Dressed in black clothing with golden armor covering his chest and arms, the man stood there holding a sword to little Lionel's neck. Blood smeared the sword from the moment Lionel had turned his head, reeking into the air, calling to the injured pure-blooded vampires who needed blood.
Lionel continued to keep his head down, his eyes raking across the ground as his thoughts were in shambles.
'Who is this man?' he thought, as he couldn't quite link him to the prince's memories—not that he had any.
"Why can't I kill him?" The man's cold voice sounded, rippling with energy and anger.
His sword pressed more firmly against Lionel's neck, drawing blood, which made Lionel suck in a breath.
"Your Highness, the prince can be useful," said the other man, whose face Lionel had not yet been able to see.
Apart from his boots, Lionel could note something. He was clad in black attire, holding something that seemed like a wand in his hand. He had white hair and an odd respect for the other man trying to kill Lionel. He wasn't sure, but he felt there was a master-and-servant dynamic between them.
"Useful?" the master scoffed. "I don't need him to be useful. You know quite well how that can be dangerous to me…don't you?"
"Your Highness, it seems you're mistaking what I said—" the servant started, but his words were cut short as the master interrupted him.
"You told me that you saw a vision concerning me and the prince right after I told you about the decision to go on with the coup. You said one of the royal bloodlines would be the end of my reign. That's why I need to kill the prince. But now you say I shouldn't kill him. Why? What if he's the one?"
"That's where you're getting me wrong, Your Highness," the servant responded, turning more serious with his next words. "When I say useful, there's a difference. He only needs to be useful to us because he's needed."
The master didn't respond.
"Of all the royal bloodlines, the young prince is the only direct offspring of the previous vampire king, also bred from a human blood slave. His life isn't going to be any good, so we need him by our side. He will play a prominent role in your reign. If he dies, and all other royal bloodlines are gone, who would handle future dealings involving royalty? How would we continue preserving the bloodline? If the young prince dies, and you don't have a male heir, how would the bloodline continue?"
"So, I mean you should keep him because he could be needed in the future for many things. He's special, being the only vampire with a royal bloodline, even after being conceived by a human blood slave. He's a good candidate for breeding royalty—and a good meal for you, don't you think?"
"I…never thought of that," the master said. "It's not bad to have a personal pureblooded vampire to myself as a blood slave"
"Exactly!" the servant added. "Also, Your Highness, when I say useful to you, I mean he would never be useful to himself."
"You mean?"
"Cripple him."
Lionel's hair stood on end as he listened in on their conversation. The cruelty of it. He was to be kept just to be a blood slave to the king and a breeder if the king didn't have a male heir. It was a plan to preserve the bloodline—but at what cost?
The next thing Lionel knew, he was being dragged away to a torture room, where his bones were broken and reset. He managed to see the figure he had identified as the servant standing before him, holding a staff.
He writhed in the chair he was chained to as a hot wand bearing an odd inscription was brought forward and pressed against his chest.
_________
Lionel sucked in a breath as he felt air wash over his body. Opening his eyes, he realized he had gone through that series of memories again. He could feel eyes on him and, raising his head, he saw the vampire king staring at him with an odd expression.
"The master…" he muttered as he stared at him, then turned his face to the left, where he saw the servant holding a wand, dressed in black, with his white hair flowing freely above his head.
"Where did you go? Are you okay?" the king asked, a hint of concern in his tone, though Lionel knew better this time.
He finally understood why the voice sounded so familiar. It turned out it was his uncle who had carried out a coup on his parents when he was younger, taking him in as a blood slave to be useful only to him.
And how was that achieved? He was turned into a cripple, never to be useful to himself.
Raising his hand to his chest, he traced his fingers over an inscription that formed a circular mark. It seemed as though the mark was both there and not there.
"I'm very sorry, Your Majesty…I believe I'm stressed and just need to rest," Lionel said, bowing his head as he made an excuse.
At that moment, he just wanted to leave their presence to think properly, and that could only be achieved in privacy.
"All right…guess you are truly tired, but…why?" the king said, almost sympathetic, only to end it with a hard edge.
Why would he ask him a question? One Lionel wasn't willing to answer.
The question wasn't the only odd one as Lionel's eyes widened as he saw the king stand up from his throne, his body well-structured and imposing, with a black and golden crown on his head and a beautiful black robe. Lionel felt frozen in place as the king approached him, his hands clasped at his sides as he reached his front.
"You are odd," the king uttered, standing before him.
Lionel felt stiff all through as he felt the eyes of the king roam over his body, tracing over his blood vessels. He could definitely feel it, something more like a string working over his meridians and blood, looking for something. But what could the king be looking for?
'Fuck!' Lionel exclaimed in his mind as he realized something.
Would the king cripple him again if he found out that he could cultivate?
Finally, since he got into the world and unlocked his potential, he realized how grave it was to be in the vampire kingdom and let them know about his achievements.
"What was he to do?" he mumbled as he raked his eyes through the room, his lips trembling in the suffocating anxiety grappling him.
The eyes on him stopped, and he saw the king recede back into his seat. His hand on his chair handle as he tapped against the place.
"Is anything wrong, Your Majesty?" Lionel asked, feigning ignorance, his breath itching in his heart.
"No," the king said, and Lionel's mind momentarily calmed down.
He added, "I thought something was wrong, but it's not. You reeked of blood, so I wanted to check if you were lying to me or injured."
"And?" Lionel asked, as though he were just as eager to hear the answer as if he didn't know it.
"The obvious. Nothing is wrong, you are fine," the king said, and then, looking keenly at Lionel, who was shocked, he asked, "Or is there something I would have realized through the check?"
"Huh?" Lionel's shocked face looked up to the king as he voiced out.
"Never mind, you can return to your quarters. I'll call for you when I need you," the king said, and Lionel nodded.
He bowed one last time to the king, his heart thumping hard in his chest, and was led out of the hall by one of the guards, who returned inside after he was outside.
There, Lionel stood utterly lost, unsure of what to do. Something was definitely wrong. Yes, it was good that the king didn't find out that he could cultivate, but at what cost?
He was greatly scared.
It made him wonder: was he still a cripple, just as the prince had always been?