Do what you must do. Time is the price one pays for perfection. I'll gladly pay it. 
-
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They very quickly worked out their method of travelling. As nocturnal creatures both Sergio and Sebastos possessed keen eyesight and sharp hearing, and so they took the lead, being better able to spot any hazards in the road. Together they either rode or walked their horses a few tens of paces ahead of Demetrios and Juan in the wagon. Sergio found Sebastos to be a most agreeable companion. They mostly talked, and Sebastos strove to bring Sergio’s Greek up to a competent standard. This was not as simple as it seemed, as Sebastos explained on their first night.
“You see Sergio, the common folk like those two in the back do speak Greek, after a fashion. It is a Greek that has undergone a millennium of change, and alas cannot be considered a worthy successor to the sublime tongue the Ancients left them. It is fallen article, half-Slav, and a torment on the ears. Among our kind though, and amongst those mortals of station, the old language remains. Not unchanged, nothing is completely still, but carefully crafted to the needs of a modern age, yet fully conscious of a heritage that commands our humility. I will concentrate on this language, since knowledge of the other will do you no good in our Courts. Besides, there are a hundred dialects or more of the common Greek! I imagine you will pick it up fast enough though, if you spend any length of time among those rude folk. However, just beware. There are those in our Courts that consider Attic Greek to be considerably inferior to the Greek of Homer. You will probably have it easier in that regard though than me. As a Frank no one would expect you to be able to speak even Classical Greek.”
Their conversations ranged far and wide, being rooted in stories and anecdotes, but visiting the spheres of history, mythology, theology, and philosophy. In these latter matters Sebastos generally showed himself to be the more knowledgeable, but Sergio did not concern himself with that. He concentrated on the language, and his progress was swift, as Sebastos commented on their fourth night from Thessalonica.
“Really Sergio, you linguistic abilities are masterly. A week ago you sounded like any Frank, coarse and uncultured, but now you could pass for an educated Venetian. Give it a while and I am sure that, if one were not to see your face, you could be mistaken for a Greek!”
“Thank you Sebastos. That is high praise, but in truth it is not something so astonishing. I have travelled across most of the lands that make up the northern border the Middle Sea, and learning languages has become something of a habit. Once you had been through the process a couple of …”
Sergio stopped.
“What?…” Sebastos began, falling silent as he heard Ojos’ second call.
Sergio signalled for silence to Sebastos, and turned quickly to warn the Servitors. He need not have bothered. Demetrios had seen what was going on, and the wagon had halted. Juan had moved to quiet the horses.
A few moments later Ojos glided gracefully onto Sergio’s waiting hand. Dominus and Servus were for a moment locked in communication, making only small sounds unintelligible to the others. Sebastos watched carefully.
Ojos flew off again. “There is an ambush up ahead.” Sebastos grimaced. Demetrios has his sword out. Juan was still with the animals, crooning quietly to preserve their calm.
“Where?”
“Just behind that rise. Ojos says a small group. He is uncertain about the exact numbers, there is cover of some sort.”
They was a pause as they both silently considered the situation. Sebastos pointed to the weapon at Sergio’s side.
“I presume you can use that sword you carry?”
“I would not be alive now if I could not.”
“Good. Then let us flush them out. Demetrios and Juan can wait here with the horses and wagon.”
Sergio nodded, and he carefully drew his sword. “It is probably best if we continue to follow the course of the road. We run the risk of startling them by going over the slope. They might be stupid enough not to have a look-out there, but that does not mean they are deaf!”
“Sound thinking.” Sebastos raised his own well-made blade. “Have you done this often.”
“A few times. It is a hazard of the road. Let us go.”
The two of them walked together along the road. As they did so Sergio began to call upon that which made him inhuman, the heritage of blood. His stride became more purposeful and insistent, his breath started to form a ghostly cloud in the night air, and his fangs began to lengthen. Beside him Sergio could sense similar changes taking place in Sebastos as his companion too invoked their common curse. It was the only reasonable thing to do – a necessary precaution.
An icy chill ran down his spine and gripped his back, spreading through his limbs, and Sergio knew that It had awakened, as ever eager for violence. No Cainite could draw upon the vitae in its vein’s without drawing Its attention. For the moment It was content just to watch with relish as matters unfolded, but Sergio knew better than to be fooled by Its apparent inactivity.
Sergio had to admit that their assailants had chosen an excellent spot to hide in. It was a ditch, completely hidden in the darkness, home to some straggly bushes that provided adequate cover, but that did not hinder their access to the road. If Ojos had not warned them he doubted that either he or Sebastos would have paid much attention. They moved closer, and there was a rustling.
Four figures burst out from the darkness, dividing to attack in pairs. At first impressions Sergio was more inclined to pity the wretches than feel anger. They looked hungry and desperate, clothed in little more than rags, and were poorly armed. “Halt!” Sebastos commanded in an imperious tone, and Sergio knew that Sebastos’ voice rang with sanguine augmentation. There was no effect, the attackers ran on, and Sergio had no more time for idle thoughts.
The first of his attacks wielded some sort of mace, the other a battered sword. Sergio snarled as the first made a desperate swing that he easily avoided. His backhand riposte was simple, but devastatingly effective. Enhanced by the blood coursing through his limbs Sergio’s sword crushed deep into the side of the unfortunate, knocking him down screaming in pain as his blood poured out. Nearly immediately the screaming was choked off as blood spurted from his mouth. Within Sergio It exalted.
The blow had turned Sergio slightly, so that he saw Sebastos fending off his two attackers with a bored ease. For a moment he watched, and then instincts fired in belated warning. The sword was brought down on his left shoulder, rending his skin but stopping short before touching the bone. He swung around, pulling the old blade from the hands of his attacker. The second man was panting heavily, having brought all his strength to bear to make that one blow, and he now looked at Sebastos with a growing horror. Sergio plucked out the blade, and cast it aside. Blood oozed from the shoulder, but even now the wound started to close.
Sergio growled. It demanded retribution, and Sergio was only too happy to comply. A red veil passed in front of his eyes, separating him from the world. Sergio dropped his sword and pounced on the witless fool that had made the mistake of striking him. He grabbed the man’s arm and head, ignoring the feeble struggling. Now he assumed his full heritage, his fangs grew to their full extent, and he screamed into the night, before burying his head into the man’s neck. He could feel the man’s fingernails scrabbling against his chest and along his back. The man kicked, but it was futile as Sergio drank ever deeper. The movements slowed, reduced now to aimless jerks and spasms, and finally even these were stilled.
Sergio let the drained body fall to the ground. The dead man’s face was frozen into a horrified rictus. Sergio swung his head around. His first attacker had died, his blood staining the land. The other attackers were dead at Sebastos’ feet. The fight was over, and Sergio felt It leave, sated for the present, and uninteresting in what might now follow.
“You see Sergio, the common folk like those two in the back do speak Greek, after a fashion. It is a Greek that has undergone a millennium of change, and alas cannot be considered a worthy successor to the sublime tongue the Ancients left them. It is fallen article, half-Slav, and a torment on the ears. Among our kind though, and amongst those mortals of station, the old language remains. Not unchanged, nothing is completely still, but carefully crafted to the needs of a modern age, yet fully conscious of a heritage that commands our humility. I will concentrate on this language, since knowledge of the other will do you no good in our Courts. Besides, there are a hundred dialects or more of the common Greek! I imagine you will pick it up fast enough though, if you spend any length of time among those rude folk. However, just beware. There are those in our Courts that consider Attic Greek to be considerably inferior to the Greek of Homer. You will probably have it easier in that regard though than me. As a Frank no one would expect you to be able to speak even Classical Greek.”
Their conversations ranged far and wide, being rooted in stories and anecdotes, but visiting the spheres of history, mythology, theology, and philosophy. In these latter matters Sebastos generally showed himself to be the more knowledgeable, but Sergio did not concern himself with that. He concentrated on the language, and his progress was swift, as Sebastos commented on their fourth night from Thessalonica.
“Really Sergio, you linguistic abilities are masterly. A week ago you sounded like any Frank, coarse and uncultured, but now you could pass for an educated Venetian. Give it a while and I am sure that, if one were not to see your face, you could be mistaken for a Greek!”
“Thank you Sebastos. That is high praise, but in truth it is not something so astonishing. I have travelled across most of the lands that make up the northern border the Middle Sea, and learning languages has become something of a habit. Once you had been through the process a couple of …”
Sergio stopped.
“What?…” Sebastos began, falling silent as he heard Ojos’ second call.
Sergio signalled for silence to Sebastos, and turned quickly to warn the Servitors. He need not have bothered. Demetrios had seen what was going on, and the wagon had halted. Juan had moved to quiet the horses.
A few moments later Ojos glided gracefully onto Sergio’s waiting hand. Dominus and Servus were for a moment locked in communication, making only small sounds unintelligible to the others. Sebastos watched carefully.
Ojos flew off again. “There is an ambush up ahead.” Sebastos grimaced. Demetrios has his sword out. Juan was still with the animals, crooning quietly to preserve their calm.
“Where?”
“Just behind that rise. Ojos says a small group. He is uncertain about the exact numbers, there is cover of some sort.”
They was a pause as they both silently considered the situation. Sebastos pointed to the weapon at Sergio’s side.
“I presume you can use that sword you carry?”
“I would not be alive now if I could not.”
“Good. Then let us flush them out. Demetrios and Juan can wait here with the horses and wagon.”
Sergio nodded, and he carefully drew his sword. “It is probably best if we continue to follow the course of the road. We run the risk of startling them by going over the slope. They might be stupid enough not to have a look-out there, but that does not mean they are deaf!”
“Sound thinking.” Sebastos raised his own well-made blade. “Have you done this often.”
“A few times. It is a hazard of the road. Let us go.”
The two of them walked together along the road. As they did so Sergio began to call upon that which made him inhuman, the heritage of blood. His stride became more purposeful and insistent, his breath started to form a ghostly cloud in the night air, and his fangs began to lengthen. Beside him Sergio could sense similar changes taking place in Sebastos as his companion too invoked their common curse. It was the only reasonable thing to do – a necessary precaution.
An icy chill ran down his spine and gripped his back, spreading through his limbs, and Sergio knew that It had awakened, as ever eager for violence. No Cainite could draw upon the vitae in its vein’s without drawing Its attention. For the moment It was content just to watch with relish as matters unfolded, but Sergio knew better than to be fooled by Its apparent inactivity.
Sergio had to admit that their assailants had chosen an excellent spot to hide in. It was a ditch, completely hidden in the darkness, home to some straggly bushes that provided adequate cover, but that did not hinder their access to the road. If Ojos had not warned them he doubted that either he or Sebastos would have paid much attention. They moved closer, and there was a rustling.
Four figures burst out from the darkness, dividing to attack in pairs. At first impressions Sergio was more inclined to pity the wretches than feel anger. They looked hungry and desperate, clothed in little more than rags, and were poorly armed. “Halt!” Sebastos commanded in an imperious tone, and Sergio knew that Sebastos’ voice rang with sanguine augmentation. There was no effect, the attackers ran on, and Sergio had no more time for idle thoughts.
The first of his attacks wielded some sort of mace, the other a battered sword. Sergio snarled as the first made a desperate swing that he easily avoided. His backhand riposte was simple, but devastatingly effective. Enhanced by the blood coursing through his limbs Sergio’s sword crushed deep into the side of the unfortunate, knocking him down screaming in pain as his blood poured out. Nearly immediately the screaming was choked off as blood spurted from his mouth. Within Sergio It exalted.
The blow had turned Sergio slightly, so that he saw Sebastos fending off his two attackers with a bored ease. For a moment he watched, and then instincts fired in belated warning. The sword was brought down on his left shoulder, rending his skin but stopping short before touching the bone. He swung around, pulling the old blade from the hands of his attacker. The second man was panting heavily, having brought all his strength to bear to make that one blow, and he now looked at Sebastos with a growing horror. Sergio plucked out the blade, and cast it aside. Blood oozed from the shoulder, but even now the wound started to close.
Sergio growled. It demanded retribution, and Sergio was only too happy to comply. A red veil passed in front of his eyes, separating him from the world. Sergio dropped his sword and pounced on the witless fool that had made the mistake of striking him. He grabbed the man’s arm and head, ignoring the feeble struggling. Now he assumed his full heritage, his fangs grew to their full extent, and he screamed into the night, before burying his head into the man’s neck. He could feel the man’s fingernails scrabbling against his chest and along his back. The man kicked, but it was futile as Sergio drank ever deeper. The movements slowed, reduced now to aimless jerks and spasms, and finally even these were stilled.
Sergio let the drained body fall to the ground. The dead man’s face was frozen into a horrified rictus. Sergio swung his head around. His first attacker had died, his blood staining the land. The other attackers were dead at Sebastos’ feet. The fight was over, and Sergio felt It leave, sated for the present, and uninteresting in what might now follow.
I agree with Amric, Cainites is a most interesting choice and perfect for the story. Are religious themes a standard background for your stories? Your careful choice of words and attention to detail has fleshed out the story to the point that I have no trouble seeing the world through the eyes of Sergio. Now if I only knew his reasons and plans I would be a happy man. I know, I'll have to wait for you to reveal that as the story goes along. First rate Stnylan but then I would expect nothing less from you.
Joe
First rate Stnylan but then I would expect nothing less from you. Joe
This continues to get better and better. I have enjoyed the way you slowly allow the information to seep out, making us continue to guess. It is that much more satisfying when something becomes clear. Bravo!
Whoa! MOMMA, THERE BE VAMPIRES! [runs away]
[peeking around a building in the shadows] I think that last fight was very telling for this story and though it was a horrid sight, I want to read more [licks lips with anticipation]
REally good on your last post especially, now lets find out who does the clean up job in the morning
[peeking around a building in the shadows] I think that last fight was very telling for this story and though it was a horrid sight, I want to read more [licks lips with anticipation]
REally good on your last post especially, now lets find out who does the clean up job in the morning
I wonder if that was but a mere ambush by common bandits or perhaps something more..?
Machiavellian An interesting question. All will (or, more accurately, won't) be revealed very shortly.
Warspite [metallica] Hush little baby, don't say a word / And never mind that noise you heard / It's just the beast under your bed / In your closet, in your head. [/metallica]
More seriously, the tone of this tale is something that I have been thinking a great deal about, and I decided that a little 'rawness' was now needed to compliment some of the earlier civility.
coz1 One of the challenges here is what to reveal, and when. Trying to build a world and some characters without swamping my readers, or leaving them with insufficient knowledge. But on the basis of your comment (and others) I am glad that it seems I am walking that tightrope reasonably well.
Storey Interesting question, for which the simple answer is yes. I see the world very much from a religious viewpoint, and that naturally informs my writing. I find writing one way of exploring some of the questions of my faith actually, if in somewhat an oblique fashion.
Warspite [metallica] Hush little baby, don't say a word / And never mind that noise you heard / It's just the beast under your bed / In your closet, in your head. [/metallica]
More seriously, the tone of this tale is something that I have been thinking a great deal about, and I decided that a little 'rawness' was now needed to compliment some of the earlier civility.
coz1 One of the challenges here is what to reveal, and when. Trying to build a world and some characters without swamping my readers, or leaving them with insufficient knowledge. But on the basis of your comment (and others) I am glad that it seems I am walking that tightrope reasonably well.
Storey Interesting question, for which the simple answer is yes. I see the world very much from a religious viewpoint, and that naturally informs my writing. I find writing one way of exploring some of the questions of my faith actually, if in somewhat an oblique fashion.
Sebastos was looking at him warily, holding his sword in readiness, but relaxed when he saw Sergio make no move and smiled wryly. “For someone averse to killing you seem to be quite skilled. How is you injury?”
Sergio glanced at his shoulder. His tunic was gashed, and there were spots of his blood dried onto it. He stretched the arm, rotating it in the joint. Everything seemed to be working. He lifted up the torn fabric to look at the wound itself, only a fading scar remained. “Fine. It won’t be the first time this tunic has had to be patched up.”
Sebastos prodded one of those at his feet with his toe. “A shame that we could not keep one alive. Still, they were brave enough, if stupid.” He reached down, picked up one of the still-bleeding corpses, and began to feed.
While Sebastos went about his business Sergio recovered and cleaned his sword. It glinted in the starlight. There was something about the entire attack that set him on edge. The attackers were desperate, but did desperate men really hole up along a road at night hoping for travellers? Surely local farms or estates would be easier, and more certain, targets.
He walked over to where the attackers had hidden themselves. It was little more than a rough ditch, a depression in the ground between the rise and the road. Its only virtue was that it was out of the wind. At one end was a surprisingly well constructed, if simple, hearth. Sergio suspected that this spot was known to be a good impromptu way-station on the road, a place to rest. Scattered around were small bits and pieces, the detritus of human passing. He also found a few heavy homespun cloaks that he assumed had belonged to their prey, but no evidence that the place had ever been inhabited for more than a night or two.
Sergio picked up the cloaks, and returned to the road, where Sebastos was now replete. The Greek was carefully inspecting his sword, and Sergio could see Juan bringing up the horses, and could hear Demetrios driving the wagon.
“Bring a light,” Sergio ordered Juan. He laid the cloaks out on the road, and started to search them carefully.
“What is it?” Sebastos asked, as Juan lifted a lamp high up, allowing Sergio to search unhindered.
“I don’t know. There is something about this that does not seem … ah.” His fingers felt something hard and distinct, and he tore away a few recent stitches.
Sergio brandished his find. “Why, I ask you, might a rootless bandit be in possession of a gold coin?”
“Gold? Are you certain?” Sebastos hurried over, and he seemed both surprised and concerned.
“Look.” Sergio held the coin up to the light. “It is a coin from Sicily. A tari.” The lamp did not illuminate the gold very well, but was enough to clearly make out the markings on the coin. On one side was a cross, with Greek lettering in each quarter, on the other side was some writing in Arabic.
“Norman!”
“The coin is,” Sergio stated. “From the Palermo mint. And it is recent, struck by their current King. As for these,” he indicated the dead, “I do not know.” Sergio knelt down next to one of the bodies, the man whose side he had caved in. He looked at his face, blood-spattered, and push his ragged hair aside. “From their looks they could be from nearly anywhere along the Middle Sea. Did yours make any sound when they fought?”
“Nothing of sense. They did not have much time.”
“Hmm.” Sergio turned the man’s head from side to side, and his eyes narrowed. “Sebastos, what do you make of these marks?”
“What marks?”
“These ones. Look, just behind each ear, there are some cuts. I can’t … hold that lamp up Juan! There, can you see?”
Sebastos leaned over to see what Sergio was indicating. “A circle, with two straight parallel lines through it. I do not know Sergio, though I doubt it means anything good.”
“What of the others?”
Sebastos went to the one he had fed from. “They are markings on this one too, but they are slightly different. There is the circle and two straight lines, but one of those lines stays within the circle, unlike like that one where both lines go through the circle.” Sebastos looked carefully at each mark. “They are the same though, behind each ear I mean. The shorter line is to the front on both sides.”
Sergio grabbed the crude mace, more of a blunt hand-axe. “There is the same mark on the shaft of this as there was on him,” he pointed at the owner.
Sebastos reached for the sword his victim had carried, taking a moment to cast his eyes over the crud weapon. “It is the same with this one, on the hilt.”
Sergio put the mace down. “This is not good.”
“It is worse. You can always depend on it being worse.” He took an audible breath. “And it is above our heads Sergio. We should go immediately to my Sire, and tell him of this.”
Sergio nodded slowly. “What should we do with the bodies?”
“Take them with us, and their possessions. My sire will want to have them examined by his Thanatologist. John may be able to get the bodies to tell some tales, but only if they do not decay too quickly. Travelling day and night we can cover the remaining miles much faster. While Demetrios and Juan sort out the bodies we can prepare our travelling chests.”
Sergio grimaced as he started to walk towards the wagon. “I hate being so cooped up.”
“So do I. I was enjoying our ride, and our talks, but I do not think we have a choice.”
Sergio stopped abruptly. “What about our … ah … supplies?”
Sebastos paused. “There is no room for them Sergio, not with us and four bodies, and they cannot be allowed to live. If you require any further sustenance I suggest you feed from them now. I will have Demetrios kill them before we move on. There is a small gully a few miles ahead where we can discard them.”
After a moment, Sergio nodded. “Very well.” Sebastos had made their own case plainly, and he could not fault it. Sergio only hoped that Juan had found out their names, and he made a silent resolution to see that at least some masses were said for their souls.
Sergio glanced at his shoulder. His tunic was gashed, and there were spots of his blood dried onto it. He stretched the arm, rotating it in the joint. Everything seemed to be working. He lifted up the torn fabric to look at the wound itself, only a fading scar remained. “Fine. It won’t be the first time this tunic has had to be patched up.”
Sebastos prodded one of those at his feet with his toe. “A shame that we could not keep one alive. Still, they were brave enough, if stupid.” He reached down, picked up one of the still-bleeding corpses, and began to feed.
While Sebastos went about his business Sergio recovered and cleaned his sword. It glinted in the starlight. There was something about the entire attack that set him on edge. The attackers were desperate, but did desperate men really hole up along a road at night hoping for travellers? Surely local farms or estates would be easier, and more certain, targets.
He walked over to where the attackers had hidden themselves. It was little more than a rough ditch, a depression in the ground between the rise and the road. Its only virtue was that it was out of the wind. At one end was a surprisingly well constructed, if simple, hearth. Sergio suspected that this spot was known to be a good impromptu way-station on the road, a place to rest. Scattered around were small bits and pieces, the detritus of human passing. He also found a few heavy homespun cloaks that he assumed had belonged to their prey, but no evidence that the place had ever been inhabited for more than a night or two.
Sergio picked up the cloaks, and returned to the road, where Sebastos was now replete. The Greek was carefully inspecting his sword, and Sergio could see Juan bringing up the horses, and could hear Demetrios driving the wagon.
“Bring a light,” Sergio ordered Juan. He laid the cloaks out on the road, and started to search them carefully.
“What is it?” Sebastos asked, as Juan lifted a lamp high up, allowing Sergio to search unhindered.
“I don’t know. There is something about this that does not seem … ah.” His fingers felt something hard and distinct, and he tore away a few recent stitches.
Sergio brandished his find. “Why, I ask you, might a rootless bandit be in possession of a gold coin?”
“Gold? Are you certain?” Sebastos hurried over, and he seemed both surprised and concerned.
“Look.” Sergio held the coin up to the light. “It is a coin from Sicily. A tari.” The lamp did not illuminate the gold very well, but was enough to clearly make out the markings on the coin. On one side was a cross, with Greek lettering in each quarter, on the other side was some writing in Arabic.
“Norman!”
“The coin is,” Sergio stated. “From the Palermo mint. And it is recent, struck by their current King. As for these,” he indicated the dead, “I do not know.” Sergio knelt down next to one of the bodies, the man whose side he had caved in. He looked at his face, blood-spattered, and push his ragged hair aside. “From their looks they could be from nearly anywhere along the Middle Sea. Did yours make any sound when they fought?”
“Nothing of sense. They did not have much time.”
“Hmm.” Sergio turned the man’s head from side to side, and his eyes narrowed. “Sebastos, what do you make of these marks?”
“What marks?”
“These ones. Look, just behind each ear, there are some cuts. I can’t … hold that lamp up Juan! There, can you see?”
Sebastos leaned over to see what Sergio was indicating. “A circle, with two straight parallel lines through it. I do not know Sergio, though I doubt it means anything good.”
“What of the others?”
Sebastos went to the one he had fed from. “They are markings on this one too, but they are slightly different. There is the circle and two straight lines, but one of those lines stays within the circle, unlike like that one where both lines go through the circle.” Sebastos looked carefully at each mark. “They are the same though, behind each ear I mean. The shorter line is to the front on both sides.”
Sergio grabbed the crude mace, more of a blunt hand-axe. “There is the same mark on the shaft of this as there was on him,” he pointed at the owner.
Sebastos reached for the sword his victim had carried, taking a moment to cast his eyes over the crud weapon. “It is the same with this one, on the hilt.”
Sergio put the mace down. “This is not good.”
“It is worse. You can always depend on it being worse.” He took an audible breath. “And it is above our heads Sergio. We should go immediately to my Sire, and tell him of this.”
Sergio nodded slowly. “What should we do with the bodies?”
“Take them with us, and their possessions. My sire will want to have them examined by his Thanatologist. John may be able to get the bodies to tell some tales, but only if they do not decay too quickly. Travelling day and night we can cover the remaining miles much faster. While Demetrios and Juan sort out the bodies we can prepare our travelling chests.”
Sergio grimaced as he started to walk towards the wagon. “I hate being so cooped up.”
“So do I. I was enjoying our ride, and our talks, but I do not think we have a choice.”
Sergio stopped abruptly. “What about our … ah … supplies?”
Sebastos paused. “There is no room for them Sergio, not with us and four bodies, and they cannot be allowed to live. If you require any further sustenance I suggest you feed from them now. I will have Demetrios kill them before we move on. There is a small gully a few miles ahead where we can discard them.”
After a moment, Sergio nodded. “Very well.” Sebastos had made their own case plainly, and he could not fault it. Sergio only hoped that Juan had found out their names, and he made a silent resolution to see that at least some masses were said for their souls.
Allow me to repay the compliment. I am indeed hooked on this tale as well. It is certainly a heavy task to relate a detailed story such as this over time, what with information to remember from previous posts. But you have handled it well thus far, giving us short but packed episodes and providing the informtion as needed. Very well done so far and I look forward hearing "Sire's" take on the night's events!
Suvorov I am glad you liked it. Was there anything in especial that caught your fancy?
King Yngvar I rather agree, I must admit
coz1 And the Sire's take is what will soon be revealed, partially anyway. Actually at the moment this is not too difficult to remember. After all, there have been essentially only three scenes, each proceeding in a fairly linear manner. I am more concerned about my ability to hold it together further down the line, but we will see.
King Yngvar I rather agree, I must admit
coz1 And the Sire's take is what will soon be revealed, partially anyway. Actually at the moment this is not too difficult to remember. After all, there have been essentially only three scenes, each proceeding in a fairly linear manner. I am more concerned about my ability to hold it together further down the line, but we will see.
The matter-of-fact style of these guys. Like the A-team! They beat the crap out of their enemies and do it with style too... Just another day at the office...
Just another day at the office...
It had been an incredibly fast journey. As far as Sergio could tell the wagon never ceased moving. Sebastos and he were careful not to mention the subject of the ambush during the night, when they still rode ahead of the wagon to watch for hazards in the road, such as broken flagstones or fallen debris. Their discussions lacked their earlier vitality. Sebastos was simply not as animated as he had previously been, and Sergio sensed that his companion was deeply troubled by the attack, by the fear that he might have been a target. Sergio was rather less concerned by the attack itself, the markings on the men were what worried him.
Their arrival in Thebes had been rushed. They were still a few miles from the city when the daylight failed, so they rode into the city. At the gates Sebastos talked to one of the guards, and Sergio assumed he was alerting his Sire to their arrival. Sergio yearned to take his time travelling through the city, but Sebastos hurried on.
The early evening assailed his senses. The city seemed vibrant, and people thronged the streets. The streets and houses themselves were generally in a good state of repair, putting the larger, and arguably grander, Thessalonica to shame. The people jostled good-naturedly, and though the poor were ever present the overwhelming impression Sergio got was one of wealth. It reminded him, in some respects, of Genoa, Veneto, or Milano. There was no evidence of hunger, even among the poor. However, given Sebastos’ haste he had little time to consider these things.
Sebastos led them to the centre of the city, where an inner fortress was set upon a hill. They did not go in the fortress, went to a grand house that stood a little apart. A servant greeted them, and within moments a seneschal of sorts had arrived,
“Does my Father know of my arrival?” asked Sebastos quickly, waving away other enquiries.
“Yes Master. He awaits you in the usual room.” The seneschal seemed somewhat surprised by Sebastos’ haste.
Leaving Demetrios and Juan with the wagon, Sebastos ushered Sergio through the house. “It does not do to keep my Sire waiting,” he explained, as they arrived outside the chamber wherein waited Lord Choronides, the Basileus of Thebes.
The room itself was plain and without decoration or ornamentation. It was a simple square, and Lord Choronides was standing at one end. As they entered the Elder glanced at Sergio, and his face flashed with malice, before breaking into what Sergio thought was a genuine smile as he greeted Sebastos.
“You are back sooner than I thought my childe. Damian must have formulated his replies with alacrity, and then you must have chosen not to dawdle for once along the way.”
“Father,” Sebastos returned, his sense of relief was palpable to Sergio. “We had initially planned to dawdle, but after we were attacked –”
“What?” Choronides looked for a moment enraged.
“We were attacked Father,” Sebastos repeated calmly, “four days south of Thessalonica.”
“Tell me.” Lord Choronides’ was measured once more, and Sergio had to marvel at the rapidity of the Elder’s self-control.
“There is a little to tell Father. Through Sergio’s animal Servitor we learnt that there was an ambush laid. We triggered it, and there were four attackers. We killed them, and then examined them.”
“What did you learn?”
“Very little for certain, only that they were not ordinary bandits. Sergio can explain better than I.”
Choronides turned to Sergio, and Sergio was now fully conscious of the malevolence that this creature felt for him, and his mocking tone left no doubt as to how Choronides thought about him. “Can you?”
There was nothing to do by answer as he could, and in Greek. Sergio suspected that answering in any other language would be ill advised. “In part, Lord Choronides, I can. The attack made no sense, so I searched for reasons. I was fortunate enough to discover a gold coin sewn into one of the bandit’s cloaks. Bandits with hidden gold do not lie up for uncertain prey. On the bandits themselves we discovered markings, and on their weaponry. The attack was planned. Whether it was aimed at us, or at someone, or something, else, I do not know.”
Sebastos stepped forward. “I thought Father that perhaps Ioannes should examine the bodies, so we brought them back. I do not think that they are too far decayed.”
“That was wise of you my childe. Tell the servant outside to fetch Ioannes, and prepare the bodies for him. I will join you presently. First however, I desire some words with your companion.”
“Father.” Sebastos bowed, and glanced at Sergio. He quickly put his hands together as if he was praying, and then he turned quickly and walked out. Choronides watched him go. His eyes not leaving Sebastos’ back until the door closed behind him. Then he turned his attention to Sergio.
For some time he said nothing, and just stared. His eyes, Sergio noticed, were a violent green. They impaled him. He did his best to stand still, to meet that gaze, but it was a futile attempt. Those unblinking eyes sent shivers up and down his spine, his feet shifted on their own volition, his fingers twitched. It was not long before he found himself looking down at the ground in front of him.
“Frank.” Choronides’ voice filled the room. He spoke slowly, deliberately, carefully enunciating each word. “It is best that you answer my questions most truthfully. Why are you travelling with my childe?”
Sergio felt his palms grow hot, his throat seemed dry. He swallowed, and slowly started to answer, trying to think ahead in this still unfamiliar language. “My Lord, for many years I was under a … compulsion to wander. I travelled from Iberia through Narbonensis, into Italia.” As he spoke, and gained in confidence, Sergio started to speed up. “I went down the Italian coast, and came to Brindisi, and crossed over the sea to Dyrrachium. From there I rode along the Via Egnatia to Thessalonica, but as I did not I realised my urge had fled. I wanted to find a place to settle. At first I thought Thessalonica, but I was not comfortable with the thought. Then I heard of Athens.” He paused. “The moment I heard the name I knew that I must go there, and, God willing, to settle there. At Thessalonica I talked with your childe, and he suggested we travel together.”
Choronides remained expressionless, no clue as to what he was thinking. “You are well-travelled, that I will allow. Perhaps that helps explain why my childe is so taken with you – a life like yours is denied to him.” Sergio did not know what to say, so he decided to stay silent. “That you have survived your wanderings speaks of a certain ability. And from the tale Sebastos told you have demonstrated some skill.” There was another pause, and Choronides rose from his seat and paced around the room. “I presume my childe has told you that I intend to send him to Athens?” Sergio nodded assent. “And why do you think I do that?”
Sergio found himself staring at Lord Choronides’ mouth. The Elder kept his lips slightly open, just enough to reveal his teeth inside. Most prominent were the canines, the sheathed fangs. He looked slightly higher to the eyes, and struggled to put his thoughts into order. The city, there was something about the city…
“My Lord, when I initially met Sebastos I found him … care-free, and … nothing that he did later dispelled that image.” Sergio licked his lips, to give himself a few more precious moments. Something about the city, something that made Choronides decide to send his childe elsewhere. His memories of the city were fleeting images from the briefest of exposures. Really nothing more than … impressions. It became much clearer then, and Sergio now answered more confidently.
“When I walked the streets here I noticed two things about this city. That it is successful, and that it is controlled. It has the atmosphere of a nursery – safe, secure, and bounteous.” He was now warming to his theme, and spoke more insistently. “All children must one day leave the nurseries of their homes behind, to be sent into the world, where they can face new challenges, and acquire skills and experiences unavailable before. I would imagine that within these walls Sebastos has led a sheltered life, the childe of the Basileus. The Domain of your ally, so different, provides as near a perfect place where Sebastos can grow yet still be, in a certain measure, guarded, until he is finally ready to take his place in the Night.”
Choronides was frowning slightly, the first expression since Sebastos had left the room. “You need to work on your Greek. That much is plain. But in essence you are correct. I have no love for your kind Frank, and considerable love for my childe. Are you a threat to my childe Frank, to my Sebastos?”
Sergio took a deep breath. This interview was going not at all as Sergio had expected, but he still felt in his blood that it could yet all end as he feared it might. Choronides had turned, so that all Sergio could see was his broad back. He began fitfully. “My Lord, necessarily, in part, I must be.”
He was breathing quicker now, and a terrible thought occurred to him. It glittered in his mind like gold, and nearly immediately it blotted out all other thoughts. Vainly Sergio cast about his mind for some other argument, but the logic of that opening sentence led to only one place. There was nothing for it, but to hope.
“I represent something your childe has never met, a factor that you cannot control, only … delete.” Sergio looked at that back. Choronides’ fingers ripped, and Sergio could feel his dead heart pound in fear. From within It woke sleepily to the threat, and demanded attention. Sergio pressed on, for this staying still was suicide. He forced the language to work for him, breaking words and grammar as needed in his haste.
“My blood and my heritage speak against me I know, but for all that the risk of cocooning your childe is greater than any risk I pose. If you cannot control me as a factor, you can at least influence it. And, if you were to remove me, then you must consider the other consequences for Sebastos. What would he learn? Would he -” Choronides raised his head, and Sergio lapsed into silence.
Sebastos noticed that, aside from when he was speaking, Choronides had lost the habit of breathing.
“You have a brashness to you. Do you always play at such high stakes.” Choronides turned, and Sergio saw that his face remained the same impassive mask.
“My lord, the stakes were not of my making.”
For a moment Choronides remained still, and then he threw back his head in a deep-throated laugh. For a few moments he seemed carried away, but was suddenly utterly composed once more.
“Do not fear me Sergio, for I will not deny my childe your companionship. Indeed, he is innocent of many things, and though you may still be ignorant you are a creature of the night. My childe could learn much from you." Choronides went quiet, and Sergio was about to respond, but the Elder signalled him not to.
"As I was saying, you could be of benefit to my chidle. The Emperor has been dead only a year, and his heir is young. Who knows what the nights will bring, but for the moment I will happier knowing that my Sebastos has you at this side. However, remember what you have said here tonight. I keep my options open." For a moment all the previous suspicion returned, it was tangible, and Sergio shuddered.
He started as Choronides spoke again, this time calmly, without threat. "I presume that have obtained an Introduction to Athens?”
“Father Zacharias of Thessalonica has provided me with one my Lord.”
“Zacharias? The world moves quickly. I will send you with my own blessing. It will be more useful to you, in Athens at least.” From the glint of his eyes Sergio was sure that somewhere deep within Choronides was still laughing. “I feel this conversation is drawing to a close. If my dear childe is being his usual energetic self he will have already found Ioannes and have him hunched over those corpses you brought. Let us attend to them, that way we might be able to hear Ioannes speak of what he finds, and not have to wait to near dawn before my childe’s report deigns to get around to the point of the matter.”
Despite himself Sergio had the smile at Choronides’ observation. Clearly the Elder was trying to put him at his ease, and after what he so disarmingly referred to as the ‘conversation’ Sergio was more than willing to be lead along.
Their arrival in Thebes had been rushed. They were still a few miles from the city when the daylight failed, so they rode into the city. At the gates Sebastos talked to one of the guards, and Sergio assumed he was alerting his Sire to their arrival. Sergio yearned to take his time travelling through the city, but Sebastos hurried on.
The early evening assailed his senses. The city seemed vibrant, and people thronged the streets. The streets and houses themselves were generally in a good state of repair, putting the larger, and arguably grander, Thessalonica to shame. The people jostled good-naturedly, and though the poor were ever present the overwhelming impression Sergio got was one of wealth. It reminded him, in some respects, of Genoa, Veneto, or Milano. There was no evidence of hunger, even among the poor. However, given Sebastos’ haste he had little time to consider these things.
Sebastos led them to the centre of the city, where an inner fortress was set upon a hill. They did not go in the fortress, went to a grand house that stood a little apart. A servant greeted them, and within moments a seneschal of sorts had arrived,
“Does my Father know of my arrival?” asked Sebastos quickly, waving away other enquiries.
“Yes Master. He awaits you in the usual room.” The seneschal seemed somewhat surprised by Sebastos’ haste.
Leaving Demetrios and Juan with the wagon, Sebastos ushered Sergio through the house. “It does not do to keep my Sire waiting,” he explained, as they arrived outside the chamber wherein waited Lord Choronides, the Basileus of Thebes.
The room itself was plain and without decoration or ornamentation. It was a simple square, and Lord Choronides was standing at one end. As they entered the Elder glanced at Sergio, and his face flashed with malice, before breaking into what Sergio thought was a genuine smile as he greeted Sebastos.
“You are back sooner than I thought my childe. Damian must have formulated his replies with alacrity, and then you must have chosen not to dawdle for once along the way.”
“Father,” Sebastos returned, his sense of relief was palpable to Sergio. “We had initially planned to dawdle, but after we were attacked –”
“What?” Choronides looked for a moment enraged.
“We were attacked Father,” Sebastos repeated calmly, “four days south of Thessalonica.”
“Tell me.” Lord Choronides’ was measured once more, and Sergio had to marvel at the rapidity of the Elder’s self-control.
“There is a little to tell Father. Through Sergio’s animal Servitor we learnt that there was an ambush laid. We triggered it, and there were four attackers. We killed them, and then examined them.”
“What did you learn?”
“Very little for certain, only that they were not ordinary bandits. Sergio can explain better than I.”
Choronides turned to Sergio, and Sergio was now fully conscious of the malevolence that this creature felt for him, and his mocking tone left no doubt as to how Choronides thought about him. “Can you?”
There was nothing to do by answer as he could, and in Greek. Sergio suspected that answering in any other language would be ill advised. “In part, Lord Choronides, I can. The attack made no sense, so I searched for reasons. I was fortunate enough to discover a gold coin sewn into one of the bandit’s cloaks. Bandits with hidden gold do not lie up for uncertain prey. On the bandits themselves we discovered markings, and on their weaponry. The attack was planned. Whether it was aimed at us, or at someone, or something, else, I do not know.”
Sebastos stepped forward. “I thought Father that perhaps Ioannes should examine the bodies, so we brought them back. I do not think that they are too far decayed.”
“That was wise of you my childe. Tell the servant outside to fetch Ioannes, and prepare the bodies for him. I will join you presently. First however, I desire some words with your companion.”
“Father.” Sebastos bowed, and glanced at Sergio. He quickly put his hands together as if he was praying, and then he turned quickly and walked out. Choronides watched him go. His eyes not leaving Sebastos’ back until the door closed behind him. Then he turned his attention to Sergio.
For some time he said nothing, and just stared. His eyes, Sergio noticed, were a violent green. They impaled him. He did his best to stand still, to meet that gaze, but it was a futile attempt. Those unblinking eyes sent shivers up and down his spine, his feet shifted on their own volition, his fingers twitched. It was not long before he found himself looking down at the ground in front of him.
“Frank.” Choronides’ voice filled the room. He spoke slowly, deliberately, carefully enunciating each word. “It is best that you answer my questions most truthfully. Why are you travelling with my childe?”
Sergio felt his palms grow hot, his throat seemed dry. He swallowed, and slowly started to answer, trying to think ahead in this still unfamiliar language. “My Lord, for many years I was under a … compulsion to wander. I travelled from Iberia through Narbonensis, into Italia.” As he spoke, and gained in confidence, Sergio started to speed up. “I went down the Italian coast, and came to Brindisi, and crossed over the sea to Dyrrachium. From there I rode along the Via Egnatia to Thessalonica, but as I did not I realised my urge had fled. I wanted to find a place to settle. At first I thought Thessalonica, but I was not comfortable with the thought. Then I heard of Athens.” He paused. “The moment I heard the name I knew that I must go there, and, God willing, to settle there. At Thessalonica I talked with your childe, and he suggested we travel together.”
Choronides remained expressionless, no clue as to what he was thinking. “You are well-travelled, that I will allow. Perhaps that helps explain why my childe is so taken with you – a life like yours is denied to him.” Sergio did not know what to say, so he decided to stay silent. “That you have survived your wanderings speaks of a certain ability. And from the tale Sebastos told you have demonstrated some skill.” There was another pause, and Choronides rose from his seat and paced around the room. “I presume my childe has told you that I intend to send him to Athens?” Sergio nodded assent. “And why do you think I do that?”
Sergio found himself staring at Lord Choronides’ mouth. The Elder kept his lips slightly open, just enough to reveal his teeth inside. Most prominent were the canines, the sheathed fangs. He looked slightly higher to the eyes, and struggled to put his thoughts into order. The city, there was something about the city…
“My Lord, when I initially met Sebastos I found him … care-free, and … nothing that he did later dispelled that image.” Sergio licked his lips, to give himself a few more precious moments. Something about the city, something that made Choronides decide to send his childe elsewhere. His memories of the city were fleeting images from the briefest of exposures. Really nothing more than … impressions. It became much clearer then, and Sergio now answered more confidently.
“When I walked the streets here I noticed two things about this city. That it is successful, and that it is controlled. It has the atmosphere of a nursery – safe, secure, and bounteous.” He was now warming to his theme, and spoke more insistently. “All children must one day leave the nurseries of their homes behind, to be sent into the world, where they can face new challenges, and acquire skills and experiences unavailable before. I would imagine that within these walls Sebastos has led a sheltered life, the childe of the Basileus. The Domain of your ally, so different, provides as near a perfect place where Sebastos can grow yet still be, in a certain measure, guarded, until he is finally ready to take his place in the Night.”
Choronides was frowning slightly, the first expression since Sebastos had left the room. “You need to work on your Greek. That much is plain. But in essence you are correct. I have no love for your kind Frank, and considerable love for my childe. Are you a threat to my childe Frank, to my Sebastos?”
Sergio took a deep breath. This interview was going not at all as Sergio had expected, but he still felt in his blood that it could yet all end as he feared it might. Choronides had turned, so that all Sergio could see was his broad back. He began fitfully. “My Lord, necessarily, in part, I must be.”
He was breathing quicker now, and a terrible thought occurred to him. It glittered in his mind like gold, and nearly immediately it blotted out all other thoughts. Vainly Sergio cast about his mind for some other argument, but the logic of that opening sentence led to only one place. There was nothing for it, but to hope.
“I represent something your childe has never met, a factor that you cannot control, only … delete.” Sergio looked at that back. Choronides’ fingers ripped, and Sergio could feel his dead heart pound in fear. From within It woke sleepily to the threat, and demanded attention. Sergio pressed on, for this staying still was suicide. He forced the language to work for him, breaking words and grammar as needed in his haste.
“My blood and my heritage speak against me I know, but for all that the risk of cocooning your childe is greater than any risk I pose. If you cannot control me as a factor, you can at least influence it. And, if you were to remove me, then you must consider the other consequences for Sebastos. What would he learn? Would he -” Choronides raised his head, and Sergio lapsed into silence.
Sebastos noticed that, aside from when he was speaking, Choronides had lost the habit of breathing.
“You have a brashness to you. Do you always play at such high stakes.” Choronides turned, and Sergio saw that his face remained the same impassive mask.
“My lord, the stakes were not of my making.”
For a moment Choronides remained still, and then he threw back his head in a deep-throated laugh. For a few moments he seemed carried away, but was suddenly utterly composed once more.
“Do not fear me Sergio, for I will not deny my childe your companionship. Indeed, he is innocent of many things, and though you may still be ignorant you are a creature of the night. My childe could learn much from you." Choronides went quiet, and Sergio was about to respond, but the Elder signalled him not to.
"As I was saying, you could be of benefit to my chidle. The Emperor has been dead only a year, and his heir is young. Who knows what the nights will bring, but for the moment I will happier knowing that my Sebastos has you at this side. However, remember what you have said here tonight. I keep my options open." For a moment all the previous suspicion returned, it was tangible, and Sergio shuddered.
He started as Choronides spoke again, this time calmly, without threat. "I presume that have obtained an Introduction to Athens?”
“Father Zacharias of Thessalonica has provided me with one my Lord.”
“Zacharias? The world moves quickly. I will send you with my own blessing. It will be more useful to you, in Athens at least.” From the glint of his eyes Sergio was sure that somewhere deep within Choronides was still laughing. “I feel this conversation is drawing to a close. If my dear childe is being his usual energetic self he will have already found Ioannes and have him hunched over those corpses you brought. Let us attend to them, that way we might be able to hear Ioannes speak of what he finds, and not have to wait to near dawn before my childe’s report deigns to get around to the point of the matter.”
Despite himself Sergio had the smile at Choronides’ observation. Clearly the Elder was trying to put him at his ease, and after what he so disarmingly referred to as the ‘conversation’ Sergio was more than willing to be lead along.
Well spoken Sir Sergio. May I know if Sergio will take part in any coming wars? Pherhaps showing his brute nature on the field of battle?
"Very well written stnylan" says the young king as he walkes down the stairs and... grab a cold coke in the fridge!
You are quite right. There have been just a few chapters to recall thus far. Going forward will prove more difficult as this increases in length. I suppose what I meant to say was the style in which you are writing is much more like a book than a typical AAR, even a narrative one. Much more in line with Mr.T's more recent outings - John's Tale and RRR.
It's unlike the "serial" style that leaves us with a hook, though you have done well to end each episode clearly. Instead, it reads more like a novel. But when one reads a book, they tend to read for several pages or chapters, thus gaining a more solid basis of characters and circumstances in their head so when they put it down, they can easily pick it back up without too much thinking about what has already occured. It is somewhat difficult as a reader of this to remember all that has transpired previously unless we go back and re-read the previous episodes given the manner in which it is presented (though in this case, given the fine material presented here, this is not much of an effort, to be sure. )
You have obviously done your homework on the period and the precise language that you use, i.e. "my childe" to pick a simpler one, is memorable. The story itself is obviously fascinating enough to keep us salivating for further episodes.
Hope you don't think I'm being too critical. But you did ask for it. Maybe this is better discussion for the SolAARium (though I believe it's been touched upon somewhat - well, you would know, wouldn't you. )
Wonderful update stynlan!! I'm definitely looking forward to further chapters to see where this is all going and simply to read your wonderful prose. And Sire is quite creepy, quite creepy indeed! Keep it up!
P.S. By the way, just wanted to say I love the first line in your sig, as you can probably tell by my lengthy Mr.T-esque comment above.)
It's unlike the "serial" style that leaves us with a hook, though you have done well to end each episode clearly. Instead, it reads more like a novel. But when one reads a book, they tend to read for several pages or chapters, thus gaining a more solid basis of characters and circumstances in their head so when they put it down, they can easily pick it back up without too much thinking about what has already occured. It is somewhat difficult as a reader of this to remember all that has transpired previously unless we go back and re-read the previous episodes given the manner in which it is presented (though in this case, given the fine material presented here, this is not much of an effort, to be sure.
)You have obviously done your homework on the period and the precise language that you use, i.e. "my childe" to pick a simpler one, is memorable. The story itself is obviously fascinating enough to keep us salivating for further episodes.
Hope you don't think I'm being too critical. But you did ask for it.
Maybe this is better discussion for the SolAARium (though I believe it's been touched upon somewhat - well, you would know, wouldn't you. )Wonderful update stynlan!! I'm definitely looking forward to further chapters to see where this is all going and simply to read your wonderful prose. And Sire is quite creepy, quite creepy indeed! Keep it up!
P.S. By the way, just wanted to say I love the first line in your sig, as you can probably tell by my lengthy Mr.T-esque comment above.)
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stnylan- You are a skilled writer. Do not worry about keeping everything together. I have great faith in you. As this latest update of yours amply demonstrates. Great update!
I enjoyed the 'conversation' very much, it was written extremely well. I could almost feel Sergio's fear, that Choronides is quite an imposing character.
Looking foward to your next update.
Looking foward to your next update.
