Once the sun had gone down, Lestat rose from his makeshift coffin. Eager to get going, he made his way back into the town, where he quickly found a laborers service. He pitched his story to them, and while they seemed somewhat suspicious, they didnt question him; they were just eager to make some money. He then arranged a carriage to take him to Paris, a few hours distance from where he was now. With everything arranged, he boarded the carriage, and the laborers began emptying the mansion of everything Lestat instructed. Lestat, whom trusted no one, was careful to make an inventory of every item, to make sure he wasn't being swindled, and he carried the most valuable of his riches on his person, in a leather case. The ring of Elizabeth's he had put on a golden chain, which he wore around his neck. He vowed then to never remove it. It was all he really had left of her. He clasped it tightly in his hand. He knew Matilda was still alive, he felt it. And he would have his revenge.
*
As he rode, he looked around, taking in every detail, trying to learn as much as he could about this new world he'd been thrust into. He saw people in this new dress, speaking languages he did not understand. Even English and French had seemingly been updated. People used words that were no to him. He saw as they made their way further into the city that his father had been entirely incorrect in his assumption that Paris would remain unchanged. Architecture, dress, language; it was all different. And he was not sure how he felt about that. Not that it mattered. This was how things were now, and how they would remain. Things would continue to change and he would have to adjust to it again and again. This new life posed many challenges for him. Finally, they arrived in a nicer part of the city, where Lestat saw a series of apartments that to him seemed very grand. For city apartments, anyways. He selected the one which he would like to be dropped off at, and the carriage driver obliged him. Gathering his case, he entered the ground floor of the apartments, where stood a very well dressed man, who extended a hand for Lestat to shake. "Bonjour, monsieur. In what way might I assist you?" "I would like to take up residence in one of your fine rooms, Monsieur." "Bien! And for how long will you be staying?" "For as long as they are in service." The man smiled. "Tres bien, monsieur. I will need you to sign some things, and, naturally, pay me." Lestat smiled. "Of course." He withdrew a belt of his, made of pure gold. The mans eyes widened. "Will this do, monsieur?" The man, hardly able to overcome his shock, nodded vigorously. "Oui, oui." He could hardly speak as he received the belt from Lestat. Lestat did not fret the loss of his possession, he planned to kill the man anyways and therefor own the entirety of the apartments. It would be like his mansion! The man showed him to his floor, still shocked. As soon as he'd unlocked the door, Lestat slammed him against the wall, draining the blood from the terrified man, whose screams Lestat muffled by clamping a cold, gloved hand over his mouth. Once he was dead, Lestat entered, and saw at once hoe grand the place was. He looked down at the man, whos dead eyes were wide with frozen fear. "Merci, monsieur. This will do very nicely indeed."
