly in the sunlight, his gilded carriage arrived outside the shabbiest shelter this Roman had ever seen. It was a wonder the cottage kept out any elements at all, a mere log cabin much too small for the family to which it belonged.
He called over his captain still astride his mount. “Marius, ensure I’m not interrupted, no matter what happens.”
“Yes, Dominus,” the captain promised.
Just to be sure, Titus whispered, “All your men present, they are of like blood, are they not?”
“They would not have travelled with us, were they not, Dominus.” The captain saluted and ordered the guard to fan out, forming a perimeter. Titus approached the only door of the hovel.
Adelia had recognized her visitor through a single window, its shutters open to air the inside, and met him before he knocked. Hiding within, her voice quaked with fear. “Lord Dominus?” she asked in perfect Latin. “You honor us with your presence, but my husband Erwan is not home.”
“I did not come for your husband, Adelia. I came to speak to you.”
“My lord, I can’t imagine why. I am the wife to a farmer and have no conversation to offer. If you came for more, I must warn you that my children are playing nearby and will return. I do not wish them to see their mother defiled.”
Titus laughed. “I’ve no interest in your body, only in your stories. I have many questions only you can answer.”
“And if I don’t welcome you in?”
“I think we both know that wouldn’t matter.”
Adelia nodded, opening the door the rest of the way. After he entered, she left it open and hanging on its hinges.
She’s certainly no fool, Titus recognized, and also a woman of honor. He sat in the only chair in the room, a creaking rocker crafted by a farmer’s hand. Adelia sat across the room upon the hearth, smoothing her skirt nervously and waited for him to speak.
“Where did you hear that tale, the one you regaled us with last night?” the dominus kindly demanded.
“It was told to me when I was young. By my father.”
“Why did you tell it in my presence?” His eyes flashed red, two bloody pools swimming in reflected daylight.
Adelia would have recoiled had she not already suspected his bloodline and recognized him already a vampure. In a calm voice she replied, “Because I did not realize at first you are infectus.”
“Infectus?” Titus shook his head at her ignorance. “I assure you I am not the tainted one among us. I believe the term you meant is donatus, for I was gifted with my bloodline from Goro himself.”
The dominus eyed this creature closely, never having imagined he would come across a dragon in its first form. Her skin, her teeth, her hair, all of it appeared so human. But that was the way of all descendants of the Keryx, those spiritual beings after whom humans were fashioned to imitate.
“Hold out your hand,” he commanded Adelia.
At first she refused but, knowing she was trapped, finally reached out.
Titus took it in his, rubbing and feeling, then held her skin to the light. It only appeared human to the eye. Now that he knew what to look for, the Roman recognized the tiniest of dragon scales linked together with fine blonde hairs sticking up between each ridge.
“Remarkable!” he whispered. “You are one of their infants, a first form Firekin!”
“What will you do with me?” Adelia asked defiantly.
“I’m not sure. I’ve not come across one like you before.”
“How?” she asked. “How did you recognize my form?”
“I didn’t, not at first. You are so rare… I believe your kind are only birthed once or twice in a century. You have lingered long in this form,” Titus pointed out, “and should have chosen your adolescent state long ago. Why did you keep this one? Were you sent among humankind to spread your stories? Those lies you told last night were certainly concocted of dragons by dragons.”
Adelia looked away, her eyes darting to the door. Sounds of laughing children approached the cottage but abruptly stopped upon seeing the soldiers. She opened her mouth to scream, to warn them to run away, but Titus had left his chair. In a blur of speed, he had crossed the room and placed his hand firmly against her mouth.
“Of course!” he whispered. “Your husband must be of the same bloodline. Argant sent you here, to hide your species among humans, bearing future generations more quickly.”
Adelia did not answer.
“Yes, it makes perfect sense. Dragons procreate too slowly, but your younger form so closely resembles humans. That means your children are like both of you and will someday soon make more and more, blending with humans until your filth litters the human race.”
The woman’s eyes pleaded mercy for the children, silently affirming his theory, and asked nothing for herself.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Titus looked out the door, holding her firmly in his grasp as he called out in a perfect mimicry of their mother’s voice. “Come inside, children!” he lured them. “Come and meet our visitor!”
Adelia tried to get away but Titus had the strength of seven men. Though she could have been stronger, she had remained in this form far too long. She had not trained her muscles the way she should have.
“It is about the children, isn’t it?” Titus reasoned his thoughts out loud. “Argant’s prophecy, about a worthy human, it can’t come true unless your children mix their blood. He meant their descendants to provide this vinculum, and so he sent you here to birth them.” He grinned at the Ancient One’s audacity and quickly formed a plan of his own. “Their blood will be useful to my kind as well, and I intend to make it so.”
Adelia struggled against his hold, fearing for her children, but once more failed to budge beneath his strength.
“But that won’t do, will it? Not fully, no!” Titus mused, his questioning mind racing like a lunatic. “I must also destroy Argant. I must draw him out so that I can end this war once and for all!”
He pushed her hard into the bedroom, where she landed against the far wall. Her neck hit awkwardly but did not break. The blow with which it struck rendered her dazed, her senses failing as she collapsed in a heap upon the simple farmer’s bed.
In a blur of movement Titus fled the room, hiding in the shadow next to the open door. As soon as the children entered he slammed it shut and fell upon them both, alternating his bites upon their tiny necks. He was careful not to drain too much, slathering their wounds with his saliva and ensuring they too would join his bloodline… but first they had to die, to rise again as revenants and be fully within his power.
After he finished, the Roman stood, looking down at the future of his race. These will rise again as hybrids, drawn by insatiable desire to find him in Aventicum, to offer themselves freely to serve his master. He made his way to the bedroom, lustfully eyeing a trail of infantile dragon blood leaking from Adelia’s nose. She still lived but barely, and so he would do her a mercy by finishing the job.
He feasted then in what the old vampure describe as bloodlust. It occurs when one of his kind loses themselves among the sanguis. Titus had never experienced it, his stoic mind trained by Roman scholars, but he lost it here on Adelia. Without control he ravaged her body while consuming her lifeforce, completely draining and leaving her to rise again with her children.
I do this only as insult to the Argant, he justified his actions. I’ll turn his grandchildren against him!
“You there, peasant!” Marius commanded someone outside. “Drop your weapons and stay where you are!”
The sound of hoof beats stamped dirt, letting the dominus know his soldiers had the situation under control.
“Who are you?” a terrified voice demanded. It sounded like Adelia’s husband.
“Never mind who we are,” one of the honor guard said dismissively. “Lay down your weapons and return the way you’ve come. Be gone from here!”
“But I…” the newcomer stammered, perplexed by their commands. “I live here!” he protested.
Titus pulled himself off Adelia, his mind less crazed and his belly satiated. It rumbled angrily at the sanguis. He would need days of darkness to fully digest all he had consumed. Rising, he left the room, stepping over the bodies of the sleeping children.
“I will see you soon,” he told them. “Come to me when you are ready.”
Through the open door he saw that Erwan had arrived home. Surrounded by the honor guard the farmer had decided to fight. Titus’ men had obliged.
“Oh, to hell with him!” Marius declared, kicking Erwan hard and striking him to the ground.
Titus walked out of the hovel into daylight, its brightness searing his eyes so soon after consuming the sanguis. The effect would only intensify. He pulled a silken handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth, pulling it away and frowning at how much blood had dripped down his chin and neck. He hated being so sloppy, it was undignified for a Roman.
He tossed the bloody cloth aside.
The dominus held one hand over his eyes to hide the light. His bloodstained teeth showed clear behind his scowl.
Though he hated to waste the sanguis, Titus also could not leave this one alive, nor could he gift this dragon’s blood to the lesser forms he led. Goro had not granted him permission to elevate them higher. He had taken a chance by consuming Adelia and the children.
“Deal with him,” Titus commanded his knights. “I no longer desire a taste for blood.”
Without another word the nobleman stepped aboard the carriage, shutting himself away while the driver readied the horses. He faced a two-day ride to Aventicum.
The dominus panicked, realizing he was trapped in a carriage with open windows. The light streaming in from these no longer bothered only his eyes. As it poured in across his hands, it burned his skin.
His body had begun the absorption, taking in the sanguis and twisting and churning his gut as it sorted out the parts of the blood it needed. The cramping would only last a few hours, but he needed slumber to complete the digestion. This process was always painful for a vampure, but worse when consuming dragon blood.
Adelia and the children were infants who had never changed nor taken another form, he mused, realizing his bounty. Only very few vampure had ever been so lucky to stumble upon such pure sanguis. First and final dragon forms were always purest.
A common misconception regarding dragons was the belief they hatched from eggs like reptiles. Through his link with Goro, Titus knew these creatures could also change forms. Like a caterpillar or a moth, they form a chrysalis when ready, sealing their bodies inside while every aspect of their composition changes. Some emerge as wyvern while others may choose a longer, snakelike aerouant. Eventually, they may take on other forms as well, eventually assuming their final form of Elderkin.
Had the pain not come on so strongly, Titus would have told the driver to turn around, to spare the farmer from death and bring him along instead, to be fed on later or given to Goro. He reasoned it was too late, that Marius had already killed him. Hopefully, they had not fed.
He tapped the divider between him and the driver. “Aventicum! Hurry without delay!” he commanded, and the whip cracked as they began moving.
This pain and discomfort was no mere issue with digestion. Titus suddenly realized he needed full privacy.
Given its purity, this sanguis would force him into transformation. By the feel of it, the process had begun already. The light now sizzled on his hands, hot and sharp as his skin began to bubble and split. There was some truth to the legends that vampure are vulnerable to sunlight, but that only affected the change that occurs after drinking pure dragon sanguis. No light can be allowed to interfere with the process. The slightest of radiation, even filtered, could alter, affect, or stop the transformation entirely.
Usually, a vampure would seek out a crypt or sarcophagus to achieve the total darkness they would need. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him and the Roman stood, ripping apart the seat cushions to reach the storage space beneath. Hurriedly, he opened the lid and peered down into the compartment. It was cramped, more so than he preferred, but would provide protection during the two-day ride. He banged hard against the panel to once more alert his driver.
“Do not disturb me at all!” he screamed. “No matter what!”
Three knocks answered with the driver’s understanding.
Stepping into the compartment he lowered himself inside, pulling the lid shut above him. The darkness soothed his skin, cooling it like a soft breeze. The process had indeed begun. A thin layer of mucus secreted slowly from every pore, forming a second skin which would eventually be his chrysalis.
A two-day ride, he calculated in his mind. Hopefully, that would be enough time.