Your Blood is Mine

Sangfroid felt the blood ooze up to his elbows and down to his knees, flowing endlessly. 

He never feared death. There was even a moment in his life where he hoped death would take him, before he learned that such thinking was unholy. But now, he felt he could not die. He shouldn't die.... Not now.....

Not when the people need him. Not when he hasn't convinced Vladstin to go to the mountains and meet the Hermit. Not when he hasn't even seen His Highness one last time....

His vision got blurry, and he could barely register what happened. It felt like they came and went for such a long but short time. His head spun and he felt like he was floating.

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"Why did the wounds reopen all at the same time?"

"It is most likely due to scurvy and malnutrition."

"He's your Chief yet you didn't even watch over his health? What kind of subordinates are you?"

"Shut up! How can we be sure that you're not the one causing this!?"

"Brat, if I want more blood, I would drink it straight from my prey. Do you expect me to lap it from the floor?"

Sangfroid could barely open his eyes. He realized that his forehead felt heavier than before, a wet, damp thing was lying over it, and he can feel the breeze blowing on his right cheek.

His face was fully exposed!

"Hello, Hunter." He met thinly stretched lips with long, protruding fangs. 

Sangfroid's eyes widened as he saw Vladstin and his fellow Huntsmen watching over him. He instinctively reached to cover his scarred face—

"Don't move too much, Chief. We just figured out how to close that wound right now without bleeding through the stitches. " Asver warned him. 

Vladstin interlocked both fingers, leaning at the edge of his floor mattress while lying on his stomach. "You should listen to the brat you know. Why do you even worry about your scars so much? That's so stupid, they just make you look cooler."

Vladstin went to touch the right side of his face, and Sangfroid flinched. "Why are you here?"

"I sensed that there's something interesting going on with you. I felt your extreme dread at the pit of my stomach." Vladstin grinned. "So I went to see what's it about but it turns out you're just being dramatic."

"Chief is not being dramatic. Scurvy is no joke, my brother died from it!" One of the Huntsmen with buck teeth defended. 

"Congratulations to your brother then." Vladstin responded nonchalantly. 

The buck teeth Huntsman had to be held down by the others or else he would rush straight to the monster that can kill them all with a snap of his fingers. 

"Still, being sick is unfortunate. It's too much unnecessary suffering because your body keeps rejecting death." Vladstin flipped the cold towel resting on Sangfroid's head. "If you don't want to live anymore, just call me. No need to waste away from something bothersome like 'scurvy'."

"Since when did you get here?" Sangfroid asked with a scratchy, deep voice that most people would find pleasing to the ear. Even the vampire lord had grown fond of it. 

"He was the one who found you unconscious, Chief." Rothfir said. "If it weren't for him, we wouldn't know your situation and just assume that you were still sleeping till noon."

Vladstin chimed in. "And I'm the one who nursed you back to health too, because these idiots kept panicking and losing their minds over their Chief getting sick. They had to push away nosy nobles and civilians asking why you didn't join their hunt."

"The people cannot know about your condition, morale is already running low." Rothfir said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Survivors with medicine skills are already being overworked, you are not really the first to keel over because of illnesses and malnutrition."

"Why did no one inform me about this?" Sangfroid sat up, scrunching eyebrows worriedly for his people. 

The Huntsmen opened and closed their mouths, not knowing what to say. In the end, the vampire lord in the room delivered the cold hard truth:

"It's because everyone can see that you're killing yourself over keeping all the survivors together. No matter how much hair you use to hide your face, those black circles are as clear as day, Hunter. You're extremely fatigued and overworked, the only thing that kept you standing these last few days was your stubborn willpower to protect the people." Vladstin sighed exaggeratingly, like a worrywart mother.

Sangfroid protested. "I'm not fatigued—"

Vladstin shushed him and pushed him back down to the bed. "One drop of your blood already gave me a whirlwind of the stress you're carrying. Don't even try to reason with me, Hunter." 

Sangfroid narrowed his eyes. Why does he worry about me so much—

"It's not that I'm worried about you, it's that I don't want the deal to be ruined. You're the only one that I'm giving a 15-day life extension because of the parchment, the survivors were just a bonus." The vampire lord seemed to hear his thoughts. "If you die, there's no point in keeping up this truce anymore. So try to live longer for them or I'll decapitate every single being in this pathetic camp right this moment."

Sangfroid was stunned by how Vladstin managed to both threaten him and tell him to take care of himself at the same time. He really was a neutral entity, only guided by logic rather than emotions, making him difficult to comprehend.

Vladstin turned to the Noble Huntsmen who were still wary of his presence. "Now, put these herbs on the wounds if they ever reopened. Give him lots of citrus fruits and vegetables to eat and do not let him lift a muscle for three days. If one of you messes with these simple instructions then you would owe me a pint of your blood. Understood?"

The Noble Huntsmen blinked several times from being ordered around by their enemy, but reluctantly nodded. 'It's for the sake of the Chief, it's for the sake of the Chief....' They repeated over and over. 

Vladstin turned to Sangfroid, smiling sweetly. Sangfroid knew there was absolutely no authenticity to that smile, it felt like a doll was trying to stretch its lips to appear like it was smiling. It unnerved him, but also made him feel sorry for the vampire who never asked to be this way.

"The sun is setting, so I'll be going now. I have a pet prince to feed. The parchment line of the day is: The king is out to eradicate your tribe." Vladstin stood up and took the bag of food and drinks that were on the side, much smaller than the last time because it did not include literal beddings and cutleries. His pet raven flew by his shoulder again, and he patted its head.

"Which tribe was it pertaining to?" Sangfroid has never heard of a tribe in Ilvedia before. 

"That's for you to ponder. Don't worry your pretty little head too much, you'll learn eventually." The forever sneering vampire lord gave a salute as always, exiting from the tent.

He made one last reminder to the baffled Huntsmen. "You better not kill Sangfroid before I do, idiots. Do your job right!" His raven, Elenore, also croaked loudly at these dumbfounded humans and the two undead vanished again at lightning speed. 

"So.... Uh.... Do you want some clementines, Chief?" Asver offered the bowl of fruit that the vampire lord himself had prepared. 

"I don't feel like eating today. Please give me some rest." Sangfroid said, reaching to cover his face with his long fringe again. 

"Understood, Chief." The Huntsmen nodded, leaving his camp so he could rest, and returned to what they should be doing at this hour, whether it was sleeping or patrolling.

Sangfroid felt like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. The Noble Huntsmen did not say anything about his scars. Maybe Vladstin was right after all, it must really be not that big of a deal.

He took the damp golden towel over his forehead. It seems familiar, and now he realized that it was actually the sash that Vladstin wears on his waist. When he raised his arms, he also noticed the cleanly stitched scars where he cut himself to give the vampire a pint of blood and just haphazardly covered up with bandages. 

If Vladstin is capable of acts of kindness like this without having emotions, how much good can he have in his heart if he became human? Sangfroid became more determined to help this vampire despite all the atrocities it had done to him and his kingdom. In the end, he really was once a benevolent prince, and though Sangfroid didn't know personally, he wanted to believe in his goodness.

He closed his eyes, resting his weakened body once more, his thoughts remaining on vampire lords and how they are turned. 

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"Xendros had written that the main essence of vampire lords rely on 'unfulfilled debts'. They had so much rage, regret or sorrow inside of them that this malignant energy became an artificial life force, like demons possessing a suffering individual, this time taking over a dead body." 

The Bishop showed a diagram on a large scroll posted on the walls of Santimieda. Vladstin was also thirteen at the time of this memory, already being trained in case the prophecy comes true, along with his fellow orphans and children of the Church. The Bishop was still a strong man and had his eyesight with him, before the Holy Mothers took it away in exchange for his visions. 

"All vampire lords also suffered an indignant death without getting a proper burial. Xendros strongly believes that if only these vampire lords received a proper burial with the holy blessing, their transformation could have been avoided. " The Bishop pointed at the written words on the scroll. "However this is merely a precaution, not a solution to already existing vampire lords. The malignant energy would still be a problem."

"But the reason as to why this phenomena of malignant energy happen still remains unknown, and what makes these people special compared to the rest in order to receive such transformation after death. Many individuals had died painfully and undeserving too, but not all of them turns into vampire lords." The Bishop spoke with a light tone but his voice echoed on the Chapel, making him an effective teacher. 

A smart orphan, the one with dark skin and freckles who gave Sangfroid the arrow to activate the drawbridge, raised his hand. 

"Yes, Sacherin?" The Bishop nodded at him and gestured him to stand up from the floor where they were listening to the lecture. 

"Are there no theories made upon this matter? Did Xendros never figure it out from all the years he spent studying them? Or what about his fellow priests at that time, or the latter years?" 

"That is a good question, Sacherin. Sadly, Xendros' theory on this matter has been damaged beyond recognition." The Bishop frowned. "But from what we can discern, he mentioned something about 'inability to have an afterlife'. Most priests, along with I, personally took this as a sign that vampire lords may be escapees from purgatory or hell, and they rose again to the earth through an accident or other means."

Sangfroid listened carefully to this lecture. He finds the concept of vampires fascinating, despite knowing that they are monsters and freaks of nature. If only vampire lords have no thirst for blood, they would be no different from the immortalized saints or angels or the Holy Mothers. To be able to live forever.... It's almost the same as....

Becoming gods. 

But he shook these blasphemous thoughts away. He was taught that vampires are a menace and their existence in itself is a sin. No matter how much good they were in the past, they still killed thousands of people, and will still kill thousands more if given the chance. They were monsters that must be eliminated.

Not too long ago, this was also how Sangfroid perceives vampires.

The main reason why he wanted to turn Vladstin into a human was that so he would be able to realize his crimes. Then, he would be formally executed and buried properly so he could be brought to the afterlife he deserves. That is the right thing to do.

Now, he wasn't so sure anymore.