Something Lingers

[Aramyllis Dae]

Continued from http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=1902
Spring, 122 PW

Arm in arm the two girls strode along Main Street, both garbed in simple homespun and squinting against the noonday sun. From afar they appeared to be grimacing comically with elbows entwined. The pair made a rustic sight: the elder with a mop of black curls atop a plain smock and androgynous leggings, the younger with fair coloring and a baggy shift cut much like a sack. The taller figure, who was further adorned with a smile, consciously paced her steps to the smaller stride of the other. Nonetheless, there was a sprightliness in her movement that was suggestive of barely restrained energy.

At a small, grass-lined turnoff delineated with parallel rows of rocks, the elder girl pulled the younger to a stop and unlaced her arm. "Here we are."

A gateway had been built of pale stones, fitted together expertly without even the aid of cement, and yet no fence barred it. Fifty meters on, the boundary rocks gave way to three pairs of small crab apple trees. Every spring, their buds burst forth with blossoms of virgin white and deep pink, but now was the time of the berry. Birds--dark finches mostly but also small, quick thrushes and brilliantly plumaged blue jays--dotted the trees, gorging themselves on its sour fruit. Often the animals' presence was detectable only by their merry singing and by the periodic droppings that fell from the berry-laden branches to the scattering of overripe crab apples littered in the grass below.

Flocks erupted from the trees as the two girls passed, darting and diving through the air and around each other in a spontaneous ballet that defied gravity. A few stray birds zipped by only inches from the Shimians' heads, catching up breeze-blown strands of hair in the powerful thrusting of small, delicate wings and making them dance. The elder girl's eyes followed the birds' movements unerringly; always it was the same pattern, but she never got tired of watching. After the first startled explosion subsided, the flock would resettle itself onto another crab apple further along, only to repeat the display when the humans grew nearer once more. Eventually, when they were flushed from the final pair of trees, the birds would return to the beginning again. Nothing could distract them from their feast for long. Before long, the last of the berries would be rotting in the dirt, and the birds would press on south in their migration to escape the first icy breath of winter.

The front of the house was rimmed with dog rose bushes, currently heavy with crimson rose hips. The structure's ground level was constructed of the same creamy stone as the gateway out front, with a second floor of whitewashed wood paneling. Steps led up to a small front porch made of local timber, its dark reddish grain distinct to those familiar with the area's resources. A single wind chime hung next to the entrance. Between the resonant pealing of its hollow tubes in the breeze, another set of chimes could be heard, faintly, somewhere around the house.

The front door itself was, as usual, unlocked, and Aramyllis pushed it open with a twitch of her hip before waving Alyson in. Inside, the furnishings were basic but immaculate, with rugs strewn strategically over the hardwood floor to evoke a feeling of homeyness. A few unnecessary decorations on the wall added a touch of personality. Myllis led Alyson through the house, gesturing as she explained the layout. A long wall pierced with a single door divided the ground floor into two sections: in front, a living room, featuring firm sofas and a large fireplace; and in back, a kitchen, including a dining table to eat at, simple, four-legged stools for sitting on, and a recessed pantry. Another door in the kitchen opened to the backyard, revealing an acre of grassy land interrupted by smallish plots of vegetable and herb gardens planted in neat rows. Green stalks and fluttering leaves reached up out of the earth towards the life-giving sunshine. Off to one side of the lawn crouched a true apple tree, ancient limbs heavy with fruit, and an equally old mulberry tree; several younger fruit trees dotted the yard. A medium-sized barn was situated on the opposite corner of the lawn, double doors propped partway open.

Younger girl still in tow, Aramyllis returned to the front of the house and then up the flight of stairs that were tucked away into a corner. The second floor was comprised of three bedrooms, all quite small, although one was slightly larger than the other two. In one of the smaller rooms, Myllis threw open the windows, revealing another wind chime hanging from the eaves. This one produced a faint and delicate tinkling as the wind stirred the set of tiny glass bells strung along a fiber. The girl sucked in a deep breath and let herself fall, sighing, back onto the firm mattress. It was narrow and her toes poked off the end. There was no way both girls were going to be able to share it.

Eyes closed, Aramyllis brushed a curl of hair out of her eyes and let her forearm rest on her forehead. "There's a cot under my father's bed. We'll have to pull it out and find a place to put it. I'm not sure how we're going to fit it in here." She shrugged, apparently not too concerned. After a lazy moment, her eyes popped back open and she propped herself on her elbows so as to examine Alyson.

"I guess you didn't bring anything else with you from the bakery?" If you possessed anything else besides that smock, that is. "You're a lot smaller than me, I'm afraid... Hmm. I think we may still have some of my old clothes from when I was younger stored up in the attic. Most of them were hand-me-downs from my sister, so they've been well-used by now, but I still think they'll be better than what you've got on now." She smiled as she spoke, to show she meant no offense and that the blame was better placed on the baker rather than his unfortunate apprentice.

[Alyson Rolfe]

The walk to the farm of Aramyllis's father was a pleasant one. With her arm entwined with the older girl's Alyson felt like she had found a friend - her first friend... Alyson mentally shook herself - refusing to let her thoughts linger on what had been, even for just a few minutes Alyson was determined to enjoy the present.

Walking up to the large farmhouse, Alyson was struck with the simple, natural beauty of their surroundings. Her eyes followed the birds as they flew from tree to tree with a freedom she envied. Once inside, Alyson was overwhelmed by the home's interior. It felt so... homey... so comfortable. Again, Alyson felt a slight pang of envy, this time for the girl who had the right to call this place home. The feeling was quickly forgotten, however, as the two girls moved upstairs and into Aramyllis's room.

"There's a cot under my father's bed. We'll have to pull it out and find a place to put it. I'm not sure how we're going to fit it in here."

Alyson started at the girl's words, but with her eyes closed Aramyllis did not notice. Her further comment about clothes only made Alyson flush with embarassment at her scant... non-existant really... wardrobe.

"I... thank you... about the clothes... but... your room... you do not have to share it with me..." Alyson stammered, "I mean... I don't deserve... I could sleep... in the attic or the barn maybe?" Alyson offered, clearly feeling that she did not have the right to quarters among the family. Earlier she had begun to think of Aramyllis as a friend, but she would never have used that friendship to claim equality with the farmer's daughter. Biting her lip, Alyson suddenly hoped she had not offended her host with her statement and she blurted, "Not that I would mind sleeping here... I mean... your room is beautiful... I just didn't want you to feel you had to share it..." Her voice trailed off, and she flushed again as she waited for Aramyllis to reply.

[Aramyllis Dae]

"Don't be silly." Pushing herself up into sitting position, Aramyllis swung her legs off the mattress and let them dangle against the side of the bed. Her expression was kindly but also stern: what Alyson suggested was nonsense. "I don't know what exactly you experienced living under that man..." The scathing tone of her words made clear her disgust for the baker who had cleared treated this girl so inhumanely, as if she were nothing more than a work animal. "...But here we have rules of hospitality. As long as you help us in our labors, you are entitled to a real bed and decent food. It is only a fair exchange. If it really upsets you, I'm sure you can ask my father to take the living expenses out of your wages."

A stiff breeze set the wind bells to wild chinking and stirred the curtains. The farmer girl remained silent, apparently listening, until they subsided. The she hopped to her feet next to her guest.

"We'll wait till the evening to get out the cot. I'll go ahead and dig out some other clothes for you, though, so that you can change if you'd like." If she were Alyson, Myllis would want to do so as soon as possible. It was not that she would be embarrassed to be seen in the raggedy shift dress, but rather that she would not want to remain in the articles of her prior enslavement for any longer than she had to. Aramyllis imagined that, for the girl, discarding the old frock would feel much like scrubbing herself clean for the first time after spending years caked with dirt and grime. Perhaps later she would start a fire and encourage Alyson to burn the dress. In its current state, it wouldn't be of value as anything more than rags.

The attic was accessed through a removable panel in the ceiling of the hallway. Aramyllis stood on a tall chair and hoisted herself up, then helped Alyson to do the same. Above, the air was dusty and dim. Myllis made her way around exposed rafters to a collection of trunks tucked away in a low corner, where she had to stoop to avoid the slanted roof. She found the right trunk on the third try.

"Aha!"

Propping open the heavy lid, she rummaged inside, eventually pulling out and handing to Alyson several pieces of clothing. There was even a pair of shoes that looked about right, still in relatively good shape--likely they had been outgrown in some adolescent growth spurt before they were worn out.

Back downstairs in the bedroom, Aramyllis set the shoes on the floor near the door and turned to the other girl. "Are you going to change now? You can go use the other bedroom, if you'd like."

[Alyson Rolfe]

Back downstairs in the bedroom, Aramyllis set the shoes on the floor near the door and turned to the other girl. "Are you going to change now? You can go use the other bedroom, if you'd like."

Alyson held the garments and shoes she had been given as if they were gold. She could not remember a time when she had not worn the shapeless sacks Tomas had given her... and she was well aware of the impression her clothing gave others - or at least that she felt gave others. The idea of wearing her old homespun dress a moment longer when there was an alternative was intolerable, and she eagerly nodded to Aramyllis's offer.

"Yes... I would like to change... I'll only be a minute!" She grinned, a true, beaming smile that lit up her eyes before she turned and headed into the other bedroom. Once there, her old dress was quickly discarded. She slipped one of Aramyllis's dresses over her head and was pleased to find it fit very well. The shoes were just a tiny bit too large - but fit better than Alyson's old ones so she knew they would serve her well. Smoothing out the wrinkles in the dress with her hands, Alyson suddenly noticed they were dirty... old flour still clinging to her nails. She winced, certain that her face was likely showing the same signs of uncleanliness.

Looking about the room, Alyson saw a large bowl and pitcher of water for bathing - and she immediately decided to make use of them. She was sure Aramyllis would not mind... and she would replace the water as soon as she was finished. Pouring out half of the liquid into the bowl, Alyson slid her hands into the water and lifted it to her face. The water was cool, and left Alyson feeling even more refreshed. The mark on her brow where Tomas had struck her stung slightly, but Alyson knew it would heal quickly. She had suffered wounds much worse at his hands. Once her face was clean, she scrubbed her hands... it was a quick job, without any soap, but it would be enough for now.

Alyson used her old dress to dry her face and hands... unwilling to use a towel she saw next to the bowl lest she leave any dirt-marks. Looking into the bowl at the filthy water, Alyson felt as if she had been renewed. She was no longer a slave... and she was determined not to look like one.

Gathering up her old dress and shoes, along with the other dresses Aramyllis had given her, Alyson walked back to the other girl's bedroom. Entering, she asked shyly, "How do I look?"

[Aramyllis Dae]

Aramyllis, seated on the bed fingering something hidden within her grasp, looked up at Alyson's entrance. The change in the girl was dramatic. Not just had the old smock been switched out, but the smudge of flour that had gone unheeded on one cheek all morning was gone, and her cheeks were suffused with a delicate rosy glow. The fit of the borrowed dress, while not perfect, was a vast improvement over the shapeless apprentice's garb. Alyson, who had before resembled little more than a street urchin, now looked more like a respectable young lady, if still one residing in a farming village.

As she appraised the other girl with raised eyebrows, Myllis' was clearly impressed. She twirled a finger in the air to indicate that Alyson should do a spin so she could see the back. Her expression conveyed strong approbation. At the younger girl's inquiry, Aramyllis answered enthusiastically: "Like a whole new person. I bet your old boss won't even recognize you!"

After tucking away under her pillow the object still concealed in one fist, she led the way down to the kitchen. There, she busily went about gathering a light lunch for themselves and the men out working, composed of cheese, salted ham, and bread--from Tomas' own bakery, nonetheless; these were wrapped in spare cloth and slipped into a gunny bag made of woven jute. Myllis handed it to Alyson to carry. A second bag, this one empty, was slung over her own shoulder. Outside, she would pick a few apples fresh from the tree to take along, and maybe a tomato, if any were ripe.

It was only after emerging out the back door and into the sun that Aramyllis remembered she had meant to bring a hat for Alyson. The girl, while not entirely lacking color, did look as if she had been stuck inside far too much. It would take some time for her skin to adjust to toiling in the sun for long hours and tan over. Myllis bounded back upstairs to fetch the hat at run, much like a child with too much energy to burn off. The item in question was a floppy sun hat with an oversized rim, more fit for lazy Sunday afternoons spent wandering at the market than for the dirty task working the earth. It was not exactly practical. Likely, it would get in Alyson's way, obstruct her sight, and fall off whenever she bent over. Still, it would offer the best protection from the sun. Besides, the dress wasn't exactly practical, either.

Once back outside, she handed the hat to Alyson with a smile. "You'll want this. Trust me. There's few things worse than trying to fall asleep on a hot evening when you're covered in sun burn."

The walk to the farmstead was leisurely and companionable. Aramyllis took off her shoes and carried them in one hand so that she could feel the cool blades of grass between her toes. The dark line of the Virdara woods remained steady to their left, not more than a thousand meters away. Myllis explained that most of the village had been built further away from the supposed dangers of the forest, shielded by Kaledin manor, the cemetery, and whatever meager protection they might offer. Many of the human villagers, filled with superstitions about the magic of the woods, lived in a constant, low-grade fear of those things which lurked within the trees. At any moment, they expected some slavering, voracious monster to burst forth and wreak death upon Shim, or perhaps a cloud of baby-stealing pixies would abduct all the children and replace them with identical changelings. Never mind that nothing of the sort had happened in any living person's memory, much less actually been observed first hand by someone reliable. There were always the stories.

Though it was rarely spoken of aloud, a significant number of the villagers believed that the Old One was responsible for keeping their home free of magical menaces. Belatucadrus had never openly confirmed this notion, but nor had he discouraged it; erroneous or not, the villager's perceived reliance on the vampire would only make them more pliable to his influence.

Jo Dae had long maintained that the whole theory was complete nonsense: the creatures in the woods were only a threat when you intruded upon their territory. No protection was needed for the village. Of course, he had not complained when the Shimian's superstitions had allowed him to buy his current property at a drastically reduced price. Situated to the northwest corner of the village proper, it was on the near side of Kaledin manor and had a clear view of the Virdara. Quite simply, most everyone else was afraid of living there. Jo always laughed heartily whenever he retold the tale. The Dae farm had never had a single incident with marauding beasts or pixies.

At the girls' slow pace, it took about fifteen minutes before the fields came into view. Aramyllis continued her informal tutorial as they approached. Straight ahead, three slightly hunched shapes could be made out, scythes flashing in the sun over a crop of soybeans. The cutting and gathering of the crops could be performed much more efficiently with a horse-drawn reaper, but Jo's pair of dray horses was otherwise occupied in work which absolutely required them: plowing. Myllis pointed to a field off to the right, where the horses were trailed by a man walking along behind and steering the plough as it tore deep into the loamy earth. Jo also claimed that, in addition to the cheap price he paid, this land was the best in all of Shim: something about the nearby presence of the woods, he said.

As the pair grew nearer to the man doing the plowing, he brought his horses to a halt at the end of a row with a deep, "Woah!," then proceeded to remove his straw hat and wipe the sweat from his brow. He was dressed in overalls and an plain shirt with dark stains in the armpits. Aramyllis considered asking Alyson to wait here, so she could explain the situation to Jo without embarrassing the girl, but then decided it would be rude to disclude her.

Jo shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand and squinted in their direction, presumably trying to figure out who the girl with his daughter was. As he well knew, Myllis didn't have many friends among the locals, and never had she brought one out to the fields. Perhaps the stranger was here on some errand; but that would not explain why she was carrying one of the lunch sacks. The man's expression betrayed his perplexity. Nonetheless, when the two drew a stop in front of him, his smile was wide and generous, displaying slightly crooked teeth.

"What can I do fer ye ladies?"

Myllis piped in quickly, eager to relieve Alyson of the burden of explanation. "This here is Alyson Rolfe. She used to be apprenticed to the baker here in Shim but now she's decided she wants for a different job, and also she needs a place to stay until she gets up on her own two feet. I thought we could use another hand, anyway."

Her words, if anything, only increased Jo's bewilderment. His eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline and he squinted harder at Alyson, as if trying to place her. "The baker's apprentice, ye say? Come to think of it, I did used to a see a little blond girly in there from time ta time. But that was a while ago. Guess that must've been you." He paused to wipe away a bead of sweat that was threatening to run into his eye. "Ye been living in Marn these past few years or some'um? Can't say I've seen ye around that I remember."

[Alyson Rolfe]

The fresh air out in the fields was refreshing, very different from the hot, stuffy, flour-filled air of the bakery. Alyson took in the view of the fields and nearby woods with an air of curiosity and mild excitement, lacking the fear of the woods that so many Shimians had. One of the very few advantages of being sheltered by Tomas - she did not have the opportunity to hear the gossip that flourished about the woods and Shim's benefactor in Kaledin Manor. Tomas was not one for intelligent conversation - least of all with Alyson - so her mind was open to ideas to which many her age had already closed their minds. Over the past nine years her imagination had been her only friend, and without it Alyson was sure she would have gone mad with lonliness.

They approached a man hard at work plowing the fields. Alyson could only assume it was Aramyllis's father, since he was the one to which Aramyllis broached the idea of Alyson working on the farm. Alyson flushed at Jo Dae's question, but it was barely noticeable under the shadow of her hat's broad rim. She was uncertain how best to answer... wanting to be as truthful as possible without going into complicated details. "I've been in Shim, but I was not very often in the front of the store... I mean... Tomas though I'd learn best if I worked the ovens... He handled the customers... That's probably why you didn't see me." She ended lamely with a shrug of her thin shoulders. Hopefully Jo Dae's curiosity would be satisfied. Aramyllis had not mentioned the earlier altercation in the market square, and Alyson hoped to avoid the topic as well.

Alyson was not afraid that Jo Dae would try to send her back to Tomas, in fact, she assumed he would feel the same way Aramyllis had - that slavery was wrong and she deserved a chance to live a better life... Still, it was uncomfortable to try to explain why she had allowed the situation to last as long as it had. In fact, now that she was free Alyson could not understand it herself. She had never considered going to the authorities on her own... never considered questioning the treatment that clearly shocked those who heard of it. She had been naive - bound by her mind's unwillingness to consider that she deserved better.

One thing was certain - Alyson would never go back to such an existence.

[Alyson Rolfe]

Tomas shivered as he huddled in a corner of his bakery, the fire in the large stone oven having burned out hours before. It was late and he should have been home… but he was still brooding over the events of the day. Alyson was gone – probably off with that guard and his woman – and there would likely be an inquiry at least… an arrest was probably to be expected. How would he explain this to his wife? She had ignored Alyson’s existence completely, feeling the servant was beneath her notice and only appreciated the fact that the girl’s presence allowed her husband to spend more time at home… bringing with him additional Bishan that fed her taste for minor luxuries. To learn that Tomas might be facing jail time would probably send her into hysterics.

Not only that… Tomas had an uneasy feeling that the person who had left Alyson in his care might somehow find out… and be less than pleased…

Things had been going well for the vampire over the previous two nights. A promising new battlemage had entered the ranks with the others, and the lost wolf girl, Gia, was likewise turning out to have been serendipitous encounter that would make things much easier for him for years to come.

Centuries of experience had dulled all sense of excitement he might have felt over a few lucky events. Rather than allow himself to become blinded by positive emotions, the vampire waited patiently for the next piece of news to come to him. He suspected it would not be quite so positive in nature. He had a sense of the ups and downs that the currents of life brought to him, and knew it was only a matter of time before the next setback arose.

He was not disappointed.

Spies within the town had seen everything that transpired between Camulous, Tomas, Alyson, Metarie, and a stranger from the east. Tomas was seen abusing his charge, and the result was that Alyson was taken away from him. She was safe, but when Bela heard of Tomas' transgressions, he knew what had to be done. Tomas was entrusted with the girl's safety and he had gone against Bela's wishes. No simple citizen of Shim could do such a thing.

That night, once the sun had tucked itself safely beyond the trees of the Virdara Woods, the vampire left his manor for the town below. Tomas would be wise to hide from him, but it would make no difference in the end. Shim was his domain, and Marn was his plaything. Fleeing Thar Shaddin would be the only hope for the foolish man and his wife. The vampire knew where he lived, where he worked, and roughly who his friends were.

And so, as he traversed a road in the direction of Tomas' house, the dim glow from the bakery impinged itself upon his sensitive eyes like golden lava spilling out onto the road.

Curious. Who would be there at this hour? Who but Tomas himself. He must have known what was coming.

He tried the door. Unlocked, it opened silently, and he let himself inside where he found the man, sitting cold and alone in a corner. The lowly baker looked positively pathetic.

“Tomas.” Said the vampire in a voice familiar from years ago.

For a moment Tomas remained unmoving, his hands clenching his dirty apron and his eyes fixed on the floor. Slowly, he took a breath then raised his eyes to meet the one he had expected – yet feared.

“So… you’ve come.” It was as if he knew his fate was sealed – and knew that running would be a pointless exercise in futility.

The shadowy figure drew out his response in a lengthy, thoughtful sound full of promises of punishment at his displeasure. “Yeesss... You mistreated the girl, Tomas. I entrusted her to you to care for her, and I find out that you have given her a life of servitude and abuse.”

What little light there was in the bakery was just enough to reveal his pale, chiseled features, and the way he squinted his glistening eyes to protect them from its offensive rays.

He walked forward, and the door closed itself behind him.

“You live in my town, Tomas.” He kept repeating Tomas' name, each time, reminding the man, or himself, who he was talking to. “You know what it means to live in my town, under my protection. You have broken my laws.”

Tomas shuddered. The sound of the man’s voice broke across his mind like a rush of icy water. Keeping his gaze averted, unwilling to meet the eyes of his accuser, he grunted, “I did what ya asked… I did mah best ta raise ‘er – growed up well ‘nough she ‘as – an’ what she do but run off wi’ tha’ guard an’ ‘is woman.”

Deliberately slow, even paces continued to carry the dark figure closer to Tomas. The vampire could smell the fear seeping out of his pores; an all too familiar smell that made him hungry.

"Mmm. Camulous and Metarie, and the girl Dae." Bela already knew more information than Tomas did about where Alyson had gone. "You say you did your best to raise her as a slave with no education. To use her as free labor in your bakery. Nobody would know how you treated the child, Tomas. None would think twice if you abused her. None but the Marnian guard, who have an arrest warrant out for you for keeping a slave now."

Finally only a few paces away from Tomas, the vampire stopped walking. "But I care more than they do, Tomas. Alyson is mine."

Tomas shuddered and attempted to stand - only halfway succeeding - and ending in a cowering crouch that begged humility. His eyes filled with tears and he fought the urge to lose control of his bodily functions. "I... I'm sorry, lord...please...forgive me..." he whimpered.

It was too late for apologies. Tomas knew what was coming, and he was pleading with a man whose only dash of humanity existed because he willed it to exist for the sake of political gain through social grace. Unfortunately for Tomas, all the begging and shaking accomplished nothing. If only he knew the things Bela had done in the past, he would know better than to waste his time trying.

"You wish for my forgiveness, Tomas? Stand up, then. Cease your wretched cowering and stand up, and I may forgive you. You will be useful to me yet."

Tomas's eyes widened and he immediately stood up straight - as if some unearthly thing had jerked him upright by his hair. "Anythin'... anythin' ya ask... I'll do it," Tomas gasped, half-terrified, half-relieved at this unexpected offer. He was too stupid and too frightened to realize that placating the dark man was extremely unlikely.

"I know you will, Tomas." Bela replied with apathetic certainty. As he continued to speak, he remained as detached and impassive as a man who was explaining a job to an underling. It was a speech he had recited before. "You see, the people of Shim have expectations of me. You are my people and I am your father. I protect you because I love you. I maintain order and to do so I must be listened to.

"It would not do for the people if my will could be ignored. I run a tight ship, Tomas. I'm sure you understand. This is why you disciplined Alyson, is it not?"

Blinking rapidly, as if trying to gather thoughts that were beyond his comprehension, Tomas nodded, "Uh...aye...aye! Thas wha' I was doin'. Ya unnerstan', she ne'er wanted ta lis'en to me. Had ta teach 'er respeckt, I did. Spoil th' rod, spoil th' child, as they say..." Tomas stopped short, shifting his weight and daring to glance at Bela's face. He had a sudden ominous feeling that saying anything further might not be to his advantage.

"I'm glad you understand."

The vampire offered another smile that didn't reach his eyes. He appeared appropriately devoid of malice toward the man. More like he was about to put down an animal out of necessity. In the soft, wavering candle light, Bela almost looked peaceful. Its glow served to soften his hard features, despite casting hard shadows around his eyes and nose.

Tomas was the child in the room, looking up at him in his ignorance and simplicity. He thought he could please him. Smooth things over. It was pitiable. Unfortunately for him it was not going to change matters. Tomas was only the next in a line of countless others like him. People who were more useful dead than alive.

A subtle shift of his weight and a barely noticeable jerk of his hand was all the warning Tomas had before the vampire's hand, with claws pointed forward like a spear, plunged into the soft flesh of his gut. Like dipping his hand into a pool of warm jelly, the man's normally protective layer of tissue offered nearly no resistance at all. Before there was time for a signal of shock to reach his brain, the vampire had Tomas' diaphragm gripped in his hand and squeezed it into nothing.

There was no need to wake the townspeople. They would find out tomorrow.

Nor was there any need for further explanation. Tomas' life was effectively over, and he had had all the talk he was entitled to. All that remained was to string him up to get the desired effect without too much flailing.

Before Tomas could react properly to the shock, the vampire shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and lifted his hand upward until his fingertips reached the man's heart. His shirt parted in two, and the hole in his chest grew to accommodate the vampire's arm, which was already soaked in blood up to the elbow.

A final gasp of air and escaped Tomas' parted lips as his eyes bulged outward... his final thoughts of anger and pain fading away into the nothingness of death.

[Belatucadrus]

Hand deep inside Tomas' chest, the vampire found his heart, clutched it, and squeezed once. This ended his life much faster than so many other victims. There was no need to draw things out more. Tomas' death was a necessary affair, and he was a Shimian after all. One of Bela's own people who had committed a transgression that was minor in many ways, was entitled to a quick end.

"You should consider yourself lucky." He told the dripping corpse.

What remained was for Tomas' final use to come into play. The silent messenger needed to speak to the people louder than words ever could.

With his claws dug deep into his flesh, the vampire dragged Tomas' corpse across the floor of the bakery to the entrance. The pool of blood beneath him extended all the way, pulled along by a pair of trailing feet. Bela threw open the door with one hand and tossed the body outside onto the dirt road which likewise quickly became dark with the saturation of blood.

Calmly closing the door behind himself, he began the task of putting Tomas' corpse on display. With his unique abilities to distort living tissue, he didn't need any tools to do it. Bones could be sharpened into spikes in the place of usual nails. Cutting sections from the rest of the body was trivial.

He pinned the head to the door with a bone put through his gaping mouth, and threw entrails this way and that, making twisted artistry out of them in the process. He tossed some intestines over the lamp that hung beside the door, strung the rest of it over the window... When he was finished, the mess was only vaguely recognizable as having come from one individual. The locals would know Tomas' visage well enough. That much remained intact.

Finally, the vampire wrote his message to his people in no uncertain terms. He used his shirt to clean off the claw of his index finger and scratched words into the wood above Tomas' head. They came through the bright orange colour of exposed wood, through the scratched paint and dried blood in angular Eyropan script: Slavery is forbidden.

[Alyson Rolfe]

As she lay down on the small cot in Aramyllis' room Alyson felt completely exhausted, yet also - for the first time since she could remember - completely happy. She was free, had a full stomach, a job she was not forced into, and a new friend. As her eyes closed Alyson let out a sigh of contentment, then she drifted off into peaceful dreams.

Such dreams would be shattered all too soon...

The next morning began well enough - Alyson and Aramyllis had joined the family at the breakfast table to fill up before a full day of farm work - when all of a sudden one of the farm hands burst into the home with terror in his eyes.

"I... jus' came from town... you'll not be'live it!" he stammered, shaking from exertion. "Tomas the baker is dead!"

In that moment Alyson felt as though her heart stopped. She listened, barely breathing, as the man continued his tale. He described the scene in gruesome detail... not sparing them one horrifying image or drop of blood. "They say HE did it - wi' his own hands!" The man continued, "HE... come in ta Shim... bringin' judgm'nt they say... HE's watchin' they say!"

When he finished Alyson felt the eyes of Aramyllis and Jo Dae on her. Whether it was from concern, pity, or simply shock she was not certain. The meal ended as abruptly as the farm hand's entrance, with Alyson and Aramyllis escaping to the latter's room.

At first the two young women sat each on their own bed, looking at each other with unreadable expressions. "I don't understand..." Alyson began, her voice barely above a whisper, breaking the uneasy silence. "Why would... HE...kill Tomas?” She continued, rambling as she tried to grasp what had occurred. “Tomas was wrong to treat me as he did… the guard would have punished him… Captain Smithson said so… so… why would HE come and…” Alyson’s voice trailed off – unable to bring herself to mention the grisly death Tomas had suffered. While she had reveled in the idea of being free, Alyson had not once truly wished for Tomas to suffer death as his fate. To suffer perhaps – in prison or exile – but death… especially in such a manner… was beyond her comprehension. Her gaze went to the window where the sun was just beginning to break free from the horizon in its long trek across the sky.

Aramyllis remained silent, unable or unwilling to reply. Perhaps she knew that Alyson’s ramblings were important… but even she could not have expected Alyson’s conclusion.

“Maybe… maybe HE knew… maybe HE knows who I am…” Alyson blurted suddenly, her eyes widening. “Perhaps he has the answers… who my parents were… why I was put in Tomas’ care… my past… everything!”

She looked back to Aramyllis, grim determination in her face. “I have to go… I have to see HIM… to find out what…if… HE knows…”

Aramyllis did not try to stop Alyson – leaving it unsaid whether or not she disagreed with the girl’s plan. Perhaps she knew that Alyson could never be satisfied with her life unless she traveled this path… to see if her past could be uncovered.

After promising to return Alyson accepted a bag containing the few belongings Aramyllis had given her, along with a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese, then started off towards Kaledin Manor.

Walking quickly, Alyson purposely avoided the main part of town… having no desire to see Tomas’ remains or to encounter curious Shimians who might remember seeing her with the deceased.

The journey was not long, but seemed so perhaps due to the anxiousness of Alyson’s heart and mind. She did not pause until she stood at the gated walls that marked the entrance to the sprawling manor. There, looking forward towards the dark mansion of Belatucadrus, her heart quailed. The strange feeling that had come over her when meeting Aramyllis and Metarie was stronger now… uncomfortably so… and the small hairs on the back of her neck stood straight. She shuddered and wondered why she had come… if the man who lived here could do as he had done to Tomas, what would her fate be? But to turn back… to resign herself to never knowing her past… was unacceptable.

With renewed determination Alyson stepped forward, and crossed into Belatucadrus’ domain.

[Alyson Rolfe]

Despite the immaculately manicured lawns and beautiful gardens surrounding the path which led to Kaledin mansion, Alyson felt an oppressive weight hovering on her mind and spirit that seemed to grow with every step she took. It was a feeling beyond the fear of the unknown… or even of the known. Dwelling on the impression, however, only made her anxiety worse, so Alyson did her best to ignore it.

At one point, Alyson decided that it would be best to leave her pack behind, where she could retrieve it later. Wrapping it together tightly she placed the sack in the nook of a tree branch where it would be unmolested by animals or other passersby, then she continued on her way.

It was just past noon before Alyson reached the tall, dark entrance to Belatucadrus’ home. A large knocker in the image of a menacing gargoyle was clearly visible in the center of each massive door, and Alyson reached for one tentatively. Lifting the bar she was surprised at the weight of it, and only gave one heavy knock that seemed to echo for several minutes.

What seemed like an eternity passed, and Alyson was about to decide that no one was home… when the large door swung open silently inward…

[Belatucadrus]

Kaledin manor, like the town of Shim in which it resided, existed without defenses. The sleepy town on the Sooqui plane - an area known as harsh and lawless - thought so little about military safety that it lacked even a standing militia. Nor did it have much of a police force, for they called on the guardsmen from Marn when they needed them - a request that took anywhere from two to four hours to fulfill on a normal day. Shim didn't even have its own justice system. This, too, was deferred to the Marnians when it was necessary. Yet somehow the people managed, and managed quite well. Violent crime was extremely rare. The villagers knew better, the Marnians knew better, and nobody trusted outsiders anyway.

Likewise Kaledin manor would look like a bit of an oddity for a newcomer. It was clearly an important place. Big and made of stone, it was situated atop an easily defensible hill the way a fortress might be, with architecture comparable to a baroque style that hinted at extravagance. This extravagance was mirrored in the gardens around the place, which were so serene and idyllic that they clearly received thorough attention from a handful of people.

And yet there were no defenses, no regular visitors, and apparently nobody to stop Alyson from snooping around or, heaven forbid, breaking in. She was free, as were all Shimians, to approach the place in search of its owner. Still, the other Shimians almost never did. It was generally agreed upon as one of those bad ideas. There were ample stories about stolen infants and men who suffered fates worse than Tomas to justify their caution.

When Alyson knocked on the door, she became the first Shimian to willingly do so without an invitation in over a year. Last time it had been an emergency.

In swung the door, on well oiled hinges, to reveal a gloomy interior of drawn drapes and candle light. She was greeted by an elderly looking man with wrinkles like a prune and wispy, wild, silvery hair. His clothes were those of a farmer, or perhaps a gardener. Tough gray pants with patches on the knees and a shirt not fit for the fine decorum inside gave him away. He was holding the door open by the handle while he studied Alyson, squinting against the light and checking over her shoulder to see if anyone else was with her.

Then, slowly, he raised a finger to his pursed lips.

"SHHHHhhhhhh..." He hushed. Then paused. Then began ushering her inside.

"That damned knocker wakes him up." Continued the old gardener. "And then he gets cranky. And then he gets scary and I don't want to be around."

Before Alyson could get a word in, a woman appeared from behind a doorway off to the side. She was difficult to see in the gloomy lighting, but if anyone in the Manor was supposed to be answering the door, it was probably her. She wore a plain black dress and fine makeup, but she had a strange look in her eyes. It was a strange mixture of concern, and dreamy, air-headed confusion like she was unprepared to see what she was seeing.

The gardener twisted around so that he could see her, an action that looked like it should put some strain on his old body. "It's alright, it's alright. She's from town. Go back to your... Whatever it is." The dismissive tone in his voice suggested that the mere thought of having to deal with the woman exasperated him, even at his age.

After a moments hesitation, the woman slipped away again and the gardener carefully closed the door behind Alyson so as not to make much noise. It would take some time for her eyes to adjust to the lighting inside. Eventually she would be able to make out that Kaledin manor was just as luxurious inside as it was out. Paintings, ornaments, furniture fit for a king. It was all beautiful, even in the shadows.

"Can't see a damned thing in here. I'm old. Not just wrinkly. I knew you'd come though. Eventually. Well, I thought you'd wait until night at least. They used to tell me I had future telling magic, heh heh. Just a touch of it I think. I'm good at knowing these kinds of things... Come on, come where I can see you. I hate this house." He rambled to himself as much as to her.

Squeezing her upper arm with a grip that would have trouble crushing a feather, he led her across the large antechamber they were in. There was a shaft of light shooting through a crack in the curtains and a scratch in the black paint that coated the outside of the windows. It looked like a sparkly white spear in the gloom. Once they reached it he stopped and took another look at her.

"I'm Monk, and you're here to see Bela. Eh?"

[Alyson Rolfe]

Alyson had opened her mouth to greet the man who had opened the door, but had promptly closed it as he held a finger to his lips. She barely had time to wonder who “he” was that might become cranky, when the elderly man took her by the arm and led her inside. The woman that appeared had an odd look in her eyes – causing a shiver to run down Alyson’s back. Her expression seemed… unnatural, for lack of a better term. Alyson could not help but let out a sigh of relief when the strange woman was gone.

It took several minutes for Alyson’s eyes to adjust to the darkness of the mansion’s interior, but once they had she was overwhelmed by the majestic beauty of the home’s furnishings. Never in her life – at least the life she could remember – had Alyson even imagined such finery.

She had a hard time returning her gaze and attention to the roughly-dressed man before her, and an even harder time grasping what he was implying with his words. How could he know I was coming… she wondered silently as the man introduced himself.

The second question that entered her mind, she decided to voice aloud. “Why should I have waited until night?” she asked quietly, the tone of her voice low as if afraid to awaken unseen things that might be nearby. Before he could reply, she continued as she remembered her purpose and her desire for answers, “My name is Alyson… or do you already know that too? And do you know me? I mean… where I came from? And… yes… I am here to see… Bela…”

She used the shortened form of Belatucadrus’ name hesitantly, feeling as if it was sacrilegious to do so. While she knew little to nothing of the man who resided in Kaledin Manor, living in Shim had taught her at the very least that he was to be respected – if not feared. After what had happened to Tomas… she was leaning towards the latter.

[Belatucadrus]

"That baker really kept you in the dark, eh?" responded Monk. "Most of the people tell so many stories about him they're afraid to come up here at all. Bela doesn't come out during the day. It hurts his eyes. That's why this place is so abysmally dark inside that I can't see anything."

Satisfied that he had gotten a better look at her through the slit of light afforded by the crack in the curtains, he relaxed his eyes and his posture, and stopped studying her with so much interest. Glassy eyes, nestled in a bed of crows feet went a little out of focus, but he kept smiling proudly the way a grandfather might when looking at his granddaughter.

"Oh no, I didn't know your name. I watch from the gardens up here and sometimes I go in to town to get things. I'm seventy four you know, and all human. I knew that baker... eehh... Tomas. No good, no good. Bela put you in his care years ago after your parents died. I knew them too, a little bit, your parents. Not very well, but I saw them. Tomas knew them too. Everyone in Shim knows everyone a little bit, and they know what happened. He should have told you. Well... Unless Bela told him not to.
Eehhh... But that's why you're here, isn't it? Nobody in town talks to you because they know you have something to do with... him. " He huffed the last word suggestively. "They'd rather lick the dew of a fairy's ass than risk getting involved. And good on them, too. Coming here to ask yourself was the right thing to do."

The gardener anticipated her next question and answered for her. "I can't tell you what happened. You might as well hear it from the dragon's mouth. If I tell you something wrong he'll get mean, and you know they say he eats old men like me for a snack."

It was not immediately obvious if he was joking or serious. Either Monk saw the vampire very differently than everyone in Shim did, or he saw him the same way and wasn't bothered by it. Maybe he was just used to living with a cold blooded, ruthless monster.

Holding her upper arm in that possessive, grandfatherly way that he did, as though he was as much clinging to her for support as he was guiding her through the foreign surroundings, he led her toward a comfortable looking leather sofa.

"Come, sit down. It's going to be hours before he gets up and you might as well get comfortable. We have tea and biscuits." Leaning in conspiratorially, he added, "and some elven spirits that are veeery expensive. Eh? Come on, you've earned some freedom."

[Alyson Rolfe]

The man Monk could not have known the pain his ramblings would cause the young woman next to him. While Alyson had felt for the past few years that her parents must be dead - that feeling had not been confirmed until this moment.

Alyson allowed herself to be led to the sofa, her mind reeling from what she had just learned. They had known… they ALL had known what had happened to her… and they said nothing. Everyone who had ever seen the hidden child in Tomas’ bakery had known but done nothing. Even if they had not known the extent of the horrors Alyson had faced at the hands of Tomas… surely they could have seen the pain and fear in the child’s eyes.

Or perhaps they had not seen it… Alyson suddenly remembered a time when she had been near the front of the bakery when customers had entered. They had spoken to Tomas, but avoided the piercing eyes of the young girl who watched them eagerly. One of them, an older woman, had glanced her way and then quickly averted her eyes. Alyson had assumed it was because she was beneath their notice… now she understood their aversion.

Another time came to mind… Alyson, barely twelve years old, was sweeping the floor of the bakery. She had been left alone for several hours while Tomas made a trip into Marn. Outside she had heard children playing in the street. Curious, the girl had timidly slipped outside an approached them. A few minutes later and she was actually laughing as they played together…innocent children… but it had been the first and last time she would ever have that chance. One of the children’s mothers arrived and stood between Alyson and the others. In a tone both angry and – as Alyson now realized – frightened, the woman had ordered the children not to talk to the baker’s waif. Her soul wounded by the experience, Alyson had never sought out anyone in Shim again.

A brief, uncontrollable, feeling of anger surged through Alyson’s spirit. Anger toward the ignorant, fearful people of Shim. Anger towards Belatucadrus who had left her in the hands of Tomas. Anger towards herself for waiting so long to seek freedom and answers she felt surely she deserved.

Her mind in turmoil, Alyson barely heard Monk’s offer, and could only nod vaguely in response. She did not trust herself to reply just yet. For some reason, she trusted the dusty old gardener, even though what he had told her created more questions than answers. Perhaps she was foolish… or perhaps she just needed to trust in something – or someone.

Finally, Alyson forced a thin smile. “I am a little hungry…” she began, turning to meet Monk’s feeble gaze. “And I think I do deserve a little freedom.,” she added with a hint of confidence. Alyson was determined to enjoy whatever luxuries Monk might offer her – and to appreciate the beauty of the dark surroundings – for as long as she might be able. While she had never tasted spirits, elven or otherwise, she thought that if they were expensive then surely they must be good…

In the darkness of the room no one would be able to read the strained emotion that filled her eyes, making a lie of the of the accepting tone of her voice. Pain...hurt... sorrow... held in by a tremendous force of will that Alyson had not known she possessed. Only a single tear managed to grace her cheek - and it was brushed aside dismissively before it could be noticed by anyone other than herself.

[Belatucadrus]

"That you do, my girl. I'll be right back. Feel free to look around, but don't steal anything." Hushing his voice to a conspiratorial whisper again, he added, "he hates that."

Monk smiled. winked again, and left her where she was to go searching off through the doorway where the maid with the strange look in her eyes had been. He muttered to himself along the way, facetiously complaining about 'that silly maid' and where she'd gotten off to.

There were many things to look at in the room. The whole interior of the manor was decorated with historical artifacts and work of art, somewhere between a museum and a gallery. It had been arranged with an eye for decor and, despite the wanting illumination, as if the owner's intent was to entertain guests. One shelf was filled with leather bound books, at least a hundred in total. Each spine was labeled with a number written in gold, while the contents were hand written in some foreign language.

Of the paintings on the walls, most were painted by the same hand, in the same style. Monochromatic pieces in hues of greenish blue, the ones that weren't abstract were either depictions of nature; deep woods and moonlit skies. One looked like Shim as it could be seen from above the Manor. Weaponry, knickknacks and artifacts sitting on small display tables made up the rest of the room.

Monk left her there for several minutes. Out of sight and earshot, the old gardener prepared her food. He poured a small glass from a bottle of elven spirits on the counter, as promised, and surrounded it on a plate with some cheeses and meats.

Then he took a small flask of blue liquid from under the counter and added several drops of it to the drink. Magically infused, it would have any normal person unconscious in minutes.

He returned and placed the platter on a small table across from the sofa, and smiled at her once again.

"You could learn a lot about your people in this room."