The bane of Dixie’s existence had always been a lack of information. It always felt like she never knew enough and was always grasping for more. Her father raised her in the field of espionage to this very end. The way she saw it, she hadn’t had much of a choice but to do his bidding - snooping around the airy halls of the Royal Castle, reading what she wasn’t supposed to, hearing words not meant for her ears, making friends in inappropriate places and more.
She was undead now; she knew so little of her new existence. Thus she had little choice but to do Druscilla’s bidding as she snooped around the imposing and poorly lit corridors of Euwaine’s fortress. What’s worse is that the Lord of the house bore no love for her or her family. Hard not to understand why; there were centuries of bad blood between them. The conflict began long before Dixie’s time, and would probably continue long after her time as well.
Technically speaking, her time was already up, Dixie Blackstone was dead. In her stead was Ella Greysky; an inconspicuous girl with no backstory or future. The castle inhabitants paid her no mind and she gave them no reason to. There had been murmurs amongst the maids about how pale Ella had become - and how she never ate. Dixie quelled them by making a couple of very visible evening visits to the market. She even walked the halls biting on an apple. It tasted like mud but she was able to shove it down.
She spent her free time exploring the range of her new abilities. If she concentrated hard enough, she could make everything around her move very slowly. That culminated in a number of hilarious pranks where she would isolate herself with a single maid, wait for her to blink, and then seemingly ‘teleport’ behind her. It was quite disorienting and confusing for the maids - leaving them open for drinking from.
This wasn’t sustainable, however, as a number of the staff came down with flu-like symptoms. Others clearly suffered from anaemia as they became frail with glassy white eyes. Dixie had to expand her feeding pool - so she looked to the city nearby.
Euwaine was almost as big as the Capital - though several times more unsightly. It had been one of the first places settled when humanity migrated from the East. It lacked the neat planing or paved streets of Ginawaine. The roads were too narrow to accommodate the number of people inhabiting the city. Outside the city wall, a massive shanty town sprawled out like mould on a piece of stale bread. This was Dixie’s new hunting ground.
She spent her nights experimenting and stalking through the dark and dingy alleys. She found out that if she concentrated hard enough, she could become unseen - melt onto the ground as a shadow given sentience and form. Whenever she used her abilities she would become wobbly and terribly thirsty. And there was only one thing she thirsted over.
She generally preyed on the sleeping poor. She tended to avoid drunks as the alcohol in their blood would also affect her. Sure enough, pockets of anaemia and flu were reported. Thankfully they were only small occurrences - not enough to be seen under the canopy of other illnesses that plagued the disadvantaged.
Because she fed daily, Dixie had no need for sleep. When the suns were high in the sky and the mortals bustled about their days, she was there with them. She used her newfound talents to spy on some of their most private moments. The only shadow one does not fear is their own - and that was where Dixie hid. She was there - as the Duke privately penned his Will, as he penned private correspondence with the Queen’s marshal, as he looked over a map over what would soon, in his own words, be his.
Naturally, she relayed these messages to her familiars that had instructions to brief either Pen or Druscilla. A good little spy she was. Druscilla would owe her a lot by the time she had her way with whatever she was planning.
That being said - on the side, Dixie kept tabs on her love. Regularly sending familiars to watch over him as he sleeps, never interacting with him - just passing what they saw to Dixie. One day she would give him her gift - and they could spend eternity together.
----------------------------------------
“Your presence is requested in the hall,” a demure maid said to Dixie. She knew all their faces, but couldn’t be bothered to remember their names.
“Forward my apologies, please.” It was a little bit after sunset. She could roam freely outside without the torture of the suns.
“It’s the Duke. He won’t take no for an answer.”
“Fine. I’ll be right there. Leave me to get ready.”
There was little point in directly going against the Duke. Though she could - she obviously could. She left her glamorous clothes back in the Capital, so she had to make do with a modest red dress from one of the closets.
She was ready in no time and made her way through the closed passageways. The lack of windows meant that the fortress looked the same inside whether it was day or night. But Dixie could feel the suns. She could feel them when they were in the sky during the day. It was like an instinct in her veins; urging her to stay in shade. But at the moment that mild psychological pressure was absent. The suns must have set completely.
A servant pushed open the doors of the Dining Hall and beckoned her to enter. She stepped past the threshold and the oak door thudded behind her. Rows and rows of trestle tables and their chairs were vacant and unoccupied. The only other person present was the Duke, sitting alone at the high table on its raised wide dais. No, that wasn’t right. Dixie could have sworn there were people hidden in the walls. She could hear their calm, suppressed breathing.
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
“Won’t you come to join me?” Duke Whitestone asked in his sickly old-man voice.
Dixie complied - and made the long trek across the desolate room to the high table, the tapping of her boiled leather shoes reverberating off the high ceiling. She was hyper-aware now. There were people inside the walls; inside the stone itself. She wasn’t sure how they got there, but she could hear their beating hearts. Around two dozen of them.
“So glad you could join me.” The Duke said as Dixie took her place across from him - the only other position that had been set up.
“The pleasure is all mine for your hosting me. Pardon my insolence, but is there a reason it’s just the two of us?”
“I simply wish to acquaint myself with Druscilla’s only representative here in my castle.” He leaned forward over his plate. “If I may be direct, I thought you were a spy. In fact, I was certain of it. And yet, my safeguards were not tripped.”
“Your Grace, I would never. It is unfortunate you think I am such a person of loose morals sir.”
“Indeed. You must understand, it’s very difficult to trust people these grim days. But please, do enjoy your meal.”
In front of Dixie was a large bowl filled with cubes of meat floating around in a rich brown soup dotted with various greens here and there. The Duke was a very rich man; the bowl was ceramic and the cutlery was Silverite. The spoon burned slightly as Dixie held it between her fingers. The soup itself tasted like sewage runoff but Dixie steeled herself and it did not show on her face
“Exquisite food - this soup. I used to love it as a boy. It reminds me of my cat.”
“How so?”
“I got a cat when I was about six years old. Jumpy and curious little fellow. She used to climb anything and everything. Drove my parents mad. But I loved that cat so they let me keep her. One day she climbed over the beams in the kitchen. Maybe she saw a rat, maybe she was making an ill-calculated jump. I may never know. The cat fell, from a great height, into a massive pot where the soup was boiling. It was the dead of night. So my poor kitty died alone and in the dark. I looked everywhere for her the next day. Cried my eyes red every night. My mother always ordered the soup I liked to be brought to me whenever I got sad. I drank until I was bloated like a barrel. One week later when the soup ended, the cooks found the carcass at the bottom of the pot. As a six-year-old child, I was devastated. I felt unclean. I was horrified of myself. I remember in the moment I thought the soup was the most delicious thing I ever tasted as it diluted my sadness.”
“I am truly sorry to hear that, Your Grace.”
“It was really when I came to understand that - a thing that gives you joy can be an immense fountain of sadness. As an old man when I look back at it I can see it more objectively. Had the soup been transparent, it would never have been consumed by humans. But it wasn’t, and we only realized the nature of the fluid when we drained it all away.”
“I’m sorry, but I fail to see the point of this, Your Grace.”
“We never get to see the bad in people until it is too late. It is only a matter of time until the one you considered your friend turns on you. As you wake up with a knife in your back. So I generally don’t let people close to me, be it literally or metaphorically.”
Dixie was weary of his thinly veiled threats. “Haven’t we just mentioned that I was not a spy?”
“We did. But I had you watched. See, I reckoned you’re like the soup. Delicious and seemly on the outside, but deep down you have a dark secret.”
What a ridiculous metaphor. “I assure you I have no dead cats in my closet.”
“Really now. You have odd behaviours. You barely eat, you barely socialize - and yet, I am certain Druscilla left you with instructions to watch me.”
“A bold insult, Your Grace. I’ll have you know integrity was drilled into me at a young age.”
“A young age you say? You must have had amazing parents. Certainly, a man like Bruce Greysky seems like an upstanding person. Don’t look so shocked. This is a port city. We get lots of merchant ships in and out daily. On one of them came Bruce Greysky - patriarch of the merchant family Greysky. He said he has never heard of an Ella Greysky.”
In hindsight, Dixie really should have put more thought into her cover identity. “I am distant kin. Uncle Bruce doesn’t know me well.”
“It would be a shock if he didn’t. House Greysky has only five living members. Ella Greysky, unfortunately, was not among them. Dear lady, you’re an imposter. But the way you carry yourself - I am sure you are no commoner. I am only going to offer you this one chance; tell me who you really are.”
Needless to say - if she came forth as a Blackstone, the situation would take a turn for the worst. “Honestly speaking - it’s really not in my best interest to come clean. I may be an imposter, but I alone pose no threat to you.”
“So what - I should turn my back to you? That’s a guaranteed way of giving you an opportunity to bury your knife in my back.” At that moment the men Dixie had heard phased out of the walls. They were all armed with crossbows. “I saw this turn of events playing out as they have. A spot of Arcane magic - luckily we have a local practitioner on hand. I was more than happy to put him to use.”
“I never thought you’d sink to such depths, Duke.” The soldiers converged on her in a sort of wide circle around the dais. Their crossbows were stealidly levelled at her.
“Oh please. Don’t act like Druscilla is a saint. I know she dabbles in the Arcane. Maybe you do too…”
Dixie sighed. “It is rather unfortunate that things had to end up this way. I think I owe you one last service: my name is Dixie Blackstone, you deserve to know the name of your killer.”
She launched herself across the table at the Duke. Bolts left crossbows slower than a snails pace as Dixie travelled through the air. She sank her teeth into the old man’s neck as they both fell over and rolled on the ground. As she took his life she felt the many decades he had lived in his blood. It was like a vintage wine - refined years of living travelled in his blood. And Dixie relished it.
She was vaguely aware she was being shot at. But that didn’t matter. Thankfully the bolts were steel, not silverite.
When she had drained him she straightened herself upright and assessed her condition. A metal projectile had gone in through the left side of the neck and poked out the right. Many other bolts punctured her body at odd angles all over her back and her legs. As she willed her body to heal itself they clattered noisily to the stone floor. She pulled out the bolt at her neck and the wound healed.
All the while, her assailants watched in horror. There was no doubt now that Dixie was not a normal mortal. Some of them froze in place. Others had their instincts kick in and ran away.
I can’t stop them all. So she let them run away This wasn’t really her fight - it was Druscilla’s. Speaking of which, Fineby was now the only place she could go. Doubtless what she had done would eventually reach the officers of Gwen’s army. They would probably desert the cause. Dixie only hoped she could defend herself before her sire.