“Now, I try not to be judgemental, and I know you are far more experienced than me at camping,” Ercole said, “But I’m not quite sure about the practice of using your helmet as a pot.”

Shani paused, looking up from her deep nasal helm that was currently propped up over a fire with a stew boiling inside. “No one brought a pot.”

“I brought a pan,” Ercole huffed, “we could have used that.”

“It is tiny, not enough to make something to feed us all.”

“Still…” he murmured, “I’m not sure if it’s sanitary to be doing this.”

“It is fine. I have not died yet from this.”

Ercole didn’t seem to be quite settled by that, as he still stared at the boiling stew with suspecting eyes.

Dyo and Aggripa on the other hand didn’t have the same concerns. Their eyes studied the “pot” and the roasting tubers hungrily. The tubers had been Ercole’s one contribution to the meal. They were a sort of white-ish, fibrous, root-like thing that he’d scavenged from the ground a short walk from the camp.

Apparently, he’d recognised them from a book he read on flora and assured the rest that they were “quite” edible and that having them would preserve their supplies. They were called something along the lines of "legate's legs", or whatever Ercole called them. Unfortunately, Dyo hadn’t been too much help, with his body still a little shaky from the blood loss gained by helping Hreysti.

However, there was only one person who wasn’t at all interested in it, that being Hreysti. He was stroking his gaunt re-animated rat as he otherwise stayed stock still, making an effort to not look at anyone.

Dyo’s vision slipped from the stew as he then sighed Hreysti’s state. His dry lips that his pale tongue ran over. “Are you-“

“Don’t worry about me.” It was quiet, but the vampire’s tone was harsh.

“I’ve recovered, I can help you-“

“You haven’t. I can tell, don’t ask how.”

Agrippa’s eyes seem to widen at that, pulled away from the stew.

“I could lend some blood if you need it,” Ercole said, leaning back on his stool, “I’ve always been intrigued to know what it feels like to have someone get in close and suck your blood…”

Hreysti stopped petting the rat and looked at Ercole, trying to decipher what he meant by… That, but-

His Hunger…

“Move your- Uh-“

“Oh, so you’re taking me up on this?” Ercole chuckled.

“I don’t think you’ll be smiling after this, and I’ll try to not make you bleed out.”

The noble shrugged, a coy smile still on his face as Hreysti slinked closer, his movements almost nervous as they got closer to the man’s bronzed shoulder. Like a dog inspecting its lunch.

Then he lunged, his fangs puncturing into their flesh before anyone could react, their lips sealing over the wounds as he began to drink. Ercole, unassailable a moment before, couldn’t hide the pain. The searing pain turned his smile into a grimace as he balled his fists, the pain of his wounded shoulder compounded by the sensation of his veins bulging as they were sucked dry.

As he was fed on, he felt a few trickles of blood run down his back, as his head slowly started to cloud. But through the pain and slowly encroaching fog, his left hand managed to slip to his hidden dagger, ready to-

The fangs withdrew as Hersyti panted. The rush, the rush of feeding that he felt… It was hard to resist not just giving in to it, especially when this blood tasted so- Unique… It tasted so rich and was near addictive in its allure in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint…

He pulled a swab of cloth out, dabbing it against Ercole’s wounds, but froze when he saw where his hand was.

“You were planning to stab me…”

“Not quite Hreysti,” Ercole said carefully, “I always keep a dagger there for reasons you might very much understand. So when my mind started to cloud,” he tapped his dagger, “I went to this. I wasn’t meaning to kill you, rather get you off in case-“

“In case I might have become a feral monster?” He snarled.

“In case you drank too much. I wouldn’t kill you, rather hope that cutting a hole in your shoulder would help you come to your senses if it ever came to it.”

“And I’ve had people try to kill me too many times. Don’t move your hand to that dagger when I have my back to you.”

“Don’t worry about that with me. But…”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“But!?”

“But you could have spilt a little less, I’ve got a couple of stains in my lovely shirt now and it doesn’t come out easily.”

Everyone stared at him. Well, everyone but Shani.

Dyo scoffed, “You nearly stabbed Hreysti and you’re still bleeding but you’re worried about your clothes!?”

“Yes. I never actually stabbed him, and one cannot be presentable if they show up caked with blood. That and these clothes cost an awful lot.”

And with that, Ercole picked the cloth out of Hreysti’s hands, and dabbed away the blood trickling down towards his shirt. Then he pressed it against the two wounds in his shoulder.

“These shouldn’t be too much trouble; I’ve experienced worse while at university. Shani should know all about it, but there is a sport they have over there which has a couple of variants. But all of them are fighting matches with the khopesh. It’s called Khoufan.”

Shani looked up for a brief moment, “Cwts or Satpe?”

“Both.”

A slight smile came across her face, “Not as weak as I thought.”

Ercole chuckled lightly as Dyo looked between them, his brow furrowed.

“What is Cw- Cwts? And the other one? Are they-”

“They are two of the three main strains of the sport:” Ercole answered, “Agios Khoufan which is the ritualistic variant, Satpe Khoufan which is the one practised by nobles, and Cwts Khoufan which is a… Commonly enjoyed blood sport would be the most accurate way to describe it. Satpe often involves padded clothes and dulled weapons with victory achieved by scoring a hit against your opponent.”

“A coward’s version.” Shani sniffed, “And there’s no good betting.”

“So, then we have what I would guess to be our friend’s favourite version, Cwts. In those fights, all you wear is a loincloth and the khopesh both wield is not dulled at all. From there you walk into the arena and if both you and your opponent agree, you may take a shield.”

“So,” Dyo asked, “are the rules for deciding victory different too? Is it still one hit?”

The smile across Ercole’s face widened, “In Cwts, the victor is then simply the last man standing, with the other yielding or unable to stand. However, that may be achieved... So, it was in one of those matches where I took a slash across the entirety of my lower back. The scar of which you can see right here…”

He reached behind his back, tracing a line across as Dyo pulled back a little along with Agrippa. The sickening image of that open wound filled his mind and with that, those of the thorns. Though Shani and Hreysti seemed to be more impressed by it.

“Did you… Keep fighting after that?”

“Of course, I did, knocked my opponent down by cutting out his thigh muscles. I never saw him in the ring after that…”

Dyo had to suppress a gag at that.

“To be honest I did mostly stick to Satpe after that, mainly due to a few threats about my own thighs from his fans. Though I was able to help with the healing of that wound and my own with-“

The hand Ercole was using to hold the rag against his wounds started… It started glowing slightly, like sunlight barely seeping through one’s eyelids.

“-magic. Though I doubt this is particularly impressive to you, the son of Calsyniacus.”

Dyo stared, his eyes transfixed on that hand. The hand that was unharmed with complete control over the flow of power from Ercole. No out-of-control madness, no loss of thought, just control.

“H-How are you able to do that? T-to heal!?”

“Do you want to learn?” He chuckled, “I’m afraid that for you, using magic is quite a different affair, so I’m not sure-.”

“How so!?”

He couldn’t help it, but a little desperation had snuck into his voice with that.

Ercole’s brow furrowed, his smile slowly fading, “Dyonaigus, is there any reason why you are so desperate to know? Are you worried we might need healing magic after the fight?”

“N-No, but I’d be good to know it’s more…” He swallowed, “It’s more that the last two times I’ve used it I’ve either driven people mad or- or I’ve killed them…”

The noble leaned forward a little, the light from his hand fading, “If you don’t mind, tell me what exactly happened.”

He shuddered, “The first- The first time I was trying to give someone good dreams, but instead, they went mad. They couldn’t stop muttering and they were just… Gone. Then the second time was only a few days ago. I got discovered by some soldiers and I panicked and just let it all loose. I could barely control myself or the power at that moment, but I could see them, see the pain in their eyes… See the vines ripping out of them… I-“

“You don’t need to tell me anymore. The problem you might be having there is that as I say, your powers work differently to mine. You, Hreysti, and Aggripa’s powers are innate to your being and are as easy as focusing on them, no special mind state or channelling devices are required. But those powers are based on your heritage and as one whose father has domains other things like madness, those sorts of effects are easy for you to imbue, desired or not. You could learn wizardry or witchcraft, but that won’t be a fast process, nor will it be anywhere nearly as powerful as your own powers.”

“S-so…”

“So, the best you can do is just practise. Even with all that I have read on magic, I’m still not exactly knowledgeable on the field of divine powers.”

“You can always use it on the bandits.” Shani muttered, “No…” she snapped her fingers.

“Moral?”

“Moral problems.”

“But they’re still people!” He sputtered.

“People who I will stab anyway. They die either way.”

“Look,” Ercole followed, “don’t think of the suffering you will be inflicting. As Shani said they’re going to die either way violently one way or the other. Using them as uh… Live training is just part of it! You might not be able to control your power to do more peaceful things unless you find out what manipulations and thoughts cause, well, death.”

“You’re very calm about killing people!”

“Well, when you’re a noble you’re already a prize for thieves and kidnappers. Then if you dress like me, you just attract more trouble and if you can’t fight people off you might as well string yourself up. I didn’t exactly go into Khoufan with no prior skills.”

Either way, he couldn’t help but shudder slightly. He knew he was going to have to harm people but the thoughts of that day he killed the guards… That gore was not something he was eager to see again.

But he was cut out of his thoughts by the clatter of a spoon against metal as Shani tapped the stew off of her spoon.

“The stew is done. Ercole, bowls.”

“Ah- Uh- give me a moment to fetch them.”

“Too distracted on talking. You should have got them earlier.”

Ercole groaned, “I was explaining magical concepts.”

“You can talk and get bowls, like now.”

He sighed, pulling himself up from his stool as he walked over to his saddle bags.

Shani sighed, turning to Dyo, “You shouldn’t be too worried about fighting.”

“But I-“

“You won’t. As long as it kills them or helps others kill them, it will be good.”

“And I will kill anyone who dares lay a hand on you.”

Dyo whipped around meeting Hreysti’s cold, iron gaze.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do for you right now. I follow you and I take care of those who I travel with. That and I- I haven’t really had a friend like you...” he muttered.

“So, you’ll protect me too?” Ercole asked, his smile back on his face with wooden dishes in hand.

Hreysti stared at the noble for a moment, “Don’t push me.”