“O’ Viațășoara,
you beast of blood and stone.
Cradled ‘midst falls and forest,
bastion of hearth and home.
Though we shall leave before you,
—relinquish our last breaths—
O’ Viațășoara,
we’ll love you ‘til our deaths.”
-‘Ode to The Living City’, penned by Radu Însângerescu
Valentina quirked an eyebrow as she paged through the stack of paper. She knew she shouldn’t be reading this —it would probably be considered an invasion of privacy— but after she caught a glimpse of the madly scrawled ravings, she just couldn’t help herself.
“You know, I knew you had a plan going into the debutante but this is… a lot. Not to mention your understanding of the political landscape is so inaccurate that it’s actually a little concerning. I mean, what is this? How the hell were you under the impression that Carphopoulos might be able to be bribed? I know you decided not to pursue that option but seriously? The man is one of the richest people in the Empire, and that’s even when compared to the other dukes. Once we’re back at the castle you’ll definitely need to read up on politics…”
She trailed off into a sigh as she looked over to the girl beside her. It had been five days since the Archduchess first arrived, yet still Dahlia remained unconscious. It’s not that she wasn’t doing better —not at all— but the truth of the matter was that she still desperately needed rest and the vampiress saw no reason to inject her full of stimulants just to have her pushing herself prematurely. Waiting was fine. It was.
Another sigh slipped out before she could stop herself and she forced her eyes away. Watching an unconscious girl wasn’t going to help and surely it couldn’t be healthy. Still, she found it hard not to. Dahlia was stunning —in some ways even more now than she was back at the debutante, all dolled up like she was— and yet what brought Valentina’s gaze back time and time again wasn’t that but the scarring. Most of it wasn’t too bad, all things considered: the patches of paleness on already-pale skin, the thin but rough lines where cuts had been made and stitched back in place, and then the eye itself… but no, the worst of the damage was already gone. Dahlia’s body was worse though, carved, flensed, shredded, and rife with scars from far older wounds besides. But Valentina’s issue wasn’t one of appearance but purely one of regret. Each and every scar was a sign that the vampiress failed to be there sooner and, while she knew it would do no good to become obsessed over repenting, she also knew it would take time before she could look at Dahlia and not feel at least a small pang of guilt.
The girl was healing though, which mitigated her self-flagellating at the very least. After the first night she spent with her, Dahlia’s infections had been purged and her open and seeping wounds had been sealed and replaced by thick scabs, but it was far from the perfect fix. Already, that was the limit of the vampiress’ ability but, even still, she had already managed to requisition at least a small amount of help beyond herself.
Sabrina hadn’t said much, but the Baroness —or perhaps ex-Baroness now— did mention how there were some middling healers within the barony and Valentina had wasted no time in hunting them down and getting their aid. With them along with her own casting, Dahlia had been stabilised further, to the point where a rosy flush replaced sickly pallor and the worst of the scabs and scars were gone. Still, some remained —likely would remain for time immemorial— and the girl still needed time to recover besides. The Archduchess could at least be thankful Dahlia was on the mend though, and healthy enough to begin travel soon as well; all they waited on now was a message from Avery.
That thought, more than anything else, brought a wry grin to her face. Everything had been so dour since she arrived —be it from Dahlia’s condition to simply needing to hurry up and wait— but the events that immediately followed her little… ‘tussle’, with Vincent had been a marked improvement. Firstly and likely the most important concern, was that by the time Valentina returned to Dahlia’s side, Sabrina was nowhere to be found; not in the room, nor anywhere in the estate. The woman had left without seeming to take a single thing with her and with only a note left behind to show she had ever even been there at all. With the woman gone and the Baron being predisposed, the Archduchess had decided she may as well take a few liberties.
The estate staff were cleared out, promised a generous severance for their trouble but otherwise encouraged to leave, and healers were brought in. Along with them, however, was one other: a young boy, likely only sixteen or so, who was all-too-curious to find out what all the fuss was about and who was all-too-eager to take on a job once it was offered to him. Again Valentina felt her smile grow at the memory. He was a good kid; curious, excited, and bursting with hopes and dreams. Oh, she could have hired some random courier —she probably should have, if she was being honest— but when she saw the stars in the kid’s eyes at the mention of being the Archduchess, she couldn’t help herself. The world was too harsh and cruel for her to want to stymie the boy's dreams of adventure, and so she offered him a chance to prove himself: just a little job, wandering out of his small town and out into the real world, but he champed at the bit for the opportunity.
That was… just over four days now that she had sent him off, already a day later than a typical courier and two later than if she had sent a dedicated runner, but she couldn’t blame the kid for running late. He certainly seemed keen, but that didn’t mean he knew what he was doing. Simply reaching Sudicșoara would be a journey in of itself, but then there was finding a ship and making it to Viaţăvár… Valentina grimaced; perhaps she had given the kid a bit too large of a job. Still, Dahlia had needed the extra time to rest regardless so it hadn’t hurt but… well, if there was still no word from Avery by the end of the day, she’d need to send a second runner, just in case.
For the time being however, the vampiress would just wait and ignore how being away from her castle for so long was beginning to gnaw at her gut. At least there were plenty of distractions. After the initial healing, the vampiress had taken it upon herself to relocate Dahlia into a more comfortable environment; they had the manor largely to themselves now so she saw no reason not to take advantage of it. Throughout the nights they found themselves returning time and time again to a small parlour, full of furs and the warmth of a hearth. But the late spring days had been kind recently and so, more often than not, Valentina indulged and brought them both out to the greenhouse tucked into the corner of the estate. She remembered Sabrina mentioning it —how Dahlia would want to take it all with her— and at first simply wanted to see what the fuss was about but, upon finding it, quickly returned with the girl — Dahlia all bundled up in blankets and furs even as the vampiress happily carried her out.
Something was just so peaceful there, in that world apart from the rest; verdant, and loved, and real in a way that too few places were in Valentina’s recent memories. There they stayed for hours at a time, amidst the warmth of an amplified spring sun and the scent of leaf and loam. It hadn’t taken long for the vampiress to go hunt down other things Sabrina had mentioned, be it in person or in the note she left behind, and soon enough she had a pile books and notes to pour over to pass the time, something that she was embarrassed to admit only had her growing more fond of the girl at her side. Her eyes returned to the current set of notes and laughed at how they were arranged.
“I really do feel bad, you know. The more I read these, the more it becomes obvious that you weren’t anticipating them to see the light of day; you write like an easily distracted lunatic. How did you even make the leap from ancient archduchess to grandmotherly gardener? And why is your margin filled with a list of plants? Wasn’t this supposed to be all about your scheme to escape your parents? And also—”
The sudden sound of something light repeatedly thumping against the greenhouse glass had her stop short, her amused expression stiffening as she prepared for something to go wrong. After another moment and a few bonks against the window later however, Valentina felt the tension leave her entirely and she was quick to open the door to let in their visitor.
There, flapping in the air and slightly ruffled looking, was a piece of paper folded into the shape of a sparrow. The moment the door opened, it flew right inside, circling the Archduchess’ head once before finally landing in her hand and going limp. The bird was unfolded in a wick, creased but the message on it was no less legible for it. Apparently, her runner boy had paid off and Viaţăvár had learned of the situation only a few hours earlier. She smiled at the chastising tone her secretary used, all while going out of their way to elaborate how everything would be taken care of because of course they were too much of a perfectionist to allow the suddenness of Valentina’s requests to interfere with a job well done.
She read it through twice over, taking in every detail before reading it again, just to be certain. By the time she was finished however, she felt just about ready to dance as well as give the secretary a raise. Apparently, half a dozen similar letters had already been sent out elsewhere, be it to professional healers to treat Dahlia upon their return or to carriages and ferries that could offer the girl a way to travel without exacerbating her symptoms. From the sounds of things, it’d only be half a candle at most until a coach would arrive at the estate to take them away as well and that… well, it meant the vampiress had some loose ends to take care of.
Tucking both the notes and the letter aside, Valentina leaned over Dahlia and began to do her best to ensure the girl would remain comfortable. “Just a couple more hours now and then we’ll be on our way. Most of what we need to take is already set aside and ready to go; I just have something to do before we leave, alright? I’ll be back in a bit.”
Closing the door quietly behind her, the Archduchess ran her fingers through her hair and could almost feel the weight on her shoulders grow. Remaining away from the castle might have been wearing her down, but she had increasingly found being away from Dahlia wore on her even more. There was a tension that grew, stemming from what happened when they were separated last time, certainly, but also just from the surprising amount of comfort she had from being near the girl. It wasn’t her personality, obviously —despite her seeming lovely at their first meeting, the unconscious weren’t particularly enthralling conversationalists— but something about Dahlia soothed her in a way few others had before. Maybe it was all the hopes she placed on her, or perhaps just the surprisingly strong connection she felt when they first met, but in the end it didn’t really matter. Perhaps she would wake up and everything would fall apart anyway but, at least for now, Valentina felt her bond to the girl only grow as she took care of her and being separated felt… straining. Some things couldn’t just be left half finished though.
Step by step, the Archduchess left the gardens behind and found herself walking down the empty and unlit halls of the manor. Across to the western wing and up a set of stairs, each footfall echoed despite the thick carpet muffling her steps. And as she made her way forward, the scents only grew. They never quite left her —not while she was inside at least— her sense of smell was far too keen to be able to ignore the cloying scent of spilled blood and foetid rot but, now as she approached the Baron’s office, the smell grew overwhelming. Her stomach turned. She didn’t repress her smile as she entered.
“Hello Vincent, how are you holding up?”
The rasping and crackling sound of strained breaths was music to her ears and, considering he didn’t seem intent on talking, Valentina decided to just continue the conversation by herself.
“So, you’ll be happy to know that I’ll be leaving soon.” She could see him perk up, or as best an approximation as he could provide; the man was hardly responsive but was far from unaware, she made sure of that, and he was so eager for her to be gone. Her smile widened. “Of course, that doesn’t mean much for you. I’ll finally be free of your stench but, naturally, I can’t say I’m inclined to let you be on your way.”
She watched what little hope had been injected in the man wither away into nothing. Watched how his half-lifeless festering husk of a body trembled as it was wracked with the silent sobs of a tortured man. And oh, she didn’t hide from the truth of the matter: this was torture, cruel, unnecessary, and entirely inhumane. Illegal too by both continental and Kallistan law, even for an Archduchess in her own demesne, let alone in the duchy of another, yet the vampiress couldn’t bring herself to care. No guilt wracked her, nor did she feel any desire to put him out of his misery. Vincent was scum, even had he not harmed someone she’d begun to find dear, she wouldn’t weep for his torment. And considering how his abuse had been leveled against Dahlia…
“Here’s what we’re going to do, yeah? I’d already laced some curses into you —the heavy duty ones that have been keeping you alive all this time— but I’ve been going out of my way to visit you to manually provide stimulants as well as nutrients, water, mana… all the good things you need to stay awake, not lose your senses, and stay alive, yeah? Well, I’m not going to be around to do that for you anymore so congratulations, you’ve finally got yourself a time limit!”
She began to pace, circling what was left of the man as she idly thought things over.
“By the end of this you’ll have a minimum of four curses in you —no, make that five— and while I can keep you aware and alive for some time… five curses’ll be a drain on your mana. Do you know how curses work Vincent? Do you even know what the fuck I’m doing to you? They’re parasites. Named spells, crafted into permanent effects that feed off ambient mana as well as your own to remain active indefinitely. Now, the bad news is that I can’t use a curse to provide mana — that’s just not how it works. And gods know I’m not going to trust anyone to feed you with mana-rich food so eventually the curses will starve you of mana, sap you dry, and then deteriorate, leaving nothing keeping you alive.”
She consolingly patted him on the back, reveling in the sounds he made at the slightest contact.
“I know, you must be devastated hearing that you won’t survive. Don’t worry though, I still have good news! Now, like I said before, curses are named spells, right? And I’ve got six of those in me before I’m completely drained; pretty good, right? But you’ve got two curses in you already and I’ve only got three left to place which means I’ll still have some mana set aside to spare! Isn’t that lucky? So let me tell you what we’re going to do, Vincent. I’m going to cram as much of my mana into those curses as I can, yeah? Gonna give them so much excess mana that they’re filled to bursting. That way, they can feed off my supply instead, yeah? Be active for a real long time. See? Good news right?”
She patted him again on the shoulder before standing up and sighing. The man hardly had any mana in him to begin with —using his own named spell during their ‘fight’ had largely drained him since the very beginning— and it was only Valentina’s efforts in the last few days that prevented the current curses from burning out. Now though, with three named spells worth of mana being used as additional fuel, having him survive for an entire extra month wouldn’t be unreasonable, though she doubted he would actually last that long. The fifth curse she had planned, after all, was a kill switch; a means of killing him instantly the moment someone else’s mana interacted with him. Oh, she ensured none of the estate’s staff knew of his condition, and doubted most people would care enough to come looking once she left, but the man was still a baron, with all the connections that implies, and she would not leave his death to chance.
The vampiress took a long breath, hoping to relax but only gagging at the smell instead and found herself longing to return to the greenhouse and be done with this. Soon, she reminded herself. Soon they could both leave this place behind, though preferably after she scrubbed away every hint of this reek. Still, there was a job to be done and she swore at herself as she habitually took another breath: casting the equivalent of six named spells was going to leave her dead on her feet and she was not looking forward to it.
“Soon, Val, we’re almost there. Just do what needs done and then we’ll get the fuck out of here and finally go home.”
And so the vampiress centered herself, grit her teeth, and began to cast enough curses to drag the man through hell.
~~~~~
The last thing Dahlia remembered was the discussion with her mother. She remembered the agony and the stench, the burning fever and the gradual dread as she came to terms with her death. She wasn’t there anymore. Not in that dark room and not even stationary. She could feel how the world moved around her, far more subtle than any carriage she’d been in before, but familiar none-the-less. She could feel the bumps of the wheels beneath her and the sway of the carriage itself. Wheels clattered along too as they rolled over cobble, though other sounds filtered in as well. Wheels and horse hooves from beyond her own carriage, gossiping voices in the street and merchants hawking their wares. It was… lively.
The girl cracked her eyes open, though the action was a struggle. Her skin felt tight in places, where even the smallest movements tugged in unexpected ways but, honestly, the struggle felt more like waking up after a particularly heavy sleep. Her vision was blurred and she grimaced at the realization that her damaged sight was largely unchanged from when she was last awake but, as far as the rest of her body was concerned, she actually felt… alright?
She blinked then, eyelids still feeling heavy but gradually more sight returned, her right eye proving to at least be able to still see as her surroundings came into focus. Sunny mid-day light filtered through windows, revealing vibrant banners and gorgeous stone-brick buildings lining the street. More importantly however, it lit the carriage's interior, revealing dark wood and plush cushions and, beside her, the gentle smile of an Archduchess, head resting on her hand.
“Hey, welcome back to the land of the living.” Her eyes glanced out the window Dahlia had been staring out of and her smile only grew as the city passed them by. “And, I suppose, welcome to Viațășoara.”