Prince Leron woke up in his bed, piercing amethyst eyes staring back at him.
"You're awake." A gruff voice said.
A tall, tanned man with a large build was sitting by the side of his bed, only one side of his face visible from his long, curly hair. He was wearing dark robes with an insignia of a golden cross that also looked the shape of a flying dragon, vaguely similar to the flag Ilvedia, only that the dragon was sharper to form the crucifix shape.
Prince Leron realized that he was surrounded by more than a dozen men wearing these robes. They filled his bedroom as well as his chambermaid and personal adviser, the two bowing their heads like they were intimidated by these men in black robes.
"Uh, who are you?" The prince asked. His mind was still hazy and his body feels heavy and feverish. He felt a pain in his neck and groaned. "Ow..."
Then he remembered the events from last night. He touched his neck to check and there it was, two small puncture wounds where Vladstin bit him.
"My god..." His eyes widen in fear and dread. "He's back! He's going to kill us all!"
"Calm down, Your Highness." The man with half his face covered and rare violet eyes comforted him and patted him by the shoulder. His hands were big and possibly heavy, but he made sure to be gentle with His Highness. "We are the Noble Huntsmen sanctioned by the Bishop of Santimieda. We are here to protect you from any attack from the vampires and the undead. You are safe now."
"Vampires? Is that what Vladstin is?" Prince Leron's eyes furrowed. "But I heard vampires are mindless corpses that wake up when someone tampered with their graves. Vladstin is sentient, he talked to me."
"The Prince of Crescentia is no ordinary vampire." The man explained. "He is the new Vampire Lord."
"Vampire Lord?"
A different voice came to speak. "Vampire Lords perished nine hundred years ago. They are vampires with their minds and the memory of their death intact, and they can transform people into vampires and control normal ones. They are born out of sheer resentment and desire to avenge themselves, gifted by an undead life by the Devil himself."
It was another man with a scruffy beard who explained. He had kinder eyes than the rest, a gentle, brotherly expression as he spoke. "The first Bishop of Ilvedia defeated all the former Vampire Lords and his story only remained in books to be passed down to the next generation of Bishops. Not many knew this tale and only believe that vampires are walking corpses that can be easily killed by beheading or stake at the heart."
He continued. "The current Bishop prophesized that the next Vampire Lord will rise during the king's reign. He warned the king that he has foreseen that he will be the cost of it. When he heard about the king's plan to infiltrate Crescentia, he advised against it." The scruffy man sighed. "He didn't listen. And now the new Vampire Lord was born in the shape of the fallen Prince of Crescentia."
"My father never told me about this." Prince Leron clenched his fist. "He knew this will happen. I never should have followed his orders."
"Nothing you can do about it, little prince. You stabbed the guy." A younger Noble Huntsman with auburn hair in his teens said, leaning by the corner.
The old, balding royal adviser was furious. "How dare you speak to His Highness that way!"
"He is right though. It was my father and me who's at fault." Prince Leron said meekly. "Vladstin threatened me that he will destroy Ilvedia."
"He's already at it. The night he attacked you, he's got the borders covered by his corpse puppet." The young teen said. "He outsmarted us and made us follow him to the palace while he strikes from behind."
"What happened to the people from the borders? Are they alright?" Prince Leron worriedly asked.
"I'm afraid a huge wave of vampirism infection began." The scruffy man said. "The vampires retreated when he came, but it was already too late. It must be part of their plan not to turn their victims immediately, to slowly torture them and make them sick."
"They will come back." The purple-eyed man said. "He wanted an epidemic to begin and cause the people to panic. The vampirism infection was part of his plan."
"Vampirism infection?"
"As Rothfir said, another gift of the Vampire Lord is to turn people into vampires." The red-headed teen explained, motioning to the scruffy guy as the one named Rothfir. "Just normal, mindless vampire puppets though. Still, the ones he had turned also have this gift, but weaker. They only get infected with vampirism where they show signs of Bloodlust and sleepwalking towards their infector. They can only turn into vampires when their blood has been sucked clean."
"Does that mean... I'm also infected?" Prince Leron felt that his blood does feel colder and moving slower, his palpitations weaker.
The people inside the room look at each other hesitantly, thinking how to break it to the prince. Eventually, the purple-eyed man spoke plainly.
"Yes."
Prince Leron felt an indescribable agony, but he put it down and composed himself. "I see. Is there anything we can do to cure it?"
"As long as you're not bitten again, it would eventually heal. The more blood you lose, the higher the chance of turning." Rothfir explained, sighing. "We have supplied the doctors and sent off papers that include how to cure the wounds of a vampire bite and lessen the chances of turning. We are also helping the royal army to prepare in case of another attack. All of it was settled in the three days you were asleep, that's why our Chief Hunter decided to visit and look after you first."
He slept for three whole days. Prince Leron never wanted to imagine what it would be like if he was bitten again. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Thank you for your hard work. Was my father informed of all this? Has he returned while I was asleep?"
The teenage Huntsman rolled his eyes. "Stupid king abandoned us—"
"We have sent a letter but there was no response yet, Your Highness." The old adviser interjected. "But don't worry, I trust that the king will talk with the King of Faldenhorf and request for support—"
"I do not." Prince Leron said.
"P-Pardon?" The old man stuttered.
"I do not trust the king. He was busy having tea at the Glass Pavillion with the royal family of Faldenhorf during his own son's coronation. Now that the consequences of his destruction of Crescentia had come running to bite his ankle, he is going to stay in the safety of that far away kingdom and do nothing." Prince Leron gave a bitter laugh. "Trust me, I know my father well. He must be thanking the heavens for the good luck that he has to be in a foreign land while his country is under attack. We are on our own."
The old adviser was baffled and tried to open his mouth to speak, but failed. The Noble Huntsmen did not say anything, but nodded grimly. They share the Prince's notion deep inside.
"H-Have some tea, Your Highness..." The young chambermaid with two braids offered up the tray that she had been holding out since forever ago as the grown men spoke.
"Thank you." Prince Leron appreciated this break of tension and silence, gracefully picking the teacup and bringing it to his lips. "You all came from the Bishop of Santimieda, huh? Are you perhaps the children he adopted?" Prince Leron changed the topic to lighten the room atmosphere.
"Yes, we all are orphans from the convent. The Bishop trained us secretly ever since he had the prophecy." The teenager Huntsman said.
"Oh, so which of you is my dear friend Sangfroid?" Prince Leron smiled. "I used to play with him when we go to church. Are you perhaps him? Did you dye your hair?"
The spunky, sharp-tongued teenager suddenly became flustered. "No, Your Highness. This is my natural hair color. My name is Asver."
"Then which of you is Sangfroid?" Prince Leron scanned the room, but he can't think of anyone more probable to be his childhood friend. He remembers Sangfroid being thin, frail, and sickly...
"It's me, Your Highness." The man with purple eyes and his face half-covered spoke, ears red.
Prince Leron blinked several times at the large man beside him. "Eh????"
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