In the heart of Fogmire state, the sprawling Victorian metropolis of Lirond City stood as a beacon of grandeur. Its soaring spires and bustling streets once echoed with the laughter of a prosperous society. This thriving hub was not only a haven for thriving businesses but also the feeding ground for Vampires who prowled its darkened alleys.
Yet, in recent years, an ominous pallor had descended upon this once-vibrant city. A sinister wave of Vampire attacks had decimated the population, causing a mass exodus as people sought refuge beyond its boundaries. The city's once-bustling businesses now shuttered their doors, casualties of a dire financial climate.
As the citizens fled for their lives, settling in distant towns and cities, they found no sanctuary from the omnipresent threat of Vampires that haunted every corner of Fogmire state. Despite the valiant efforts of Adrith's knightly forces to protect the realm, the fiendish predators proved elusive, their sinister actions unpredictable.
***
Isolde was seated inside the elegant carriage, flanked by Adrith and their butler in quiet symmetry. Her attire, a delicate pale peach silk dress adorned with a subtle ribbon belt cinching her waist, was a stark contrast to her dark hair elegantly coiled atop her head. The meticulous styling only served to accentuate her beauty, and Isolde couldn't help but feel a tinge of annoyance at her own radiance. Bright colors were not her usual preference, but this was clearly Adrith's choice, an attempt to match their appearances.
'She's adamant about making me resemble her. I wonder if this is the treatment she would have afforded her own daughter,' Isolde mused as a quiet yawn escaped her lips. Her fatigue wasn't solely a result of nervousness; the thirty-minute carriage ride had left her with aching muscles and a gnawing discomfort in her stomach.
'I should be comfortably asleep at home right now instead of enduring this,' Isolde lamented inwardly.
The carriage continued along the winding road, leading them to The Red Lion, a renowned establishment in Fogmire State frequented by the nobility and upper-class citizens. As the carriage pulled up before the restaurant's imposing red-brick façade, Isolde and Adrith disembarked, gracefully swinging open the grand mahogany double doors. The tantalizing scent of freshly roasted meats wafted through the restaurant, enveloping Isolde in an irresistible temptation that made her mouth water.
Isolde and Adrith elegantly traversed the bustling dining room, their steps navigating the intricate dance of a morning crowd. The restaurant buzzed with life, every table occupied by patrons indulging in their evening repasts. The ensemble of diners presented a picturesque tableau, adorned in a symphony of refined attire – elegant suits, flowing dresses, and opulent gowns graced the room. Long and short, silk and tailored, the garments painted a vibrant tapestry of fashion and taste.
Conversations hummed like a melodious orchestra, laughter harmonizing with the clinking of fine china and crystal. As Isolde and Adrith gracefully wove their way through the scene, many diners looked up from their sumptuous dishes, their faces adorned with warm smiles, offering silent greetings to the pair.
Adrith keenly observed the room's atmosphere, her discerning eyes catching the glances and whispers exchanged by the patrons. Soft utterances wafted through the air like secrets whispered in hushed tones.
"Is that the child The Duchess adopted recently?" one lady murmured, her voice a delicate ripple of curiosity.
"I can't believe that she actually took her sister's daughter in as her own, a child born of wedlock," another woman remarked, a faint note of surprise coloring her words.
"The Duchess is such a good person," chimed in another diner, their admiration evident.
Isolde's brows furrowed as her jaw clenched involuntarily, absorbing these overheard conversations. 'I hope Isolde doesn't take what these ignoramuses are saying to heart,' Adrith mused inwardly, a subtle smirk playing at her lips as she cast a knowing glance in Isolde's direction.
Yet, unbeknownst to Adrith, Isolde had caught the hint of a smile, her mind racing with suspicions. 'So that's the narrative she's weaving about my mother... I've known from the beginning not to trust this woman,' Isolde concluded as they approached a foreboding black door, concealing the entrance to a private dining room meticulously prepared by Adrith.
As the butler closed the door behind them, Adrith turned her full attention to Isolde, crouching down to meet her at eye level. She spoke gently, her voice infused with empathy, "Isolde, please disregard what you've heard. Those people don't truly understand the kind of person your mother was. They make assumptions and utter whatever suits their whims." A weary sigh escaped Adrith's lips as her fingers softly traced through Isolde's hair, her eyes locked onto Isolde's gaze.
Isolde was on the brink of voicing her thoughts, but an inexplicable sensation seized her chest. Her heartbeat quickened, thumping louder with each passing second. Shallow breaths replaced her usual rhythm, and a constricting tightness gripped her throat, while unbidden tears welled up in her eyes.
'Why now?' Isolde pondered, struggling with her shallower, slower breaths. Nausea crept over her, accompanied by an unsettling lightheadedness. Initially, her vision blurred, obscuring her surroundings. Then, like a shadowed revelation, she found herself in a dimly lit dungeon, where Azrael was bound by chains.
The moment lingered, and Isolde's grip on reality wavered. But gradually, she returned to the dining room, finding herself leaning against the wall, Adrith's concerned eyes locked onto her own. The inexplicable pain had receded, leaving Isolde bewildered.
'I don't understand... what just happened?' Isolde's thoughts swirled in a bewildering maelstrom, leaving her with more questions than answers.
"Are you feeling alright?" Adrith inquired, wrapping her arm gently around Isolde's shoulders. Isolde nodded, though a lingering unease clung to her after the disconcerting episode.
Their waiter arrived, and Adrith led Isolde to their designated table, positioned prominently in the dining room. As the waiter approached, he extended a polite greeting, "Welcome. What would you like to order?"
Adrith turned to Isolde, offering her the choice, saying, "Isolde, order whatever you desire."
Isolde contemplated the menu for a moment before deciding, "I'll have the steak with mashed potatoes."
"I'll have the same," Adrith concurred.
With a slight bow, the waiter departed but soon returned bearing their chosen dishes, placing them meticulously before Adrith and Isolde. He lowered his head slightly and offered, "Enjoy."
Adrith sensed the need for a conversation. In a hushed tone filled with compassion, she broached the topic, "I suppose we should discuss what happened earlier... You don't have to share anything if you don't want to, Isolde."
Isolde took up her fork and knife, commencing to cut into her steak. She reassured Adrith, "Don't worry about me, Lady Adrith. I'm alright." She took a bite of her steak, attempting to push aside the unsettling memories that had resurfaced. However, her mind proved reluctant to let go, replaying the vivid images she had witnessed.