Chapter 30

As the animal fat slowly liquefied in the large, weathered cauldron, Atlas meticulously monitored its progress, adjusting the heat to maintain the perfect temperature. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the walls of the cramped workshop, lending an eerie ambience to the scene.

Meanwhile, Atlas meticulously ground the assorted herbs and weeds, taking care to ensure that each one was finely powdered to maximize its potency. The pungent aroma of crushed leaves filled the air, mingling with the rich, savoury scent of melting fat to create a heady concoction that tingled the senses.

With a deft hand, Atlas began to add the powdered herbs to the simmering fat, watching intently as they dissolved into the mixture, infusing it with their essence. Each herb had been carefully chosen for its unique properties, from its cleansing abilities to its aromatic qualities, ensuring that the final product would be both effective and enticing.

As the mixture thickened, Atlas motioned to his undead assistant, who obediently stepped forward to take up the task of stirring. With a rhythmic motion, the skeletal hands churned the bubbling liquid, blending the ingredients together into a uniform consistency.

Finally, Atlas reached for the fragrant leaves, carefully crumbling them into the mixture one by one. Their exotic scent wafted through the workshop, adding a touch of luxury to the humble brew; even if they were cheap to acquire.

With a satisfied nod, Atlas stepped back to survey his handiwork. The cauldron now held a creamy, aromatic concoction that could be dried and then cut into bars to be sold to the rich. Now, all that remained was to set up a proper production space to bring his creation to market.

While soap was an unusual profession for a vampire, it was only the first business he planned to create to funnel funds his way during his long, long life.

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The steward of Nuln addresses Atlas with a cordial smile. "Greetings, esteemed merchant. How may we assist you in your endeavours here in our fair city?"

Atlas returns the smile politely before replying, "I am in need of a suitable plot of land to establish my business operations."

The steward gestures towards a large map of the city and asks, "What kind of land are you seeking?"

"I require space for production facilities and a degree of privacy," Atlas explains. "I have no need for opulent surroundings."

The steward nods understandingly, but one of the attendants chimes in, "Perhaps you would be interested in the area near the slums. There's plenty of available land there, though it comes with its own challenges."

The steward shoots the attendant a disapproving glance before turning back to Atlas. "Forgive the interruption. The slum area may not be suitable for someone of your stature."

Atlas, however, seems intrigued. "Tell me more about this area."

The attendant hesitates for a moment before explaining, "A recent fire has left much of the area in ruins, but the land is inexpensive due to its proximity to the impoverished district. However, there are security concerns and rebuilding costs to consider."

After a brief pause, Atlas makes his decision. "I will take the land near the slums. I see potential where others see only challenges." In his mind, he knew it would grant him to privacy to make his products and the occasional thief that wandered in would only add to his diet.

With a nod of acceptance, the steward smiled and began his favourite part – haggling over the price.

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Four months later…

Atlas sat behind the sturdy oak desk in his new factory, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and ledgers. Across from him sat Steven, one of the bookkeepers he had recently employed to help manage the burgeoning enterprise. Steven, a middle-aged man with spectacles perched on his nose, diligently briefed Atlas on the week's activities, focusing on the increasing sales of their soap products.

"We've seen a significant uptick in profits this week, sir," Steven reported, his tone eager. "With the steady supply of herbs and animal fat that we've secured, our production has been running smoothly, and our soap is selling well in the local markets."

As Steven spoke, he shuffled through the neatly organized papers in front of him, pointing out figures and statistics to support his assertions. "Furthermore," he continued, "several other merchants have expressed interest in exporting our soap to neighbouring regions. It seems our product is gaining a favourable reputation beyond the city limits."

Despite Steven's enthusiasm, Atlas couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness that gnawed at him. The mundane tasks of running a business seemed trivial in comparison to the thrill of conquest and the pursuit of forbidden knowledge.

With a sigh, Atlas leaned back in his chair, pondering the value of his current endeavours. Was all the effort of starting a business truly worth it in the end?

As Steven continued to speak, Atlas's gaze fixated on the pulsating vein in his neck, the rhythmic throb echoing in his ears like a drumbeat. With each passing moment, the hunger within him intensified, clawing at his insides with a ferocity that threatened to consume him whole.

Despite his best efforts to remain composed, Atlas could feel his control slipping away, his fangs elongating as the primal urge to feed surged through his veins. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he fought against the overwhelming desire to sink his teeth into Steven's flesh and drink deeply.

With a herculean effort of willpower, Atlas forced himself to focus on Steven's words, though they sounded distant and muffled against the roaring hunger that filled his mind. Every fibre of his being screamed for release, for the sweet taste of blood to quench the gnawing emptiness within him.

Finally, Steven finished his briefing and took a step back, his expression concerned as he noticed the wild look in Atlas's eyes. Sensing his dismissal, Steven hastily made his exit, leaving Atlas alone in the suffocating silence of the room.

With a trembling hand, Atlas reached under his desk, his fingers closing around the cool glass bottle of blood wine hidden there. He brought it to his lips, the crimson liquid swirling within the confines of the bottle like liquid fire.

Closing his eyes, Atlas took a long, slow sip, feeling the warm tendrils of the blood wine slither down his throat, soothing the raging hunger within him. For a fleeting moment, he savoured the brief respite from the relentless craving that haunted him day and night.

But even as the blood wine worked its magic, Atlas knew that it was only a temporary solution. Feeding in the city was risky and he was on his last bottle of blood wine. He had no wish to cultivate thralls of lower classes and desired someone special. Influential.

He had hoped becoming a successful businessman would let him into the circles of the rich and powerful so he may choose from better pray. However while soap was profitable, it wasn't something special or unique.

He needed something else. Another business venture. Taking another sip of the blood wine, he had it.

Alcohol!