Corrupted blood lord

The underground holding chamber beneath Alta’s temple was quiet.

Teclos sat with his back against the wall, wrists cuffed, ankles chained, and neck locked in a blessed collar... this world just loved placing collars around his neck. He sighed at that last thought.

The bandages around his hands had already turned red where the Cross of Truth had pierced him, and the holy runes on the walls made his skin itch with constant, irritating pain.

He stared at the paladins outside his cell.

They stared back silently, their weapons ready to be drawn should he make any sudden movements.

Teclos sighed. "You know, I am beginning to think this is not the friendly guest treatment."

The guards still ignored him.

He tilted his head. "Still nothing? Wonderful. I love a lively room."

Then, finally, footsteps came from the corridor after an awkward silence.

The guards straightened at once.

Regulus entered without ceremony. He was accompanied by two priests, both holding some sort of talismans in front of them, and one older paladin carrying a three-legged chair.

The chair was placed in front of the bars, and Regulus sat down, looking straight at Teclos.

Teclos smiled faintly. "Captain. To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you finally come to apologize for the terrible hospitality?"

Regulus rested his hands on his knees. "You will answer my questions now."

"Ah... well, maybe I could get a glass of water first? I am a bit thirsty, you see."

One of the priests took a step forward, but Regulus raised a hand and stopped him.

His eyes remained on Teclos. "There will be no games, vampire."

"Shame. I am very good at games."

Regulus leaned back slightly. "The Cross of Truth can be brought down here again if that is what you want. And if that does not loosen your tongue, pain will. You will speak either through compliance or force. I do not care which path you choose."

Teclos looked at him for a moment.

The man was not yelling. He was not trying to scare him with theatrics. He just spoke like a man discussing the weather. To him, torture was not cruelty if used against something evil. It was a duty he had to fulfill, plain and simple.

Teclos could work with hatred and make him too emotional to make a rational thought.

But it looked like Regulus would not let him do that.

He slowly raised his cuffed hands. "All right, I am willing to be reasonable."

Regulus got straight to the point. "How many thralls does Luther have in Lupos?"

Teclos rubbed his thumb against his forehead, pretending to think. "Directly under him? More than a dozen."

"That is not an answer."

"I don’t know the exact number. It is not like he introduced everyone."

Regulus’s gaze hardened.

Teclos continued before the man stood up and came back with that awful cross. "It is probably in the range of about two hundred thralls, though not all of them are just combat-oriented like me and those two bastards you let get away."

The older paladin behind Regulus frowned. "We need their names, filth."

Teclos looked at him. "Don’t interrupt your captain, you ill-mannered ape."

The paladin wanted to stab him right then and there, but Regulus’s hand stopped him.

Teclos sighed. "Fine. Those two that escaped are Tepesh and Dallion. I know of a few servants and maids as well." He told them the names of about ten people, and one of the bishops wrote everything down.

Regulus watched him closely. "And Count Aweq?"

"He knows everything and is part of every atrocious thing you could think of, but he is not a vampire." Teclos leaned his head against the stone wall. "How much he understands is another matter. He thinks he is a partner to my bastard master, or an equal, but he is not. Men like Aweq are always too arrogant to see the truth."

"And the dungeon you spoke of?"

"Oh... that thing. It is beneath the castle. You will need someone who knows the lower passages. While I was still human, it took me half of the night to find it and reach it." Teclos’s aura shifted, and even through the restraints, his power seeped through.

The paladins and priests raised their weapons, and even Regulus reached toward his claymore.

Teclos continued. "Be prepared for what you are about to see down there. It is hell, and the reason those two must not be left alive." He growled the last part of the sentence as he remembered Saldia’s face.

Regulus was silent for a few seconds as he waited for Teclos to make a stupid move.

Teclos just sighed. "Don’t worry I’m not stupid enough to try and escape right now...anyways, I will do everything in my power to screw them over."

He could see the gears moving in Regulus’s head.

Good.

"Draw us a map," Regulus said.

"Sure, I’ll do that later, though, when you have asked all your questions."

Regulus’s expression did not change, but he nodded.

Teclos smiled more politely this time. "See, Captain, this is where our interests overlap. You want Luther dead, and so do I. Only my preferred way is watching him scream while he is being gutted and dying in the most painful way. I cannot get that if I am dead."

"You expect protection."

"All I want is to see him suffering from a safe distance."

"You are an undead heathen that is not to be trusted."

"Sure, but I am still one who is willing to comply fully without the need for torture."

Regulus just stared at him, not budging an inch. He was not stupid and would not just let him have his way.

Teclos rolled his eyes. "Look, you can have me cuffed and locked up in here for all I care. At least do me the favor that before you execute me, bring me Luther’s head."

Regulus did not react much, but he did not dismiss his request either.

Teclos kept his tone calm. "I know you want to kill me regardless of what I do for you, but even so, since I am fully compliant despite that, the least you could do is bring me Luther’s or Aweq’s heads, no?"

Regulus stood up, and the priests and paladins straightened.

"I’ll see what I can do," Regulus said.

Teclos tilted his head. "Already leaving? I was just starting to enjoy myself, having a conversation after all the silence."

Regulus looked down at him through the glowing bars. "If even one answer proves false, we will bring the Cross back, and there won’t be any conversation anymore."

Teclos smiled as he nodded.

Then Regulus left without another word.

Teclos watched him disappear into the corridor, the pleasant smile fading the moment the footsteps became distant.

He had gained very little from him for now.

A few hints about how much they knew. And enough to know that Regulus was a cautious man, and not easily moved by provocation.

He had yet to see a way out of this shit, but one thing was certain. Luther would send his thralls, and they would definitely find Alta.

He just had to use that commotion to escape, somehow.

—

Far beneath Lupos, Luther stood before a tall window, and by the third day, his irritation had become certainty.

Something was wrong.

There was no evidence yet, and yet Luther knew it in his gut.

He went to see Count Aweq to warn him.

The count’s private chambers were bright, warm, and filled with the sweet smell of wine, perfume, and roasted meat. Music played softly from a corner where the two musicians pretended not to see anything.

Aweq lounged near a low table, laughing with three half-naked maids while another poured wine into his cup.

He looked drunk and pleased with himself.

Luther stopped at the doorway. For several seconds, he simply watched in disbelief.

Aweq noticed him and lifted his cup. "Lord Vael’thorr! Come in, come in. You look far too serious for this hour."

One of the maids giggled as she blushed.

Luther looked at the count, then at the wine, then at the women surrounding him.

He rolled his eyes.

Without saying a word, he turned away and left.

Aweq blinked in confusion. "Was it something I said?"

Luther did not slow down.

There was no point warning that stupid man. If Aweq survived the coming storm, it would be because Luther still found him useful, not because the man had any talent for self-preservation.

By the time Luther returned to his estate, his expression was focused and cold.

"Summon Tepesh, Dallion, and the four stationed at the gates," he ordered.

The servant bowed.

"And bring Marven."

Half an hour later, the six thralls entered his private chamber. Tepesh and Dallion had recovered from their wounds.

Behind them came Marven, Luther’s butler.

He was a lean, gray-haired, and well-dressed man. At a glance, he looked like an ordinary servant who existed only to pour wine and open doors. Anyone who believed that was a fool.

Luther stood before them with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Something is wrong," he said.

No one questioned him.

"The Church has not returned to Lupos with Teclos. The link remains, which means he lives. Regulus was present, which means that they should have already returned. Now... another question is, how did they come to know of our highly secret facility?"

Tepesh’s eyes narrowed as he connected the dots. "A spy, my lord?"

"Very likely."

Dallion voiced his doubt. "Within the castle? That is impossible."

"Among us? Yes, but among that stupid and lecherous human? Not really."

He looked at the six thralls. "Go and find Regulus’s expedition. Start at the destroyed facility and track their route. Find where they took Teclos. If possible, bring him back to me, but if not, kill him before they can use him further."

Tepesh bowed. "Yes, Master."

Luther’s gaze sharpened. "Do not underestimate Regulus. Use at least three of you to keep him in at bay."

The six bowed again and left immediately.

Then Luther turned to Marven.

"Thoroughly search for spies among our midst. Every servant. Every room. Every hidden corner. Bring anyone suspicious before me. I suspect we have a rat hiding among us."

Marven bowed smoothly. "As you wish, my lord."

The thralls moved separately at first, slipping through different gates and side streets before meeting back up beyond the city walls. From there, they turned toward the ruins of the destroyed facility, where the trail of battle still scarred the land.

Back in the estate, Marven began his work.

He calmly gathered the servants he trusted, all of them thralls like himself, and gave them simple instructions. Rooms were searched under the excuse of replacing linens, checking locks, and preparing for a possible noble inspection.

Every drawer was opened.

Every loose board was checked.

Every mattress was cut and stitched back up.

Every servant’s belongings were searched.

The work took more than half the day.

Near evening, one maid found something beneath the floor of a small room used by a lower castle servant. A board had been cut carefully and fitted back into place beneath a woven mat. Inside the hidden compartment was a thin notebook wrapped in cloth, and on the cover, burned into the leather, was a small holy cross.

Marven took the notebook and opened it.

It had listed names, dates, movements of servants, and small observations written in neat handwriting.

The initial page indicated that the spy had been here for two years.

The Church had suspected something for far longer than they had guessed.

Marven closed the notebook, and they left the room.

As he and the maids stepped out, a young servant turned the corner carrying a basket of folded cloth. His eyes landed on the notebook in Marven’s hand.

His face emptied of color, and he ran.

He made it about three steps before Marven appeared behind him. One sharp strike to the back of the neck dropped the servant to the floor, unconscious.

The maids watched silently.

Marven adjusted his gloves. "One of you pick up the basket and tidy up the clothes. The rest of you, bring him to Master."

They dragged the servant through hidden corridors and down into Luther’s private chamber.

Where Luther was waiting.

The servant was thrown onto the floor before him, with his hands and feet tied up. Marven placed the notebook on the broken remains of the table that had not yet been replaced.

"This was found beneath the floorboards in his room, my lord," Marven said. "He also tried to run."

Luther picked up the notebook and turned a few pages.

His expression did not change, but the air in the room grew colder.

"Good work," he said. "Let us find out how much he knows about us."

The servant stirred after a while.

His eyes opened slowly.

The first thing he saw was Luther Vael’thorr standing above him.

Relief flickered across his face for one foolish heartbeat. He still believed the noble lord of the estate had come to save him from some misunderstanding.

But then he saw Marven and the notebook. Above all, he saw the benevolent noble’s sinister smile.

The servant’s eyes widened in horror.

’Interesting...’ thought Luther. It looked like they still did not suspect him.

Luther crouched in front of him and gently patted his head.

"My lord," the man whispered, voice trembling. "I can explain."

"I am certain you can."

The servant shook his head quickly. "I did not know. I swear by the Dawn, I did not know you were part of it. I was watching the count. I never—"

Luther placed a finger against his lips, and the servant went silent.

"So you were not hunting me," Luther said softly. "But don’t worry. You are useful to me, so you won’t die." He said it with a smile that showed his fangs.

Tears gathered in the servant’s eyes.

"Please."

The servant tried to scream, but Luther caught him by the throat and bit into his neck.

Blood filled the room with its sweet iron scent. The man convulsed once, then again, while Luther drank. The struggle lasted less than a minute.

When Luther pulled away, the servant’s skin was suddenly pale, and his eyes were glassy and dark.

Devoted to only one master.

Luther stood up and wiped a drop of blood from his mouth with a white cloth.

The newly made thrall knelt before him without being told. Luther looked down at his new servant and smiled.

"Now," he said, "tell me everything the Church knows."