Attempted Vampirism Page 2
The Blood Emperor had at least one other good reason to respect non-vampires. His mother had been a human, and she’d been the very opposite of weak. Well aware of how precarious their position had become, the traitors rushed to enshrine his reforms regarding the treatment of humans and other races in Blood Law that could never be changed. They absolutely could not afford to have their non-vampire followers turn against them. If that happened, they were doomed. If treating non-vampires fairly was the price they had to pay for survival, well, they were practical enough to accept it. Pride was a large part of being a vampire noble, and there was nothing proud about losing their territory and being forced to wander the world as landless vagabonds.
They were only moderately successful.
The vampires lost more than a third of their territory to their enemies in the first century following the Blood Emperor’s death, and they lost even more territory as the various Houses turned on each other in clandestine wars for power, prestige, and who should take the blame for their recent bad luck – if assassinating their former leader and replacing him with traitors could be considered bad luck, as opposed to the very definition of incompetence. It was only after the establishment of the Blood Alliance, a loose confederation of vampire city-states, that some semblance of peace and cooperation re-emerged amongst the vampires.
Some of the founders of the Blood Alliance even had the gall to congratulate themselves on unifying vampires under a single banner once again. They were, of course, conveniently forgetting that the only reason the Blood Alliance existed was because they’d assassinated the Blood Emperor.
Oops.
Nevertheless, the irony was not lost on some of the wiser members of the Blood Alliance, including a descendant of the famous – and extremely unfortunate – Tiberius Bloodhaven. Unlike his famous ancestor, though, he wisely kept his thoughts to himself while keeping a close eye on all of his servants. He might not have been the scholar his ancestor was, but he would go on to live considerably longer.
The gods looked upon all of this, and they laughed. Well, all of them except for the Lord of the Night. He’d been hoping his vampires could conquer the world, which would have done wonders for his bragging rights amongst the gods. Instead, he was forced to put up with all manner of taunting from his fellows as they descended into mediocrity yet again. It made him wonder why his creations couldn’t be more like the giant ants of Thelonia. Those blighters worked together perfectly, and they’d done a spectacular job of seizing territory from the elves and dwarves over the past century or two. The Lady of Beasts couldn’t have been happier with them. To make matters worse, there were even rumours that the Raccoon Empire – which had been founded by descendants of Roger the Relentless, Slayer of Krakens and Bester of Leviathans – was considering a foray into the Blood Alliance’s territory. The Lord of the Night would never live it down if his creations were bested by raccoons, no matter how illustrious their heritage was.
In the centuries that followed the demise of the Blood Emperor, the gods would be entertained by the trials and tribulations of the greatest vampire Houses. However, the House that would entertain them the most would not be one of those Houses. Instead, that honour would go to the House of Bloodhaven, a House made famous by the messy demise of its most famous member, Tiberius Bloodhaven.
* * *
The House of Bloodhaven had a long and unimpressive history. Setting aside its origins, which consisted of a bunch of vampires trying their hand at farming and proving utterly terrible at it before returning to the nobler profession of warmongering, they had been one of the few Houses to not turn against the Blood Emperor. Given how their most famous member had fallen afoul of treachery himself, they were naturally averse to participating in the Blood Emperor’s downfall. Then again, they hadn’t exactly warned the Blood Emperor either, despite knowing about the plot. It wasn’t because of disloyalty so much as pragmatism. They weren’t idiots. They could tell which way the wind was blowing. The Blood Emperor was going to fall, and although they weren’t going to join the storm, they were going to stay out of its path.
However, as was the case with most fence sitters – an insult that was often lobbed their way by friends and foes alike – they found themselves in a less than enviable position following the Blood Emperor’s demise. Although some respected them for their refusal to engage in outright treachery, they were, for the most part, between a rock and a hard place: reviled by the remaining loyalists for their failure to warn the Blood Emperor and warily tolerated by the traitors who were concerned about their lack of active participation.
Nevertheless, when the fledgling Blood Alliance found itself besieged on all sides, their skills in the ancient pastime of state-sanctioned violence made them too valuable to get rid of. When it came to killing people and raiding their territory, some of the Bloodhavens proved to be reasonably talented. Sure, not everyone liked or trusted them, but the vampires were no longer in a position to pick and choose their allies. It was once again time for the Bloodhavens to make their mark on the battlefield and leave the title of ‘fence sitter’ behind.
At least, that was the idea.
One of the problems with constant warfare was that people died a lot – and a lot of the people dying were amongst the best a House could offer. Vampires might have excelled at killing their enemies with elegance and grace, but they did not excel at reproducing quickly. A noble could throw together a bunch of fledglings in a hurry if they had to, but out of every ten fledglings, perhaps only four proved to be truly competent. And of those four, a noble would be lucky to find one who was worthy of further training and attention.
As for children, nobles tended to have very few children, and the House of Bloodhaven was no exception. After several miscalculations, one of which involved provoking a hungry dragon and a band of irate raccoons, the main branch of the House was wiped out. This left a less well known – and for the most part, less talented – branch of the House in charge.
Two of the House’s most recent rulers provided a perfect example.
Theodore Bloodhaven had been something of a gambling man, as well as an alcoholic, for most of his life. His instincts had served him reasonably well on the battlefield where his penchant for daring tactics and bizarre stratagems had long confounded his foes, leading many of them to think ‘there’s no way he would actually do something so stupid’ shortly before he did, in fact, do something so stupid. His foes, it seemed, were no match for strategies so dementedly bad that only an inebriated vampire could ever have conceived them. Alas, his constant drunkenness, love of gambling, and insane daring proved to be less helpful in the gambling halls of the Blood Alliance, which were generally frequented by three groups: the very wealthy, the very stupid, and the very good at gambling. Sadly, only two of those descriptors applied to him: the first and the second.
By the time Theodore met his end courtesy of some intrepid adventurers who’d been paid to deal with him after he’d supped on the blood of one too many comely village maidens, the House of Bloodhaven’s finances were in a sorry state. It should be noted, though, that supping on the blood of comely village maidens was not illegal. What was illegal was barging into the territory of another vampire noble and supping on those comely village maidens without permission or compensation. Theodore had begun his life with ten castles to his name, but he ended it with only four. To add insult to injury, the fire that slew Theodore also destroyed his favourite castle – and the stockpile of valuables it contained.
It was a truly unfortunate turn of events, and it could so easily have been avoided. Theodore’s conquerors had been dutiful adventurers… who knew precisely nothing about how valuable relics and artefacts could be. If they had known, it was highly likely they would have chosen to burn him in the fireplace instead of the middle of his library, thereby allowing them to reap the full rewards of their victory. A righteous cause was all well and good, but a vault full of priceless relics was perfect for paying the bills. One or two of
them might have objected to committing theft, but the more pragmatic members would have pointed out the obvious: if they were going to burn someone alive in their own library, what was a bit of theft compared to some arson and murder?
Oops.
Following Theodore’s untimely and hideously drawn out demise – they’d only resorted to burning him after their attempts to stake him through the heart and decapitate him had gone awry – his son, Ulrich took charge. Now, Ulrich was not a gambling man, at least, not in the way his father had been. No. He was something worse. Ulrich fancied himself a financial genius and an entrepreneur. And why shouldn’t he? Vampires lived long lives. They had plenty of time to develop their expertise and cultivate business contacts and acumen. Why, a canny vampire could even invest in stocks and bonds and play the long game. A human might baulk at waiting a century or two before seeing a good return, but a vampire? Hah. A century-long wait for a good return was a bet any reasonable vampire would take.
And Ulrich took a lot of bets.
Eager to revitalise the flagging fortunes of his House, Ulrich embarked on an aggressive and ambitious investment campaign. He used what was left of his holdings to acquire stocks in a number of highly promising companies. At last, his moment had arrived. It was entirely possible that one or two of his investments might not pan out, but there was no way all twelve of them could fail.
For a while, it seemed as though his risk-taking would pay off. A fleet of daring explorers under his employ returned to the Blood Alliance from a distant land with flowers called tulips. Ulrich didn’t know much about flowers, but he did know a good business opportunity when he saw one – or so he believed. For some reason or another, the price of tulips shot through the roof, and he wisely decided to invest all of his funds into cornering the market. If having some tulips could make him a lot of money, then surely having all the tulips would make him even more money.
It was the perfect plan.
As Ulrich poured his funds into cornering the tulip market, even going so far as to take out several hefty loans, some measure of sanity returned to the rest of the Blood Alliance. People began to ask questions. Why was anyone willing to pay so much for flowers that, while pretty, didn’t really do anything else? The answer was incredibly simple, but it would spell doom for Ulrich. There was no good reason. The tulip market collapsed, and Ulrich suddenly found himself with all the tulips in the Blood Alliance but without anyone willing to buy them for more than a pittance.
Worse was to come.
Shortly after the collapse of the tulip market, his creditors began to call in their loans. Ulrich pointed out that he didn’t have any money to pay them, and they refused to accept tulips in lieu of gold. A few months later, Ulrich met his end on a dusty road after running into an angry mob made up of his creditors and unpaid servants. Yes, he owed money to enough people that they could actually form a mob. In the time-honoured fashion of mobs throughout history, they went after him with stakes, pitchforks, and torches. Somehow, Ulrich managed to escape. Alas, during his escape, he was set on fire. All too aware of how his father had met his end – and none too keen on sharing his fate – Ulrich leapt into the waters of a nearby stream.
Unfortunately for Ulrich, running water and vampires were not a winning combination. If anything, it was the opposite. As Ulrich struggled to overcome the effects of the stream, some of his more fleet-footed creditors caught up to him. Their pitchforks and a few heavy rocks did the rest. Thus passed Ulrich, son of Theodore.
And so it was that Jonathan Bloodhaven became the leader of the House of Bloodhaven. Where his grandfather had presided over ten castles and his father had access to four, Jonathan had but a solitary castle to his name. It wasn’t much. It was old and dreary, and the overgrown gardens were filled with far too many tulips. But it was his, and he liked to think of it as cosy and full of character. Unlike his grandfather and father, Jonathan had the good sense to avoid trouble and live within his means. It was a good thing too. A series of unfortunate accidents had left him the only surviving member of his ancient and storied House.
Alas, his luck – what little he had – was about to run out.
Angry creditors were one thing, but the Department of Taxation was another matter entirely. Human tax collectors were the stuff of legend, but vampire tax collectors were even worse. Indeed, the gods had thought long and hard about destroying the world after the first vampire tax collectors had come into being. After all, what could possibly be worse than a bunch of immortal, blood-sucking tax collectors who had centuries to hone their mastery of bureaucratic warfare?
Part One – The Debtors’ Knell
Jonathan Bloodhaven was the 32nd Lord of Bloodhaven. He was not a warrior or a gambler as his grandfather had been, and he did not see himself as some kind of entrepreneurial genius as his father had. Instead, he took after his illustrious – some would say infamous – ancestor, Tiberius. Jonathan was a scholar, and he had always loved the history of not only his own House but also the world. He had spent most of his two centuries of life studying and learning about everything he could. Whether it was the history of the Blood Empire or the movement of heavenly bodies through the sky, he wanted to know as much as he could about as many things as he could.
His scholarly pursuits were occasionally the subject of derision amongst his noble peers. How exactly was being a scholar and digging through musty, old books all day supposed to increase his wealth and prestige? Jonathan rarely bothered to argue with them. In fact, he was usually the first person to admit that his scholarly leanings were unlikely to improve his House’s standing since vampires typically placed great stock in strength, wealth, and elegance. Then again, given the unpleasant ends his grandfather and father had met in their pursuit of wealth, power, and social standing, perhaps trying something different was for the best.
His studies might not make him much money or heighten his House’s prestige, but he lived well within his means, and he made sure to avoid studying anything that could bring further – and at this point, likely terminal – ruin upon his House’s holdings. It wasn’t the most illustrious life that the last scion of a noble House could lead, but it was a good life, or so he thought. His peers might not agree, but he took pride in being published in several of the most outstanding scholarly publications in the world, and across a variety of different areas too. If ever the world had need of an expert in the life cycle of extinct birds from the long-lost continent of Kalduria, he would be more than happy to oblige. Likewise, if the Blood Alliance ever needed to know more about the customs and traditions of the Raccoon Empire, then he could honestly say that he was one of the few vampires who had ever spoken to a citizen of that fabled empire on friendly terms.
Indeed, there were far worse fates in the world than being a scholar of some renown amidst the circles of the well educated. It was a comfortable existence, albeit not very exciting, but he preferred it that way. Let the warriors and the businessmen have all the excitement. He’d stick to his cosy castle, his telescopes, and his ancient tomes.
It was often said that when the gods created the world, they spoke it into being with Words of Power. To help their creations survive, the gods gifted each of them with Words of their own that would determine what form their magic took. Not everyone learned what their Words were, but Jonathan had gone to great lengths to learn his. When he found out, he only grew more certain that his choice of career was correct. Jonathan did not have Words related to war. He did not have [Flame] or [Lightning] at his command. Instead his Words – and therefore his magic – were centred around [Knowledge] and [Memory]. They might not have been great fits for a warrior, but they were perfect for a scholar.
On the night that everything changed, he awakened at his usual time, shortly after sunset. As was his custom, he enjoyed a quick sip of fresh blood before donning his favourite dressing gown and putting on a nice, fuzzy pair of bunny slippers. With a smile on his lips, he retired to his library to continue his research. He’d bee
n fortunate enough to acquire some rare books at an eminently reasonable price. The books were supposedly from the ancient kingdom of Eredios. According to legend, the gods had sunk the entire kingdom beneath the waves after the kingdom’s experiments into creating flying lizard people had gone horribly awry. The resulting devastation had put an end to what had, at the time, been the world’s most powerful civilisation. Nevertheless, some of the kingdom’s relics and artefacts remained, and several ruins had even been found where their magic still operated although most of those sites were currently in the hands of various tribes of lizard people who were said to descend from the survivors of the great disaster.
Unlike modern lizard people, the people of Eredios were rumoured to have possessed warm blood. Certainly the presence of their ruins in and around the far south suggested several possibilities. They could have had warm blood, or they could have had magic that allowed them to withstand the cold. Alternatively, it was possible that the far south, which was now covered in ice, had once been much warmer. Given the gods’ well-documented penchant for massively changing parts of the world via disasters of various kinds (e.g., volcanoes, tidal waves, earthquakes, dragons, krakens, leviathans, zombie plagues, rampaging raccoons, etc.), he couldn’t rule out the possibility. What made him especially excited was that one of the books he’d purchased was supposed to be a magically preserved original from Eredios itself.
If the book really was an original, he could try using a Word like [Trace Memory] to view the history of the book itself, thereby giving him an indirect glimpse into the ancient past of Eredios. Of course, he’d have to be careful. The last thing he needed was to get lost in the book’s history. He’d made that mistake once almost a century ago, and it had taken him two weeks to snap out of the catatonia he’d fallen into after trying to view the history of a ten-thousand-year-old artefact from a truly ancient zombie kingdom. There was also no guarantee that the book was even genuine, but he could always use [Reveal Age] to check. [Reveal Age] might be one of the narrowest Words at his disposal, but it was incredibly useful for authenticating artefacts and relics, especially since fakes had begun to flood the market over the past century or so.