Old Blood and New Ch. 04

Vyn couldn't say how long he'd been carried on that horse, but he did know that when they stopped he wanted to vomit. He didn't know how he was able to hold it all in. By this time, he'd reverted back to his human form. He was too exhausted to keep up his wolf form.

The rider dismounted, and then he rather effortlessly took Vyn over his shoulder. Vyn was able to make out they were at a huge building with a stable and paddock for horses. It was likely a hunting lodge. After the rider hurried to put the horse away, for without his horse in proper working order they'd have trouble, he took Vyn up to the building's entrance and unlocked the door.

That man lit a few lamps and went right on through a cozy foyer and into a sitting room with a cold fireplace. More lamps were lit, and then Vyn was settled on a long couch. As his rescuer left him, probably to get supplies, Vyn vaguely thought that he should've tried harder to press onto the deepest wound, to decrease the loss of blood, but then again they'd been in a rush to get away from immediate danger.

When that man returned, he had a huge box with him, and a brazier that was already lit, although it might take some time for the coals to become the proper temperature. He opened the box and took a large wad of gauze. He used this thing to press onto the deeper wound, as Vyn had thought he should've done. Then he took Vyn's hand and pinned it there with two fingers.

"Hold this in place," he ordered, but this time his voice was softer.

Vyn tried to examine the man, but the lack of daylight added a bit of difficulty. What he could tell is that this fellow was significantly tall, and his long hair was pale. That hair was behind himself in a thick braid, but it flopped in front a few times. Now that he was in a quieter moment, he'd shucked his hunting coat away, leaving only his shirt and waistcoat. The sleeves were a little loose, if fitted at the wrists. Vyn couldn't quite tell much about the man's figure except that he wasn't fat, wasn't particularly beefy, but he also wasn't thin.

Although the shadows put a grittiness to his face, it still seemed extremely well shaped. His brow furrowed as he suddenly left to get a pot of water, set it up to boil, and sat down on a stool. But then he sighed and said aloud, "I might have alcohol here." He got up and left again. He might've thought that the water might take too long to get hot enough.

When he returned again, this time with two bottles and a bowl, the man said, "I'm not a surgeon, but I'll stitch your skin together. I'll carry you to a licensed surgeon once your no longer scraping death's door as eagerly as a lonely dog."

Vyn tried to say something to him, but he was too tired.

The man took up a thin piece of wood and, rather brusquely, he shoved it right in Vyn's mouth and adjusted it. "That's a bite plate," he told him. "I don't have any laudanum. You'll need that."

Vyn nodded.

The man folded his sleeves out of the way and rinsed his hands in the alcohol, which didn't smell fresh nor pretty. Then he soaked a rather flexible needle and a bunch of thread that didn't look like it was meant for fabric into more of the alcohol. He soaked two pairs of long tweezers into that stuff, and he used these tweezers to pick up the needle.

It hurt like shit.

It really fucking did, but Vyn knew better than to bitch. He did moan, though. He moaned, whined, and nearly broke the bite plate in two. He even kicked a little.

The man tending to him remained composed and patient. He even murmured things like, "Yes, yes. I know. It's painful. You'll heal. Don't fret."

The whole process took a very, very long time. At some points, the man paused to give him sips of water.

Once it was finally finished, the man told him the other wounds didn't seem to need stitches, for the bleeding there was already lessening. He still wrapped gauze all around Vyn and told him they needed to hurry. For all they knew, the stitches would fall apart or something. They needed a proper person to take good care of him.

This time, Vyn was able to sit up when they were back on the horse, but the man was holding the reins and keeping him in place. There might still be werewolves around, but they hadn't followed them to that hunting lodge. They might have given up, or maybe the bats had damaged them just enough to make things too difficult for them to continue.

The man didn't speak to him, as he hadn't really done during the ride to the hunting lodge. Vyn didn't care. He wasn't in a chatty mood.

Eventually they reached part of the winding river, along with a massive clearing. Surrounded by the trees, there was a grand castle lit up by torches and lamps. It had two walls protecting a large keep. That must've been where Duke Kaspier Aloithio lived with his servants and anyone else he deemed important enough to keep around.

At the first gate, the man driving the horse called out to the guards, and once the guards took in his appearance, one of them said, "Yes, My Lord!" The gate was opened, and it didn't take long for the second gate to be opened either.

Yeah, this was confirming what Vyn had already assumed.

Someone took the horse, and the man took Vyn over his shoulder again to carry him past a pair of grand double doors. They were made of thick and polished wood that had been carved with designs like a waffle. Funny, Vyn really wanted a stack of hot waffles with honey and fruit right there.

His rescuer spoke to several more people along the way to wherever his destination was. He went up several stairs and down a few hallways. Eventually, he stopped at a room and knocked on the door. A short man with a well groomed mustache answered. His clothing was slightly off, as if he had to get dressed in a hurry.

"Have you been given any notice, or was I too quick?" the pale-haired man asked the shorter one in the room.

With a nod, the shorter man said, "You were too quick." He made a sweeping kind of beckoning gesture and stepped away. "Whatever's going on, I want to hear about it."

"I'd imagine you've noticed the man I have," the pale-haired man said as he took Vyn into the room. It looked to be a section of a pretty nice apartment.

Vyn grunted and sighed as he was immediately placed on a new couch. It was plush but it smelled like weird chemicals and salt.

The shorter man walked over to Vyn and folded his arms. "He's hard not to notice. What happened to him?"

"Werewolf," the pale-haired man said quite simply. "May I sit down?"

Now taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves, the shorted man answered, "Of course, My Lord. Now let me work."

***

The surgeon had Vyn drink so much laudanum, which might have been mixed with something, that by the time he woke up he was certain it was the following afternoon. A brief review of his body told him he had expert stitches and freshly wrapped gauze.

He was in a small guest room with wallpaper, actual wallpaper! That shit was expensive! That dreadfully lavish wallpaper was a ripe watermelon's flesh color. The floor had shiny white tiles. There was everything a bedroom needed plus a little bit more, even a little dining area near a window that overlooked a pretty spring garden.

Vyn found an outfit laid out over the edge of the bed. He ignored it at first. Instead, he went to a wash stand to take a sip of water right from the pitcher. Then he took the chamberpot from a nightstand for a moment.

Once that was done, and he'd washed his hands, Vyn went to the clothes. They'd clearly belonged to a man that was roughly Vyn's height but much girthier. Two cords had been supplied to keep the drawers and breeches from falling off. For once, Vyn found himself uncomfortable in baggy clothes, for there wasn't any hint of a drawstring to tighten the clothes up when needed. At least the stockings were adequate. The belt garters were excellent quality. There was even a patched up tricorn hat.

A pair of shoes were near the foot of the bed. They were a little loose. Vyn had to search a wardrobe for some linen so he could tear pieces off and stuff the shoes. Vyn spent a few moments walking around the room to get a good sense of how to walk in these strange shoes. They'd already been formed to someone else's feet, which meant they'd certainly been worn a while.

Vyn went over to the door, and he found it wasn't locked. He opened it, and he found a hallway with two guards standing on each side of his door like damn bouncers. They both spoke to him with friendly words, and they assured him that he was free to leave the room whenever he liked, and they were only there to be certain that nobody bothered him while he slept.

"What about leaving the castle?" Vyn asked.

A shoulder quirking up, a guard told him, "His Grace has ordered that you must remain within the outer wall. He has business with you later tonight."

The other guard added, "But of course you may explore the estate. Take some fresh air, wander the halls, whatever you like."

Right then, Vyn's stomach gave a very loud gurgle. He knew he blushed from it.

The first guard laughed and said, "Go find a servant. There are plenty about. Ask for some food."

Vyn thanked the guard and decided to do just that. He walked down the hallway and happened to find a teenage girl that was dusting a foreign looking vase that was resting on a purely ornamental chest of drawers. The moment Vyn called out to her, she squeaked like a kitten and took some steps away, still holding her dusting rag with trembling fingers.

Trying his hardest to keep his voice low, for this little darling really did seem frightened, Vyn told her, "Excuse me, I was the strange naked man brought in for surgery. I'm very hungry. Do you know where the nearest kitchen is?"

A few seconds passed, and during those seconds the girl slowly regained her thoughts. She then nodded and said in the tiniest voice, "Would you please return to your room? Someone should send food up to you." Rather timidly, her face reddening, the girl looked away and asked, "What sort of food would you like?"

Vyn shrugged. "I'm not picky, but I love meat and cheese."

The girl nodded. "Very well, Sir. I'll let someone know."

Vyn went back to his room and waited with the door still unlocked. He even sat down at the dining table and gazed out the window. The weather was sunny and calm. A light breeze rustled over flower petals and leaves.

But his face cracked, his spine curled.

Vyn had to take several breaths.

He took several thick sniffs of mucus and whatever else.

He wouldn't let a single tear come.

A group of female servants arrived with a cart full of covered dishes and trays full of pitchers, teapots, and cups. Vyn greeted them with a smile and a thank you. He tried to help them take the dishes to the table, but they politely told him to sit back down.

They poured him separate cups of different beverages. Plain black tea, terribly bitter green tea from who knew where, water mixed with herbs, and water mixed with flower petals. One of the women told him they'd wanted to serve him wine and sugar for the tea, but they were told that wouldn't be good for his healing process.

As for the food, they put down small plates of several different meals. Three kinds of peas in pottage with bacon. An omelet mixed with vegetables and cheese. Grilled fish with spinach and sliced radishes. Cheese coated chunks of baked beef. Steamed chicken with apples. And finally, a minced meat pie, which had more cheese and some mushrooms too.

Vyn could eat a nearly terrible amount of food. He actually needed that much to keep his body in good shape. Still, he wasn't sure if he could finish all of what was presented to him.

He gave it a good try, however.

Every time a dish was wiped as clean as possible, a maid took the plate back to the cart. Eating with an audience of mostly young women and girls was awkward. Most of them weren't able to hide their giggles, nor their appreciative looks. The ones that seemed to be adults were still so young looking that he couldn't be sure. Whenever there was a question mark in the air concerning someone's age, Vyn just couldn't get interested.

When Vyn knew he couldn't eat any more, he told the servants as much. They took his leftovers with everything else and left him alone. Vyn essentially waddled his way back to the bed and flopped onto the mattress, right on his better side.

He belched into his fist and groaned.

Some more minutes went on.

His eyelids were relaxing. So were his limbs, fingers, and even his toes. It didn't matter that he'd slept for so long. He wanted a nap right there.

***

Growling, roaring, screaming, and crying.

Monsters chasing him in the night.

Running, huffing, trying not to be caught.

Then he stopped at the sight of a man's corpse sprawled out on the earth, his abdomen scooped open and his organs scattered about in a bloody, steaming mess.

Vyn heard a rapping on a door.

His eyes opened.

He pushed himself into a sitting position.

It was dark. Vyn fumbled around on top of the nightstand to find an oil lamp. He turned the dial and found some light. He called out to the knocking, "Who's there?"

A man's voice calmly said, "His Grace would like to speak with you."

Rubbing one of his eyes, Vyn gruffly said, "I need more light. Give me a sliver of time."

"Very well. Do as you please, but I must implore that you don't keep His Grace waiting for too long."

Pausing to roll his eyes, Vyn retorted with, "I'm lighting candles and shit. Keep your breeches on."

There was no response to that.

Vyn lit a few more lamps around the room. All things considered, it was bright enough. He then went to the door, which was still unlocked, and he opened it. A male servant nodded and stepped to one side. The man that replaced him was pretty familiar at this point.

Tall and lithe, pale hair that actually looked white. Once he entered the room, Vyn saw that his complexion was quite unnaturally white. It was difficult to see the points between his hair and his scalp.

The irises in his eyes were gray, but gleaming to the point of looking like polished silver. Much like Vyn, he had high cheekbones and quite the jaw, but his nose was a bit long and triangular when viewed from the front. While Vyn had a slightly fuller lower lip, this man had a set of complete fullness, each lip almost equal to the other.

And those lips were slowly thinning out only slightly as he smiled at Vyn.

The door was closed.

His teeth were too perfect.

Vyn bowed to him. "My Lord... ah... thank you." He cleared his throat and straightened back up, putting his curled fingers over his lips and pointing his eyes away. He wasn't used to talking to anyone with a fancy ass title. He didn't have the education for it. "You... uh... you saved my life, and you fed me too. So... thank you very much... from deep in my heart, thank you."

A few seconds of silence followed after that.

His eyes sticking to the pretty tiled floor, Vyn kept his hands to his sides and exhaled.

"Hm? I suppose you've prostrated yourself well enough, at least metaphorically." That man's voice was so smooth. "I have some questions."

Vyn's hands soon came together, and they twisted in each other's grasp. "I don't know if I have the answers."

Ignoring that statement, the Duke continued. "Why were you chased?"

His face heating, trying not to shake, Vyn said, "I guess they wanted me dead."

"Where do you live?"

A rush of cruel air rushed out of Vyn's throat, and his cheeks puffed as he held it in. His eyes watered. He coughed, and then he mumbled out, "Excuse me."

"What? No. Please stay a moment."

But Vyn was heading towards the door. He slammed it open, which likely startled the guards, although Vyn wouldn't have known. He hurried down the hallway, trying to find some secret broom closet or something.

He didn't know how much longer he could hold it in.

"Return!" Vyn heard the Duke's voice follow his own footsteps tapping on the floor. He must've had on higher heels. Vyn hadn't looked at his shoes. Slightly high heels were fairly popular with men, or at least the men that didn't have to do any labor. "Please return! We have far too much to discuss!"

Tears were already leaking out. Vyn couldn't let him see, couldn't let anyone see. When he thought he had a closet to hide in, Vyn touched the door handle. But he was grabbed by his loose shirt's collar, which made him yelp as he was pulled back. He was soon looking right at the Duke's pale, concerned face.

His silver eyes were tender. "You have tears."

Vyn's eyes trembled. His sight flickered. He tried to look away, but the Duke's free hand reached up and gripped him right by his jaw.

Rude, but Vyn was too stuck in his shock to react.

The Duke bore right into Vyn's eyes with his, and he firmly told him, "You're certainly from that cult. They don't encourage a man's tears."

That did it.

That's what got Vyn to burst and let himself fling around in his sadness.

He fell to his knees, and the Duke let him, releasing him.

Vyn put his fingers to his cheeks and screamed.

And screamed.

Tears flowing like they'd been called.

Vyn coughed and curled over.

And went on crying.

All while the Duke stood over him without a single word.

Time was a question mark.

His face soon was covered in tears and mucus.

Downright unmanly, or that's how people from his old community would view it.

The cult.

Vyn was soon drained, panting, quivering on the shiny floor.

Once his breath calmed down, before Vyn could think to wipe his messy face with anything, the Duke reached down to take him by his arm, and he pulled Vyn back to his feet. Calmly, the Duke said to him, "You should return to your room and wash your face. We'll continue our conversation when you're fresh and cool once more."

The Duke led Vyn back to his room, and there he patiently stood by and waited for Vyn to wash his face. In the middle of it, Vyn managed to blubber out, "You can sit down."

The Duke shook his head. "Waiting won't kill me."

When Vyn had a dry face and a more sedate attitude, the Duke then asked if he may sit down. Vyn nodded at him. The Duke sat down on a stool near the bed and Vyn dragged a dining chair to the area. When he was sitting down before the aristocrat, he sighed and said, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

His lower eyelids tensing in something like the dawn of a smile, the Duke gave a light shake of his head and said, "I've seen much more upsetting things. You shouldn't be embarrassed."

"Well," Vyn shrugged here, "what do you want?"

Actually smiling then, the Duke told him, "I want you to help me fight the Lunathsell."

Vyn pulled a bit on his loose hair. "I guess if you want to deal with a cult, it's best to get someone that's been on the inside."

"I'm assuming you know why I want them dealt with," the Duke added.

"Yeah, everyone knows."

Nodding, the Duke said, "With the audacity I display in being so openly undead, I'm surprised that you aren't afraid of me."

"I'm more afraid of my cousins than I am of some vampire duke that pisses them off just by keeping his taxes low."

Leaning back a bit, putting an arm on the mattress behind himself, the Duke said, "If my reputation was low, they might have less anger, but I dare to be the opposite of what they claim of vampires. I've crafted and nurtured my reputation so lovingly, literal centuries of work. So those yapping little dogs respond to my existence with violence on a regular basis, and I'm far too frustrated to endure it for much longer." Vyn could've sworn that his canine teeth elongated only slightly as he said this last bit. "I don't care if the Queen herself tells me to bow and walk away. I'll refuse."

Vyn's chest heaved with a small and quiet laugh. "Ha! I guess the last assassination attempt really pissed you off."