The Vampire & Her Witch

On the first floor of the arena, the small crowd of influential locals gave much more restrained applause when Nyrielle and Ashlynn made their entrance. There was a round of soft applause and a scattering of shouts from former champions of the arena, but there were no spontaneous acts of kneeling or other demonstrations of subservience from this crowd.

”Teacher, our reunion last night was too brief,” High Lady Erna said as she slid gracefully across the stone floor to greet Nyrielle.

”Little Snake, you don’t need to call me teacher anymore,” the powerful vampire said, momentarily leaving Ashlynn’s side to embrace her former student. ”We’re old friends now, each with our own territories to rule.”

The gesture was simple and the embrace didn’t last long, but the wave of whispers it set off couldn’t have been louder if one of the women had slapped the other. Less than six months ago, when Nyrielle had passed through the High Fen, they hadn’t been so close and companionable and the only event they’d held was a masquerade ball in the palace. It could be said that High Lady Erna had paid proper respects to a visiting Eldritch Lady and her former teacher but nothing more.

Yet now, on what was supposed to be the first of many nights of celebration, they embraced so readily... None of the people gathered here were simple but if you asked them to speculate about what the apparent closeness between these two powerful rulers meant for the future of the High Fen, none of them could say for certain.

”The entertainment will begin soon,” Erna said as Ashlynn joined them. ”I’m sure your seneschal has arranged for several people to bend your ears tonight so I won’t delay you. We can watch the final match of the evening from my private box when the time comes.”

”This feeling of being passed from one thing to the next, like a puppet on a string,” Nyrielle said with a wry smile on her face. ”I can’t help but wonder if the Mother of Thorns taught you how to bind people in webs with the way you’re doing this to me, darling.”

”Don’t blame her too much for that,” Erna said with a light, musical laugh. ”My first minister does the same to me. At times, you would almost think he had usurped my throne!”

”I could never usurp Mistress Nyrielle’s throne,” Ashlynn protested with a light laugh of her own. ”What’s hers is hers and will always be hers, me included,” she added as she stepped close enough to Nyrielle for the other woman to wrap an arm around her.

”All right, enough, you two,” the esteemed High Lady said, shaking her head at the youthful displays of affection between the two. ”You make me feel like I’m the old one when you do that, and I’m still far too young to feel old in this company.”

Ashlynn, she could understand, but the more time she watched Nyrielle with the young witch, the more the image in her mind of her wise and powerful teacher crumbled, replaced with a woman who wasn’t all that different from herself. Though, perhaps that had been Nyrielle’s point when she said they were old friends now.

”Mistress Nyrielle,” Ashlynn said, tugging slightly on Nyrielle’s arm to lead her toward a group of waiting tradesmen. ”There are a few men I’d like to introduce you to who have agreed to accompany us back to the Vale of Mists when we leave. If you’ll entertain them?”

”Ha ha, it seems my Seneschal has everything well in hand,” Nyrielle laughed. ”Little Snake, we’ll meet again later tonight. My darling, it seems that tonight, I’m in your capable hands.”

”In that case,” she said, gesturing to a trio of men standing anxiously nearby. ”Let’s begin with Master Benouet, Master Wimund, and Master Aubin,” Ashlynn said, pointing first to a short, dignified fellow from the Clan of Painted Masks who resembled a more refined and well-to-do version of the Artificer Erkembalt.

Next to him stood Master Wimund, a towering fellow from the Clan of the Great Claw who, despite his luxurious tunic, kept his well-muscled arms bare, making it clear he wasn’t above doing some manual labor himself. Finally, Master Aubin of the Glass Eyed Clan looked like the most delighted of the three when he saw Ashlynn’s approach, his long, flexible neck nearly turning in a complete circle as he watched her approach.

Nearby, at one of the elegantly laid tables that Ashlynn and Nyrielle directly bypassed, a distinguished master whose family had controlled the silk trade along the mountain passes for three generations, watched with barely concealed irritation as Ashlynn guided Nyrielle toward three decidedly less distinguished merchants.

”A ditch digger,” he muttered to his companions, recognizing Master Benouet’s silver spectacles and the practical boots the man wore even to a gathering as important as this. ”The Blood Princess returns to High Fen City after months away, and the first person they present to her is a man who builds ditches for a living.”

”And that oaf Wimund,” said an elegant woman from the Scaled Clan who wore more jewels across her smooth chest than Ashlynn had in any of her public appearances. Her tongue flickered in distaste and she had to force herself to look away before Lady Nyrielle caught the unsightly expression on her face.

”My cousin commissioned stone for a statue from his quarry last year,” she said quietly to her fellow guests as they wallowed in the feeling of being snubbed. ”The man smelled of stone dust even at the contract signing.” She coiled her serpentine form higher, cocking her head slightly and straining her ears as if trying to catch what could possibly be so important about these three that warranted such immediate attention.

The whispers spread through the gathering as other notable guests, whether they were arena champions, wealthy merchants, or even the mayors of nearby villages, found themselves pushed aside in favor of what appeared to be a thoroughly middling trio.

”Masters,” Nyrielle said politely. ”Of everyone present, my darling Ashlynn seems to feel like you three are the most important for me to spend time with before I greet anyone else,” she said, her midnight blue eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief as she watched an invisible pressure descend on the poor tradesmen. ”I’m curious, what is it exactly about you three that has so thoroughly captivated my darling?”

”Airgead mountain,” Aubin blurted after a heavy, unconscious gulp. ”Her, her Dominion, that is to say, that we have an idea and, together if we can...”

Though Nyrielle hadn’t done anything to apply extra pressure to the long-legged fellow, just standing in her presence made his knees want to buckle and when her eyes sharpened at the mention of Airgead Mountain, he felt like his knees had turned to soft mud, barely holding him upright as he struggled to articulate anything at all.

Meanwhile, those few who were in earshot shook their heads and sipped at their wine, waiting for the spectacle to unfold. Perhaps it was for the best that they hadn’t gone first. With this fool to set the tone, anything they had to say would look a thousand times better by comparison. A few of them only hoped that Aubin wouldn’t make such an exaggerated mess of things that the Blood Princess claimed his head for wasting her time.

Others, however, held the opposite hope. They didn’t expect to gain much from this event to begin with, but a chance to see the Blood Princess smite someone for making a fool out of her... that would be well worth the ticket price!