The Vampire & Her Witch

The tables in the great hall had been arranged like stacked Vs split down the middle by a central aisle. Guests were only seated on one side of the narrow tables, ensuring that every guest was angled to face toward the high table at the head of the hall.

Kaisen’s cloven hooves unconsciously slowed when he began to recognize some of the figures sitting on the right hand table opposite the one the young servant was leading his family to. Commander Bassinger’s presence was difficult to miss, but both he and Marshal Jakob seemed oddly diminished compared to the men sitting beside them.

It was only after he looked closely that Kaisen realized that both the white-furred warrior from the Golden Eyed Clan and the hulking, misshapen Clanless man sitting next to him were vampires! Even more strangely, both men wore the same blood red and silver sashes across their chests as Commander Bassinger, implying that they held the same status in the Vale of Mists as the man in charge of Nyrielle’s army.

”Mister Kaisen,” the young servant said, interrupting Kaisen’s thoughts as he gestured to a set of seats at the table on the left hand side. ”May I introduce you to your companions for the evening?” he asked, pausing for only a moment before he continued.

”To your left, I present Commander Aspakos of the Fourth Army,” he said, gesturing to a Dark Feathered man with a broken beak that had been pieced back together with what looked like molten gold rather than any sort of glue. When his dark eyes fell on Kaisen and his family, they were struck by a momentary feeling that he wasn’t looking at them as much as he was somehow looking into them, seeing their deepest, darkest secrets, hopes and fears as easily as ordinary people might read a book.

The feeling passed quickly however, leaving them wondering if it had been real or something they imagined because of his disconcerting, slightly menacing aura. But as striking as his appearance was, it was the title ’Commander of the Fourth Army’ and the presence of yet another blood red and silver sash worn over his intricately embroidered robes that deeply shocked Kaisen and his family.

”This is Artificer Erkembalt,” the servant continued, gesturing to a smartly dressed man in a tail-coat whose pockets bulged with a number of small tools even at this formal occasion. Hearing his name, the distracted looking artificer looked up briefly from the polished piece of wood he’d been examining to offer the briefest of nods before returning to the object that occupied his attention.

”He’s the crafter of Snow Fang,” the servant added, placing emphasis on the weapon’s name as if it held deep significance. ”And finally, Ritchel of the High Pass,” he said gesturing to a slender, nearly emaciated looking Frost Walker who seemed much more fail than someone of his height and apparent age should be. Hearing his name mentioned without any sort of honorific, a wry smile tugged at the corner of the Frost Walker’s lips as he lowered his horn in polite greeting to the Willow Witch’s family.

”To your right, Elder Nan, Milo and his wife Juni of the Heartwood Clan,” he added, showing them the same level of respect he gave to the group on the left, despite the fact that the trio from the Heartwood Clan were the first people that Helga had seen who were also dressed simply.

Both Milo and his wife Juni smiled broadly, their tails lightly thumping the ground in excited greeting as they welcomed the latest arrivals. Old Nan’s eyes, however, narrowed as she surveyed the gathered members of Heila’s family, lingering on the figure of the gray-bearded man wearing a distinctive sword at his waist for several moments before turning her gaze to the old man’s son and comparing him to her memories of a strikingly similar, handsome individual who she hadn’t seen in many years.

Combined with the lack of impressive titles, Kaisen’s family quickly assumed that they had finally found kindred spirits, people who were here at the invitation of someone who used their connections to secure an invitation. Helga offered a warm smile and was about to speak up to greet their fellow tag-alongs when the servant turned to someone so massive that Heila’s diminutive family had mistaken him for a pile of fur cloaks sitting at the end of the table.

”And finally, at the end of the table,” the servant said, swallowing deeply and gesturing to the wooly Tuscan, wrapped in layers of furs as though he had descended from a snowy mountain just to attend this banquet and towering over everyone present despite sitting directly on the ground. ”This is Captain Ipiktok of the Second Army. Captain and honored guests, may I present Mister Kaisel, father of Lady Heila, along with his wife and family,” he said bowing deeply to everyone present.

”So, this is the family that gave birth to the whip cracking terror who humiliated my men and shamed me into surrender,” Ipiktok said, using his flexible trunk to set down an oversized tankard of ale and leaning forward to peer at the new arrivals. ”You know she didn’t even leave me with a scar to boast of when I tell people how close I came to death that day! How utterly humiliating,” he said with a powerful snort of air from his long, flexible trunk

From his position sitting on the floor, Ipiktok’s long, curved tusks crashed through the cedar boughs on the floor, scraping along the cold stone underneath, giving the feeling that only the awkwardness of his position prevented him from descending lower to devour the diminutive members of the Horned Clan beneath him.

The instant the Tuscan spoke, Kaisen’s gray-haired father moved, almost without thinking as he placed himself between his son and daughter-in-law and the tusked giant at the far end of the table. His hand dropped to the hilt of his ’ceremonial’ sword, though it only rested lightly on the pommel as the gray-bearded man’s eyes inspected the looming giant.

All around them, even at the adjacent tables, conversation stilled as everyone looked at the strange scene of a diminutive man from the horned clan facing down a powerful Tuscan warrior. But the instant whispers spread through the crowd that the old man was Lady Heila’s grandfather, the mood of the entire crowd shifted, becoming almost... eager? As if they couldn’t wait to see if the old man would bring down the powerful Tuscan in an even more humiliating defeat.

Hearing the whispers of the crowd, Kaisen began to look around in panic. His father was just an old man! A simple trader who retired years ago to help Kaisen and Helga raise their own children. So where did all these people get the idea that his father could somehow defeat a mighty Tuscan Captain?