Chapter
CCLXII: Small Moment of Fake Fame ~Travallian
Leaning on the wall outside of the town’s best tavern, Travallian could smell the intoxicated blood of the blissful mortals exiting the drinking hole’s doors, wobbling at each step that took. One grimy barbarian even passed the disguised vampire, belched right at his face and collapsed in front of him, face first. The shape shifter was utterly disgusted at the mortal. He covered his face from the smell of the alcohol in the mortal’s breath and kicked the drunk man onto his back as he lay there. A rather large man he was…horizontally, at least. The man was awfully stunted of height compared to Travallian. However, his hefty exterior showed that he could crush the regal boy as if he were a withered leaf if he were a normal mortal man. This barbarian dwarf looked like a bearded walrus to him.
“Pitiful,” he said as he ran a hand through his short, sleek, black hair in a casual fashion. “Simply pathetic.”
Folding his arms together against his chest, he let out an exasperated groan, leisurely turning his body to walk down the dark street, back towards the cemetery. The blood he had taken from the woman earlier warmed his cheeks. His skin was no longer pale marble white, but a light shade of peach. He even seemed to look more youthful than he had been when he first took this human appearance. No one would notice the change. Most of the villagers who saw and listened to him were still searching for his wolf form, not knowing that he was the wolf at all.
From a short distance, the pattering sound of running was heard behind him. Travallian continued to walk until the exhausted villagers called from him and surrounded him at each direction. He had no choice, but to stop and let them talk.
“Young man,” one villager wheezed out, bent over with his hands to his knees, “have you managed to find the wolf again?”
The vampire moved his arms slowly to his sides and looked calmly at the man. He stood there with no motion at all as if he were a statue. He held this position for a few seconds before speaking. He was beginning to grow tired of hearing villagers cry wolf. He had to lie. That was the only way to make it stop.
“Fear not, kind sir,” he started, beginning to walk again. The villagers moved out of his way so he could walk and then they followed him, eager to hear his words. “I had captured the wolf just moments ago. I drove the thing into the forest and stabbed it with my blade. I got rid of the carcass once I knew that the creature was dead.”
“You are a valiant lad,” an old man said as he walked along side Travallian, staring at the blood on his tunic and the small drops that remained on his face. “A valiant lad indeed. Is there anything we can do for you? Anything at all? Are you injured? Do you want a reward of some sort? We will be honored to do anything for you.”
I caused the trouble. Leave me alone. Leave me alone, Travallian thought to himself. Just let me be alone. It was just a wolf. Just one wolf. Leave me be. The wolf was me…
“I do not need anything,” he said as he shook his head. “I am from a noble family. I have been travelling around for a fairly long time now, but I still have my wealth. I have what I need.”
A young teenage woman swayed her hips as she walked closer to him. She slinked her slender hand to his gloved hand. He became a little uneasy, but had let her hold his hand and said nothing.
“A man of royal blood,” she said with a seductive voice, bizarrely motioning her hand to take off his glove. “Are you sure that you have everything you need?”
Travallian drew his arm away from the girl, a very agitated look was seen on his face, keeping his mouth closed so that she would not see his fangs. He stopped walking near a closed tailor’s shop. One villager who was following him went to its doors and went inside with a smile on his face. The individual seemed to have lived there. He jerked his head to look at him leave then looked back at the young lady.
“Please…don’t touch the gloves let alone take them off,” he turned away to look at the few others who were still there. “Something happened to my hands long ago and its best not to see.”
“It can’t be that bad,” a scanty looking boy said ignorantly. “Take off yeh gloves and I’ll be the judge.”
Travallian sighed hopelessly at the boy. “Fine, fine. Geez.”
He slowly held his hand up to his chest and took off one glove gradually. Halfway, he was glad to see that his hand looked normal, not porcelain or thinly bony like a skeleton. In spite of this, once he took off his glove fully, it revealed that his fingernails looked like glass. Shiny and clear as if no blood flowed through his fingertips even though he had just drank blood moments ago. The skin color reflected the feat, but his nails remained glassy. He feared that they would notice the unusually dead look of his fingernails.
The boy thought otherwise. He laughed in an assuring tone. The vampire quickly slipped his leather glove back on and hid both his hands away into his coat pockets. The boy smirked.
“Just looks like you killed off the circulation of the blood flow to your fingers. Not a big deal. What’cha do? Crush it under something heavy?”
The ancient, yet youthful lord gave the boy a perplexed look, lifting a brow and curving his lips to a smirk. He turned away from everyone now, staring down upon the filthy ground. A postponed laugh passed through his lips as he shook his head.
Humans truly do not seem to believe in an old creature like myself anymore. Hah. I am relieved.
In a slow motion, he turned back to look at them. He looked at the girl, then the old man, then the boy, and then a few others who seemed to stay back in silence. He wanted to be left alone now. He could read their imprudent thoughts. He could tell that they wanted him to stay. That they wanted to repay him for something that never happened. They wanted a kind companion. They wanted more protection. They were thinking of what their lord and how he would react to him.
This made Travallian feel trapped. He could tell that these people meant well, but he could not bear to have them near him anymore. He couldn’t bear to hear their thoughts anymore. He began to tremble from the smell of their human blood. Flowing. Living. Joyful. He slowly began to head away from them.
“Please let me be alone,” he finally said as he walked, taking out a peculiar ring which glowed when it was simply on the palm of his hands. He carefully put it back into his pocket and spook some more. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow evening, perhaps. I must contemplate on where I am going to travel to next.”
“How about an inn to stay at?” the old man called out. “You’ll need somewhere to sleep! We’ll tell the people at our best inn to let you stay there for free! We insist.”
“No,” Travallian spoke without turning back. “Thank you for the offer, but I do not need you generosity. I already have a place to stay for the night.”
“Nonsense, boy! I told you, we
insist. The place is called
Reluctantly, the vampire groaned out faintly to himself then replied to the elder’s kindness in a normal volume. He was still walking away. “Interesting name for a hostelry…fine. Just let me check out something before I go there. Don’t follow me. It’s something personal to me.”
“Not a problem. I understand. We will wait for you at the inn.”
“Thanks.”
Turning his head to profile view as he walked, he shifted his eyes to finally see then group leaving. Relieved, Travallian ran toward the cemetery. Once he caught sight of the gruesome burial site, he noticed that the tomb’s entrance was wide open. The stone door was pushed to the side. His blackened heart actually pounded in a quick, frightful, throbbing beat at the sight. He quickly rushed himself through the cemetery, passed the tombstones, and into the opened tomb. He no longer cared about the repulsive stench as of now. All he wanted to know was why the vast catacomb was open.
Down the long stairs, floating steps he took. When he was finally halfway down, he took a swift and agile leap down and landed to the bottom as if he were as light as a feather and just as silent. He scanned the room carefully. He found himself looking down upon an unconscious man. A mercenary, perhaps. It looked as if there was a little bit of a struggle, but not enough to be noticeable at first glance or to an untrained eye.
This man was with that walking piece of armor I met last night! How on earth did he get in here? What in the world put him in this condition?!
A rustle of someone moving in the dark vault was faintly heard by Travallian’s vampiric ears. The chill he had felt earlier when he was in the alleyway returned. He knew that the same person was here. The same girl who had slipped away before he could see her. She was trying to get away. He knew it was female by the smell of her blood. He hastily jolted his position to where he heard her and finally caught sight of her: a young girl with unusual clothes and a mask which covered her face.
“You!” he exclaimed, pointing a hand at her. “Who are you?! I demand you tell me this instant! Did you hurt this person? Or did you witness what happened? Tell me now!”
The vampire turned his head to face the exit. With the force of his mind, he moved the stone door closed. It could be heard rather distinctly from where he stood. He had shut the door securely, in case the girl was going to try to escape. He wanted answers. He wanted them quick. He was not planning to hurt the masked girl, but he was apprehensive from the sight of the unconscious man on the crypt floor.
“Tell me what
you know and I was let you go. I will even silence you into keeping your mouth
shut about what you know with some of my riches, perhaps. Is that what you
want?”