Daughters of the Moon Pt. 06

"That would not be ideal," said Helena, "The point is to suppress the rebellion so we can extract resources. Burned farms generate no taxes."

There was another pause.

"Will, can you draw me a map of the town? show me where the cannons are?" Asked Gwen.

"Sure," said Will. He grabbed a sheet of paper and rapidly sketched out a rough map of the village.

Gwen was impressed with the precision of the map. But it wasn't actually that helpful. The village was just a cluster of a hundred buildings or so centered around a large inn, with a spring that apparently was the source of a small branch of the Sa'veren. There were two roads going in and a wide space between the first houses and the stake wall for the villagers to stand and fight. Even if the map didn't really offer much insight, looking at it gave Gwen something to focus on to help organize her thoughts.

"And the stakes go around the whole town?" asked Gwen.

"Yup. Only the roads are open. They have those blocked off with big heavy carts. I just waited until they moved one to bring in some sheep and walked in with them."

Gwen stared at the map for another minute.

"Could you sneak back in and sabotage the cannons?" asked Gwen, "You could just smash them. Those things can't be repaired easily."

"Oh yeah, I should be able to do that," said Will.

"Alright. Helena, could you use the Tempest Engine to destroy a section of the stake wall?"

"With proper preparation it should be possible."

"Alright. Alright, maybe this can still work. Will sabotages the cannons, Helena brings down the stake wall, then we send in the troops. We'll send in the larvae first to soak up the bullets... if that's alright with you, Will?"

Will shrugged, "Sure, that's what they're for. Nikola would probably appreciate blood and bodies as compensation."

"That can be arranged," said Helena.

Gwen nodded, "Great. Then the skeletons to crack them, and mercenaries and the half bloods clean up. If it looks like it's going badly anywhere Helena can use the Tempest to shore things up after the engine cools down from zapping the stakes, and the three of us can be as scary as possible to try and break them before we have to kill too many."

"That sounds... reasonable?" said Will.

"It's not much of a plan, really," said Helena.

"Simple plans are best in a fight," said Christoph, "None of us are going to be able to talk to each other, so if we try something fancy and complicated we'll just fuck it up."

Gwen nodded in agreement.

"Do we have the blood to back this up?" asked Will.

"Using the Tempest Engine to that degree will severely deplete our resources," said Helena.

"Me and the boys could go check out the surrounding farms. There's bound to be some stubborn bastards who won't leave their farms until we pry them from their cold dead hands. We could grab them and juice them," said Christoph.

"That'll give us more larvae to work with too," said Will.

"I don't think that's necessary. Once we take the town we'll have all the blood we need," said Gwen. she could just imagine the look Carla would give her if she knew Gwen had gone along with murdering random peasants to drain them of blood.

"Eh, only if everything works out. But if anything goes wrong and we have to retreat we'll be fucked," said Christoph.

"And the more larvae we have the fewer dead soldiers we end up with," said Will.

Gwen winced, the thought of any of her girls getting killed made her twist up inside but she still just imagined Carla's face. She'd be so disappointed if she found out Gwen had gone along with strapping farmers to a distiller and draining every last drop from them.

"What if we just half juice them?"

Christoph blinked, "What?"

"You know, just take half. A third, really. That's how much you can take from a human without killing them. It'll lay them out for a week but they'll live. If you get us twenty prisoners that's still sixty bars worth."

"God when did you turn into such a pussy?" said Christoph.

Gwen glared at Christoph and called on the Painted Eyes. She let her anger and contempt wash over him, driving him to feel shame and despair for daring to insult her. Christoph swallowed.

"That sounds fine to me," said Will, "We brought plenty of larvae. And, like Helena said, the point is for the farmers to live so Helena's sire can squeeze them slowly over time. And sixty bars should cover the battle."

Helena nodded, "Do it."

"Alright, fine. I'll get the boys together and start hitting the farms. Probably want to send some of the mercs too. A little looting will get them in a good mood before the dying starts."

"Very well," said Helena.

"Let's go talk to the villagers now and see if we can head this whole thing off. It'd be a shame if we started killing peasants and it turned out to be for nothing," said Gwen.

"Yes, it's high time we speak to our recalcitrant subjects," said Helena.

...

They approached the stake wall at dusk. The sun would have been low and orange on the horizon had Helena not used the Tempest to cover it with cold grey clouds. They brought as many troops as they could. Gwen was hoping it would intimidate the villagers into submission. They certainly looked impressive. Helena's mercenaries marched with well drilled precision, the skeletons' eyes glinted with green corpse fire, and Christoph's half bloods loped with feral menace. They had to leave a small force of mercenaries to guard the camp and they decided to leave the larvae in their carts. Gwen worried the sight of them might have been the thing that would have broken the villagers spirits and headed off the fight ahead, but waking and wrangling the larvae took a lot of effort and Will wasn't there to oversee them. They arrayed themselves in front of the stake wall at the main road leading into the village, and the peasants were already clustered behind the stake wall to meet them.

Will and Christoph weren't with them. Will was using the parlay as a distraction to sneak into the village and destroy the cannons, but he had filled them all in on everything he knew about the leaders of the rebellion before he had left. Christoph had taken half of his warband to round up the farmers they would be half-juicing later if this didn't work out. Gwen really hoped they could end things right here.

Helena rode forward on her bound horse. She fed it her blood weekly and it obeyed without reigns or bridle.

"My name is Helena Marcus Dracul. I come on behalf of my sire, the Lord Marcus Astra Dracul, to inform you you are in arrears on your taxes and in rebellion against your rightful liege. You will disarm and remove your fortifications or you will face my lord's justice."

The crowd shifted and a space opened around a huge figure. His eyes flashed gold in the reflected light of a nearby torch.

"My name Is Patrick O'Mara. And we don't recognize your lord's claim as our liege. He's a vampire and we won't be ruled by a dead thing."

A cheer broke out among the gathered peasants, Gwen could make out shouts of Patrick Fireyes, and Lord Fireyes. Some peasants started waving banners with a blue eagle on it that Gwen didn't recognize.

Gwen rolled her eyes at the cheers. Will had given them the rundown on "Patrick Fireeyes," the leader of the rebellion. Will had told them the villagers had put him on a pedestal, but the cheering was a little much. Though Gwen did have to admit he cut an impressive figure. He was a huge bull of a man with a close cropped beard. A blacksmith by trade, he had the enormous shoulders and powerful arms needed to beat metal at a hot forge day in and day out. He been part of the local baron's levy when the Cambrian army had marched to meet the vampires, and the conflict had apparently awakened a wild talent in him. The kind you had if a god had slept with your great grandmother or your dad drank too much water downstream from a guild artifactory. His irises were gilded and shined in the night. And he could apparently see perfectly in the dark and hear conversations from half a mile away. His lord had put him to work as a scout, and he had quickly gained a small amount of fame setting up ambushes for the invading vampire armies. He had survived the siege of Tamlin and returned home with an earl's daughter as a wife. He and his wife had been the ones to spark the rebellion when he had thrown the blood collector out of his workspace bodily and killed one of his guards himself.

Helena's lips thinned with barely controlled anger at the cries of "Lord Fireeyes." Gwen shuddered to think what Helena would do if she ever got her hands on him.

Then Helena shook her head, "Your previous liege, Earl Boulanger, was killed at the siege of Tamlin and his lands are ours by right of conquest. If you cease this foolishness at once we will forgive this disobedience. This is a time of transition and allowances can be made, but if you continue in this absurdity you will pay in blood."

An older, balding heavyset man who bulged out of a mismatched set of leather armor walked up and stood next to Fireeyes.

"I'm sorry young lady but that's not going to happen. We can give you the sweat of our brows and the work of our hands, as is the duty of any lord's vassal. But a man's blood is his own. You have no right to take it from us," he said

Gwen figured that must be the mayor, the other leader of the little rebellion. Mayor Albert of Aemon's Rest was a large, well fed man who ran the town's unusually large inn. Aemon's Field was the hub of what amounted to trade in this small corner of the world, and Brandon Albert stood at the center of it. By Will's account he was a good mayor, leading his people through famine, frost and war. Under his leadership Aemon's Rest had dealt with the banditry and refugees of the war far better than the surrounding area. Sadly, his competent leadership was probably why the villagers were so willing to tempt disaster now.

"We will bleed you whether you are willing or not. Look at what you face. If you do not submit we will cut our way through your pathetic defenses and take what we will. The Dracul always get their due."

Gwen stared at Helena in chagrin. Threats and bluster were apparently her idea of negotiating. It occurred to Gwen that Helena might not actually want the peasants to surrender. The chance to crush her lessers under her heel and break their spirits would be like the hot fresh blood to one of the Dracul.

Gwen stared out at the assembled peasants. They were a tough looking lot, the kind of people used to long winters and stormy summers. But despite any hardship they faced they looked healthy and strong. They were clean and well fed, even under siege conditions. She could tell this was a community that took care of each other, that shared their hardships and their burdens so that everyone could prosper. They fought the world together and to the villagers, Gwen and her army were just the next obstacle that the hard world had thrown at them.

Gwen walked forward, she called on the Painted Eyes to make her voice loud and clear to everyone without raising her voice. She kept her voice calm and kind.

"You were at Tamlin?"

Patrick looked up. His eyes, shining like the sun, met hers, "I was."

"Which wall?"

"West."

"I was on the east. The west wall never fell."

"No, it didn't," she could hear the pride in his voice. "We won't fall here either."

"You should be proud. All of you who were there should be proud, and so should the people at home who raised you and made you who you are. You fought well and you fought bravely and did what you could. But you lost. You lost with honor and the war is over and it's time to move on. I promise you if you stop this we won't hurt anyone. We've learned how to take just what we need without hurting the people we take from. For the first time ever we can live side by side. Let's find a way to move forward in peace, if not friendship."

She pulled on the blood within her, burning the deep pool of life and magic she had consumed and pushed it into the Painted Eyes, infusing her voice with the allure of the Daughters of the Moon.

"Enough people have died. We don't need to lose anyone else. We don't have to do this. Please don't make me do this."

She had meant to say 'don't make us do this' but the 'me' had slipped out.

There was an uneasy ripple among the peasants, a smattering of hushed conversations. Gwen saw Patrick hesitate, for the first time doubt clouded his shining eyes. He opened his mouth but before he could speak an older man with a large mustache and the robes of the Father leaned in and spoke quietly in Patrick's ear.

Then Patrick shook his head, "There can never be peace between the living and the dead. There's a hole where your souls used to be that can never be filled. If we give a little you'll just want more. You'll take from us until there's nothing left. We won't let that happen."

There was another round of cheers, more shouts about Lord Fireeyes, more waving of the banner of the blue eagle. Gwen's heart sank as she saw their resolve hardening, the determination settling in their faces, the brightly polished weapons raised in the air. Gwen stared at the priest and felt a surge of hatred. All the churches preached against vampires, of course, but the church of the Father, the biggest and most powerful church in the northern kingdom and the state church of Celador, was the most militant against the undead. They claimed every vampire had made a personal deal with a demon for power and were no longer remotely human, just hollow shells of hunger and evil. Gwen stared at the priest for another minute, then started stalking back to the army. As Gwen passed Helena she moved in front of Gwen, blocking her path.

"I did not give you permission to negotiate on my behalf. These lands belong to the Dracul."

"Oh go fuck yourself, Helena. At least I tried. Let's just get this over with," Gwen moved around Helena and started directing her army to return to camp.

...

When they got back to camp Christoph was back. He had a big pleased grin on his face.

"I take it the collecting went well," said Gwen.

"Oh yeah. These people are stubborn bastards. Tons of them stayed at their farms. Breed like rabbits too. Nice big families. We picked up forty easy. More than we need."

Christoph's smile widened and his yellow eyes, a strange reflection of Patrick's, glinted in the camp's mage lights, "Me and Helena were going to have a little private juice party. You're welcome to come if you want."

"What the hell is a juice party?" Asked Gwen.

Christoph tilted his head, "You succubi don't do juice parties? It seems like it'd be right up your tree."

"Maybe I just don't get invited."

"That's probably it. A juice party is when you get together with some friends and you all use a distiller on yourselves, donate your own blood to the cause and make some room in the old blood bank," Christoph slapped his belly for emphasis, "then you fill back up on the night's catch. Usually we just drain 'em dry but I'm good trying it your way."

"How did you come up with that?"

Christoph shrugged, "I didn't, probably one of the young 'uns did. They're always getting creative. But anyway it spread through the packs like wildfire and now we do it all the time. It's one of the highlights of every moot."

Gwen hesitated, "I really shouldn't"

"God Gwen, what the fuck is wrong with you? I heard you used to be fun. You're a vampire, fucking live a little."

Gwen glared at him, reaching for the Painted Eyes and preparing to give him an epic tongue lashing.

Christoph held up a hand, "Sorry, that was a shitty thing to say. Look, we're not going to hurt them, you made sure of that, and how would you rather get your blood taken, get tied down with a needle shoved in your arm or get sucked off by a fucking succubus?"

Gwen hesitated, Christoph did have a point. And Gwen had been feeding from the bottle a lot more these days. Carla took up a lot of the time she used to use for hunting. She wasn't exactly frustrated, but it did feel like something had been missing. Maybe this wasn't something Carla would approve of but it didn't feel that bad to her, as long as they didn't take too much. And besides, Carla wasn't here. She didn't need to know about this little indulgence. What happened on campaign stayed on campaign.

"Okay... alright, maybe just a few."

Christoph smiled and clapped his hands, "Fuck yeah. This is gonna be awesome. Helena's getting really into it. She said she was going to prepare a multi course meal, which is pretentious as shit but I bet it'll make this a good fucking time."

Christoph leaned forward. His voice got low, "There are a bunch of hotties too."

Gwen's fangs extended a little. She felt her stomach blossom with heat, "Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah. I think a few of them are virgins, definitely a few frustrated farmwives. Husbands that don't know their dicks from their noses. You know the type. They always taste the best."

Gwen took a breath. The heat in her belly started thrumming, "Yeah. yeah they do. Nineteen and up though."

Christoph nodded, "Oh yeah, absolutely. I'm not into that pervert shit. I'll tell Helena to reserve a few for you. Meet up at her tent in an hour?"

"Sounds good."

...

An hour later Gwen was in front of Helena's tent. It was larger than any of the others, second only in size to the command tent. Gwen had passed the command tent on the way here, and there were loud sound of celebration coming from inside. Callie had asked if the revenants could have a juicing party of their own, and Gwen had agreed. She could hardly begrudge them their fun and it would be good for morale.

Gwen walked inside the tent. Christoph and Helena were already there, talking warmly with each other. Helena was in a love seat and Christoph in a pile of pillows. There was another pile of pillows Gwen assumed was for her. Off to the side the distiller was already set up, and a small pile of bars was next to it. Helena was dressed more casually than usual, in a simple sheath dress with a thin belt. Gwen had dressed casually too, in a cotton shirt and loose pants. Clothes she could pull off easily. Christoph had his usual vest but his pants looked loose as well.

"Ah, Gwen, I'm so delighted you could join us."

"Yes, thank you for inviting me," said Gwen. She felt a surge of discomfort, but if Helena saw it she gave no sign. Gwen wondered what Christoph had told her.

"Christoph and I have already used the distiller. If you would be so kind as to follow suit we can begin. I'm looking forward to your review of the menu I've prepared for us."

Gwen walked up to the distiller and stared at it. She had never used one on herself before. Looking at the needle sent a shiver through her.

"Do you need help?" asked Helena, in a too-friendly voice.

"No, I got it."

Gwen picked up the needle and inserted it into her arm. She willed her blood to flow through her arm and into the needle. The distiller sprang to life, a rune on the round body glowing green to show it was working. Gwen grimaced at the feeling of the blood being pulled out of her. It wasn't painful but it was unpleasant. Her body wanted her to take in blood, not give it away, and it was letting her know it.

"Give four bars, that should cover the first two courses."

Gwen winced at the cold feeling in her arm but she persevered. She felt hunger start to blossom in her gut. It was a dull hunger, she had a lot more than four bars worth of blood in her, but it was still a decent chunk of blood. In the last ten years, since Aunt Anika had invented the distiller, Gwen usually hadn't let herself get this hungry unless she was fighting.

After a few minutes there was a hiss and the fourth bar was expelled from the outtake and slid down a little slide and into the waiting pile. Gwen removed the needle and the wound closed instantly. She took a second to feel the edges of her hunger, the hollow need she had created at the center of herself, then she turned to Helena and Christoph. Christoph looked really excited and there was a tenseness to Helena that screamed of anticipation. Helena gestured at her empty pile of pillows and Gwen walked over to it, going along with Helena's choreography.