As the Vampire Realm prepares for battle against a mysterious enemy, the city's captiol is thrown into mayhem once the lost Princess returns to reclaim her throne. There's just one small problem, the Princess is human.
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Metal rattled with every step the prisoners took.
Burlap sacks clung to their faces like second skin. Thick chains wrapped around three human throats and one vampire. The metal ropes interlocked as one whole piece, tethering the bodies together. Their hands had been tied behind their backs. After securing the restraints, a masked Knight shoved them to their knees in a horizontal fashion.
Muffled voices spoke around the captives quickly.
The humans desperately tried to make sense of the conversation. However, they could not calm their erratic pulses enough to focus on the talk. The vampire, on the other hand did not have to strain his ears like the humans. Oh no, he could hear everything clearly.
Though the bag obscured his sight, the vampire could make out two figures. Men, no Feral creatures, both different in age and appearance. The vampire's eyes narrowed on the one that had bound them. The pale being had long red hair, that flowed around his angular face. His teeth were pointed like that of a shark's and his eyes were pools of black. He was dressed in dark armor, that of a common Knight. Whereas, his counterpart was a bit more aged, with grey hair that twisted in an abstract braid. The elder's eyes were that of ice, seeming to hold answers to questions, long forgotten.
The Knight with the shark teeth spoke first, "Reckon she'll care if I have a small taste? After all, it was my trap that caught the lot." His voice was rough and gravelly, like he had not taken a drink in years.
"Now, is not the time to indulge yourself." The Elder's voice was like a soft wisp. It was a stark contrast from the way he held himself, like a weapon. "The Empress, is known for many things. Sharing is not one of those traits. However, if you'd like to test the theory, then by all means Horace, have a taste. May I add, that it would be wise to address her majesty with respect."
Horace deliberately glanced around the dungeon, "She isn't here, whats the point?" He chuckled before crossing his arms, "What good is it Chief, you can kiss her ass all you want. She still promoted Lord Octavius, as General of the Undead, over you."
"How many times have I told you? Do not speak on matters that are beyond your comprehension." Just as the Chief turned to give Horace a pointed look, the dungeon doors opened with a resounding boom.
Silence fell over the room. Seconds stretched into minutes as everyone waited.
One of the captives wheezed out a gasp. No doubt, the humans were envisioning what was to become of them.
First, they would be tortured in regards to information about the Rebellion. Then, if they were lucky they'd be drained dry and discarded. However, talk of The Empress' sadistic tricks had found it's way into their camps. Stories of feasts, that served strung out humans on porcelain platters. Accounts of foul machines, that extracted blood hourly, to feed the royal Court. Alas, the most revolting rumor had been of a blood slave. A human companion that served a vampire for eternity. Nothing could be done to save the blood slave, as they became bound to their lecherous owners. Only the elite could purchase such an extravagant source of sustainability, paid in full price to The Empress.
