Count Alurgas Tuvino

Adventurer Level: N/A

Vampire - Balushenian

I watched the thralls drag yet another chained fae into the ritual cage. Part of me was amused, finding a grim satisfaction in the suffering of those who would dare to look down on me. Another, much smaller part of me was disturbed by what I was witnessing, though.

This magic is wrong on a fundamental level. The higher ones created the first vampires long ago to address the wylder's newfound ability to sin. A pact made between wylder and mortal for the sake of a wylder's redemption and rebirth. The agreements made then are unknowable, none of us can remember them, but the ritual that we're repeatedly performing perverts the intentions of the higher ones and forces the pact on both the mortal and the wylder.

"I wonder what happens to them if they die," I muttered.

"They'll likely return to the cycle," Count Hesseth said as he nodded for the ritual to proceed. "They're pretty much zombies and haven't committed any sin, so they'll probably be reborn as a wylder."

The vampire performing the ritual nodded back, then began to utter words of power as he drew a blade. The drow that was chained to the alter began to scream and beg as the blade rose. The fae started to convulse as the words struck it. The final word of power struck the fae as the blade fell into the drow's heart.

"And what if they aren't?" I asked.

The vampire withdrew the dagger from the drow and, unseen to us, the essence of the fae was drawn out of its flesh and thrust into the now empty vessel laying on the alter. The previous vessel instantly became desiccated and crumpled to the floor of the cage.

The drow's eyes, which had not yet had a chance to close, flickered to life. Her expression of pain faded into one of apathy, and the hole in her chest healed. A new thrall had been born.

"That's not something we have to worry about, so long as Duke Misgiel's plan works," Hesseth shrugged.

"Right," I halfheartedly agreed.

The duke was very educated in the matters of the arcane. After less than a day of performing the rituals, he managed to find a way to allow someone else to perform them in his stead. After three days, he had found a way to perform multiple rituals at once. We were well on our way to fortifying our ranks.

There was a cost, though. The wylder were viscous in their resistance. We had lost dozens of brood with each round of fighting. A single vampire is worth at least ten brood, though, so we've made an overall profit from this venture. And it isn't as if we can't make more brood.

"I'm going to attend to the duke," I said.

"Be well," Hesseth nodded.

I made my way through our encampment, trying to avoid the eyes of all the caged wylder. The derision in their gaze makes my blood boil, and I don't trust myself not to react. While ripping them to shreds would feel great, we'll need as many of them as possible to retake our rightful place.

A series of grandiose tents came into view. The duke's new quarters weren't quite as fine as the old guild hall, but they were still much better than my own. Perhaps if I manage to make myself useful I'll be granted a larger tent. One large enough to hold a table would be wondrous.

"Hold," the guard stopped me, then turned toward the inside of the tent. "It's Count Tuvino."

"Let him pass," a gruff voice from within said.

The guard stepped aside and saluted as I strode past him into the tent. The now familiar bustle of activity greeted me, teetering on the verge of overwhelming. Various lackeys ran between tables holding various documents and other materials. Duke Misgiel stood in the midst of the crowd, easily a head taller than everyone else.

The duke glanced up from the war table and immediately spotted me. He waved me over, and I made my way through the chaos, taking my spot at the other side of the table. The war map was covered in tokens, and very little of it made any sense to me.

"Good morning, count," Misgiel said as he moved one of the tokens. "I trust you are well?"

"Yes, your grace," I bowed. "My lieutenants are prepared for the day's activities."

"Excellent. We've made good progress thus far, and your forces have been particularly fortunate. Hardly any casualties. Good work," he nodded absentmindedly. "Unfortunately, that's liable to change soon."

"For what cause?"

"The damned arch-fae. This forest has more of them than it should. We've been able to outmaneuver them thus far, but it seems they've finally come up with a strategy that has slowed our progress immensely."

A snarl crossed over my face, but I recovered before the duke noticed. I despise the bastards. Arch-fae are arbitrarily chosen to wield immense power. It's given to them regardless of whether or not it's actually deserved.

Their destructive capabilities are difficult to match, but like everything else, they have weaknesses. Most of them are physically meager. As if they sacrifice their physical strength for enormous magical potency. If one could get close enough, it would be a simple matter to tear them into pieces.

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Getting close is the difficult part, though. Their half-existence gives them a view of the world that makes it all but impossible to sneak up on them. Furthermore, they are reborn much faster than other wylder are. Even if you get lucky and manage to kill them, they'll be back before you can escape.

Swarming them wouldn't work, either. Their specialty is large-scale attacks. Fire, wind, and ice destroying everything within a broad area is their favorite tactic. One could say that it's difficult for them to wield their powers without collateral damage...

"That's it!" I exclaimed.

"Pardon?" Misgiel asked.

"The arch-fae specialize in magic that has a wide area-of-effect. They would struggle to strike an individual target!"

"And?"

"We use some of the captured wylder as meat-shields."

Duke Misgiel opened his mouth as if to dismiss my idea, but the words paused in his throat.

"I doubt they'll be willing to fall just to drive us off," I grinned.

One of the most grievous sins a wylder can commit, the one which I was held responsible for, is killing a fellow wylder outside of an established duel. Whether the kill is accidental or intentional, the punishment is the same. If the arch-fae destroy our meat-shields, they will become vampires when next they perish.

"That is an inspired plan, Count," Misgiel grinned.

"I agree," a hauntingly familiar voice said.

I noticed the silence that had fallen over the tent just before an immense pressure gripped my mind. The duke and I locked eyes, and I could tell that he felt it as well. Leaning on the table to steady myself, I turned to see who had spoke.

"Hello again, Alurgas," Kirain sneered at me.

The shock of the situation numbed my mind. Kirain should be dead. But he's here, and he smells different. Stronger. He's not a half-breed anymore. Somehow, he's become a vampire, no, a master vampire. Impossible, but it's happened.

"How-" I managed to gasp.

"How? How did I survive? How did I get here? Or are you asking how I became a master vampire?" Kirain replied gleefully.

"Yes."

His laughter echoed through my mind.

"Well, when I realized the battle was lost I followed some timely advice and fled into the land of the dwarves. As for how I became a master, well, I had a little snack," Kirain chuckled. "Then, I came here. On foot. Vampires can run quite fast, and masters run even faster. I actually would have arrived sooner, but I had to make some detours to find out what was going on. And to feed, of course."

"How... dare you," Misgiel growled.

"How dare I? How dare YOU! Resisting a master vampire's influence isn't something a normal vampire can do," Kirain walked over to the duke. "You've been naughty. No, despicable is a better word for it. What kind of terrible, terrible things have you done to yourself?"

Duke Misgiel raised a clawed hand toward Kirain's throat. The failed strategist casually watched the hand approach him, then laughed as it fell.

"No, this unfortunately unacceptable. We're going to have to undo your little modifications," he said. "It's a shame. You'd be useful as you are, if I could trust you to obey."

"I'll never-" Misgiel gasped. "You can't-"

"Can't? Can't what? Undo what you've done to yourself?"

Kirain grabbed Misgiel by the nape and slammed his head onto the table.

"If I couldn't, I would simply kill you," Kirain's voice ran cold. "You managed to save yourself, though. You see, when I was looking for you, I ran into some of your servants. After some persuasion, they told me that you had fled your den in a rush. That you'd left behind a lot of riches... And research. I've always been oh so curious, so with some more persuasion I got them to tell me where your den is."

The thick table creaked as Kirain pressed harder.

"Not to worry, though. Their disloyalty was punished in the end. I was hungry, you see."

"You fu-"

Kirain lifted the duke's head and brought it down once more.

"I'm talking, Misgiel," Kirain growled. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, I paid your den a visit. Found your research. It was quite illuminating. You were interesting in so many things. Rituals, physical and magical augmentation, and even reversing aforementioned augmentation. The idea that one of your servants might use your augmentations for themselves led to you creating a 'cure' for them. Rather insightful of you."

Kirain removed a syringe from his cloak. The needle tipping the syringe glistened menacingly. I tried to move, to stop him, but my body felt as if it were made of stone. I was helpless as Kirain plunged the needle into Misgiel's neck.

"And now, your life is saved," Kirain laughed. "Assuming you survive this."

The duke went limp and fell to the floor. I couldn't move to get a better view, but I could see his legs twitching erratically. A seizure, probably. I wanted to glare at Kirain, but my face regarded him without emotion.

"I wonder what will happen to the thralls if he dies," Kirain casually pondered.

Misgiel's movements only lasted a moment more. Once he was still again, Kirain examined him.

"Guess we will have to wait to find out," he said, kicking the duke's foot. "Get up."

A creature that was much smaller than the duke rose and took a place at the table. No longer did Misgiel tower over other vampires, and his previously impressive musculature was now barely clinging to his bones. A sick part of my mind noted that he looks more like the other dukes.

"Good. Now, let us discuss how we are going to handle the current situation," Kirain said. "First, I was bluffing. I don't know why Alurgas' plan is inspired. Explain to me why the arch-fae wouldn't simply eradicate the meat-shields along with our troops."

His eyes locked onto mine as he finished speaking, and suddenly my own voice was filling the air. Except, I wasn't speaking. My mouth was speaking on its own. Powerless to stop myself, I explained everything.

Each follow-up question prompted more and more explanations out of me. It was then I realized that I was no longer in control of my body. A small piece of me was now controlling my body, acting on the whim of the former half-breed.

"I see," he said. "I suspected as much, given the duke's research notes, but it's nice to have it confirmed. So if I die, I become a vampire again. And so will all of you. I can see why this was kept from me. You would have had to promise me much more to keep me in line."

Kirain absentmindedly moved some pieces around on the table for a moment.

"Okay, here's what we'll do. We'll spread the meat-shields throughout our ranks, providing optimal protection against the arch-fae's attacks. The further we spread them, the more we can use in the rituals. This should drive the arch-fae back, and urge them to send the other wylder into battle. Then, it's business as usual. Objections?"

Silence.

"Right, of course not. Even if we are succeed in bolstering our forces here, we won't be able to take the Night Kingdom yet. The orcs have taken the capital and fortified the walls. So, the next step in our plan will be to press into the Unified Chiefdoms and convert as many orcs as possible to further bolster our forces. While we do this, we should send a detachment of brood to attack the orcish armies as a distraction," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Actually, we may want to do that beforehand. As things stand, they can attack our rear and trap us between their army and the fair folk. We'll keep a close eye on their movements, and if they start to show signs of setting out we'll send some brood. If they're smart, they'll use the walls to repel our decoy attacks. Once we move into the UC, we won't have to worry about a battle on two fronts and we can have a proper fight with them."

More silence. I wanted to respond, to call him every foul name I've ever heard, but he hadn't asked me a question and my mouth no longer heeded my commands. Instead, Kirain nodded to himself and turned to everyone else in the tent.

"See it done."

The sounds of activity swelled once more, but different this time. More purposeful, less chaotic. The duke and I stared at Kirain.

"Now, Duke Misgiel," the master vampire smiled maliciously. "Tell me how to take the thralls under my command."