I tapped one of my long finger nails on the arm of my chair. My other hand was propping my head up on my fist, as I looked at the mirror of my “vanity”. It was a communication mirror that had been enchanted gods only know how long ago. It was some relic of my family that had been collecting dust in the vault until I appropriated it. It could be attuned to any other communication mirror with the corresponding resonance crystal that was paired with it. Its current pairing was done a few years ago. Though the woman on the other end of the mirror was beneath me, she had her uses, and she paid handsomely whenever she or her coterie made use of grandmother’s Curtain Call brothel, but so did everyone else.
Curtain Call was established by grandmother some 300 years ago. Mortal men were taken from cities across the surface and funneled into our network of traffickers. They were from all works to avoid suspicion, even sons of nobles that stood in the way of our organization's ambitions. The easiest though were men who were foolish enough to become mercenaries, which were of course the basest of the mortal races, the beastkin. Therianthropes, they called themselves, but they were just Weres whose blood was so diluted they lacked a true hybrid or animal form. At least we dhampir are more regal and refined in our bearing, despite our shared weakness of mortality. That would change for me soon enough.
“You will still be able to launch your attack during the fertility ball, yes? And the bait is still whole?” I asked, fingers still idly drumming on the arm rest.
“Yes, yes. His fiancee’s body is the same as it was the last time he saw it. Better even. Do not worry, child,” replied the Strega dei morti.
“Don’t patronize me. I am a grown man!” I erupted, standing up from my chair. How dare this woman. This feral outcast, she would be nothing without my family’s support. She was lucky we allowed her to keep one in every ten men she captured for Curtain Call.
“Need I remind you whose services you rely on, Vittoria dalla Morte?” I growled out.
The woman had the gall to arch her eyebrow at me. “Not at all young master. I serve at the pleasure of your grandmother. If such a time comes that she no longer finds our deal amenable, then she has merely to let me know.”
It was perhaps a good thing that the woman was not in the room with me, as I lashed out with my mana at the mirror. I had let my anger get the better of me. She was, unfortunately, much stronger than me. I was still only on my 3rd step of my cultivation journey.
Just one step above that filthy human commoner standing in my way.
I grimaced.
“So, the bait is ready,” I said and sat back down in my chair.
“She is. I even cleaned her up a bit. I’ll be sure to doll her up for our dear pure blooded human,” she smiled wide with far too much teeth.
“If your forces manage to capture him before my own, do not sully him. This is non-negotiable. My grandmother wants to break him into his new lifestyle herself.”
At my words, the strega’s face went through multiple emotions: surprise, rage, acceptance, and then finally amusement.
“The poor boy is in for quite the night… and morning.” she said before laughing.
“Indeed. Once he’s out of the way, I’ll be able to continue with our plan for me to marry Ippolita.”
“Our plan?” the strega asked incredulously. “That is your plan, no, your delusion alone, child.”
She was patronizing me again; she was baiting me. To keep from snapping again, I grit my teeth hard enough that one of them cracked. I would have to see the healer later.
“Regardless of whose plan it is, once Ippolita and I are wed, and I am made a full vampire, we will be able to advance our operation more aggressively.”
Vittoria looked at me nonplussed. “You really think that not only will the Principessa marry you, but will be so ensnared by your masculine wiles that she’ll let dictate social policy? Are you… do you hear yourself?”
I bolted upright again. “Marrying a principessa and being turned so I can be her eternal consort is my birthright! I am the only son of the three ducal houses in 2 millenia! I will not be denied my destiny. Not by you, and certainly not by some filthy mortal human from the sky. He should have died like the rest of his people!”
I was heaving deep breaths now after my explosive tirade, but this woman needed to understand. I was destined for great things. I would shape the surface in my image, and it all started with wrapping Ippolita around my finger. I was blessed with the largest manhood mother has ever seen, and I have read all of her books on how to bring pleasure to a woman. I was better, and I knew better than some baseborn blood bag. Not to mention I never sullied myself at those fertility rituals. I was making sure that Ippolita would carry my firstborn. I took a deep breath, and as I let it out I straightened my doublet.
“Allay your doubts. Even if my efforts are not enough, grandmother has given me a potion made from the blood of another principessa that will make her more susceptible, and more like than not, she will fall in love with me from its power. It is recorded in the histories that she spoils all of her husbands. Once she is in love with me from the potion, I have merely to ask and my wishes will be granted.”
Realization dawned on the pawn’s pretty face. “Ah, then I see you are plenty prepared. If my future Principe consort has no further need of me tonight, then I shall take my leave.”
I searched the strega’s face for any trace of duplicity or condescension. Finding none, I crinkled my nose and looked away while gesturing her dismissal. I caught her bow out of the corner of my eye as the mirror disconnected and returned to just a normal mirror that showed my reflection. I leaned in closer and inspected my face. Losing control earlier didn’t seem to disturb any of my makeup, but I freshened up the highlighter on my scales regardless. My hair, however, did need adjusting.
I untied the string that was holding it together in the back; my deep purple locks dropped and cascaded down my shoulders. My hair was rich dark purple to the point of being almost black until the light hit it—especially the green light emitted from the magic stones in the sconces on the walls of my private study. It was the shade of royalty, unlike the shit colored hair of that human bastard.
House Serpe, like all the ducal houses, had been around since the founding of the cities. The principessa needed us. She always took a male from the ducal houses when one was available. Claiming her was my right! My justice! If only she weren’t beholden to etiquette and courtesies, she could kick that filthy commoner to the streets! With luck, our pawns, the dalla Rossos were able to persuade Jerry Rice, or whatever his stupid human name was, to partake in their hospitality and stop leeching off the city and my dear Ippolita.
It would make getting him out of the city undetected much easier, too.
I finished brushing my hair, and pulled it back into a ponytail. I focused all of my attention on the purple ribbon that I had laid on my vanity and activated my Telekinesis tattoo. I was still unable to lift too much weight with the spell, as I only had the tattoo for 10 years now and was still practicing. Manipulating a ribbon to tie off my hair was doable, though, if only just.
The ribbon slowly levitated into the air and approached my face. I guided it past my face and around my head with my superb focus and mana control—it only dipped towards the ground thrice! Two more minutes of intense concentration and precision and I got the ribbon positioned correctly, so I could finish off the bow with my hands. I pulled out a hand mirror and turned around; looking at the large vanity mirror through the hand mirror’s reflection, I appraised my handy work.
As impressive as ever, Luca.
I turned back around and set the hand mirror down. I pulled out my makeup kit and fished out my special highlighter for my scales. They were a lustrous shade of green, patches of them dotted both sides of my neck as well as my elegant high cheekbones. Since it was just a touch up, I didn’t spend too much time laboring over the rest of my face. I was only expecting one more audience tonight
There was a knock on the door to my study.
Finally.
I got up from the vanity, and stepped over towards the furniture for receiving. I sat down in my plush highback chair, crossed my legs, and then leaned my head onto my left fist that was resting on the arm rest.
The posture befitting a ruler.
“Enter,” I said, adopting the dignified tone I used for the lower nobles—my court voice.
The door opened, and one of my messenger servants stepped through with her head bowed. This was already an unexpected wrinkle and off to a bad start.
“What is it? Why isn’t Conte della Rosso here before me?” I asked, barely managing to keep my anger from exploding outwards.
“Apologies my lord, they sent a missive instead of coming in person. It just arrived, I raced here as fast as I could.”
I couldn’t stop the sneer from spreading on my face. I was surrounded by failures.
“I didn’t catch that, come closer and tell me again,” I lied.
To her credit, she moved closer without hesitation, but not close enough.
“Closer,” I said.
She got closer more slowly this time, but still too far away.
“I said closer!,” I screamed, voice cracking slightly.
“Yes my lord, of course my lord.” The words rushed out in a garble as she settled just a foot from me, head still bowed.
“Now tell me again what you said when you walked in,” I growled out in my deepest voice.
“Yes my lord. Conte—”
I cut her off my leaping to my feet and slapping her as hard I could across her face, but the bitch was a higher cultivation than me and forgot to appropriately lower herself in my presence.
“YOU BITCH! What did I tell you about weakening your flesh with your mana in my presence? Do you think you’re above me? Better than me? The son of the duchessa?”
“No my lord, of course not! I could never! This lowly one isn’t even worth pissing on! Please forgive me my lord! I used mana to race here and forgot your instructions in my haste!”
It took monumental effort, befitting someone as gracious as myself, to reign in my anger, but I managed. I massaged my hand that was throbbing with pain from hitting someone 2 steps higher than myself, as I looked over the pathetic excuse for a dhampir. Even if she was cattle, a mortal, she was technically nobility—the daughter of some baron or something that owed us fealty. It didn’t matter; she may as well have common blood in her, but she did look appropriately apologetic. Perhaps she deserved mercy after all.
“For your failures,” I began. I stopped massaging my hand and unbuttoned my breeches. “Get on your knees.”
She swiftly obeyed, her head still bowed. My enhanced hearing from my perfectly cultivated sense picked up her quickened breathing and the occasional sniffle. I pulled out my codpiece then slammed it into her face. Her head bounced back slightly, signifying that she finally remembered her place and weakened her constitution with her Servant’s Physique tattoo.
“Do you smell that? That is something you will never have. No man will ever lie with you.”
She didn’t resist me rubbing my sweat soaked codpiece all over her face. She must have liked it, the pathetic worm. I tossed my codpiece to the side and then pulled my cock out. I could hear her whimper, probably in arousal. Barons were basically commoners; their offspring wouldn’t be much better, and all commoners were beasts who were just blood sacks that were only good for making more blood sacks. I aimed my flaccid cock at her bowed head.
“For 5 years,” I said as I started pissing on her. She didn’t even flinch. “You will be barred from entering the fertility ritual lottery.” She whimpered again, definitely in arousal this time I’m sure of it.
“And because you seem to be so aroused from bathing in my piss, you won't bathe for 3 days and will wear these same clothes, so that everyone in the household will know that you're a submissive manly woman who loves being pissed on and dominated by men.” I shook the last droplets of my urine off onto her hair, then tucked myself back into my breeches. I turned around and put my codpiece back on then buttoned up my breeches. Once I settled back into my comfortable chair and assumed my normal noble position that let everyone know their place in the world, I spoke.
“Now then, what did the idiot Conte della Rosso say in his missive?”
“I-I have the missive h-here for you, my lord,” she said weakly, barely able to get the words out. She must be fighting off an orgasm. Of course a baser woman would cum just from my urine. She summoned the rolled parchment from some storage item. One my family gave her for her duties in our boundless beneficence, I’m sure. I took the letter from her and read over it.
As my eyes scanned over the words, my anger only grew.
How could that peasant cock cheese have broken through to E already? He’s the same level as me?
I couldn’t accept this. The conte must have been wrong. There was a mistake. My eyes looked up from the paper to the servant.
“You. Did you read this? Did you know? Do you laugh at me behind my back?!” I screamed
“No my lord! I didn’t open it. You saw the seal yourself!” she whimpered.
Yes, I did see the seal. Good, no one else knows except for me and Conte della Rosso, and his wife of course. Now there was a woman who understood her place. It was a shame I was saving myself for Ippolita or I would have taken her to my bed and graced her with a son, no doubt. They both would have thanked me for it, too. I looked back down at the letter to finish reading whatever drivel the conte decided to include.
“Leave. And remember what I said about bathing.” I dismissed the servant without looking back up. “And send in someone to clean up your mess.”
“Yes, my lord. Right away.” She probably bowed before leaving, but I didn’t bother looking. There was more information here. Evidently they ran into John, or whatever, by the new monument being constructed. Our principessa was too gracious, but more importantly, too loose with city funds. How could she waste gold on building a monument to a bunch of dead mortals from another city? This is precisely why she needed a man in her life that could tame her and show her how to properly govern.
The only question was how to get her to see that? Certainly with agents tailing the human during the attack, capturing in the chaos would be easy, and with him out of the way she’d easily forget about him, but could I possibly spur that along quicker? Perhaps if I showed off my skills with my spells? Or would she prefer a skillful showing in the dueling arts?
That’s it!
I only needed to challenge the human to a duel, or even better get him to challenge me to one. Then I could show every noble at the ball how worthless he was. It didn’t matter if he was human, if he was weak in the dueling arts and weak with mana, then no one would want to breed him except the poorest dregs of our city. In fact, one could say that by kidnapping him I was doing him a favor. At least he’d be a fuck toy for his betters.
And then, once I’ve humiliated him at the ball, Ippolita would see how I was the one destined to wed her. Then slowly, I would give her grandmother’s potion. She would be mine, body and soul. And after she was conquered, a mere puddle in our bedroom, I would conquer her knights one by one, as was my right as her husband.
A knock on the door broke me from my musings. “Enter,” I said.
Another servant walked in, head down, carrying a rag and a bucket. A cleaning spell would be faster, but ever since grandmother became matriarch all those years ago, our servants would clean by hand. “It looked cleaner,” she told me once, and mother never rescinded the order. I didn’t know if it looked cleaner, but I certainly enjoyed the sound of cattle laboring around me, like the current bristles of the brush scrubbing the stone clean of my piss from earlier.
I reclined gently on the plush couch, sipping my tea. I had abandoned a little decorum after my oldest Servant, my friend, Pia, came in to give me her report.
“Sit, Pia, join me,” I gestured to the couch opposite the table from me. I set my own teacup and saucer down so I could pour her a cup. She sat down, and graciously took the cup from my outstretched hands. She gave me a quick look of disapproval before settling back into the comfort of the couch. Once I was satisfied with her efforts to eschew the stress of the day, I picked my own cup and saucer back up and reclined back into the couch.
“My lady, will today be the day you listen when I tell you that you shouldn’t be so friendly with the servants?”
“No, Pia. It will not,” I replied, a smile never leaving my face. One of my ears flicked as I picked up the shuffling of other servants in the hall. A burden, or boon depending on your outlook, of my foxkin heritage was the heightened sense of hearing and smell. Unlike most other beastkin, though, I couldn’t afford to block all of these stimuli out. As the daughter of a duchessa, I had to always be on. Always alert and attentive lest there be some surprise. It was exhausting; though as I progressed through the notes of the mortal octave, it got easier. However, around Pia, I could relax a teensy bit. She was a step beyond me: a requirement for her to remain my servant, and one she always strove to meet. Thank the goddesses for that.
“So,” I continued, “What was he like?”
“Well, I’m sorry to say, but my lady might be a little bored with my findings.”
“Bored? Bored?!” I stared at Pia incredulously. “Pia! He’s from the sky! The legendary flying cities of the forgotten musty old history books! No one even believed they existed! And a man, a living human of all things steps through the godsway! There’s no way he could be boring!”
Pia merely chuckled at my enthusiasm. Did she not get it? This was history in the making! A man! A human man! Just thinking of how many sons he could sire through the fertility ritual set my heart racing. He could really help turn things around for our city.
“Yes, yes, a living human man from a flying city. He is definitely, but his mannerisms, my lady. He… hmm.” Pia trailed off in thought.
My expression dropped. “What is it, Pia? Is he worse than the snivelling and petty dhampir nobles? Fuck.”
“What? No, my lady, it’s the opposite. He’s… well, he’s womanly,” Pia said, awkwardly.
“What? What do you mean, womanly?”
“I mean he carries himself the way Damas do. He’s seen battle, that much is obvious, but it’s more than just his bearing. There’s an alertness to him that one only gets inside of a dungeon. How he managed to go into a dungeon at his low cultivation level is a mystery, but he has.”
“How do you know all of that?” I asked. My curiosity was piqued. This was just like those dusty old stories in the family library.
“Well, he almost caught one of my agents. He was able to pick her slight fluctuation of mana in a crowd. She was unsettled.”
“Oh that’s exciting!” Pia rolled her eyes at my enthusiasm.
“And then there’s the fact that he was constantly activating and deactivating various tattoos while circulating mana during his entire trip through the market square. Normal people don’t do that. That’s a habit you get when you’re priming yourself to be jumped from any given direction. It’s a dungeon habit.”
“That’s so… COOL! How can you say this was boring!” I said.
Pia laughed at me, then said, “Because my lady, this is something that’s standard for Damas after they reach F, the same as your cultivation level. It’s not really that unusual. It’s just unusual for a man who recently reached E.”
“Oh, he’s E now? He must have broken through since he got here. Witnesses placed him at D when he arrived,” I said. Even if he was close to breaking through when he arrived, it’s still impressive he was able to do so despite the tumult and chaos of his arrival. This Jack Wright seemed like a man of a single minded focus and drive. Not bad, but also not necessarily good. Not really husband material, but he could be trained out of that.
“There’s more, my lady, and you may not like this part,” Pia said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Go on,” I urged.
“Two of the Damas with him were very touchy and flirty.”
“That could just mean they’re trying to court him,” I said.
“It could, or it could be her majesty is courting him, and the Damas are making sure to leave an impression so he’ll choose them as part of her household to lay with.”
“Shit. Fuck. If her majesty is already making her move, I have my work cut out for me.”
Pia looked away, avoiding my eyes.
“Pia… what is it?”
“Nothing my lady. It isn’t my place to say.”
“Oh come on! You know I always want your honest counsel!”
“No my lady, but I cannot say anything on the matter, here.” She put a strong emphasis on the last word, and it all clicked for me. She didn’t want my mother to hear what she had to say, which meant this had to do with succession.
Oh, I see. Yes, that would be an option, too. Mother would hate it of course.
I decided I would just make up my mind after meeting him in person, and after having a dance at the ball of course.
Luca della Serpe