There, on a wooden throne more akin to a simple chair than what one would associate with nobility I sat. Without a soul in sight with whom to speak, I stared at my mana dribble out of my mouth.
My maids used to stutter when speaking, perhaps thinking which words may be most appropriate. But now they were incapable of uttering anything but the most respectful words. And when I ordered them to act normally, so normal they were that it became a post-postmodern critique on human relationship. My soldiers now fought with such vigour I had to order them only to fight in which way was optimal for their recovery and growth. What commander had ever needed to give such orders. What commander could walk into his field only to be greeted by a thousand Agilulfs in shiny silver armour counting portions of food with such precision one would think them calculators. Only for their armours to crumble when they realized that all of this wasn’t of their doing, but mine. All their achievements, mine. All their power, mine. All their new gained wits, mine.
#
I visited the orphanage often. This was my second visit today. I headed to the first room, containing the youngest, aged zero to two. I didn’t know if the other groups even existed. They only served as a front.
Anyhow, these people should be grateful that they would help create a great kingdom drowning in wealth, power, influence, and size.
If scientists could take pride in their little contribution to science by better understanding an enzyme which helps catalyze glucose. Then a medieval peasant could sure as hell take pride in providing a meal for a vampire.
I looked down to my hand. Under it, a large leather skin hung under my hand. A constant trickle of blood filled it up. I looked into the bag. It had reached the three-quarter point. I closed the sac and placed another under my hand. This would be the fourth.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” A voice resounded in my head. Dandellion no longer needed to control the old bookkeeper since my blood did as good a job. Now this shadow, my shadow followed me around spouting absurdities. “If they are all your slaves, can you truly call this a kingdom? If they are all your slaves, can they bring on a scientific revolution? What is science without a will, a drive, and ambition?”
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Often, all I could do was ignore its words. Those who mattered were the nobles. Those with power, those who would wield my blood. No one else. Peasants, rubble, shit. The difference imperceivable.
#
A month later I spread my blood into the waterways. My cheeks flushed, my steps unsteady, and my skin pale beyond belief. I had just closed my wound. It would take some time for my blood to return to me. I had avoided red cells for too long in fright it would alert the church. But now. Soon all here would bow to me if I were to merely exhale an intention.
#
My teeth plunged into a man. His blood rolled down my chin and dripped onto the streets stone floor. Everyone walked on by without a care in the world. None could bat an eye at me. For their eyes were mine.
This wasn’t what a vampire should be. I let my body retake its original shape. Now small and feeble I looked around. Hoping one person would find this young child soaked in blood next to a fresh corpse concerning, odd, or anything at all. However, everyone walked on by.
I headed to the orphanage and gave all those with mana my blood. Behind me a group of eight men, I had ordered them to give up their blood to my baby vampires. When this was done, I flew to my castle and laid in bed. If I could fall asleep, never to wake up I wouldn’t mind.
#
Twenty-third year of the magical era
Weight pressed on me. My head spun and my stomach burned. I opened my eyes. All was red. The urge to drink overwhelmed me. I smelled something fragrant. Blood. But from where? I didn’t know. I stood up and walked straight. My hand hit something hard. I pushed it aside. Things hit my head. I didn’t know what, however, there, in front of me the fragrance stood. I jumped and bite into it. Oh, how good blood was.
Little by little my sight returned. It was a maid. It was the one who had given me blowjobs so often. But now her hair had gone grey, and her skin had folded up. Could I now suck up life energy? I looked behind me. A small mountain of rubble had kicked up a dust cloud which drifted through the quiet hallways. Passing over carpets hung on the wall and noble heraldry; it painted the hallways grey. And as the dust cleared, a bed in which a mattress made of blankets laid.
“Dandellion, how many days have passed?”
“7 810.”
“Oh fuck,” I had been asleep way too long. “How many years is that?”
“About 21.”
I ran down the hallway. My feet started to reach higher and further till I transformed into a bat and rocketed down to the orphanage. A maid dusted the corners of the room. And on the floor, above a few piles of blankets eight little kids slept in quiet contentment. Their breaths were slow and powerful. In each exhale a thick dark purple mist spread into the room.
“If they were fine, then all was good.”