Count Alurgas Tuvino

Adventurer Level: N/A

Vampire - Balushenian

I've always hated the stench of war. Even the wonderful scent of blood on the air is spoiled by the various odors that accompany it. Various fires burning questionable things, body odor, rot, and feces assault the senses whenever one is unwise enough to breath through one's nostrils.

One can become acclimatized to it, given the chance, but never immune. The assault on one's nose will begin anew when one least expects it. Honestly, it even ruins the view.

I watched impassively from my balcony as the new slaves sorted through their previous belongings. Anything of value will be put to use, the rest of it will be burned. Despite the stench ruining the mood, I found some amusement that the accursed drow were having to divide their own possessions in such a manner.

It would have been more amusing if the reason for this task falling to the drow weren't so dire. Normally, newly created vampires would carry out tasks such as this. However, it had been so long since we had new recruits that even the youngest of us was resistant to such commands.

I spat angrily at the slaves. If that damned half-breed hadn't failed we wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe if he had known what was at stake...

No, that would have been a misstep for us. It was fortunate that the memories of the fair folk are incompatible with the mind of an infant. Because he was lacking those memories, he did not know of the cycle of redemption we are doomed to face, and he could not leverage it against us.

There's no doubt in my mind that had he known, he would have demanded more and more and more until there was nothing left to give. Such is the nature of a spoiled brat like Kirain Yith. May he and the bitch that birthed him suffer an eternity of torment.

The Yith matriarch had seemed like an amazing boon at the time, though. When we first received word of her grievances with Lofin and his court, we approached her nearly salivating. We were desperate to improve our situation and avoid the cycle.

In hindsight, it should have been alarming to us that she was salivating as well. We believed that her eagerness would help us succeed in overthrowing Lofin and taking back our home. Instead, she died and her son turned out to be an insufferable brat.

Not a one of us could have foreseen the consequences of our scheming, though. It was definitely unexpected for Lofin to hear of Kirain's failure before we did, from the orcs, no less. If it weren't for a few sympathetic ears in Lofin's court, we would all be waiting to be reborn by now.

A good portion of us were able to avoid the hunt, of course. Lofin's lack of leadership capabilities served us well in that regard. Then the damned orcs invaded and began to hunt us, as well.

Now, our backs are against the wall and-

"You are summoned, Count Tuvino," a crow perched in a nearby tree cawed.

"By whom?" I demanded, angry at the interruption.

"Duke Misgiel demands your presence."

"I understand," I replied in a much more reasonable tone. "I will make haste."

I turned from the crow and made my way through the building that was currently acting as my manor. A meager manor, certainly, and not even close to matching my previous accommodations. The manor I had been living in, belonging to a drow 'countess' that was quite enamored with me, was far superior in nearly every aspect.

However, that manor is now destroyed. As is the family that allowed me to live there. A damn shame, their blood was freely offered and quite delectable. The thought angered me as I marched through our war-camp towards Duke Misgiel's lodgings.

There are three remaining vampire dukes, and Duke Alab Misgiel is by far the mightiest of the three. Each of them had experimented with vampiric mastery, and each of their experiments ended in failure. Duke Bany and Duke Hilgro were both weakened by their failures, but Duke Misgiel's experiments made him much stronger.

While he failed to become a Master Vampire, he managed to enhance his body and his vampiric abilities. He also commands more soldiers than any other vampiric noble, partly because he's a skilled tactician and partly because he knows when to avoid a fight. There's no question that if we manage to take back the Night Kingdom, Duke Misgiel will be king.

Which makes this summons rather concerning, especially given recent events...

"Milord!" someone shouted at me.

I turned and saw a slave in tattered clothing running toward me. My jaw nearly dropped at the audacity.

"Milord, we're running out of rations for the brood," she said once she caught up.

"And?"

"Well... What do we do? They need to be fed, milord."

I stepped toward her with a piercing glare.

"I do not understand your confusion," I growled. "You claim the brood are nearly out of rations, yet you still have blood in your veins and meat on your bones."

"Wh-"

"Feed them," I slammed the suggestion into her mind.

"It will be done, my lord," the drow slave said vacantly.

I watched angrily as she turned and went back the way she came.

"Imbecilic drow," I muttered to myself as I continued on my way.

They are a plague upon this land. Like most animals, they are deaf to the voices of those above them. Or perhaps they're simply incapable of the deeper understanding required to interpret those voices. Either way, the end result is an inability to accept the offer to become a vampire.

Even the higher beings cannot communicate with them, and as such have limited influence over them. Most drow are also atheists, in spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. It is said that large gatherings of drow drive away the higher beings because they hate being ignored, but that is simply conjecture.

The fact that these cretins pretend at society fills me to the brim with the fiery passions of rage. They lay claim to titles without possessing a single ounce of nobility. They pretend at being barons, counts, queens, and even kings.

One need not look long to see why they are unsuitable for the duties of governance. The actions of their so-called king has allowed the orcs of the Unified Chiefdoms to invade all the way to their capital. Worse, the lives of the drow living in the Night Kingdom can only improve if the orcs manage to win the day.

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Damn them. These pretenders have held their power for far too long. It's past time that we remove this second set of titles from our kingdom.

A guard signaled for me to halt as I approached the Duke's lodgings. I waited outside the massive stone structure while the guard confirmed that I was expected. At one point, the building had likely served as a guild hall for adventurers. It was modest in appearance, yet massive enough to serve an important purpose for the Duke and his entourage.

The guard received an answer from within and stepped aside with a slight bow, allowing me entry. I passed the guard, stepped inside, and was immediately met with an intense bustle of activity. The Duke's peons were well at work, calling to each other about this and that over the sounds of their various activities.

"Count Tuvino," a weathered vampire greeted me with a bow. "This way, if you please."

It isn't common for one as old as this to become a vampire. The fallen wylder that made the contract must have been waiting for a very long time. I followed the elderly former-elf up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway.

At the end of the corridor was a door that opened into a large room housing a series of large tables. Each table was covered in a variety of tomes, papers, writing utensils, and weapons. The duke was sitting at the head of one such table, with other vampires standing and sitting around him.

"Presenting Count Tuvino, your grace," the old one bowed.

"Good, that will be all, Clazno. Take the servants with you," Misgiel said while waving for me to sit.

I gave a respectful bow and took the offered seat, catching stares from the other nobles at the table. Each of their eyes pierced through me, knotting my stomach. There was little doubt as to why I had been summoned.

"Tuvino, I trust you are well?" Misgiel said with an air of hostility.

"Yes, your grace," I replied, averting eye contact. "Thank you for asking."

"Good. Now, we haven't had a chance to debrief regarding the... What was his name?" he asked, grabbing a sheaf of papers from the table. "Master General Kirain Yith. Yes, we haven't had a chance to discuss this matter yet."

I stayed silent, allowing the duke to read from the papers.

"You were entrusted with Yith's well-being, were you not?" Misgiel asked after a few moments.

"Yes, your grace."

"Then why did he fail?"

"Because he foolishly underestimated the orcs."

"Oh?" The duke asked angrily. "Was it not your responsibility to weed out such foolishness?"

"With respect, your grace, I must protest such an assertion," I replied, offended. "One cannot forcefully remove a thing which is integral to one's being. Yith was half drow, and his mother was a queen amongst fools."

A murmur of agreement came from the other nobles, but died out quickly once the duke raised his hand for silence.

"So you say. Yet, Kirain Yith was competent enough to infiltrate Lofin's military and rise to its peak."

"Respectfully, your grace, I must once again protest. Lofin does not select his generals based on merit, but rather on the lack thereof. Yith's rise in the false-king's military speaks more toward his foolishness than it does his competence."

"We should have expected as such from a half-breed," a noble whom I didn't know muttered.

"Silence," Duke Misgiel shot the noble a glare before turning back to me. "So you claim no responsibility for this?"

"No, Duke, I do not."

"And why not?"

"Because I did as I was bade, your grace. I provided counsel, ensured that the child would grow to be as competent as possible, and even supported his ill-conceived strategies. There was simply nothing further I could have done."

"Duke Hilgro's plan was doomed from the start," another noble said. "There are those of us who knew this from the moment a half-breed was mentioned."

More mutters of agreement sounded from the other nobles. Duke Misgiel stared at the gathered nobility until they silenced themselves once again.

"Fine. You are absolved of responsibility," he said after a few moments. "It is a shame, though. Despite its reliance on a half-breed, the plan was truly inspired. I would have liked to see it come to fruition, if only because it would have ensured a more rapid rise to dominance for us. No matter, I have another reason for summoning all of you."

Those at the table stared silently at the duke while he exchanged the papers in his hand for another sheaf.

"The crows spotted an orc scout, who most certainly saw us. This scout was able to slip away from us, so the orcs know where we are."

"Then we must put our plan into action sooner than expected," one of the nobles said.

Plan?

"Quite true. Though it would seem that the orcs are content to continue their attack on the capital, they might change their minds and march on us at any time."

"We outnumber them, do we not?" another noble asked.

"Yes, but they have mages and their leaders seem knowledgeable of our kind. Even if we were to win, we would lose many and still have to face Lofin's army. No, we cannot risk a confrontation with the orcs at this stage. We must move forward."

"Pardon me, your grace," I interrupted. "Move forward with what? I have heard of no plan."

"Neither have many at this table," the duke chuckled. "I shall elaborate, then. We are going to invade our former siblings. Specifically, the lands to the south known as the Deepwyld Forest."

Shocked silence was the only reply. I was stunned, but managed to get ahold of myself and close my gaping mouth. This couldn't be real. If anyone knows how to destroy a vampire, it would be the fair-folk.

They most certainly would not be willing to cohabitate, either. They see us as unclean and strike us down without mercy, as one would crush an inconvenient bug. Worse than that, they can be reborn almost instantly.

If we were mortals, our actions in trying to wipe them out would have some impact on them. But the wylds and their wylder would pay no heed to our intentions. The fair folk will just keep coming, no matter how many of them we kill. But the duke knows this. He must.

"Why?" I asked meekly. "What could there be to gain?"

"Reinforcements," the duke chuckled again. "As you know, there have been many experiments regarding vampirism over the centuries. One such experiment saw a rather interesting result."

Misgiel rose from his seat and set the papers down.

"We can force the spirit of a wylder into the body of a mortal," he said, leaning onto the table. "This makes the fair-folk VERY useful to us. All it takes is a quick ritual that creates something quite useful. Bring it in!"

The doors opened, and two servants guided a hooded figure into the room. We were able to identify what this thing was before the servants were able to remove the hood, though. A scent that mixed blood, death, and power. The unmistakable smell of a vampire.

The servants removed the hood from the creature's head and a small gasp escaped one of the nobles as its features came into view. The servants stepped back with a bow, presenting us with a drow. A drow that was definitely a full vampire. He regarded us with a vacant gaze as the murmurs began.

"That's a vampire, not a half-breed," one noble whispered.

"How is such a thing possible?"

The duke raised his hand for silence once more, and the din died down. He grabbed the drow by the arm and dragged him over to the table.

"As you can see, this ritual works on drow, as well," he said. "But despite what your senses are telling you, this creature is not a true vampire. Allow me a quick demonstration."

Misgiel picked up a dagger from the table.

"Take this dagger," he said to the drow.

The drow took the dagger.

"Place your left hand upon the table."

The drow mindlessly complied.

"Pin your hand to the table," the duke said coldly.

In a flash, the drow sunk the dagger through his hand and into the table. Cries of surprise and alarm rang throughout the nobility, but I found myself enraptured by this development. A vampire that will do whatever you tell it to do. Interesting.

"This vampire-like creature has no agency. It will do as I tell it to do, without a single question or concern. As such, it isn't really a vampire," the duke laughed. "It's a mindless slave. A true thrall. Whomever performs the ritual forms a direct connection to the thrall that allows one, with some practice, to give commands by thought. My experimentation thus far has not found a maximum distance for this effect."

Truly remarkable. Fantastic, even. There's just one problem.

"How will we capture the fair folk?" I asked.

"We will march our forces and slaves to the very border of the Deepwyld Forest. From there, we abduct as many of the wylder as we can using iron."

"Iron is fatal to them, though," one of the nobles said.

"Yes, but before it kills them, it weakens them. We will use this time to perform the ritual and make them into thralls," Misgiel took the dagger out of the drow's hand. It didn't flinch. "I had hoped to use the element of surprise, but it would seem that they are somehow prepared for us. Still, I'd gladly trade brood for thralls. They eat a lot less."

The duke smiled as a few laughs came from the gathered nobility. My mind began reeling at the possibilities. Vampires, mindless or not, are much stronger and faster than brood can ever hope to be. They are also much more difficult to truly kill. With enough thralls, we would be unstoppable.

"When we run out of slaves, or wylder, we will invade the orcish lands and replenish our numbers," Misgiel said as he took his seat. "We will need to be fast to take advantage of their preoccupation with Lofin."

"And when we replenish our numbers? What then?" I asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it said.

"Then, we take back the Night Kingdom."