The Vampire & Her Witch

”At least your men died clean deaths,” Bastian Hanrahan said, breaking the silence and gloom that had settled over the gathering with the talk of the Dunn’s losses. As rude as it felt to intrude on the solemn moment, his father would flay the skin from his side if he didn’t ensure that everyone felt that the Hanrahans had lost more and were facing a greater threat. So, no matter how rude it felt, he pressed forward with the story his father made sure he was ready to tell, even if he stumbled over the details in his haste to get it all out.

”Those strange armored serpent demons captured Sir Carwyn Belvin of Raek Village,” Bastian said, pointing at the drawing of the demon that had made its way over to the table where the clergy sat. ”And not just Sir Carwyn. They captured all of his men alive. Lord of Light only knows what torture they’ll be subjected to in demon hands,” he said dramatically. ”Or what unholy rituals they’ll be forced to partake in,” he added, with a pointed look at the Inquisitor and Sir Tommin.

”Since when do demons take prisoners?” Owain asked, staring in disbelief at the young Hanrahan lord. It wasn’t just the notion of demons taking prisoners that took him off guard either. Owain had encountered Carwyn Belvin in more than one tournament and he had a good impression of the man’s fighting skills. He wasn’t brilliant by any means but he made very few mistakes and he used his weapons well.

”How many of these serpent demons were there in order to drag down Sir Carwyn?” Owain asked as he stared again at the sketches of the armored serpent demons. ”It takes at least three or four claw demons attacking together to strip away a knight’s armor and two or more horned demons with spears to land a killing blow. Are these serpent demons stronger than claw demons? Or weaker?”

”According to the witnesses, they’re much, much stronger than any demon I’ve ever heard of,” Bastian said, shuddering as he recalled the pale-faced dread with which the wagon driver had recounted his tale. ”Sir Carwyn had already killed a number of the flat tailed demons who ambushed his caravan when one of the serpent demons knocked him from his horse,” he explained.

”After that, things became strange,” the young Hanrahan lord continued. ”One of the serpent demons seemed to issue some kind of challenge. The witness didn’t hear what was said, but one of the flat tailed demons spoke the King’s common tongue well enough to convey meaning to Sir Carwyn because after they spoke, Sir Carwyn fought a duel with the serpent demon... and lost.”

”You’re saying that one of these serpent demons is the equal of an armored knight? No, that they’re even more dangerous than an armored knight on horseback?” Baron Leufroy asked, echoing Owain’s shock.

He’d fought claw demons, horned demons, and cat demons in the War of Inches and he was well familiar with the demon’s swarming tactic that Owain had described. He’d lost more than a few good knights to it in the last war before his men learned the discipline of retreating behind the ranks of soldiers with long spears while archers weakened the demons for the next charge.

Glancing at Marquis Bors, he saw a similar, deeply concerned look in the aging Marquis’ eyes. The man might be holding his tongue while his court discussed matters, but he was clearly keenly interested in answers to the questions Valeri was raising. With a small, silent nod between the old soldiers, Valeri pressed on, sparing Bors the indignity of needing to question the young men when he was clearly suffering from the onset of winter.

”How many of these armored serpent demons were there?” Valeri Leufroy asked intently as he positioned himself between Bors and Bastian, subtly implying that he was speaking for the Marquis in addition to his own desire for answers. ”Armor like this can’t be common among the demons or we’d see more of it,” he reasoned. ”But if they have even a dozen of these armored serpents...”

”There were three that ambushed Sir Carwyn,” Bastian said uncomfortably. Three didn’t sound like a threatening number, or at least, not threatening enough to get the results they wanted, but he wasn’t stupid enough to lie in the presence of an Inquisitor, no matter how much his father wanted him to produce results.

”My father ordered our caravans to remain in Hanrahan Town instead of risking losing more knights to these demons,” Bastian said, making it sound as though his father had made a wise and prudent decision when he chose not to send their tithe to Lothian City.

”We’ve lost eight parts in twenty of our autumn harvest that was bound for the market just from these raids, and another two parts in twenty to damage from the storm,” he added, turning to face Bors Lothian.

Sitting beside Owain, Jocelynn’s eyes narrowed sharply when she heard the number and her fingers moved rapidly as she calculated what that would mean for both the Hanrahans and the rest of the march if the Lothians didn’t receive their tithe before the winter snows blocked the roads.

In the small notebook she’d brought to the meeting, she made several quick notations, scratching quietly with a dull-gray quill that she’d selected to avoid drawing attention to herself in the moments she needed to think. The Hanrahan’s losses, it seemed, were greater than she’d estimated, and that would require her to make adjustments...

”Your Grace, on behalf of my father, we plead for your understanding this year,” Bastian said as he dropped to one knee and repeated the words his father had given him. ”My father has declared that he will only collect half of his tithe from the villages this year in order to help make up for the losses suffered by the villages that lost their caravans. He humbly asks that Your Grace excuse us from this tithe and the next one so that we may care for our people through the winter and the spring planting.”

”We also plead that your Grace will send knights and soldiers to escort the remainder of our goods to market,” Bastian added shamelessly as he looked in the direction of the table of representatives from the Church. ”And if your Worship is willing to spare us some aid, we ask if a Templar or Inquisitor could be present to help guard our farmers and soldiers when they bring in what little we have to sell.”

For Bastian, this was the most important part of the task his father had given him. Their losses were slightly less than what he had reported, but between the storm and the demon attacks, it seemed like everyone in the room accepted the figures that he’d given. Now, he needed to use the losses they’d suffered to obtain concessions that would help them recoup the losses of several caravans and even a knight.

If he could obtain that, even if he had to give up on obtaining more guards to protect their goods, he was certain that his father would be pleased enough with the results to reward his son for his efforts.