SLAP!
“AAAAAAAH!”
The fourth sp.
The reason the vilgers were so keen on pushing away the church at the request of the prince, was of course, not only because of the royal resource freeing them from Vd’s mind trol.
It was because the prince himself had terrorized them.
SLAP!
“GUH! UGH!”
“Hmm, seeing how they reacted, it seems you had also touched their women too, huh?” Burn muttered as he delivered the fifth sp.
Their ued dispy of emotion stemmed from weeks of tyranny uhe prince's ‘rest’ in their vilge after he was kicked away from the church.
Each sp, eg the grievances and silent sufferings they had endured, struck a chord within their hearts. As the prince y powerless, the peasants saw a symbol of their own liberation unfolding before their eyes.
It was as if each tear shed was a release of pent-up anguish, and with every drop, they washed away some of the bitterhat had long taiheir lives.
SLAP!!
How could they possibly challehe prince of the empire?
Even as the prieetered on the edge of downfall, his royal status ehat any rebellion against him would be met with severe sequences, with no prote from the higher echelons of power.
Their women were vioted, their children attacked—yet tions did they have? They were powerless, crushed uhe priyrannical will.
So, when the depraved prince demahe women of the church, their fury had no choice but to simmer and redirect. Anything, just to get that monster off their backs.
SLAP!!
The grand fihe seventh sp!
Clearly, a performance worth a standing ovation.
There y the prince, a royal mess on the ground, his face a destructed, cubism painting—abstrad barely reizable.
His teeth had gone on a little adventure, some hanging by a thread in his mouth, others taking a bloody dive onto the dirty floor, and a lucky few getting a first-css trip down his throat. Swallowed, or clogged his respiratory system.
Calling him bd blue would be like calling a tornado a gentle breeze—utterly ie. The man wasn't just bruised; he was a walking, well, lying disaster.
Might have snagged himself a minor cussion too, if he's lucky. What a show, folks, what a show!
If you asked Burell you he wasn't fug satisfied yet. But if he kept it up, he'd definitely end up killing the bastard. Wouldn't be his loss, though, but a damn tragedy for everyone else. Especially those poor vilgers.
And the vampires. Well, given how things were going, Burn would be affected eventually too.
But, this time was ripe for the vampire’s mind trol ability to shine.
Thus, Burn turoward Vd, and with one look, the old man knew what to do.
Burn's voice was low. "I want you to instill a fear," he began, his words deliberate, "a fear so deep, so dormant, that it lingers in their subscious, that their own brain works hard to suppress the memory.”
“Ehey tremble at the mere thought of this pce; make them never dare to even approach these grounds again."
He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink into the minds of everyone present. There was a sinister calm in his demeanor, a poised readiness of a predator.
Slowly, his head turowards the crumpled figure of the prince, who was a lying mess on the ground.
With a sudden movement, Burn stepped towards the prince. His hand shot out, fingers entwining cruelly in the prince's hair. He ched his fist, yanking the prince’s head back with such force that it seemed he might rip the hair right from his scalp.
The prince gasped, half scious, a sharp, pained sound that echoed within the courtyard.
Burn leaned down. His expression was one of cold fury mixed with a twisted satisfa.
“Especially this guy.”
Burn tightened his grip, pulling the prince up with a rough jerk, treating him er than a sack of flesh. The prince's body jolted, his limbs filing weakly as he struggled to find his footing.
Burn held him there, suspended in disfort and fear.
“Go on,” he said to Vd.
Burn realized that these devoted vampires had an aversion to getting their hands dirty.
It became clear that this was the very reason they weled him into their secretive unity—someone had to take care of the less gmorous tasks.
And so, they tio wait on their feet, seemingly incapable of lifting a fihemselves. What an excruciating way of life. Shackled beasts with hunger for blood, yet they chose this kind of life themselves.
Vd unveiled his upper veil, a pair of crimslowed from within.
The knights and the prince, already in a state of vulnerability aal weakness, fell uhe old vampire's powerful mind trol spell.
Their minds were tormeheir fears amplified a hundredfold. Vd delivered precisely what Burn had requested: an overwhelming surge of pure terror.
But Vd didn’t stop there. He did the same with the vilgers, but a tad bit different.
He offered more leniend empathy in his mind trol spell, giving them a ce to heal their sanity, both from today’s event, and the priorment.
“Go home. Go back to your own pces,” Vd said.
As the otion subsided, like zombies, the crowd slowly dispersed. The mob seemed entranced as they departed, while the knights retreated on horseback, dragging the sed prih them.
"Thank you for your assistance," Vd expressed his gratitude as he approached Burn, who stood there visibly annoyed.
"You all could have managed without me," Bured, his voice tinged with irritation.
"Indeed, we might have," Vd ceded.
"However, the vampires are young and still navigating their faith. They are quickly agitated, and ohey resort to viole bees difficult to rein them ba. The instinctual craving for blood dominates our nature," he expined.
“Why would I care about that? It became annoying, so I took care of it,” Burn said ftly, “But, you owe me one, old man.”
Vd raised his eyebrows, chug. “Sure.”
“So now, brio her.”
The two immediately exged looks.
“Man Le Fay.”
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