"AHOY! ME LASSES, I daresay yer look fetching!"
A loud male voice boomed from behind the Princess and her new friend, Ferra Savaeros, and she turned to see the man who'd spoken.
The man had a fat face with the eyes of a lecher, and was dressed as a jester. His face was painted in splashes of white; with a bulbous red nose, and his hair had been dyed green. He smiled at the girls and his crooked tooth beamed in full display.
It was the Eve of the first moon and the summerlands had dissolved into twilight, but a thousand yellow lanterns lit the dark night. Bright and flickering torches dotted the streets, bathing the houses, taverns, and stalls in orange and golden hues.
Colorful ribbons and banners hung down the corridors of different houses. The air was filled with energy as men and women trudged around in different costumes and attires.
Men had smiling skulls painted on their bare chests, black ink splayed on their arms, and some had false helmets and chainmails donned. Some dressed as the Knights of Syveria, some dressed as Lords of Estates. Some were buffoons, like the man before her. Tonight was the only night the plebeians got to play dress-up and be whoever or whatever they wanted.
The women were regaled in various majestic gowns, colored from the brightest yellow to the dullest gray.
They dressed as wenches, witches, and whores; maidens, matrons, and mistresses so that it was impossible to differentiate which from which.
Loud music played from open taverns, coins clinked in the light of torches, and the rumbly sound of laughter nearly droned out the strumming of the entertaining Bards.
Even though it was nightfall, the cobbled streets of the golden capital were as busy as the trading days.
This joyous fest was the Costume Carnival, celebrated by the entirety of Calipsos.
The princess focused once more on the crooked-tooth pervert before her.
"Don't mind him," Esabel said to Ferra.
She turned to move on but the man's hand gripped firmly on her upper arm, pulling her back.
"A man like me says yer beautiful and you've got nothing to say. A little appreciation would be nice..."
As his drawly voice smoked out, it was obvious he was from one of the western farming villages, but his eyes also raked across Esabel's curvy figure.
It was clear in his vile gaze what kind of 'appreciation' he wanted.
The Princess could see the man was a despicable person and moved to pull away but his grip was firm, with a manic glint in his eyes. On seeing this, Ferra's eyes flashed.
The orbs instantly changed from their golden human color, darkening to the scarlet of her other half, and she began changing from Ferra to Nosferata. Her teeth elongated and Esabel heard her bones begin to crack.
The lecher paled at her uncanny eyes and immediately released his hold on Esabel's arm. The Princess immediately looked to her friend whose eyes had become a ghastly fright. Her tumble of midnight hair had fallen into the orbs which were now narrowed red slits.
Esabel knew Ferra was shifting. If she did, it would reveal her, and no sword or crown could protect her then.
Esabel cursed the fact that she hadn't accepted the guards her father had suggested. If she had, that vile man wouldn't have had the slightest chance to approach her.
They'd all left the castle for the carnival few minutes ago. All three of them. But Marsil had gone to get them the sugared popcorns at her behest. If Marsil had been here, 'Crooked Tooth' would be pissing his pants by now.
Esabel stared in apprehension as Ferra's bones continued to crack. Her arms were sticking at awkward angles now and a few people turned at the jarring noise of breaking bones. Not knowing what else to do, Esabel abruptly pulled Ferra to her, hugging her tight.
"Please, don't change. There are people watching. Please, for me..." she whispered into Ferra's dark hair.
The embrace seemed to calm the young woman and Esabel felt her bones settle once more. A moment later, Ferra's arms wrapped around her too. When the Princess pulled away, pretty amber eyes shone back at her once more.
Her friend was back.
"Thank the Seventh Flame!" Esabel choked, smiling at her.
"You gave me a scare. I thought you would change... And even though it's a pleasant thought to imagine you rip off his head, I was more worried for you..." Her voice whispered off when she saw Ferra lower her eyes.
She was blushing.
Furiously.
The Princess quickly cleared her throat and both girls turned back to 'Crooked Tooth'—their alias now for the lecherous buffoon.
"I—I'm sorry," the man stuttered on seeing Ferra's gaze back to normal.
"What by the gods is she? You know what, never mind. I'll just be on my way."
Crooked Tooth turned around to leave but immediately slammed into a hard chest. He felt around the hardness, stunned for a moment, then lifted up his eyes to meet dark hollows of a silver mask.
The Vampire Prince stood tall and intimidating before him; a good head taller. A few overhead torches flickered as he stared down at the shivering man before him. His pale eyes were furious on him.
Crooked Tooth recognized the towering, dark entity before him as the legendary gladiator, Silverheel.
Esabel snickered behind him. Marsil had arrived just in time. It was obvious he had seen everything that had transpired. Now the lecher was truly fucked.
"L—Lord Silverheel," the man croaked.
He made a swift bow and bent his head to leave but a large hand landed heavy on his shoulders, freezing his blood.
Crooked Tooth lifted his face, now drained of color, following the hand up to shiny, silver eyes that peered down at him. Marsil had in his right hand Esabel's order of sugared popcorns. With his left, he gripped Crooked Tooth's shoulder.
"What is your name?" he growled down to the man.
His voice was a dark whisper but more threatening than cracking thunder. The man felt it in his bones as he replied.
"B—Boris, Sire."
Esabel scoffed from behind at his name. Marsil's silver gaze remained unwavering and the man dared not move.
"Listen carefully to my words, Boris," Marsil began, his moon eyes boring into Boris'.
The orbs flashed white as he spoke again.
"...you will not remember anything of what you have seen here tonight. You will awake tomorrow morning with your memories of this night washed away. You will blame it on your drinking and all that would remain in its place would be but a blank space in your mind."
Boris, alias Crooked Tooth listened to the Prince's deep words. The words of a Vampire. Without another word, he turned and walked away, stiff like one of the Seer's machinery.
Marsil turned back and met with the young women's eyes warm on him. Esabel's had a little light in them. A sinister glint.
"Oh brother, what ever shall we do without you?" she played with a coy grin, clearly taunting the Prince.
Marsil frowned but his mask hid away his face. Esabel knew nevertheless that he did. She was now used to his eyes and more than she'd like to admit—to his body.
"Did you just compel the man?"
It was Ferra's soft voice and Marsil turned to look at her.
She looked so pretty in her purple garb. Ferra had dressed for the Carnival as a witch; complete with a black pointed hat and raggedy magical wand stitched into the billowy purple garment.
She looked beautiful.
Marsil gave a small nod in reply to her question.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Both girls nodded and he stretched out his hand to them.
"Your sugared popcorns, My beautiful Ladies!"
The Princess smiled, turning peach. So did Ferra as they each collected the paper bags of browned corn from his hands.
Marsil looked over his sister.
Esabel stood in her natural beauty, with gorgeous eyes like the Carrean sea. A flowing scarlet gown draped over her shapely form, highlighting her hourglass figure. Her corset pushed out her already ample bosom and Marsil quickly searched for somewhere else to look.
Sometimes, the Vampire Prince found it hard to believe that Esabel was just sixteen.
She had dressed for the carnival as an Enchantress. Though to Marsil, she was more of a seductress if anything.
The Prince had worn his dark trenchcoat, black tight-fitting pants under, his solid black boots, and his silver mask. Complete in this regal, he was the very depiction of the Dark Knight.
His normal wardrobe was a mystery in itself, howbeit, not a costume. The gothic garb was who Marsil was.
"Shall we, my Ladies?" he played again to Esabel and Ferra.
Both of them smiled warmly at him but it was the Princess who replied.
"Very well, my handsome gentleman! Let's enjoy this fucking night!"
The girls held both his hands as they all moved across the paved streets.
A high-pitched jig accompanied by a Bard's sultry voice filled the air, and only a single star glinted far in the sky as they walked into an overflowing pub.