A city awake by night, and dead by day.
This is the Dark City.
And its one and only lord is none other than Juren Magviole.
Among the cities that litter the Dark Lands, the Dark City is definitely deserving of its name where the harshest criminals thrive and die. In this Land of Outlaws, only the Dark City has the right to affix 'Dark' to its name.
"How are the operations with regards to the elves?" Juren asks his butler who is tending to his coat.
As the Lord of Greed, Juren is someone who decorates himself with riches and luxury. The noble clothes he wears are expensive and worth a lot of gold evident in the gems and the kind of silk that emphasizes its artistic value.
He admires his looks in front of the mirror while his butler busily fixes them on him.
"Your lordship, we are able to acquire a few elves for you to sire. However, there has been a problem on Lady Angelica's side. We lost contact with her." The butler answers his lord, tying the necessary laces of gold on Juren's clothes.
When the butler is finished fixing his lordship's clothes, Juren poses and tilts in the mirror to see if the clothes look good on him.
"Hmmm…" Juren hums in contemplative silence. "Strange, Angelica is one not to fail me… Butler, what do you think are the chances that she was compromised?"
"I have no opinions, your lordship…" The butler gives an unhelpful answer.
This is the problem with vampires. Especially, servants like his butler. They lack free will of some sort. Juren gazes at his butler who once was human. This is what makes Angelica special. That lass is capable of so much more freedom than other vampires.
In the past centuries, Angelica has proven her value over time.
Juren doesn't know what affects the 'turning' process of vampires, but leaving it to chance, there are some instances that variants do occur. Angelica is one of them.
So imagine Juren's sadness if one of his favorite vampires is compromised.
"It will be just sad if she fails me…" He glumly comments.
The vampires are defective creations of alchemy. They are a product of the research of the empire of the High Elves. To this, a feeling of kinship resonates from Juren.
His personal greed to own the elves are not something he can easily ignore. Sharing this same aspect are the other Vampire Lords, and Juren is sure of this. In his own opinion, that is only natural as they too have 'obsessions' they wish to satiate.
"Butler, how are the mercenaries? I trust that you only sent the best. I cannot have it that they lose on the monsters of the Dark Forest. For my plans to succeed, they must make their presence known for the elves to see."
While the butler waits for his lord, he calmly answers. "Yes, the mercenaries should be already at the port by now. I also hired the best sailing crew I can get my hands into at my own discretion."
"Excellent," Juren dully comments as he turns around from the mirror. "Butler, escort me to the feast."
Master and butler walk side by side as they arrive by the balcony. Below them are a mass of people from the slums. Plenty of them come from different cities, and some from the Dark City itself. To note, they are composed of youths and young adolescents.
Juren snaps his finger creating a resounding clicking sound. The invited guests look above to Juren whose clean and white hair stands a strong contrast to the dirty and scummy audience.
"I am the Lord of Greed. Someone who has an obsession to own. You are all mine. But I don't want all of you. Let's see… These are the rules… last ten standing…"
There is confusion among the guests. There is food for everyone since it is a banquet. There are delicacies everywhere which are the likes of chickens, pigs, and even a few desserts like chocolate. They are all filling food that will make any slum peasant salivate with greed.
However, not a single one of them dares eat the food.
No one here is ignorant enough to disrespect the lord of the Dark City. No matter how tempting the food is, they shall wait for their host to give them permission.
This makes Juren's commentary more baffling.
"Last ten standing?"
"What does… he mean?"
"…"
There is subdued silence and mutterings. The slum peasants, preferentially the invited guests, gather in groups in reflection as to how they form cliques in the slum alleys. They are an assorted group of people belonging to different races like a few dwarves, elves, and etcetera.
Evidently, the invited guests are mostly humans.
"I get it now. This should work~ Ahem~!" Juren fakes a cough. "These are the rules. The last ten standing shall become my vassals. And, the one who shall kill the most shall become my direct spawn. Isn't that great?"
With a malicious smile, Juren adds with a snort. "The last ten that shall survive will get a chance to eat the food all laid here!"
At the mention of food, the invited guests' ears perk up. And it only takes a single spark for all of them to devolve into mayhem. A young boy, too skinny for his own good snaps at the burly youth beside him by biting him on his neck. A young girl barely of age picks up the fork on the table and stabs it at a younger and smaller boy.
Juren watches this in fake apathetic silence, when in fact he is dancing in joy at the back of his mind.
Truly and disgustingly incorrigible.
The fight goes on for hours, and deaths continue to pile up.
When the bloody feasts reach their conclusion, only ten youths remain, and all of them stare at each other with brutal ferocity. One wrong move and the slaughter might recur at the slightest provocation.
Because of the still silence, tension continues to rise up.
"Relax," Juren tells them with a playful tone. "You, dwarf, come here?"
A young dwarf of skinny physique approaches Juren with a quiet gaze.
Juren slits his wrist and lets the blood drip on a chalice. "You have the most numerous kills among them. In all of my life preceding this annual bloody banquet, you are the first to kill so many because others are too eager to kill you. Well, you are one skinny dwarf. So they must be thinking you are weak shit and deemed it easy to kill you first. Fun fact, come to think of it, you are the first dwarf to survive a bloody banquet."
Juren engages the dwarf with small talk but then offers him a chalice of blood. "Drink it, and you shall be reborn…"
The little dwarf drinks the chalice in one gulp, and after that, starts convulsing on the floor.
Juren smiles at the sight of this. While the dwarf is experiencing excruciating pain, he addresses the others. "Please, enjoy the food. In the next months to come, you shall be trained by my vassals, and if you meet their qualifications, I shall also turn you… into a vampire…"
In the Dark City, information about Vampires is quite open. However, it is only true for those who are citizens of the Dark City. A few youths coming from other cities watch nervously at the convulsing dwarf while the others feed on the food laid on the table.
It is quite a brutal sight knowing that dead youths litter the floor, while they eat their food in companionable silence. The contrast itself is brutal to its own.
"Butler, I will leave them to you. I will go and meet my elves…"
In his bed chamber, a beautiful elf waits for Juren.
She has no clothes in her. The sight of the elf is decadent, and the alluring gaze she directs Juren is nothing but sweet.
Among the 'special' elves that Juren has, this one is as special as Angelica.
"Oh dear, I see that you have found me my elves…" Juren comments as he glances at a dozen elves standing in a daze beside the bed. "Tell me, my dear Perama, it is not on purpose you chose only female elves, do you?"
Perama, the only elf vampire among Juren's accolades, snickers with a hint of contempt. "Why? Would you prefer men instead? You know that I love you, your lordship from the bottom of my heart. Your giving attention to Angelica has made me jealous for centuries, so I thought… maybe if I pick these beautiful elves for you, you would think better of me…"
Perama's ears wiggle cutely as if to invite Juren into the bed.
Juren shakes his head. "Oh, you know that I love every one of you…"
An elf shudders as Juren caresses her face. Juren inspects the others and realizes they all must belong to the Dark City's brothels. "I am surprised, you are not against getting more elves bloodied, Perama?"
"Your Lordship, I was furious. You know that I will hate it having other elves get your attention instead of me. But when I learned that you wish to conquer the elves, then there is more of a reason why I should agree to this…"
Juren smirks enjoying Perama's boldness.
And as if to prove this, Perama offers herself to the task. "After the mercenaries' threatening scheme, let me be involved in the diplomatic relations with the elves. As an elf myself, I am very confident in getting them to agree with an alliance with the Dark City…"
The schemes and trickeries keep on going. In the darkness of the Dark City, the vampires continue with their dirty machinations. Alas, a plan is useless if not implemented.
And how can the vampires meet their objectives when right at this moment, the elves are already at their doorsteps?
"We are flattered by your attention, but there is no need to do that…"
Screw the door, they are already here.
Appearing from the open-air balcony is a silhouette of an elf.
"Greetings, I hope my intrusion doesn't bother you."
In a sarcastic tone, Trudviar then draws his sword.