The resonant melodies of avian choruses and the tinkling symphony of carriage bells intermingled, enveloping the streets in a serene ambiance. This dawn, with its ethereal blend of colour and light, bestowed a picturesque scene upon the city. While it was a beautiful morning for some, not everyone shared the sentiment.
"Master Lucas, we have arrived," the coachman declared as the carriage halted before their destination, a grand estate nestled amidst rolling hills.
"I am not blind, Phillip. You need not state the obvious," Lucas replied coolly, his gaze sweeping over the looming castle and its surrounding lands.
"My apologies, sir," Phillip said, bowing his head.
Lucas waved a dismissive hand, stepping down from the carriage with practiced grace. The cold autumn wind ruffled his finely crafted coat as he surveyed the scene before him. Why had he not sent a subordinate on this distasteful errand?
His distaste deepened as he approached the building's entrance, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay. Peasants scurried about, their eyes avoiding his as if he were some higher being they dared not meet.
The only thing he despised more than commoners was purchasing them
Dusting off his coat with a flick of his wrist, Lucas made his way to the front desk where a woman of striking beauty awaited.
"Ah, Master Lucas, what a surprise," the lady, Vivienne, greeted with practiced politeness. "Had I known of your impending visit, I would have arranged a more fitting reception."
Lucas barely spared her a glance, his attention drawn to the bustling marketplace within the castle walls. Slaves of various ages and backgrounds were on display, their expressions ranging from resigned acceptance to silent pleading.
Vivienne, undeterred by his lack of response, continued, "Is there a particular type of slave you seek, or perhaps someone in particular?"
Lucas finally turned his gaze to her, his eyes cold and calculating. The woman behind the front desk, Vivienne, exuded an air of mystery that hinted at her true nature. Though she bore the mark of a vampire, her lineage was not of the ancient true bloods but rather one of those turned in more recent times.
"I require twenty slaves," he stated curtly, his voice carrying the weight of his authority.
Vivienne's smile faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. "Of course, Master Lucas."
Vivienne hesitated, her curiosity burning within her like a smouldering ember yearning to ignite into flame. She wanted to inquire about the specific slaves Sir Lucas needed, to understand the purpose behind his sizable request. Yet, the inscrutable expression on his face, a mixture of determination and something darker, warned her against probing further.
The oppressive scent of blood mingled with the tang of rust hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the grim reality that pervaded the slave market. The bustling crowd masked the underlying stench, but to those with keen senses, like Sir Lucas, the truth was unmistakable.
Sir Lucas's expression remained stoic, a mask of detachment that concealed the turmoil within. He had seen this cruel sport play out countless times, the vampires' insatiable thirst for power and blood driving them to treat thralls as little more than expendable pawns in their twisted games.
The notion of draining slaves' blood in measured doses, prolonging their suffering for the vampires' amusement, sickened Lucas to the core. It was a practice born of callousness and depravity, where lives were reduced to mere vessels to be drained and discarded at whim.
The lucky ones, if they could be called such, succumbed to anaemia before the vampires tired of their playthings. Death was a mercy in this cruel world, a reprieve from the relentless torment inflicted by those who revelled in their dominance over weaker beings.
Lucas paused for a moment, his gaze flickering to the intricate pocket watch nestled within his palm. The delicate ticking of its gears seemed to echo the passage of time, a reminder of the fleeting moments in a world teetering on the brink of darkness.
As he glanced at the time, a distant scream pierced the air, a shrill echo of agony amidst the cacophony of the market. The sound was all too familiar, a haunting refrain that had become commonplace since his arrival.
The screams of slaves, their voices choked with fear and despair, reverberated through the corridors of the market, a grim symphony of suffering. But to Sir Lucas, they were mere background noise, a grim reminder of the harsh realities of their world.
He couldn't bring himself to care about the plight of those who resisted being sold. In a place where power and profit reigned supreme, defiance was often met with brutality, and survival meant submitting to the whims of those with coin and influence.
Sir Lucas's pace faltered for a fraction of a second as the familiar voice cut through the chaos of the market. "Let go of me!"
Turning, Lucas witnessed a scene of brutality—an altercation between a red-haired vampire and a struggling girl. His instincts stirred, but he resisted involvement, a rarity in his otherwise detached demeanor.
However, witnessing the girl's distress ignited a flicker of something resembling empathy within Lucas—a sentiment he seldom entertained.
"I'll take this one," Lucas informed Vivienne, interrupting her procession of slaves, his eyes fixed on the girl who had captured his attention.
Vivienne, taken aback by Lucas's sudden interest, hesitated, "Do you not wish to buy the twenty slaves?"
"I'll take them, but I want this one too," Lucas asserted, his gaze unwavering.
"I'm afraid she's already been bought, sir," Vivienne explained, her tone tinged with apprehension.
Before she could finish, Lucas closed the distance, his voice a whisper against her ear, "Do you know what happens to people who hesitate to obey my orders?"
The tension in the air escalated as Vivienne's heart raced with fear. Her head barely inches from her feet, Lucas's actions were swift and decisive.
"Good riddance," Lucas thought, unfazed by the display of power.
The sudden turn of events left the onlookers—a mix of slaves and potential buyers—in shock and terror. Lucas's actions spoke volumes about his authority and unpredictability.
"Sir Lucas," Councilman Sebastian, the red-haired vampire, approached with a forced smile, attempting to assert his ownership of the girl.
Lucas's gaze hardened, his patience wearing thin at the councilman's stubbornness. A brief exchange ensued, culminating in Sebastian's dramatic demise—a consequence of defying Lucas's will.
As chaos unfolded around him, Lucas remained composed, his detachment a shield against the brutality he had just orchestrated.
After the slave establishment, Lucas pondered his uncharacteristic display of emotions. He seldom involved himself in such matters, yet today had been an exception—a deviation from his usual stoicism.
The incident lingered in his mind as he made his way back home. Questions surfaced, but Lucas pushed them aside, unwilling to delve into introspection.
Upon reaching his mansion, Lucas was greeted by Louis, his loyal butler. Their brief exchange hinted at a deeper bond—an acknowledgment of mutual respect and understanding.
The events of the day weighed on Lucas's mind, prompting him to seek solace in solitude. He retreated to his quarters, where thoughts of the girl he had claimed and the councilman's demise lingered.