The Great Escape

Audience Part I

Summerswind, Rotus (Werewolf territory)

Three days before Ada's imprisonment

The strong smell of smoked meat permeated in the air. Little children laughed and cried as they played among themselves in the streets. The sun rays kissed their heads like a mother. Small huts lined the wide streets on either side. Clothes hung upon strings of jute in their yards. The adults carried on with their work. Guards patrolled the vicinity of the forest.

Down the busy streets, a point came where they merged with the three main avenues running parallel to them. The avenues raced perpendicular to each other, the small huts replaced by shops, inns and taverns, their size increasing with their proximity to the town square.

At the junction of these wide roads, the large town square bustled with life. Folks scampered to and fro, going about their day, some in carts, some atop horses and some on foot.

The massive marble statue of Darthman, the Silver blooded, held the bludgeoned head of the evil Demon Warlord Zerishi in one hand and a scythe in the other. It was fenced with iron fences painted golden and towered over the town square from its position in the middle. His frozen face looked over the residents of the Summerswind and beyond him, the roots of the Alpha's house stemmed into a humongous building.

The hooves of the horses drawing the carriage clapped against the bricks paving the avenue. The residents parted and stood at sides, giving way to it. The dark, black curtains failed any attempt of the folks to catch a glimpse of the pureblooded vampire sitting in the carriage.

The murmurs of the common folks stung the ears of Marquess Edith harshly. He leaned back in his seat, the soft material cushioning his head. Filling his lungs with a deep breath, he slowly exhaled it out with closed eyes. He clicked his tongue. Tuning the voices out was never his forte.

By the third attempt, he finally succeeded and sighed in relief. A silent promise rang in his heart. He would not expand his hearing for at least the end of the next week.

Pale, slender fingers grasped the chain of the pocket watch and produced it out of the breast pocket. The silver serpent shaped band sat clasping his right hand's ring finger in death grip. The small beads of mysterious green gem stones were embedded in the snake's head, resembling it's eyes which sparkled even in the dark.

Fifteen past twelve.

He placed pocket watch back inside his breast pocket. Hours of journey had made few strands of his raven hair to escape from their neat styling he had set them in and they now rested on his forehead, brushing his thick eyebrows.

"We are here, Your Grace."

Edith heard the driver speak.

The driver opened the door and the Marquess wondered if he sunk his fangs in the man's wrist, will he able to stop before drawing out the very last ounce of his blood?

Opening his mouth, he grazed the tip of his fangs with his tongue. Blood seeped out with the contact. He sighed.

Probably not.

Grabbing the light weighted overcoat, he stepped out of the carriage. Slipping on the garment, he looked up at the ceiling of the building they were in. Eight servants stood at some distance. Two of them carried a large umbrella especially designed for vampires to be used as a shield against the sun.

The cream colored shirt beneath the brown waistcoat sat snugly on his chest. Upon it, his palms pressed any crease present on his cream overcoat. Sliding back the tresses of the midnight black hair on his forehead with his fingers, he stepped forth, his polished brown leather shoes clicking against the marble floor.

"Your Grace." An old human man bowed. "This way." He gestured towards the gate of the Alpha's house. A young pair of a woman and a man along with a horde of servants stood there.

"Beta Andrew and his mate, Rosalind awaits your arrival."

"I see—" Marquess Edith slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants and casted an uninterested glance at the pair. "You must be the butler." He addressed the old man with a smile and stopped walking.

"Ah, yes— yes, Your Grace." The old man blinked. He was not sure how to react. It was not every day a high ranking noble asked about him.

"I am Edith Monroe, Marquess of Frankshire, from Rotheward and you are, sir?"

If the butler was surprised before, now he was flabbergasted. He opened his mouth then closed. Looking towards his Beta, he saw his impatient frown.

"Myself Paul Loafrey, Your Grace." He bowed deeply.

"It is a pleasure meeting you, sir." Edith Monroe presented his hand out for a handshake. Paul reluctantly took it and shook his hand.

"Now that we have made acquaintance, would it be rude of me to make a request, sir?"

"Oh— oh, Your Grace. You— you are an esteemed guest." Paul cleared his throat. "You do not have to request for anything, Your Grace. Your orders shall be carried out with utmost respect."

"Very well." Marquess Edith nodded. "Then do send me someone to drink from. I would suggest sending someone who is no longer needed, probably a prisoner."

Paul's blood ran cold. His eyes widened. He gulped as he looked into the blood red eyes of the pureblooded vampire in front of him. The imposing, domineering stature added on to the horrors of the frightening things he said.

"And no woman, please." The Marquess continued and resumed walking. "My vow bars me from drinking from woman since I asseverated to grace the neck of only that woman whom I shall marry. And taking the blood out of their wrists would be disrespectful on my part."

Paul had met several vampires— pure-blooded as well as half-blooded. Yet never had he met someone who presented his hunger for blood so openly. It was an unspoken rule. A veil of propriety always covered the bloodlust. The hankerings to sip the life source out of any living creature were always wrapped in the fabrics of elegance and demure.

"Mr Loafrey?" Marquess Edith called out and Paul realized he was standing frozen in his place. The Marquess was already with Beta Andrew and his mate, Rosalind.

"I hope you can do something about what I asked of you." The man smiled and nodded yet there lingered an uncanny emotion in his dark, ominous eyes.

Taking in a shuddering breath, he bowed. "Yes, Your Grace." 

A/N: Second part of this chapter will probably be updated by tommorow evening! :)  Thoughts on Edith Monroe?