Vilainous Deeds

That morning, when I awoke, Layla was still fast asleep. It was early, and I needed to go before anyone else awoke.
But there were already a few women awake, and they’d made some tea, and offered me a glass.
I shook my head. “No thank you. I will have some when I get back, if that’s alright. I was going to discuss the ownership of the house with the mayor.” Of course, I already owned the house, but I did have other matters of utmost importance that needed discussing.
They wished me a good morning and a good travel to town, and I was off.
I wasn’t quite sure where to meet the mayor at, but I eventually did find him through a few pedestrians. I had to go to his front door at so early in the morning.
“Who the bloody Hell,” came a voice from behind the door I had knocked upon, and he froze mid-swing and started to shut it again, but I was too quick and got my foot in the way. “Why are you here?” he hissed. “You’re lucky no one’s tried to kill you, yet!”
“I need you. As much as I hate to admit it, I need your help. And I think when you hear me out, you’ll agree to help me, because I can help this town too.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
“I have new inventions, new ideas, and they are all beneficial to the stability of the area. Come out with me for a drink and let us speak in private. Do you have a place we can go?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, I do. There’s a bar nearby. We should be able to find a... secluded seat.”
☪
“Why should I help you?” he asked hesitantly. “You came barging into my town, having just killed my best warrior, and declare his assets yours. I kind of want to kick you the hell out of town.”
“It was a show, sir. I intend to grow powerful, but only to help those in need of it. The Dux are corrupt. They need to be ruled by someone with equality in mind. And an undesirable cannot possibly hope to attain the ability to rise. Once you’re a Mercator or higher, you have the slim chance or raising up, but an undesirable is stuck. I have ability to help the vampires, raise us to an unequalled state of peace and prosperity for all, but I would need a little trust, a little faith from you, and a little help.”
“Well, before we get into what you need, what will you do for my people?”
“Your agriculture. You are currently growing everything in the same fields every year. It’s eroding the soil, is it not? I suggest you rotate them. Go every other year, and in the off years allow grasses and clovers to grow. These can feed the animals, and the animals’ waste will replenish the soil.”
“How can you possibly know that? That’s high level knowledge, not that of an undesirable.”
“Exactly my point. My parents were Haeres until they had me, and fell to undesirable, but I was still raised as a Haeres class member of society. My parents were very strict, and they taught me well.”
He looked startled. “You’re the Hewitt kid!” he stage whispered, angry. “You killed your parents! I heard about you a while back.”
I nodded. “Yes. They were awful people. But they educated me, at the very least, and I got a good grip on how life is versus how it should be. I am well educated, and I intend to make good use of that. The other way to help is, we need to stop fighting ourselves. We need a good military program. Instead of a bunch of imbeciles running around with swords, train them. If Chevalier was your best swordsman, your men need a lot of help. He died within minutes and I did not sustain a single injury from him.”
“Oh yeah? Who has the time or money to supply that kind of training?”
“Well, I do. I have the training, the time, I have the talent, I would be willing. Also, all it would require would be swords and a few other weapons, which I am sure would not be too costly. It would improve the town’s ability to defend itself against invaders, and also to reduce the chaos in the inner city.”
He looked suspicious. “You would do that? Just generosity form the bottom of your heart?”
I shook my head. “Well, sort of. I would. But who would be willing to learn from an undesirable?”
“I see where you’re going with this, and you’re right. Not a single person would be willing to learn from you right now. You want your social rank to be increased.”
“Yes. I would very much like to be raised to where I belong, a Haeres.”
He sputtered. “That... that’s simply not feasible! I myself am only a Dominus! How could I possibly raise you to a rank above me?”
“Well, it was worth a shot. Make me a Dominus, then. Dominus Hewitt.”
“Mercator is the best I can do for you. You said yourself, Mercators can raise up. You help me, and I’ll help you. Deal?”
I nodded. It was amazing he was even willing to help me, so I was glad he wasn’t simply turning me down.
“We’ll have to see about changing the mark,” I said, and showed him my undesirable mark. He flinched.
“That won’t be easy. And it will be very painful. The only way to get out a mark like that...”
“Yes, I am aware. Silver. It will be awful for a long while, but it must be done. Can you aid me?”
“Yes. I can. I can apply the new mark, and remove the old. When?”
“I see no better time than now. Is your house a possible operation place?”
“I haven’t any silver.”
“My sword is infused with it. Just make a small incision and the skin will do the rest. And then, when it’s healed, I will just require the new mark.”
“I... I guess that won’t be so bad. Follow me then,” he said uncertainly. I laid down money for three ales, and a bottle of whisky. “I would like another ale and a whisky, if you please. The money is all here.”
The waiter counted it, and nodded.
“Why the ale?”
“Well, for you of course. I decided to at least buy you another drink.”
He nodded, accepted the ale, and I carried the whiskey with me all the way to his home, and prepared my sword. I drew it from its sheath and passed it to him. He nodded, led me into a dark study, swigged from his ale, and asked me sit. I did, and I rested my arm on his table, and he frowned.
“Are you sure? Regardless of your social class, this is gonna be Hell to pay for a long while.”
“I realized that, Dominus Saxton. I need this. Thank you for your help.”
He nodded solemnly and drug my blade across my flesh, cutting deep into it and causing my silver blood to spill onto the table. I winced ever so slightly, but otherwise silently bore my burden.
“Well, how am I supposed to ink you until it’s healed?”
“Give it thirty minutes or so,” I said weakly. “Do not close the wound. Let the silver fester. In face, keep the sword embedded in the wound to keep it open. The silver has to flush out the skin.”
He frowned. “This seems like a helluva lot of suffering for one stupid mark.”
“A mark that will limit me for the rest of my life!” I snapped. “I can be so much more!”
He rolled his eyes. “You wanting that whiskey now?”
I nodded, and gulped it down, hoping for a slight reprieve. He set the sword back into the wound, and then sat down.
“You don’t have to watch this. Go, eat something for breakfast. Come back when you’re ready to heal my and ink me.”
“Heal you?” he asked, sounding irritated. “That’s a pain in the ass!”
“Not fully,” I insisted. “Just enough to close the wound, and then you can re-mark me and I’ll be out of your way for a while.”
He nodded, and was gone.
I sat there in agony. It’s difficult to describe the feeling of pure poison, pure acid filling your whole body, yet being unable to die from it.
Because we have no heart to pump the blood through our bodies, we have excessive amounts of it, keeping the pressure in our veins are arteries full, so it doesn’t move around a whole lot. It doesn’t need to. We don’t need oxygen. The only thing it’s good for is instances like this, where it needs to flush out the skin. If I had to guess, even the scars on my back would vanish for a short while.
☪
“Boy!”
“Yes, father?”
“Why are you just sitting there reading? Shouldn’t you be doing something more productive?”
“You told me to read this book and write you a paper, father. I am.”
“You should have already finished that, you stupid little shit!”
“Father, you asked me to begin an hour ago. I have been reading since then to read it.”
“Don’t you smart mouth me, boy. I should have never let you come into existence. Your mother was a fool to want a child. You fight me, boy. Become a man. Act like a man for once in your life.”
The boy’s eyes flashed with anger, and he tensed, waiting for his father’s blows to come, just as usual. He never fought back. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he was strong enough to win. To his parents, winning was everything. And the fact that he cost them their social status made them resent him.
Seventeen. He counted seventeen that time. Seventeen bone-breaking blows, seventeen earth-shattering hits, seventeen grimaces of barely repressed anger. Soon. Soon he would win. Soon his mother wouldn’t be able to keep food from him for being a disappointment. Soon his father wouldn’t beat him and be forever upset with him. Soon the boy would have his freedom and he wouldn’t feel such hatred, because he would win.
Every night, when his parents slept, he snuck to the huge weapon’s room and practiced. He had natural talent, and he practiced, learning new maneuvers, and becoming skilled. But most of all, the boy excelled at sword-wielding. And he knew, that would be the tool to his win. His sword would let him be free.
☪
“Hewitt!” snapped Dominus Saxton, snapping me out of the memory, back into the painful reality. “Are you ready for me to heal and mark you?”
I nodded, gritting my teeth. He pulled the sword from my arm, then sunk his fangs into my radial artery, spewing a healing saliva into my blood, and then pulled back.
Quickly, the skin began to heal.
Unlike with Tara’s wounds, the flesh was much easier to cure then broken and displaced bones, so it healed within minutes, and he, pressed some odd instrument to my skin, and while it burned, it hurt much less than the silver inside me.
He pulled it away, revealing a smooth symbol that looked like a slanted theta symbol. It was perfect.
I stumbled to my feet, finding it difficult to stand between the whiskey and the silver. I was tipsy, and knew I was going to need to rest.
I nodded my thanks at the mayor. “Thank you for your help, Dominus Saxton. I will start training as soon as I am able. But for now I must return home and rest.”
He wordlessly handed me my sword, and I returned it to its sheath, and stumbled home. Outside the door, I took a moment to recover myself, and walked into the house where the staff in the room looked at me strangely.
“I apologize for the interruption. The mayor gave me the rights to the house, and I went celebrating,” I explained. “Unfortunately, your whisky may be stronger than I’m used to. If you do not mind, I think I’ll go lay down.”
A few of them nodded while the rest just stared.
I walked to the room, where Layla sat bolt upright when she heard me approach, and she looked shocked.
“What happened. Master?”
“Sebastian,” I chided, without much effort, and fell onto the bed beside her.
“What’s wrong, Sebastian? What can I do to help? Please, tell me!”
I held up my wrist and showed her the new mark, and she sighed sadly. “How did you get the old one off?”
“Silver. It’s... tearing me apart.”
“No, you have to be alright!” she said sadly.
“I will be. It will just take me a bit of time to recover from this. Alright? I ought to be alright in a few days.” I was lying, of course. I would feel horrible for probably a good two weeks, but I would at least be functional after three days or so.
“I can stay with you,” she offered, and I shook my head.
“No. Socialize with the staff. Make friends. Give them one two of the feeders, and allow them to feed. From Miya and the other, too, if you wish. Until then, I must sleep. I will wake when the time is right. Goodnight, Layla.”
She nodded sadly. “Alright. Goodnight, Sebastian. Sleep well.”