Princes of the Undead

Part 6

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"So, let me get this straight..." Dracula leaned back in his leather recliner, his fingernails tracing the rim of his glass, which still contained traces of the excellent science major Renfield had sourced. "Our people are incredibly hierarchical, yet everyone's position in society is dependent upon their age? But that's ridiculous." Dracula couldn't contain his scoff of disbelief.

Position based on inherited power was one thing, at least people in power had a vested interest in educating their offspring properly, if only to ensure that didn't lose everything in the next generation. As a nobleman of some learning and skill, Dracula knew that being in charge was not something that was suited to everyone. There were several members in his own family history, where power had resided in the hands of the current Prince for too long. Their aging minds made feeble, and their bodies too weak for war.

"So, the decisions are made solely, by a bunch of people whose deciding characteristic for leadership, is that they survived the longest, and they are the oldest of their bloodline! Agatha you cannot think that is sensible?"

Biting her lip, when inside she shared some of the same feelings, Agatha still did her best to redirect the conversation.

"Not all the decisions." Agatha clarified. "If there is a unanimous Elder agreement then they can pass laws without consultation of the Grand council, otherwise it only takes two Elders to table a discussion before the Grand council."

"And this Grand Council is made up of whom?"

"Chosen representatives from each clan, two seats each to prevent a significant power block developing, but in reality, the council is so tied up in existing alliance agreements that it is easy to predict how most discussions will go based on who introduces the proposal."

"And anyone can take their clans seat?"

"Well they have to have the approval of their Elder and be over 150 years old."

"Age again!" Dracula snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. Swinging his feet down from the chair and heaving his body out of it, Dracula padded over to the decanter, tipping the remaining few millimetres of blood into his glass.

"Top up?" He offered, pointing to Agatha's own neglected decanter, the award-winning Cuban dancer, he had ordered Renfield to procure especially.

"Count Dracula I am here to help acclimatise you, not socialise." Agatha huffed. She had agreed to one drink, and one drink she had had.

"Oh Agatha, please excuse the phrasing, but live a little won't you." Dracula teased, pouring her fresh glass despite her objections. "Now why these set limits, why 150 years old? I can't imagine you, are going to suddenly gain more wisdom, in the next 27 years than you do right now?"

Freezing at the innocent, and yet decidedly awkward question, Dracula had naively blundered into; Agatha took a deep sip from her drink instead. Watching as the Count wandered back to his recliner, this time toeing off his shoes, and propping his sock clad feet on the footrest. It was an intimate and relaxed gesture, and one Agatha had never expected to see.

The Dracula she remembered, was always so very precise with his appearance, and yet here he was letting his guard down in front of her...That he had very large, shapely feet had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

"Agatha..." Dracula prompted, swallowing his own smile, as his deliberate move to lower his guard had its desired effect; leading Dracula to wonder if maybe he should take his waistcoat off next?

"Sorry...what?"

"Why 150 years, was it chosen randomly or was there some specific reason?" Dracula prompted again.