Chapter 134 - Friendships, SC

“Can you just dig beneath the belt, and make a tunnel? That would be sick! Quite difficult, I imagine. The corruption in the fallen lands runs deep, and it probably won’t be a good idea actually. Oh, I know! There are many hidden treasures underground all throughout the world. Sure, some cursed places too like old temples and stuff, but who cares about that? We can become treasure hunters! Wouldn’t that be better than fighting gods, huh?” Vesper spoke.

He hadn’t shut up since they had left the Wayward Rat. Sunday wouldn’t have minded the talkative vampire, especially since there was a lot to learn from the mighty man, but right now his mind was too preoccupied. It seemed that in time all of those who had appeared in his life proved to need him for something.

He hadn’t had much time to get to know or truly trust anyone all that much. Of all he knew, perhaps only Vyn, Kallus, and Elora were worthy of his friendship, but right now even they seemed suspicious. Mera and Riya’s attempts to benefit from his very existence stung. It was not like he would’ve refused if they had asked, especially since they had given him shelter and spells.

I should stop with the mushy thoughts. There are no friendships here… Sunday shook his head. In his past life relationships of trust were like diamonds found in mud. An impossibility. It blessed a few chosen ones sometimes, but those stories ended in tragedies. Old Rud and the rest of the orphans had been a family of convenience for both sides. He had worked to keep up his end of the mutually beneficial relationship, and so had they.

Perhaps that’s why he was quick to trust in this life. An unsatisfied need of sorts. Or perhaps he just didn’t care about dying again. There was no attachment to this place. To this life. Sunday had to admit that he’d feel better fighting for the gutter and the cardboard boxes in his old life with more passion than he would for this place. What he had done so far, had been to save his own skin, for power, or out of rage.

Protecting the world? Ha!

“Maybe dig into the Arcanum branches! Oh, boy. They have quite the treasures there. You get the spells; I get the artifacts. That old fart will blow up! I’m missing a sword, so—”

Blumwin was gray and gloomy after the attack of the ghouls and the prophet. Casualties were few, but the danger and the gruesome reality of how things stood were bearing heavy on the people of the city. Hushed whispers, armed groups, empty stalls. There was not even half of the liveliness Sunday had grown used to. It was a pity.

He knew the Arcanum had been hit the hardest, and that there had been quite a few laughing horrors running rampant inside of it, but he had yet to see the damage for himself. There would be time for that later too. For now, he wondered about his upcoming trip, and who he could trust.

Vyn wore his desires on his sleeve. He was honest, as was Kallus. Elora was too prideful to use him like her family wanted her to. In a weird twist of fate pride was one of those traits Sunday found truly trustworthy in people. Few would sacrifice it for mere benefits when the damage would follow them in the times ahead. It was a bad advisor to the one who carried it, but honest to those who could see it in people.

Another option was Savia, who was similar to who he had been on Earth—just a person looking for the best way to survive. Still, he felt as if friendship was a pipe dream in this place of walking zombies and hollow people enthralled by the might of spells. Especially in light of what he was.

“I wonder if there are limits. Can you burrow into solid gold? It’s quite soft. Hm… steel? Quasi-spells?!”

“Vesper,” Sunday said. “You remember what I asked of you?”

“Sure thing,” the vampire replied. “You should know I’m not against lowering myself to any level. There’s fun in playing different roles, and I’ve been quite bored. I’ve got to say, I thought you’d be worse.”

“Worse?”

They were getting closer to the vampire district. It remained untouched by the recent events. The Baron had run away from the fight, but Sunday didn’t blame him. There was no point in risking one’s own life for others. Especially for those distrustful of you.

“You know, the usual. Conquer places, fight other places, gather armies… I’ve played this game a few times. It gets stale. There’s only so much drama one can take. I’m not against a good old-fashioned slaughter, but there’s some charm in playing the hero.”

“Isn’t that the point of your cult? To get one such as me, and then use me to gather the forces around. Consolidate power and stuff?”

Vesper laughed.

“Oh, no. Nysandra would rather kill all of us than deal with politics of such levels. Sure, some of our… inner circle are quite interested in developing influence. You’ll probably have to at some point. This place here is a good beginning if you play your cards right. It’s what I thought we’d be doing too, but I didn’t believe you are what you are to the extent you are… do you follow?”

“I’m trying,” Sunday replied.

“Listen, we’ll do what you want to do, as long as it isn’t a massive blunder. If it is, then we’ll talk again. I for one am in it for the fun. And truth be told our little group has more influence than you could probably imagine right now. I can’t wait until those bastards face you and see how weird you are!”

Weird…

The vampire laughed loudly, startling a bunch of servants. A particular group that Sunday immediately recognized walked slowly toward the duo as they neared the vampire’s district. It was heavily guarded and patrolled. Fitting. They stopped a short distance away and bowed. Oswald was one of them, but he stood respectfully to the side.

Sunday wondered if he should’ve aimed his ire at him as well, but the Lord was particularly smart and much more resourceful than his counterpart. That made him useful. Especially for what was to come.

“Greetings, elder. May we have the honor of knowing your esteemed name, so we can announce your arrival to the Baron of these lands?” the woman in the front spoke. She was one of the Lords, and her outfit made sure to underline that fact.

Vesper was suddenly a different person. Gone was the aloof tone of voice, the freely moving eyes trying to take in each person, each sight. He seemed taller. Larger than the night. Larger than the pitiful existence of the foolish vampires before them. Sunday felt a shudder down his spine as the vampire took a single step forward and his presence announced itself to the world. Few gasped. Most simply prostrated themselves to the ground. Oswald and the Lord in charge managed to stop themselves at a mere kneel.

“My name is not for the likes of you to sully. Lead the way, or else.”

The Lords didn’t so much as look sideways before they stood up and moved as one, matching the pace set by Sunday. Vesper winked at him, but Sunday found the gesture quite eerie and unnatural. The overwhelming presence of the vampire was anything but comfortable. It brought within itself danger so sharp and deadly, that perhaps it could be comparable to the cold bite of the Hunter himself.

No. Vesper is here. The Hunter was a vision. A manifestation of some ideal. I should try to meet the bastard again if he sends more of those hounds. He’s yet to give me any benefits…

They were led into a lavish hall contained in the tallest of buildings. Sunday recognized parts of it, but it seemed like last time he had been welcomed in a different part of the Baron’s domain. This here was fit for a king, and the Lords each stood behind a chair awaiting for the guests. Sunday followed Vesper with a furrowed brow.

The Baron was going all out judging by those present.

“Is that him?” Vesper asked in a whisper looking toward one of the Lords.

Sunday nodded, a part of him becoming gleeful. Even if the weight of the world and the eyes of its dwellers were aimed at him, he needed to have some fun. And if Vesper was for it, then what was the harm? Some people, or vampires, in this case, needed humbling.

Sunday stepped forth, and Vesper fell respectfully behind. It was a wonder how the vampire could stay silent, but it was as he said—he played his roles well.

“Baron Bloodfang, nice to see you’ve made it in one piece,” Sunday spoke directly, making sure to interrupt any groveling or formalities. Vesper was a deterrent and would serve heavily to make the situation favorable. After all, he could easily kill all of those present, and force seemed to be the only thing people in this world respected.

The stoic Baron didn’t flinch nor betray any emotions but nodded instead.

“My retreat was of necessity. I won’t beg for understanding, or mercy, Sunday. Even we have our limits, and as soon as I sensed mine I fled. This was not a fight I should’ve involved myself in, but the call for power was one I couldn’t refuse.”

Sunday smiled. He liked this attitude. Taking ownership of what he had done unapologetically.

“I respect your honesty. I’ll be honest too, I had some doubts about you and your offers and support.”

A darker mood suddenly descended about those present as Sunday paused.

The Baron’s eyes flickered toward Vesper who had gotten up from his chair almost as soon as he had sat down and was instead looking closely at one of the many paintings decorating the wall.

“I wanted to rope you in, as did all others. However I did not play theathre like the Arcanum. I understand the spell-fused is your closest ally and ridding Blumwin of us will—”

“Ridding Blumwin of you?” Do they think I’m here to execute them? Do I come off as so petty? “Don’t be mistaken. I’m here to cooperate and ask for your assistance. In turn, I’ll offer you mine. Times are changing after all, and I should start valuing my allies better.”

“Oh?”

The tension retreated and few of the Lords allowed themselves to smile until a voice brought it all back tenfold.

“No,” Vesper said.

“What?” Sunday turned around with a shocked look on his face.

“Why would you need this weak clan?”

“They’ve been quite helpful. I think—”

“I don’t agree with this,” Vesper frowned.

The Baron hurriedly stood up in a half bow over the table. For the first time, Sunday was seeing true terror in the great vampire’s eyes.

“Milord, if we have offended you—”

“You!” Vesper pointed.

All faces turned toward a particular Lord, and Sunday barely stopped himself from giggling as he saw Rubien’s muscles twitch almost imperceptibly. Vampires had the uncanny ability to seem almost still as statutes. Not Vesper though, he was more animated and human than most humans.

“Have I done something to offend you, Elder?” Rubien’s voice came. It was controlled, but many times thinner than normal.

Sunday doubted the vampire would’ve even been able to speak if Vesper hadn’t retracted his overwhelming aura.

“Elder? Are you calling me old? I don’t like your face, you know?”

“My… my face?”

“Yeah, take it off.”

Sunday’s eyes widened. This was not the deal. He just wanted to mess with the vampire a bit and payback for all those times Rubien was an ass. Maybe steal another cloak or something? However, before he could intervene the vampire was already clawing at his skin. There was no hesitation, nor any sort of anger or unwillingness in the action.

No one intervened.

“Stop it, Rubien. He’s just messing around,” Sunday finally said, and Rubien stopped halfway through cutting the side of his face with his nail. “Vesper, tell him to stop.”

Vesper pouted, then dropped in his chair.

“Fine, you can stop. Heal yourself up and bring me a glass of your best blood instead. You will be our servant until we leave Blumwin. Unless, of course, someone objects?”

Sunday let out a sigh of relief. This went weirder than I expected… Fucking vampires.

“Now then Baron, let’s speak about our long and mutually beneficial relationship. Tell me about this sword of yours.”