The air in the chamber of the cave was slightly warmer and by Candice's rough count, they were in the beginning of March. Life had not been easy getting used to down here in the Marumures. The freedoms she once enjoyed were gone and replaced by an ancient caste system, long disappeared from the modern world. Her Master or "Maestru" had explained to her much of what she needed to know to survive here and gave her a place to live. One of the unfortunate by-products of the transformation was amnesia of a sort and he had explained to her that was to help maintain balance in the world, which was the goal of their race. Candice could not nor would she ever, remember any connections to anyone she had once loved nor knew so she could not be tempted by them. Her loyalties lay with her bloodline now and the purpose of her creation.

What the purpose would be, she did not know. She had not seen her ultimate Sire again since the day of her arrival. Maestru Gerald had remained entombed in his estate, grieving for the loss. That loss had sparked rumors that spread like a brush fire around the Vatalas slums for weeks of the Great Maestru and the events that shrouded the death of his son. Candice did not know what to believe, where the beating heart of the truth lay. She was still new to the cruel world she had been dumped into, barely used to her body let alone the nuances of a whole new culture. The slums she lived in stank like urine and fecal matter. When she roused from her noon slumber, she was to report for duty in the laundry, where she cleaned clothing until midnight. Then she was on disposal duties for any thralls that might have passed away due to untimely demise.

There were not many Thrall bodies to handle and she thought they had assigned her these duties because of her low rank, even among the impures. There were many other duties to be assigned as a Vatalas, from more prestigious positions of servants for the lesser and greater houses of Bacui, to messenger, and then there was the menial labor. The Shtriga were very protective over the thrall population, taking great pains to care for the needs of the fragile human population. Candice had been shocked to find out how many humans resided in this city. Many had been born here as the Shtriga had resorted to breeding them long ago, and those needed not even be compelled to stay, firmly convinced these caves were the whole world as it existed. They lived in better accommodations than she, almost living a life of privilege as much as a prize livestock could. Her hovel was fitted in the back wall, a single room, eight feet by eight feet, with a straw mat to sleep on. It was dimly lit by some luminescent fungus cultivated in an aquarium by the Shtriga who resided above her. The only other piece of furniture was a bucket for defecation.

Today, her first job had been filled with hushed gossip, filled with worry for their bloodline. The Maestru had lost his Dhampir now, leaving him completely defenseless during their noontime comatose. With their heir gone, nothing was now to protect them from falling the way of the House Dascula, becoming part of the Orfan, and begging for blood down on the Commonshouse Road. The word was even some of the House Bacui Shtriga were even now, hatching plots to join other houses in exchange for boons. The Vatalas would be forgotten, they were useless anyway, and they were reminded of that life fact in many ways every night of their miserable lives so they would never forget it. Most who lived in the slums were results of accidental venomous bites and one of the driving forces towards thrall farming among the inhabitants of Marumures. Too many accidental births and too long for those horrid accidents to be forgotten by time. Vatalas were cursed for the same life that a Shtriga was as they served the same Purpose and looking at your mistakes for the rest of your life became the mother of invention for their overlords.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

An elbow hit her as a gentleman passed by her making her drop a shirt that she had been wringing out. She snarled in rage. Candice struggled to bring her rage under control. It had been two days since she was allowed her ration of blood and she was more on edge than typical. Every fiber of her body seemed to be screaming at her and most of her concentration went into trying not to rend others' limbs from their bodies this morning. Hormone swings of the old periods had nothing on this new life. Once her composure had been regained, she politely apologized to the person who bumped her. Candice was greeted by an unfamiliar face, one who was not lost in hopelessness and emaciated from starvation.

"I am so sorry my good Master..." She stammered. This was obviously one of her betters that she had managed to snarl at, even if the slight had been his fault, it was still hers. She bowed her head so she would not meet his eyes. She had made that mistake once too and ended up in a sunbox for a day and as she understood it, the Shtriga that ordered it was widely considered one of the kinder Masters in the city.

"No, no, the fault is mine and I am no Maestru. Just a simple Vatalas such as yourself," the man flashed her a sly, reassuring grin. His hand cupped her chin pulling her head up to look at him, "There is no need to be bowing your head to me, Mam'."

There was a southern, very distinct draw to his voice, one that did not originate from the Ozarks, but from much further south. She looked at him curiously now, his chin-length hair kept methodically behind one ear, all brushed to one side and shaved underneath. The scruffy goaty but yet from the scratch marks on his face, told her that this was a new feature to his face. There was no dirt under his nails, nor callouses when he shook her hand. She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Ah! So I see we did find the newcomer to Baciu. Our intelligence said you were a former law enforcement officer. The amnesia wipes our personal contacts but it cannot change what we are inside and it can even amplify it. Tell me, Ms. Candice," He said as he drew her off to the side of the room talking softly, " What have you seen during your brief stay here in Marumures? If you could sum it up into one word?"

She knew instantly when looking around at the filthy bodies around her, the misery, the smell of the rancid body odor. She had seen it before during her time as a human. She looked him in the eyes and murmured "Injustice".

"Would you like to see that fixed?"

"But how?" She asked hopelessly. Many had promised the exact thing in the human world and all failed. Politicians, preachers, and world leaders, none could ever repair or eliminate injustice as it was part of the very nature of man.

"Because I come from a place that is better and knows how to be better. We want to help. How do you think I knew about you?" He asked her curiously.

"But this is the last place for us who are afflicted with this curse." She shook her head with despair.

He laughed a throaty laugh, "No, Bucharest stands with you and her Grand Maestru. He bade me to find those who will stand ready when we take the head of Ceasar. Will you stand with us? Will you fight for justice and freedom from this?"

He gestured towards the room of people who were no longer doing laundry but looking intently at the two and listening for Candice's answer. She had a feeling the man had already talked to the others and they were waiting to know what to do with her should she disagree. Candice doubted she would simply be allowed to leave regardless of the easy nature of the man before her. Feeling helpless, she nodded numbly.

"Yes. Et tu Brutus?"

He laughed again clapping her on the back heartily, "Yes, and me!"