Leading Lem down the hall, knowledge Dav moved with swift and efficient grace. Before Lem could even find the energy to feel properly nervous, Dav was pausing outside a large set of double doors.
"Inside is Lady Nassau's bedchamber," Dav said, and gave Lem a hard look. "Do try to behave yourself."
Lem scowled back at Dav. He might be young, but he wasn't stupid. He decided it wasn't worth arguing over, though, so he just nodded seriously, hoping that would be enough to get Dav off his case. It seemed to do the trick, because Dav turned back to the door.
Even his knock sounded imperious, Lem thought, barely suppressing an eyeroll.
A moment later, a deceptively soft voice answered. "Please enter."
Dav pushed one of the doors open, stepping inside, indicating with a quick jerk of his head that Lem should follow him. "Lady Nassau," he greeted. "I regret to disturb your rest…"
"Knowledge Dav," the girl said from beyond the doorway, sounding mildly confused, "It's still moonlight outside, I won't be able to sleep until the sun rises." There was a soft shuffling sound, like someone rising to their feet. As she moved, Lem heard her add in an undertone, "If I'm able to sleep at all…"
Lem didn't feel pity for her, exactly. After all, to his mind, the only good Blood was a dead Blood. But he could understand the fear she was experiencing. He feared for his life every day, every time he encountered one of The Blood. A vindictive part of him celebrated the thought that for once in her undead existence (unlife? whatever), Lady Nassau was afraid of being hurt. He often struggled to find sleep in the throes of fear and distrust. He thought it was only fair that the Lady who now owned the contract binding his soul understood a little better what it felt like to be afraid. She may not be owned by the very creatures that fed on her lifeblood, but as Lem was unaware of any creatures that preyed on vampires, he didn't think she would have the chance to experience such a fear anytime soon.
"My Lady," Dav said, clearly as unsympathetic towards her loss as he had been towards the loss of the upper manor weapons, "I have brought a personal weapon to guard you while you rest."
Lem had to give it to the man - at least he was consistently callous towards those who had suffered an unexpected tragedy. As he stepped through the doorway, he turned his eyes from Dav to get his first up-close look at Lady Genevieve Anette Nassau.
She was slight of stature, her skin even more pale than Lem's. Her eyes were a bright red, the sort of gleam in them that only came from one of The Blood who was well-fed. Normal vampires, the sort who didn't have castles and long-established family lines, rarely carried that healthy red glow in their eyes. This was in part due to the magical restrictions placed on enthralling humans. Without the thrall, it was hard to feed on the blood of a human. This was mainly because there were laws in place to prevent vampires from killing humans. Thralls were uniquely positioned to serve as a consistent blood source, and unlike average humans, they wouldn't struggle or protest as they were drained, held immobile by the binding mark on their foreheads.
But it took a lot of magic, especially generational magic, to make thralls. There were ways to artificially enhance vampires so they could turn more thralls, but those methods were highly illegal, too. The world existed in a very delicate balance, and of all the magical peoples of the world, vampires were some of the most untrustworthy and heavily-regulated.
Of course, if Lem had his way, the practice of enthralling humans would be abolished entirely. But the laws of the magical world cared far less for normal humans than it did for the livelihoods and wellbeing of other magical groups, some of whom had practices that were not all that easily distinguished from vampiric enthrallment.
"Hello," Lady Nassau said to Lem, her bright red eyes blinking behind pale lashes, as blonde as the long tresses that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. Her lips looked soft, but they were a bit thin. She looked nervous, lacing and unlacing her fingers as she gazed at Lem, her gaze roving from his messy hair to take in the slightly-oversized leather jacket, the simple tunic, and unassuming belt that carried his weapons. "You are…?"
"I am called Lem," he said, not bothering to add any sort of formal address. If she was the sort to stand on ceremony, he would learn to use the honorifics. But he wasn't going to start from a position of respect if he didn't have to.
"Lem! Show some respect!" Dav hissed, spinning to glare at Lem.
"...my lady," Lem grumbled, having already forgotten that Dav was there, too. Why was the knowledge still standing in the doorway? He should leave, already!
"Lem," Lady Nassau frowned thoughtfully. "The name sounds familiar."
"I've lived here my whole life," Lem explained, trying not to sound impatient. He hated small talk on a good day, and this was small talk with his new master, which added a whole new dimension of awkward to the conversation. "I'm a generational thrall."
Lady Nassau looked surprised at that. "Really?"
Lem wouldn't have said it if it weren't true, and he didn't think Lady Nassau was actually asking him for confirmation, so he said nothing.
As the silence stretched for several seconds, Lady Nassau pressed her thin lips together in a look of concern. "Anyway," she said, "what is your specialty, weapon Lem?"
"Daggers," Lem patted the small knives buckled around his hips. "But I am also proficient in many other arts, such as swordplay, hand-to-hand combat, and archery, to name a few."
Lady Nassau arched one of her slender brows at him. "Daggers," she said, sounding skeptical.
Opponents often underestimated Lem because of his particular preference for small knives. It seemed Lady Nassau was no exception. "Yes, Lady Nassau. Daggers."
"And you're sure you can protect me with those?" she asked.
"Would you like a demonstration?" Lem asked, because he'd long since discovered that people didn't believe what he said, but they believed what they saw.
"Yes," Lady Nassau said, a glint of something that might have been mischief in her eyes. "I would like a demonstration very much."