“They are livestock yes, but that does not mean we have the right to treat them with such… disregard as you. Here in the Duchies, we are no longer wolves, now we are shepherds and while the end result is the same for the sheep, the process is different. We must protect them, provide for them, give the flock opportunities to be fruitful,l and find other ways to keep them docile. Mortalkind is our prey, but also our responsibility, don’t forget that, and if you must whet your… appetites, make sure there isn’t any evidence next time.” - Baron Loris Sliv speaking to his scion, Esquire Crofter Sliv

  : One Hundred and Thirty-Five Years ago :

  Countess Isabelle Gens Silva, ruler of Pleuron, Lady of the Thoas Citadel, Master Alchemist, and renowned magical Scholar, stared down at a burning village. The crackle of flames and screams of frightened peasants filled the night. Something that would not do. These mortals were under Isabelle’s protection, their lives only hers to spend. Not to be stolen by the scurvy-addled Corsairs raiding the town.

  Isabelle had gotten word of the attack and quickly rushed to the fishing hamlet. It was one of the myriad similar settlements in her territory. A cluster of houses made from local stone and wood squatting in a natural harbor. Protected by a cliff, steep hills, and the sea. The Vampress hadn’t even bothered to learn the village’s name. Just Hearing of the attack upon waking and rushing to its defense.

  She arrived just in time to witness the southern pirates begin covering their tracks. The bastards had set the village on fire, driving the few peasants they hadn’t captured towards the shore. Where they found chains and the lash waiting for them. With her enhanced eyesight, Isabelle could see the Corsairs gathering up their booty on the beach. Huddled groups of villagers were being shoved into rowboats. A large leather-skinned man loading crates of produce and valuables into an already packed dingy. Two brutish-looking Corsairs dragging a young woman away from her family and towards the nearby shadows.

  The Vampress had seen enough; she would save her people and make sure these Corsairs enjoyed the bitter fruits of their labor. Standing on a cliff overlooking the village. Isabelle raised one of her hands high and made a gesture. A head-sized sphere of blue flame erupted from her fingertips and sailed through the air. It traveled in a great arc before landing in the sea. Hitting the water between the beach and the Corsair’s moored Galley. The warm summer sea started to boil, and froth as Isabelle’s magic did its work. Fog bloomed up from the water in a great cloud separating Pirates from their ships.

  Two huge lumbering shapes clambered up to Isabelle’s position. Having finally crested the hill and joining her on the clifftop. Isabelle spared a glance at the two figures. Both easily three meters in height with ill-proportioned simian bodies. The two Flesh-golems were some of Isabelle’s cruder work. Stitched together from human, orc, and troll corpses. Each carried a large barrel over one shoulder.

  “Gog, Magog, are you ready?” the Countess asked. Both Flesh-golems nodded, their disproportionately small heads bobbing at the end of over-muscled necks. Smiling fiercely, Isabelle gave the command. “Launch the payload.”

  The two Flesh-golems shifted their barrels and prepared to throw them. Arms long enough to drag upon the ground stretched back like organic trebuchets. Unnatural muscle groaned taught, and Isabelle made a note to tweak their shoulder musculature next time she got the chance. Alongside the sound of cord-like muscle was the frantic skittering of the barrel’s cargo. Isabelle hoped the results of this generation would be better than her last experiment.

  The Flesh-Golems heaved their cargo into the air with great grunts of effort. The barrels sailed through the air heading towards the Corsairs position. Spinning through the night sky, the barrels popped open and started disgorging their cargo. Thousands of rats fell over the burning village in a bizarre rain shower.

  Shutting her eyes and reaching out with her powers, Isabelle opened up a link between her mind and that of her rat swarm. Roughly eighty percent of the rodents had landed without injury. A marked improvement over the previous test. Responding to her will, the rats scurried in all directions, flitting through the burning village and towards the beach in a small tide of furry bodies. Isabelle’s consciousness drifted between the rodents, scattering herself among them in a strange nearly-meditative state. She didn’t possess them but collected information from their minds and guided them as she saw fit.

  Through a thousand different sets of eyes, Isabelle drank in the battlefield and made her plan. Where other Vampires used rodent swarms as war-fodder and spies, Isabelle found them much better as scouts. Especially when coupled with her experimental delivery system. A few years of selective breeding had produced this batch of fast, agile, and vicious rodents better suited to great falls than mundane rats. Rats that now swarmed between the legs of the unnoticing corsairs. While a few of the rodents climbed into the dozen or so dinghy the Pirates had beached, the majority clung to the shadows waiting for Isabelle’s appointed signal.

  It came when the first Pirate noticed the scurrying shapes dancing between their feet. Letting out a startled scream, the pirate unknowingly sealed his fate. Hundreds of rats lept onto him and his fellows. Sinking vicious teeth into unprotected skin. Soon a chorus of confused shouts and screams echoed through the night. Surprise and pain were the first stroke of this fight, fear and death would be the second.

  The clatter of bones and metal started to drown out the crackling flames. Isabelle’s army had arrived. From her perch on the cliff, Isabelle could watch as a solid mass of Rattlers came into view. Hundreds of undead soldiers marched down the hill opposite of her cliff and directly towards the beach. Pained shouts turned into frantic screams as Pirates and villagers saw this corpse legion arrive. The black steel of Eternal Soldiers pressed down the steep hill. An entire company coming to punish the Sea Thieves.

  Or at least that's what it looked like in the darkness. Isabelle had only been able to rouse a squad of twenty Legionnaires from the local Garrison-Crypt for this fight. In rushing to meet the Pirates, Isabelle had outpaced all her servants except for the Flesh-Golems Gog and Magog. Forcing her to improvise and requisition the graveyards of every nearby town and village. It had been a tricky bit of necromancy to do on the fly, but Isabelle was nothing if not talented.

  Smiling smugly, Isabelle watched as her army fast approached the raiders. The Corsairs were quickly abandoning any effort to loot and were busy trying to escape. Clambering into the rowboats, forgetting their prospective slaves and even their more mundane loot. Isabelle watched as one Pirate tried to throw some of the already loaded booty overboard to make room on the dingy. Another Pirate stabbed the first one in the gut and ordered his fellows to cast off. A dozen more of these ugly scenes played out across the beach as craven cruel men acted on their worst instincts.

  Gog and Magog started picking up large stones and tossing them at the escaping rowboats. They were purposely clumsy in their throws, doing more to scare the Corsairs than actually hitting them. Providing plenty of motivation for the Corsairs to abandon any pretense of a careful withdrawal. Dozens of panicked Corsairs waded into the water, trying desperately to reach the leaving rowboats. Other more foolish Pirates stood their ground on the beach. Those were subsumed under the wave of bone crashing down onto them.

  More screams filled the night, and the smell of fresh blood mingled with the scent of sea foam, smoke, and old death. Isabelle hadn’t bothered to give her “conscripted” Rattlers any real dexterity, just using the mass of bodies to tear into the few remaining pirates. Combined with the handful of proper soldiers dispersed among them, the army did its grim work. Cleaving through the Pirates and driving the rest into the sea. Throughout this, the surviving villagers cowered in small pockets left in the corpse-tide. Isabelle doubted any of the traumatized peasants noticed the handful of rats scuttling nearby, marking their position and sparing them the army's onslaught.

  The escaping Pirates rowed into the fog bank and tried to push through its murky clouds. Isabelle had mainly intended the fog as a way to protect her ground forces from the Pirate Galley. The fog obscured any enemy Mage’s line of sight and would force them to reveal themselves if they wanted to break the fog. No Corsair spellcaster showed themselves, but Isabelle didn’t consider the effort wasted.

  At her command, Gog and Magog stopped being careless with their throws. The crunch of splintering wood and the scream of crushed Corsairs filled the night as the Flesh Golems started the bombardment in earnest. Deep in the fog bank, the Corsairs should have been safe from projectiles. But the handful of rats clinging to each rowboat told Isabelle exactly where they were, and she, in turn, relayed the knowledge to the Golems. Smirking at the screams and wails, Isabelle couldn’t help but feel proud of herself. This was how a true Vampire should fight. With guile and focus. Not the crude violence and bullying cruelty of her rivals.

  Only one dingy remained afloat, and Isabelle ordered her minions to let it escape unmolested. She needed a few survivors to carry her “message” to the ship. The rowboat obliged, pushing through the fog bank and desperately paddling towards the Corsair Galley. Turning from this, Isabelle descended the cliff. Her dress flowed around her like liquid shadow as she lept between rocky outcroppings. At her command, the Rattler Company started work putting out the growing flames. Hundreds of skeletons forming a dozen bucket chains connecting the ocean to the burning village.

  Isabelle did not offer this aid out of the goodness of her heart. Fire was as much a menace to her as any mortal, perhaps more so. But she would be equally deluded to think she was purely selfish in her acts. She saved these people and worked to preserve what little they had left. A Vampire protecting her property and foodstuff; a Countess helping her people in their time of need. Balancing those two aspects and finding goals they could agree on was something Isabelle had long practice with. Not surrendering her humanity nor ignoring her Monsterous nature.

  The surviving villagers were huddled nearby. A motley collection of fisherfolk who looked at Isabelle with undisguised terror. In their inbred panicked eyes, she wasn’t a savior but simply a different predator. One with uncertain goals and plans. Seeing the frightened clustered peasants, Isabelle couldn’t help but reflect that perhaps her kindred had a point in calling these mortals sheep. Still, they were her sheep. To be protected and provided for until shearing or slaughter.

  Isabelle unslung a bag from her side and fished through it. Finding the hypodermic needle, bottle of sterilizer, and beaker of elixir. At a snap of her fingers, Magog trundled down the cliff and set a table he found somewhere next to her. Placing her items on the table, she turned to the even more frightened peasants. Even in this backward corner of her realm, Isabelle Gen Silva’s reputation for dark magic and twisted experiments was well known.

  In a clear orator's voice, Isabelle addressed the panicked villagers. “Approach and choose which arm you want to use.”

  That got a stir of barely disguised panic from the villagers. Isabelle saw more than one glance at the surrounding Rattlers as if assessing their chances of escape. Realizing her choice of words might have been ominous, Isabelle rephrased.

  “If I wished you harm, I would not have brought my army nor ordered them to spare you all. You are all my subjects and under my protection. Protection I extend in the form of this injection.” she gestured at the beaker of elixir. “My rats are infected with a breed of pestilence designed to ruin those Corsairs. I cannot be certain none of you were infected by accident. This potion will spare you from the disease.”

  Still, none of the peasants moved, only looking more confused and worried. Sighing to herself, Isabelle remarked. “Oh honestly.” and strode forward towards the frightened fisherfolk. Isabelle grabbed one, a nervous-looking boy not older than twelve, and dragged him back toward her makeshift medical station. The boy flailed for a second but went limp in her grip. Muted wails and cries issued from the villagers at her “kidnapping”

  Letting go of the boy, Isabelle snapped. “Stay put if you value your life.” the scared adolescent did as instructed and stood there perfectly still. Isabelle noticed he was doing everything in his power to not even twitch or change his stance. Taking her command as literal as possible. Deciding not to correct his assumption, Isabelle got to work preparing the first injection.

  Flicking the glass and metal syringe, Isabelle inspected the yellowish solution inside it. The contagion she infected the rats with was a side project of hers. A nasty and highly infectious fever that killed slowly and painfully. It was also relatively easy to treat. Any healing magic or even sufficient rest and fluids would let most survive it. Things Criminals, Pirates, Rebels, and other undesirables would struggle to get. Isabelle called it Bandit Bane and was eager to see how well it performed.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Isabelle grabbed the scared Peasant boy's forearm and found his vein. Before the youth could protest or struggle, Isabelle stuck the syringe in and injected her serum into the subject. Removing the syringe, Isabelle licked a finger and smeared her saliva over the injection mark. Letting go of the boy, she turned back to her medical station.

  “You will feel sluggish for the next day or two. Now, who is next?” quickly sanitizing the needle and refilling it, Isabelle turned back to the still nervous-looking Fisherfolk. After a moment, a middle-aged woman came forward. Brandishing her arm and a fierce glare. The volunteer had the same nose and eyes as the boy, probably his mother or aunt. Quirking her mouth at that little display of familial loyalty, the Vampire Countess got to work.

  The rest of the injections went without issue, and soon Isabelle retreated to her vantage point on the nearby cliff. The last embers of the fire were dying, and her army was starting to disperse. With a lazy thought, she commanded the relatively intact skeletons to return to their place of rest and bury themselves. It was the least she could do after conscripting the bones. She’d sent Gog and Magog to help the villagers do what little repairs were possible. The two hulking Flesh golems were made for war, but could just as easily move timber as they could tear apart bodies.

  Leaving Isabelle in relative solitude, watching the distant lights of the Corsair ship. The Galley was moving slowly and was still visible to Isabelle’s eyes. This far away, she couldn’t contact any of her rats and could only hope they’d been successful in infecting more of the ship. Idly she wondered if the vessel would limp back to some port, be reduced to a Ghost Ship, or more likely sunk by a storm. It mattered little; the catastrophic failure of this little raid would send a message to any other enterprising pirates.

  Not that Isabelle feared other raids much. This had been a strange fluke. Few pirates were stupid enough to raid the Blood Duchies. So a crew going out of its way to sack one of her dirt-poor fishing villages made little sense. Too much risk for too little reward. Something about the situation stunk, and Isabelle knew she needed to investigate. An idea that rankled her. Every night spent playing politics was another away from her experiments. She was making so much progress! Distractions from her work, while never welcome, were now positively infuriating.

  Her recent efforts in splicing had gone markedly better than previous attempts. The goat she was using as the primary host had so far survived decapitation and exsanguination. But the blood quality still left much to be desired, and the cost of sacrifices was proving to be- An odd sensation ended Isabelle’s musing.

  Isabelle tasted something strange. The heady flavor of Vampire blood filled her mouth. Confused, she reached to her lips, wondering if she’d bitten herself. As she digested the incoming blood, information came to her. This blood belonged to a young Vampire, not even a year changed, but a powerful one, an extremely powerful one. Something that made no sense, a Vampire’s power is directly related to their age. How could she be tasting what she did?

  Eyes widening, Isabelle looked around her and let out a silent “Oh” in realization. She wasn’t really sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea. She wasn’t really pondering her experiments. This was a memory. A recollection her trapped soul had immersed itself in as a distraction. A distraction she no longer needed as one of the few seeds she could still plant was bearing fruit. Natalie had made contact.

  Two Vampires stood across from each other in a field of red lilies. Previously Isabelle had drawn Natalie into her soul for their conversations. Now they met in Natalie’s internal world. Standing next to a strange stream, Natalie folded her arms below her breasts and tried to look confident. Isabelle saw right through the display and found its bravado almost cute. The two Vampires eyed each other up. Both projecting confidence and control, but neither truly feeling it. For all of Isabelle’s bluster, she was actually concerned Natalie would turn her down or worse. But like any skilled political animal, the former-Countess knew the illusion of power could be just as effective as the real thing.

  Grimacing slightly like she’d tasted something foul, Natalie spoke first. “I’d like to discuss the arrangement you proposed.”

  Arms crossed and face screwed up in a foul expression, Natalie didn’t even try and hide her distaste for this whole ordeal. Lying to Cole felt wrong, and her shallow justifications held little water in light of her choice to make contact. Still, despite her shame and guilt, Natalie had gone through with her decision the moment she had the opportunity to. The night after the ordeal with the bandits, Natalie had pricked her finger on Isabelle’s fang while Cole relieved himself away from camp. Renewing the connection, Isabelle had forged and opened a bridge of dreams between the two Vampires.

  Isabelle glanced around the field of flowers and smiled. “You have a lovely soul Natalie. The red lilies are a nice touch, very… poetic.”

  Ignoring the unspoken insinuations she could only guess at, Natalie pushed forward. “I’m still not willing to commit to your offer. But I am willing to develop a partnership with you.”

  Raising a single perfect eyebrow, Isabelle purred. “Oh? Whatever do you mean by that?”

  Licking her fangs, Natalie took a useless but comforting breath. “If I am ever to make you a body, you need me alive and sane. Teaching me will ensure that”

  Isabelle scoffed at that. “You want my knowledge and aid at no cost? Come now, Natalie, charity, and Vampires do not mix.”

  An ugly grin, more like an animal's snarl than anything born of mirth, came to Natalie. “You do get something from this arrangement; the opportunity to convince me to help you. Earn my trust and protect the option I represent. Make an investment in both our futures. It's that or keep wasting away.”

  The older Vampire became deathly still at the implied threat. Barely contained rage boiled below the surface. Isolation and helplessness had gnawed away at Isabelle’s mind. An ugly truth the former Countess was forced to contend with as she wrestled her anger back under control. Wrath had never been her sin of choice, but more than a decade as a skull had changed her tastes. Bringing forth fits of pique the likes she hadn’t felt since her first years as Undead.

  Shoving the prideful anger of a petulant Vampire away, Isabelle came closer to Natalie. Her unnaturally smooth movements and flowing skirts let her glide over the flowers and approach the now nervous Natalie. The newborn Alukah had to stop herself from stepping back in fright. Natalie had no idea of what might happen if Isabelle harmed her in this soulscape and did not want to find out.

  Enjoying the flicker of fear in her rival and possible student. Isabelle softly added a condition. “I am willing to teach you some basic skills, but I require a small token of your cooperation. Trust is a two-way path after all.”

  Licking her lips, Isabelle explained. “I want to make this connection we have more permanent. It will let us keep in contact without the messy blood and lies.”

  Natalie frowned; some instinct scratched at the back of her mind, sending unspoken warnings. But the idea of never having to feed the skull or sneak behind Cole’s back had an appeal. Hesitating, she weighed her options and decided more information was needed. “What will this involve?”

  Isabelle smiled. “We will both be able to arrange these meetings when you sleep. I will also be able to speak to you while you are awake. Nothing too severe, just being able to offer you advice and perhaps catch a glimpse of the world through your senses.”

  Natalie’s frown only increased. “I’m not liking this option. What's to stop you from abusing it to jag with me?”

  “It will cost me to reach out to you. My blood reserve is small, and I use much of it to stay lucid. Communicating outside of dreams would be grossly expensive.” Isabelle answered.

  Mulling that over, Natalie found herself ignoring her concerns just a little more. “Can the connection be broken?”

  Isabelle nodded yes. “The bridge will fade if it's not reinforced. Refuse to meet me enough times, and our dreams will become disentangled.”

  “Refuse to meet you? How is that possible? I’ve had no control over this so far.” snapped Natalie. She was warming up to Isabelle’s proposal, and that very fact annoyed her.

  Isabelle started to idly pace, her skirt catching on the surrounding flowers as she moved. “Magic of any kind is based on intent and focus. Even this crude little dream bridge I’ve spun into being. Focus yourself on leaving the dream like you might to invoke your blood, and you will break free easily enough.” Natalie shut her eyes and started to focus, just for Isabelle to hurriedly interrupt her. “...I would suggest you wait on that. Reconnecting this sleep would be difficult.”

  Feeling a little more confident that she had an escape route, Natalie was seriously considering taking the leap. While the more logical and paranoid aspects of her warned against this. But another far deeper desire held greater sway. Natalie just wanted to feel safe again. A primal but unquestionable hope both Human and Vampire aspects could agree on. The only way to fulfill that hope Natalie could see was to grow stronger. Either through her own desperate struggle or with Isabelle’s help.

  Shutting her eyes for a long, painful moment, Natalie made her choice. “I chose this. I followed Cole, I fought Petar, and I accepted Lord Glockmire’s offer. I’ve claimed this power and become the Alukah. I’m a monster now, but I won’t let that stop me from being me.” She was speaking more to herself than anyone else, hoping to find grounding in her words. Fixing Isabelle with a fierce glare, Natalie hissed. “But betray me or swindle me, and I’ll grind your skull to dust, dump you into an outhouse and light the cesspit on fire!”

  Isabelle looked at Natalie for a long moment before snorting in laughter. “Oh, you are positively adorable! Now then, let’s get started. Cut your tongue or lip deep enough to bleed.”

  Incensed by the older Vampire’s reaction, but still willing to follow her instructions. Natalie bit down on her tongue, ignoring the needle of pain her sharp fangs brought.

  “Okay, now wha-” she started to say before Isabelle shot over and kissed her. The action was so unexpected it caught Natalie totally off guard, and she didn’t resist. Natalie tasted blood not her own, flavored by some exotic spice, and found herself wide-eyed and utterly stunned. After a long moment, Isabelle broke the kiss and stepped away, dabbing at her own lips, and the blood smeared there. Looking at the stunned Natalie, Isabelle let a coy smile play across her lips.

  Natalie slowly processed what happened and stared at Isabelle, aghast. A strange mix of wrath, surprise, and disconcertingly, desire played behind Natalie’s eyes. She’d kissed girls before but had always been too initiate. Being ambushed by the admittedly stunning Isabelle was just plain confusing. Balling her fists and tensing up, Natalie shouted the first words that came to her mind.

  “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

  Isabelle just laughed, a tinkling thing made of poise and noble confidence. “Forming a stronger connection, young Natalie? What else did you think it was?”

  Knowing she should be blushing and for once thankful for her undead nature, Natalie snapped back. “Don’t give me that! Why did you just JAGGING KISS ME?”

  The sly amusement in Isabelle’s countenance infuriated Natalie. Partially because she recognized it. She was no stranger to the coy games of flirtation, but she wasn’t used to being on the wrong end of this type of spar.

  Isabelle ran a hand through her long dark hair and shrugged. “Another lesson for you. Magic is often sympathetic, reacting to symbols and allegory in potent ways. We needed to form a bridge between souls. Arcane words and thoughts aren’t enough. The mixing of our blood during a kiss proved a potent if simple, ritual. Why did you think there was something more to the gesture?”

  Smiling like a well-fed cat, Isabelle glanced over Natalie with an appraising eye. “While you are quite pleasant to look at, that kiss was strictly business. Don’t interpret my begrudging acceptance of Cole’s affair as any real desire to share him or a bed with you.”

  Grinding her teeth together, Natalie licked her fangs and tasted Isabelle's ichor on them. Resisting the urge to spit out the flavor, Natalie refocused. “Whatever. Now make good on our arrangement. I need to not lose control. Teach me how”

  Isabelle placed a contemplative hand under her chin and said. “Yes, I caught bits of your frenzy. All things considered, it went better than could be expected.”

  Natalie’s nostrils flared in anger, and Isabelle put her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Fledgling Vampires have a long history of committing accidental massacres. You just killed two bipedal vermin only after being threatened. I’d considered that a success.”

  Somehow hearing that from Isabelle was strangely comforting to Natalie. The blunt declaration from a fellow Vampire carried more weight than Cole’s well-meaning words. “So can you help me from not ‘frenzying,’ as you put it?”

  After a moment of consideration, Isabelle answered. “I can but not easily. Gaining the discipline necessary to resist the Hunger isn’t like learning how to mimic life or enhance your body. It's something brought on by experience and self-control. I can help you gain both and perhaps offer useful advice.”

  Natalie felt dissatisfied with that answer. In retrospect, she probably should have confirmed exactly what Isabelle was willing and able to teach before making any sort of deal. It was too late for that now; all she could do was go forward and get the most out of her Hellkyn Bargain.

  Still, she asked: “Expedite? How?”

  Isabelle glanced around the flower field and gestured broadly. “We are in a Corpse’s Dream. The usual limits of the unconscious mind are murky here at best. I can train you here, turning wasted hours into valuable experience. But we can focus on that later. Did you grab your kill’s skull?”

  Absently, Natalie reached where her pack should be. Stopping herself halfway through the familiar gesture, just in time to feel a familiar cold shape press into her hand. Bringing her hand back, she looked down at the ashen squirrel skull and almost dropped in surprise. Internally she chided herself. ‘I’m in a dream, don’t expect logic’

  Isabelle looked at the skull and nodded approvingly. “A rat or bat would be better, but a squirrel will do. Tell me, did you drink the rodent to death?”

  Natalie nodded, thinking back to her ugly experience with the trapped animal. Isabelle came closer and grabbed the skull. Holding it like a prized jewel, she examined the bones. “This should be enough to begin your Necromancy lessons.”

  Eyes wide, Natalie sputtered. “Wh-what?”