Agathokakological. N. def - composed of both good and evil.
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"Do you, Virgil Umber, admit to using sorcery and magic in the name of the King?" The scribe stood in front of Virgil, steering clear of the vampire. Virgil hissed, struggling against the ropes binding him, and the scribe squeaked and jumped back. Virgil grinned from the satisfaction of scaring the man.
A knight stepped forward, a long knife in his hand, the sun shining on his dark skin. He grabbed a clove of garlic and crushed it along the blade, rubbing the juice on the shining metal. Virgil's insides went cold as the man approached, and he flinched away, the ropes tying him against the post scraping against his skin. The man laughed, his dark eyes glittering with malice.
"You're going to get what you deserve, vampire." He pressed the flat of the blade against Virgil's neck, the garlic on the blade sending searing bolts of agony through Virgil's body. He screamed as the blade turned sideways, making a shallow cut in his pale skin. The knight grabbed a rag and shoved it in Virgil's mouth, muffling his howls and preventing him from biting. Virgil hissed, the noise muted by the filthy fabric. The knight grabbed his knife again and repeated the process, each clove of garlic burning Virgil's skin and creating a welt. After a few more cloves, Virgil slumped in his ties, all the fight gone from him. The knight removed the gag and tilted his chin up.
"Do you admit to your crimes?" he asked. Virgil eyed the knife in the man's hand warily, not wanting to risk a blade in his throat. The man set the knife down and asked him again. "Do you admit to your crimes, vampire?"
"I did not commit any crime worth this punishment," Virgil hissed in his language, baring his teeth at the knight. The man slapped him, harshly, the blow twisting his head to the side. Virgil lashed back, straining against the ropes. The knight grabbed the knife and poked him in the chest, the sharp point driving through his thin shirt easily. Virgil growled, then spoke in the human tongue, the rough words making his tongue itch.
"If you want to hear what I have to say, human, then it's best if you don't kill me first."
"So you can talk." The man looked astonished. Virgil narrowed his eyes.
"You doubted me?" Humans were stupid.
"You've only hissed and spoken in your language. Forgive me for assuming that you were of lower intelligence, Fangs."
Another knight had stepped forward, younger, around Virgil's age, with light brown hair and scarlet eyes, a symbol of his high status. Virgil immediately snapped his head towards him.
"You were found in the woods with blood in your teeth, hunched over the body of a woman with bite marks all over her. What is your explanation?" the younger knight inquired. Virgil decided that in the worst-case scenario, he'd lose his life. He told the truth, his wounds burning with pain and his head swimming from the toxins in the garlic.
"That woman was my best friend, Valerie. She had been mauled by a werewolf and begged me to end her pain. I complied." The knight eyed Virgil's beaten-up form curiously, taking in his lithe figure, his gaunt face, his thin wrists, his bony chest. If this knave had seen other vampires, he would know that Virgil wasn't the prime example of a healthy, well-fed vampire. That was Dracula's job.
Virgil writhed in his bonds again from pain, his wounds tinging black around the edges as the poison in the garlic sent stabbing pains through his entire body. A strangled noise fought its way out of his mouth, and he choked on the bile rising in his throat. Through streaming eyes, he saw the young knight look concerned.
"What did you put in the garlic?" the young knight yelled at the older one, who stepped back, well aware of the knave's tall, muscular form. He glared at him.
