Chapter 135 - Consequences, SC

Enthusiasm quickly replaced the dread in the Baron’s eyes, and while he kept glancing at Vesper with some worry, the stronger vampire ignored them all. The Lords did their best impressions of statues and Rubien didn’t allow himself even a single mean look in Sunday’s direction.

Only Oswald seemed oddly transfixed by the situation, and he kept glancing toward Sunday. That one was crafty, but schemes lost their meaning in front of strength. The vampire was probably thinking of ways to profit from the situation.

All in all, the meeting was already making for an impressive display, if Sunday had to be honest. How could one ignore such humiliation? Especially a hot-tempered and arrogant vampire like Rubien. Was power truly all that mattered? That was a bit depressing. While magic seemed to dull the shine of gold somewhat and even Sunday didn’t feel as strongly about it as before, seeing the reality of how one’s strength could trump it all was a slap in the face. One of many. It was not the first time, but it was definitely one of the more obvious examples. Not that he was some sort of a romantic and all. He was even a bit cynical when it came to such things as honor, values, and all that bullshit, but then again they had their charm.

Who didn’t want all of those things in their lives?

Sunday also started feeling like he had wasted a lot of time chasing things that didn’t matter anymore. Spells and Talents were the currency that defined ages. Even the current deal he was looking to strike was all in the pursuit of power and comfort, and perhaps for once he was doing things for the benefit of others too.

The Baron’s story of his sword was quite another enthralling tale that shed some more light into the world of vampires. Partially crafted from a quasi-spell material called blood iron often used by vampire clans to keep some of their ancestral blood essences preserved, the sword was a unique treasure that could not be replicated. With it, the Baron would escape stagnation and become capable of rising to new heights without much risk. It was not the only way, but it was the best way for a vampire to continue growing.

Sunday tried to simplify things in his head and get a clearer picture. He planned to ask Vesper for his opinion in the end, but it was unlikely the Baron was lying. He was just a man who saw an opportunity, and immortal or not he tried to take it. Sunday respected that.

The sword was almost unbreakable, and the blood infused into it made the blade stronger due to how potent it was. Vampires didn’t have much blood to spare so each drop was a treasure permeated with unique characteristics, and the older the vampire the stronger the potency of its effects became. The quasi-spell material was both a way for it to be preserved for eternity until a descendant used it to unlock their potential and to craft artifacts of great value. Apparently, at one point vampires had been hunted for their powerful blood, but now they held too high of a place in the world and that practice was almost gone. Almost.

“So… you want me to convince Vyn to give you some blood, so you can find his sister? A willing donation of sorts for the compass or whatever it is you have to work?”

“If possible,” Baron Bloodfang replied with a smile. “Of course, you must understand now that the world is a vast place, and even someone of my influence and power is simply a nobody when faced with the true heights of what can be achieved. I’d be giving up a lot to go on a chase on my own, and there can be better arrangements made… That’s why you’re here I assume.”

Sunday nodded. “I can’t say I’ve grown used to all the twists and turns present all around but... Let’s agree that this world is certainly unique, so I understand your worries.”

It felt good to be able to speak in this way. Now that the commonly known secret was out in the open, he didn’t have to pretend anymore.

“I guess in light of this new friendship we’re looking to establish, it’ll be better for me to seek out Halline.” Sunday continued.

“I’ve come to appreciate your directness. If you’re willing, then that would be the best outcome for me. You’ll undoubtedly grow strong enough to peruse the world as if it were a simple flyer on the street in time. That is if you survive the crusade you’re forced to embark on. A gamble I’m willing to make,” The Baron continued. “You’ll be much more effective in locating and convincing this… wonderful woman… to hand over what is rightfully mine than some sellswords or wandering magi. I don’t ask you to punish her, even if she deserves it. You’ll side with your friend and that is only natural. Understanding the value of bonds is something I’ve not quite lost yet, despite the ages that have passed.”

“Oh please,” Vesper suddenly snorted. “I hate it when younglings speak as if they’ve watched the continents shatter and the Divine fall from the thrones in their kingdom. Stop being dramatic.”

Baron Bloodfang bowed toward the table. “Forgive me, Elder. I pursue a certain type of presence that is best cultivated if the act never slips.”

Vesper smiled. “I understand that. It’s beneficial for you to ingrain the qualities you want until the years take whatever is left of your humanity away. Go on, then. Don’t mind me, I’m just bored.”

“We could perhaps offer some slaves—”

“No.”

“So be it,” the Baron then turned toward Sunday again. “If you agree to one day seek out Halline, retrieve my ancestral sword, and return it to me, then you’ll have a friend for life in my face. I would much prefer for this bond to be strengthened by a contract, but I understand your current situation and parts of… what has transpired. Trust is a rare commodity these days, and honor is long dead.”

Sunday frowned, but before he could speak the Baron stood up.

“I offer both, and I shall do so until you’re willing to fulfill your part and beyond if it so pleases you.”

“This all sounds amazing, and I certainly won’t be signing any contracts. I’ve got enough people trying to bond with me…. Ugh. But you seem to be missing a crucial part of the negotiation.”

“Is that so?”

“I’ve yet to tell you what I want of you.”

The Baron chuckled. “I suppose. Be it resources or support for your small business, then you can have both. I doubt I can offer anything of value that your new benefactors cannot surpass with ease.”

Smart bastard. I like this guy more and more…

“I do want you to keep a watch out for my friends, and help them establish themselves. Vyn will probably want to come with me, but his little troop from the Empty Manor has helped me in time. If possible also lower the rate of addiction… I understand this can be difficult.”

The Baron seemed thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “You should prepare a lot of this healing liquid before you leave. We’ve never trapped those unwilling to serve us by using addiction as a tool. At least I haven’t, I cannot speak for all. However, I’ll make sure to limit the harm that comes after.”

The best I’ll get short of eradicating them from the world I guess… They need their blood.

“I plan on stockpiling a lot of healing booze for both humans and undead. If you can lend us your resources and help with preparations then I’ll be grateful. And then there’s one last thing I’ll need.”

“And that is?”

Sunday licked his lips and leaned forward. “Spread my name. Tell tales of my better deeds. You know… how I fought a vampire Lord, or perhaps… you? Lies are welcome, as long as they are believable.”

The silence that followed was quite a bit different than the other pauses. Even Vesper was looking at Sunday with interest now, his eyes hiding unfathomable thoughts beneath.

“I’ll not ask why you want to do this, but I’ll make sure your name lives on,” the Baron slowly said.

He knows.

“The Savage Healer, you may call me.” This was the best one of the two he had, and Sunday was sure he would have many other names. “It’s a bit on the nose, but useful. Rumors, tales, beliefs. I’m sure you know how to achieve this.”

The Baron nodded. “I’ll make use of some connections too. Don’t worry, in a few months the whole Flower Region will know of you and your exploits.”

“Then… I think we have a deal, my friend.”

***

After the fruitful meeting with the vampires, Sunday felt a bit better. This was what he had planned for a while, but he hadn’t known how to ask for it. having the vampires do the work would certainly strengthen his talent to new heights. Being a magi was only part of his powers after all, and he had spent enough time underutilizing what he had been given.

“Does wanting fame have to do with your gifts?” Vesper asked as they took a dark alley and headed toward the Arcanum.

It was pretty obvious and Sunday wasn’t about to try and lie his way out of it. That only damaged future relationships, although he wasn’t sure if they would even exist.

I should play nice for now.

“Yes. I don’t know the limits of it, or how it will develop in time. Having stories about me told around… is very beneficial.”

“Very curious. We have quite a few Talents in our group, but yours make them all look petty in comparison.”

“How so?”

“I mean if fame makes you more powerful, then… what are the limits? You’re practically already on the road to godhood.”

Sunday froze. Was this the confirmation he wanted to hear? It was disturbing, to say the least.

“Don’t look at me like that and don’t tell Nysandra I told you this. You seem like a cool guy, and I’d hate for you to go into this blind. It’s not like we’re going to worship you or anything, but you should understand what having a literal future god on your side can mean, right?”

Sunday steeled himself. He was suddenly very grateful for Vesper’s presence. “Why do you think I’ll make it?”

Vesper shrugged and seemed to be peeling a piece of fruit. Sunday hadn’t seen the vampire buy it, nor did he think a freaking vampire would be interested in fruits.

“It’s a gamble! We got you, and others got theirs. The deviation from the original plan was a little annoying, but you’ve made a chaotic nest for yourself here and that’s nice to see. You truly pissed some people off back home, let me tell you that.”

Sunday watched as the vampire carefully examined and sniffed each piece of the plum-looking thing. Then, disappointed he threw it away.

“How?” What the fuck was he doing with this.

“Ah, shit. I was looking for a snack for my bats…” Vesper lamented sadly. “You piss off people just by existing generally. The black sands Nysandra shoved down your—fed you, help with that. We had a lot prepared, but you didn’t come so every powerful being and Divine sensed your presence. The more time you spent away for us the more trouble you’d have found yourself in.”

I get that part, but it's nice having it explained this way.

“And the result,” Vesper continued. “You can see for yourself.”

They were on the square before the Arcanum and Sunday saw droves of people running about. Not regular people either. Guards of all sorts and colors, perhaps some swords for hire too. Most noticeable of all were all the magi.

And worst of all, all the remains littering the square. They were covered in cloth, but Sunday saw the blood, the odd hand sticking out, and the remains of many, many laughing horrors.

I guess this is my fault too. He steeled himself and ignored the lump in his throat. There was no use lamenting the consequences of existence he hadn’t wished for. What mattered was only the will to move forward.