Val

Dark was the night, moon hidden by clouds. Only fire that claimed the village provided any sort of visibility. Quite a bit of it, too.Yet another riot. Would the elves ever learn? Narrowly bypassing warriors on both sides, a large horse rode into the fray, a young man, hardly more than a boy, upon its back. The boy

analyzed the situation with a cold gaze before turning to one of his troops.

"How many are there?"

"Too many. If I had it my way, we never would've let them live the last time. Now, get out of here idiot, this is no place for a child," the man's scolding was cut short as the boy swiftly threw back the hood of his cloak in one fluid motion, revealing a blonde head and an expression of ice no real child could possess. "My lord, Emile! Sincerest apologies, sir. I did not know you would be entering the-"

"Spare me of your blabbering, peasant," the blonde sneered, uninterested. "How much damage can a couple elves do?"

"Quite a bit, apparently. They're organized and have their weapons. We don't know how to fight them." Just then, an elvish man dashed towards the two, yelling as he did so. The commotion startled the boy's horse, causing it to buck, throwing the boy off as it did so. Emile was quick to move out of the way of it's thunderous hooves, standing when he finally got the chance. With a huff, he glared at the horse.

"Stupid vermin," he spat, drawing his sword as he turned on the elf. His once emerald eyes turned into a hellish red, making him all the more intimidating. The elf took several steps backward, horrified at the monster that now stood before him. With a cruel smirk, Emile swung his sword about once before aiming for the killing blow.

Cling.

The elf had cried out in fear, falling to the ground. He, however was untouched for Emile's blow was blocked by yet another adversary. This time, a woman, one who couldn't be far from Emile's own age, dared to get in his way. An elf, mostly. A hybrid of some sort?

"Out of my way, girl," Emile snarled, swinging his weapon again. Just as before, it was intercepted by the knife the woman wielded.

"No." The girl met Emile's furious gaze with a glare of her own. A surprised hiss escaped his lips.

"No? Do you have any idea who I am?" He withdrew and stepped back, pointing at the elf with his sword. "That, that thing attacked me. Me. I demand justice. You, girl, will not deny me of that."

"You'll have to go through me." That remark nearly got a laugh out of Emile. Almost. Who was this girl to deny him of anything? He, who quite litterally owned them all. It was absurd not to mention aggravating.

"You want a fight, girl? Very well, you shall have one. Do try not to bore me, though," he stated, flashing two, long, canines.

A sharp gasp escaped the girl's throat. "A vampire?"

Emile chuckled, "You mean you couldn't tell from the start? How dull are you? No matter, are you sure still wish to challenge me?" Even in the horrid lighting, he could swear he saw her legs quivering. So the girl wasn't as fearless as she acted.

"I will not stand by while you murder my people." Of course, loyalty just had to play a role in everything. Emile's kills had more than doubled thanks to it.

He sighed. "Have it your way, girl." In less than a heartbeat, he was upon her, sword swinging dangerously close to her head. The elf-thing did her best to block his blows, sometimes even gaining enough momentum for attacks of her own. Even Emile would admit she was no adversary to take lightly. Like most elves, she was quick on her feet. Had she a more suitable weapon, she might have actually landed a few blows.

The battle was going all too slow for Emile. He should've won and have already obliterated the rest of the resistance. Instead, even he found himself working up a sweat. With a glare, his already red eyes glowed for an instant as he aimed a blow of a different kind towards the girl. The telepathic onslaut gave him just enough time to attack without any interference. With one clean sweep, her left arm was completely severed.

Checkmate.

"This," he started softly, looming over the girl who had dropped to her knees, clutching her wound. "Is why one should know their place." Once again, he aimed his sword for the victim below. He didn't miss. "A pity," he stated, using a peasant's sleeve to clean the blade of any blood. "She would've made a good servant."

"She still could, couldn't she, my lord?" The peasant from before asked. He shrank away from Emile's questioning gaze. "I mean, there are rumours that one of your stature could bring the dead back, if you so wished, my lord." Emile turned his back on the peasant, once again uninterested.

"You are correct," he stated simply, kneeling next to the fresh corpse. This thumb found it's way to one of his fangs, drawing blood. There was no doubt he would have to deal with his thirst before the night was over. "But no servant of mine is going to treat me with such disrespect. I wonder...can this one be trained?" Standing, he allowed a single drop of his blood to fall from this thumb. A distant roar could be heard from not too far off. He looked up to see a horde of elvish warriors swarming in his direction. Just what he had been hoping to avoid this night.

"Master."

That voice, familiar. Too familiar. Emile's eyes snapped closed as warriors closed in on him.

"Master."

As abruptly as the warriors had closed in, their shouts turned to silence.

"Master!"

Emile's eyes snapped open as the light hit them. "Close those curtains immediately, idiot!" he hissed, shielding his eyes. The owner of the voice grumbled but otherwise obeyed. Emile remained where he lie for several moments before he dared to sit up. When he did, he glared at the other. Across the room, still standing by the curtains, was the elf girl from his dream. Of course, that hadn't been a dream as it was more of a memory.

"Apologies, Master," the girl replied, obviously not sorry at all. "But you gave me strict orders not to let you sleep in."

Emile glared at the girl a bit longer before looking away. "Fair enough," he muttered. He turned back, looking the girl over. "You need a new arm."

"What?"

"You can't honestly expect to serve me with only one arm. You couldn't even fight me," he chuckled.

"You have other servants."

"You're getting a prosthetic, girl. There will be no debate." The girl unwillingly shrunk away. There was no way she could resist a direct order. "Understand, what was your name again?"

"Remdora."

"What?"

"Remdora."

"What kind of name is that?"

"My name."

"Do not speak to me like that, Remdora, if that's truly your name. Or has it not been made clear to you yet? I own you. Understood?"

Remdora glared at the vampire before finally replying. "Yes."

Emile smirked. "Do you hate me, Remdora?"

She crossed the room, rummaging through his wardrobe to find a suitable outfit for her master. "...No."

"Do not lie to me."

"It was a fight. I lost. What does it matter?" Emile chuckled. There may be hope for the girl yet.

"Exactly. Which is why you shall serve me for all eternity. Or until you no longer serve a purpose to me. Whichever comes first."

Remdora sighed. Indeed, this would be her fate, whether she liked it or not. "Yes Master."