Horace had a complicated expression on his face as he walked through the building that was meant to be his home.
Not too long ago, he was forced to give up ownership of it to a young Vampire that gave him quite the beating.
He still had nightmares when recalling the awful strength displayed by Damian that fateful night he came to him.
Walking past the halls adorned with various art pieces collected during Horace's travels around the continent.
Curtains from Emet tailors, artistic designs from Henos artisans… as he walked, his eyes wandering about his collection, it reminded Horace of a certain time.
A time when he was free to do as he liked or at least as much as the Peace Accords allowed him.
In any case, the freedom was long gone and there was only one reason for that.
"Sir." Two Vampires, supposed lackeys of Horace but now clearly loyal to Damian, greeted Horace halfheartedly while walking past.
"Wait," Horace called out.
