Chapter 2: A Strange man

18th century, 

18th century, 

"Why do you have to do this every time, my lord?" Marcus said, fully aware that this lord would go to any lengths to escape the Duke's control. Yet, despite this knowledge, he couldn't resist and allowed the lord to do as he pleased. Velor bestowed a brief embrace upon his servant, or as he preferred to term them, his intimate companions.

As the lord himself exited the room, the voice of the villager called out to him, urging him to drink. Marcus sighed and returned to his seat, needing a moment to collect himself. His meticulously shaped moustache twitched slightly as the pressure of his own face shifted. He was aware that the Duke would scrutinise him, as he always did. Marcus paused for a moment before reaching for the amber liquor bottle that the lord had left on the small table nearby, Marcus paused for a moment before reaching for it. He then proceeded to pour a small amount into his mouth, which he found to be quite intense in taste and burn. This caused him to choke momentarily. After wiping his mouth, he glanced towards the slightly ajar door, through which he could hear the villagers singing outside. He shook his own head, grabbed his hat, smoothed his neat black hair, and walked outside. He saw his lord holding the ruby glass of liquor, pouring it into his mouth. The joy of the alcohol haze painted a smile on Lord Velor's face. Marcus couldn't help but smile at the sight, while pondering the excuse to tell the Duke.

"Sir Marcus!" A child's small voice called him out of his own reverie.

"Benjamin, I believe it is too late for a child of your age to be in this part of the village." Marcus looked at the child running towards him.

"Mother and Father told me to come with them, they're afraid I might be taken by a ghost," Benjamin, a six year old boy, smiled warmly at Marcus.

"And where are your parents? Did they allow you to run around all alone?" Marcus inquired.

"They're over there," Benjamin replied, pointing to a young man and woman who were drinking and dancing together.

"Where is the Lord?" Marcus asked.

"I do not know, sir. The last time I saw Lord Velor he took the bottle from my mother and I have not seen him since," Benjamin replied, tilting his head slightly.

"I see. Please go to your parents. It is not safe for a child to be alone among strangers at night," Marcus said, taking Benjamin's hand and leading him to his parents.

"See you later. Be a good boy," Marcus smiled as he looked around for his lord. However, it was too crowded outside the tavern. Even though he was the lord, tall and outstanding, it was difficult to see him in the crowd.

Marcus stepped out of the crowd and took the same path the drunken and carefree lord liked to take. The cold wind brushed against his face, followed by a gentle warm breeze. As he looked around, the azure night had settled in and the sounds of the villagers celebrating filled the air, causing an involuntary smile to grace his lips. His smile quickly faded, however, as he remembered the Duke's expression upon discovering the stubborn lord's absence from his bed. He touched his moustache, a habit he had when he was nervous, and walked towards the pond - a place he and the lord had designated as their secret hideout from the Duke and his father.

As he walked along the path, an uneasy atmosphere seemed to settle over him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. His pace quickened with each step until he collided with a man - a towering figure, muscular and pale as the morning mist, with long black hair blowing in the wind. The man's eyes bored into Marcus', sending a shiver down his spine.

"Watch where you're going, sir," the man said in a raspy voice, leaning towards Marcus. Although Marcus knew how to defend himself, something warned him not to act rashly.

"You may encounter the Father of Death if you wander carelessly," the man whispered in Marcus' ear, his words sending a shiver down Marcus' spine.

"You are fortunate that I am sated," the man whispered before straightening up and disappearing into the darkness.

Marcus watched in disbelief as the mysterious man disappeared, leaving behind a rush of inexplicable emotions that pulsed through every beat of his heart. A mixture of disgust and relief washed over him, leaving him momentarily stunned. Gathering his senses, he walked towards the pond, the scent of iron-like blood lingering lightly on the wind.

Scanning the area, his eyes landed on a crimson-haired figure lying on the ground, its lack of colours resembling that of a mist against the azure sky. Instantly recognising his lord and beloved friend, Marcus rushed to his side. Panic surged through his body as he knelt beside the fallen figure, his hands trembling as he reached out to feel for a heartbeat, desperately hoping for a sign of life. But there was nothing. The silence of the night seemed to echo the absence of the lord's heartbeat, and Marcus' fear turned to tears as he realised the truth. With trembling hands, he pressed his ear to the lord's chest, straining to hear the faintest sound of life. But there was only silence, and the warmth of his friend's body began to fade.

"Please come back, my lord," Marcus begged.

"Please don't leave me. You promised you'd be with me until I had my first child, my lor... Velor, wake up!!!" Marcus screamed, tears blurring his vision, his voice breaking as he clung to his lifeless friend. Tears streamed down his face, his nose and eyes turning red from the overwhelming grief that consumed him. The ache in his heart grew with each passing moment, each heartbeat echoing the unbearable pain of loss.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone, for not following you sooner. It's all my fault," Marcus whispered, his words heavy with regret. But no amount of tears or apologies could change the reality before him. The warmth of his friend's body grew colder, the finality of death settling in. As memories of their time together flashed before his eyes - the laughter of a redheaded child, the comforting presence of his friend - Marcus felt a wave of grief wash over him. Blinking back tears, he looked at his friend's face, now forever still.

"I love you, Velor, my friend. If this is truly the last time I'll see you, hold you, I want it to last forever. I know I can be as cold as your loneliest nights, but please remember, you are the most precious person to me, not as a lord, but as you, Velor, my dear friend," Marcus whispered, his voice barely audible, as if carried away by the wind itself.

A cold breeze blew through the woods, carrying with it the scent of the pond's water. Marcus held Velor close as the azure night passed, leaving the sky bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. As time passed, Marcus' tears streamed down his cheeks, his sobs echoing softly in the stillness of the night. Despite the overwhelming grief and numbness that surrounded his body, he refused to let go of Velor's lifeless form. Every breath became a struggle, yet he held on to his friend with fierce determination, unwilling to part with him even as his own pain intensified.

In the midst of his grief and despair, Marcus felt something stirring within him, a sensation that defied explanation. As he held Velor's lifeless body, he became aware of another heartbeat, faint but unmistakable, pulsing in time with his own. Confusion clouded his thoughts as he tried to comprehend the source of this mysterious heartbeat. Was it a trick of his imagination, a manifestation of his longing for his friend's return? Or could it be something more, something beyond his understanding? Whatever its origin, Marcus clung to Velor with renewed hope, unwilling to let go even as the uncertainty gnawed at him. Whether it was real or imagined, the presence of that second heartbeat offered a glimmer of comfort in the darkness of his grief.

"Are you going to hug me to death, Marcus?" The soft voice whispered in Marcus' ears, but he refused to let go of Velor's body.

"Marcus, I would appreciate it if you could let me go for a moment" The voice spoke again, a little louder this time.

"I know you are some kind of my imagination, so stop tricking me into letting go of my friend," Marcus whispered, his voice trembling with grief, his eyes closed tightly.

"No, I am not your imagination," the voice insisted, growing louder and more insistent.

"Do you hear what I'm saying? I will not let go of my friend, go away," Marcus said, his voice rising in defiance. But before he could utter another word, he was suddenly pushed away from Velor's body. When he opened his eyes, he found himself face to face with Velor, their features obscured by the dim moonlight.

"Who are you? A shape-shifting ghost? Or am I imagining things?" Marcus said softly, his face puzzled.

"No, I'm not a figment of your imagination or a ghost. It's really me, Velor," Marcus stared at Velor in disbelief, finding it hard to believe what he was seeing.

"How... how can this be?" he asked in a barely audible voice. Velor replied with a smile, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I'm not entirely sure myself, Marcus," he admitted quietly. 

"But somehow I'm here, fully aware of my surroundings, and I can see you looking at me," Velor said. Tears formed in Marcus' eyes as he cautiously reached out his hand, half expecting Velor to disappear. To his relief, his hand met the warmth of Velor's form, confirming that Velor was real and present. 

"I thought you were gone," Marcus managed to say through choked emotion. Velor's demeanour softened as he looked at Marcus with eyes that reflected their shared struggles. 

"I thought I was also long gone," he admitted quietly.

"Being here with you now feels like...a chance." With those words, Marcus hugged Velor tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

"I'm not sure why, but I cherish every moment we spend together," he spoke softly. Velor returned the hug, his touch a comfort in a time of doubt.

 "I feel the same way, Marcus," he whispered. "Indeed I do."

"I'm glad that you're still alive. I'm glad that my friend is alive," Marcus said, his voice trembling with emotion, as he pushed Velor away to look at his face.

"I'm glad to have you as my friend too," Velor replied, embracing Marcus one last time before laying back on the ground.

"What happened? I walked to the pond and saw you lying on the ground, your heart wasn't beating and your breath was gone," Marcus said, lying down next to Velor.

"You might not believe what I am going to tell you, but…" Velor paused, turning his head to look at Marcus.

"But you have to believe me."

"I will," Marcus said softly, his eyes widening with anticipation.

"Well, I was wandering from that side of the village, and the last place I wandered was this spot, the pond, our hideout. I was sitting here, drinking my last drop of wine before laying down on the ground. I was really sleepy, so I closed my eyes, and some man attacked me," Velor explained, taking a deep breath.

"What do you mean attacked? I should have lent you my dagger," Marcus interjected, pulling out his dagger and offering it to Velor.

"Thank you, but even at that time, if I had a weapon, I wouldn't have been able to do anything to that man. He was fast and strong. He was faster than I could blink, and he didn't look human," Velor said, looking at Marcus with a haunted expression.

"How did he attack you? If you don't want to tell, you can stay silent," Marcus said gently.

"No, I want to. He bit me… he is a vampire" Velor trailed off, his voice barely a whisper, as he straightened himself up and took Marcus's hand to show him the two small holes on his neck.

"Well, that's something," Marcus said, placing his hand on Velor's shoulder.

They sat in silence for a moment. Marcus could sense Velor's gaze beside him as they sat in silence. The cold breeze flowed once more, whispering something urgent to him.

"We should head back to the castle," Marcus said, standing up and taking Velor's hand.

"But father…" Velor began, hesitating.

"Are you more afraid of your fierceful father than of some random man who attacked you?" Marcus interrupted, his voice firm.

Velor paused for a moment before conceding, 

"Well then, we should go." 

Both of them walked towards the dimly lit shortcut path where the trees made a certain noise, sticking close together as the atmosphere continued to creep them out. The rustle of some animals reminded Velor of the sound that the attacker made before he bit him. Velor reached for Marcus's arm and held it tight, despite being a tall and strong man, still a scaredy-cat when he was with his friend. Marcus held Velor's hand tightly as they made their way towards the castle.

Emerging from the woods, they were greeted by the sight of the castle. While it may not have been as grand as the fortresses of kings and emperors, it was built with locally quarried stones, softened by ivy creeping along its weathered walls. Towers adorned with the heraldry of the House of Casso-Terlia which stood proudly against the night sky. The heraldry was characterised by an azure backdrop and a lush forest, which provided a testament to the land's bounty. The night sky was illuminated by a multitude of stars, while a crescent moon cast a silvery glow, symbolising the unity of earth and sky, nature's strength. Flags were displayed on either side of the main gate, with conical roofs reaching skyward.As the gate guards opened the gate for them, a loud rumbling sound emanated from behind the door. As the gate fully opened, a middle-aged man with a frown on his face and a deeply upset expression rushed towards them. His white moustache twitched as he saw the two men appear at the gate. He hurriedly embraced them both, despite his outwardly cold demeanour, revealing his reserved yet deeply devoted nature.

"Oh, dear lord! Thank you for returning in this state," the man spoke with relief.

"Father, we are not children anymore," Velor hugged him and attempted to adjust his collar to cover the bite hole.

"You both still are, and you, Marcus, your father is indeed worried about you when he doesn't see you at the ceremony," the man gently rubbed Marcus's head.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I had to track down this badly behaved lord who got carried away by alcohol," Marcus said, placing his hand on his heart in a gesture of respect.

"Oh, please, we've talked about this, Marcus. You are free to use regular words with me. There is no need to be distant," the duke said, tapping Marcus's cheek.

"I'm afraid I can not, Your Grace. My father would wipe out my soul if I used the same language with you as I do with regular villagers," Marcus shook his head, his mannerisms causing the duke to chuckle.

"Velor, my son, why do you always turn a blind eye and deaf ear when it comes to my orders?" the duke pinched Velor's cheek.

"Father, you know me," Velor tried to squirm out of the duke's grasp.

"I do know you indeed, and that's why I know something has happened, and both of you are trying to keep it a secret," the sharp eyes of the duke pierced through their defences. 

"There is nothing" Velor said

Marcus could sense the uneasy feeling in Velor's words, despite Velor's childish behaviour and attempts to convince his father that nothing had happened. However, this did not succeed. The duke frowned and gestured for them to follow him.

"Go to my room, both of you," the duke commanded.

"We're definitely in big trouble," Velor whispered to Marcus, whose face and mind remained blank.

As they walked to the duke's room, Marcus tried to think of a story to get out of the situation. But lying to the duke, who could see through them, was pointless. Marcus looked at Velor, who was pale. He could tell Velor was nervous. They had to face the consequences, whether it meant being exposed or keeping the secret.

"Now, tell me what actually happened?" the duke asked as soon as they entered the room. He turned around at the door, ensuring no one could eavesdrop.

"Nothing has happened, I told you, Father," Velor said, his gaze fixed on the painting behind his father.

"I knew you were going to say that, son," the duke sighed, then turned to Marcus.

"What about you?" he asked, his gaze piercing into Marcus's soul. Marcus turned to Velor, who appeared defeated and resigned.

"There is something, Your Grace," Marcus admitted, his voice trembling as he dropped the formality, Velor slapped his own forehead.

"It's going to be really bad," Velor muttered.

"Well, it's my own fault for letting drunk Velor wander around by himself without any weapons," Marcus confessed, looking at the duke. 

"It's my fault that Velor got attacked," he mumbled.

"How is it your fault?" Velor asked, while the duke nodded.

"You didn't even know what would happen at that time. Who would have known that some random man would jump out of the bush and bite me?" Velor's voice rose in frustration.

"Did you just say 'bite'?" the duke raised his eyebrows upon hearing Velor's words.

"It's an animal that bit me," Velor avoided his father's gaze.

"You mentioned a random man and a bite in the same breath, Velor," the duke flicked his son's forehead.

"The thing I feared the most actually happened, and with my own son," the duke said, sitting at his wooden desk and retrieving an old dusty book from the drawer.

"This is our family's journal, passed down through generations," he explained, opening it carefully and gesturing for them to look together.

"There is a warning written by your great-great-great-grandfather..." the duke paused dramatically.

"It says, 'the mighty lord of darkness will rise under the azure night sky,'" he concluded, the room falling silent.

"So, do you think the vampire who bit me is the vampire lord?" Velor asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

"He may be, or he may not. We are not sure. If he is indeed the vampire lord, I'm afraid you might become a bloodsucker yourself," the duke said with a sad expression, the same as Marcus

"We do not know what will happen, but I want you to know that it is not your fault," the duke assured them, pulling Marcus into a hug.

"Yes, Father is right. It's not your fault. Do not dwell on it too much. I will be fine," Velor added, walking up to them and enveloping them both in his arms.

"Now, both of you, go and get some rest. We will talk in the morning," the duke instructed, his eyes reflecting a profound sadness.

"Good night, Father," Velor bid him farewell as they exited the room.

"Good night, son," the duke replied softly. However, Marcus lingered, hesitating to leave.

"Why are you still here?" the duke inquired, gently rubbing Marcus's head.

"I have a feeling something bad is about to happen," Marcus said.

"The future is uncertain, my boy. We cannot predict what will happen to you, to me, or to Velor. All we can do is live each day as if it were our last," the duke offered a reassuring smile.

"There's one more thing I forgot to mention, Your Grace," Marcus hesitated.

"Velor was gone for a significant period of time before returning. I thought you should know, have a good night, your grace." Marcus said before leaving the room in silence.

As Marcus made his way down the hallway, passing by the hall of paintings, his gaze was inevitably drawn to one particular portrait - a depiction of a woman with long, flowing blonde hair that shimmered like silk. Despite her radiant smile, there was a hint of weariness in her expression, tempered by a profound sense of contentment. It was the woman who had vanished many years ago. Marcus glanced at the engraved plate beneath the painting.

'Duchess Georgia, 1740. A daughter, a wife, a duchess, a mother'

Marcus looked upon her portrait and bowed to show respect before walking to his own room. As he entered, his eyes fell upon a handwritten letter resting on his bed, a missive from his father. The script, though familiar, bore the hurried strokes of a man preoccupied with weighty matters. Despite its less-than-elegant appearance, the contents carried a profound significance.

The letter itself said,

'If you are still alive, come meet me at the dining room tomorrow morning. Love, Your father.'

Despite the somewhat brusque tone, Marcus couldn't help but feel a warmth in his heart at the simple yet poignant words. It was a rare display of affection from a man who often conveyed his emotions through actions rather than words.Marcus carefully placed the letter beside the lamp, its faint glow casting a soft light across the room. Approaching the mirror, he met his own reflection, his eyes still bearing the traces of recent tears. With a sigh, he noted the state of his moustache, the dust clinging to its once immaculate form. Turning to his wardrobe, he retrieved a jug of water and a cloth, his movements deliberate yet tinged with weariness. Pouring a small amount onto the cloth, he began to gently cleanse his face, the cool water soothing his tired skin. As he wiped away the grime and remnants of emotion. Then he sensed someone was behind him, and he got a bit of a creepy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Who's there?" Marcus called out, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

There was no response at first, just the sound of his own breathing and the rustle of the curtains. Then, from behind him, came the raspy voice.

"The drama at the pond was quite entertaining, wouldn't you agree?" it said, its tone filled with amusement.

Marcus turned around, his heart pounding in his chest, but there was nothing there except the open window and billowing curtains.

"Where are you?" Marcus demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and growing unease.

Again, the voice seemed to move, now coming from a different corner of the room.

"Looking for me?" it taunted, teasingly.

Marcus clenched his jaw, his senses on high alert. 

"Stop playing games and show yourself," he commanded, his tone firm.

But the voice only chuckled softly, its presence elusive and maddeningly out of reach.

"You'll have to try harder than that," it whispered, sending a shiver down Marcus's spine. 

"Or perhaps you're not as skilled as I think you are." it giggle and the voice is fade away

Marcus closed his eyes, trying to discern the direction of the voice. The giggle seemed to dart from the right to the left, then up and right again. Marcus focused, trying to decipher its pattern and movements. Finally, he straightened his arms and reached out to catch it, but the elusive figure was too swift. All he managed to grab was a handful of its hair before it slipped away.

"Too slow," the voice taunted.

"I'll give you one more chance to catch me. I will count..." The voice sounded amused as it began to count.

"1... 2..."

As Marcus prepared to try again, he anticipated the figure's movements. He reached out once more, waiting for the hair to fly through his hand.

"3!!" The voice struggled as Marcus succeeded in catching it.

"I got you, you little shit," Marcus exclaimed, his grip firm on the hair. It was long and black, soft as clouds but cold as ice. He looked at the man before him, pale as mist yet strong as a tree. The grey eyes locked onto Marcus's, and the man smiled, his grip on Marcus's hand surprisingly strong, leaving a red handprint on Marcus's arm.

"That was impressive," the man remarked as he walked around Marcus's room.

"Get out!" Marcus screamed.

"Why should I?" the man retorted.

"I don't care who or what you are. Get out before I lose my patience," Marcus said forcefully.

"Aw, don't you remember me? My heart hurts," the man pouted.

"No, I do not, and I won't, so get out," Marcus replied firmly.

"Alright, but if I leave, how will you find out what will happens to your friend?" The man smirked.

"Ge... What did you say? What about my friend?" Marcus's tone shifted, his concern evident.

"Well, before that, let me tell you my name," the man said, smiling as he cleared his throat. 

"Nice to meet you, Marcus. I am Dominick."