The Vampire's Court

Chapter 2- The Duke

As Morgan's carriage wound its way up the driveway, the Duke's estate unfolded before him like a Gothic fairy tale. The sprawling manor, built from mighty dark gray stone, seemed to rise organically from the earth, its turrets and spires reaching towards the sky like skeletal fingers. Gargoyles, their faces twisted in snarling grins, guarded the front steps and perched atop the parapets, their stone wings spread wide as if ready to take flight.

The front garden, a tapestry of vibrant flowers and manicured hedges, stretched out before the manor like a colorful welcome mat. However, Morgan's gaze was drawn to the east wing of the estate, where a grander, more mysterious garden beckoned. He caught glimpses of towering trees, their branches tangled with vines, and a large greenhouse, its glass panes glinting like a thousand tiny eyes.

The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and the faintest hint of something else... something earthy and mysterious. Morgan's horses snorted, as if sensing the weight of the estate's history and magic.

As the carriage drew closer, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the wheels seemed to echo through the stillness, like the soft growl of a slumbering beast. Morgan felt a shiver run down his spine, a thrill of anticipation mixed with a hint of trepidation. What secrets lay hidden within the Duke's lair? And what did his host truly desire to discuss?

As Morgan ascended the front porch steps, he hesitated before the gargoyles, their stone bodies seeming to loom over him like sentinels. The creatures' faces were twisted in snarling grins, their eyes glinting with a malevolent intensity that made Morgan's skin crawl. Yet, as he gazed deeper, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of life beneath the stone, as if they were merely sleeping, waiting for some ancient call to stir.

Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan caught a glimpse of a glowing golden light emanating from the garden, casting an ethereal glow across the facade. He shivered, despite the warmth of the day.

With the unyielding sense of trepidation, Morgan grasped the gargoyle-shaped door knocker, its face contorted in a scream of rage. He rapped three times, the sound echoing through the stillness.

The door creaked open, as if pushed by an unseen hand. Withers, the estates butler Morgan assumed, stood before him, his face a map of wrinkles and age. His attire was dark, yet fine. Far more fine and exquisite than that of any butler Lord Emmons had ever seen, but it was his eyes that struck a ping of fear in Morgan's heart. They seemed to bore into his very soul, like two black holes sucking in the light around them.

"Lord Morgan Emmons, Earl of Wellshire," Morgan announced, his voice firm. "I was summoned by the Duke for a meeting."

Withers' expression remained impassive, yet his eyes seemed to gleam with a knowing light. "Ah, yes. His Grace awaits you, Lord Emmons. Please, follow me."

As Morgan entered the manor, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap, one from which he might never escape. At the top of the grand foyer, an insignia is etched.

Septimus filius septimi filii

Morgan didn't know what it meant, but the words alone sent a cold chill through his soul.

The inside of Everwood estate was one of the most impressive estates Morgan had ever had the pleasure of being inside. He'd always seen this estate, perched on its hill peering down at the city below as if it knew the powerful aura it had, but he'd never been inside it. No one had for almost 50 years, until this new, unnamed Duke came from a distant land came to take over his families estate and title a year ago. An admiral thing for the Duke to do, Morgan noted to himself.

Withers settled into the chair behind the desk, his eyes fixed on Morgan with an unnerving intensity. Morgan's confusion deepened, expecting to meet with the Duke, not his butler.