He nodded softly and released her. Lauralee closed the door behind her and set off to find the maids she would be taking with her. She was hungry, come to think of it.
In the end, it took her until the sun was almost cresting the horizon to get everything together. One of her maids had already left the manor and returned home to her meagre apartment in one of the lower quarters. Stealing her away without the matron of the house noticing had been a minor diversion. Lauralee had assisted her in packing what few possessions she had, once the girl accepted, she would be coming along. It would have been a waste of time to leave her to pack everything herself, and time was the commodity Lauralee had the least of at that moment.
But she had made it, it was a close-run thing. Indeed, it was the shadows of the city’s tall roofs that had protected her in the end, the sunlight splashing across open courtyards, but kept back yet from smaller avenues.
It was in one of these she had loaded up her carriage. Her own possessions, and the maids, loaded onto the back and strapped down by the driver, the same man who had brought her to Jane some months prior and knew better than to ask why they were suddenly departing. He was a man of Nachthelm, her home, and was loyal to the Mothers and Daughters without any need for magical persuasion.
Now they trundled along the thoroughfares of the city, carriage bouncing slightly as it went over the cobbles. Outside, the noises of a city just beginning to wake reached Lauralee’s ears. It was an unfamiliar sound, for this was an hour she was very rarely awake, let alone outside. But the sights of the waking city did not reach her, as the carriage lacked any windows bar a slat that could be pulled closed for speaking with the driver.
Three maids sat with her, or dozed, heads lolling against one another’s shoulders. The three who knew the truth of her identity and purpose here. Amber, who’s tumbling red locks and “cute as a button” cheeks were something the austere Lauralee fostered a quiet envy for, and who’s blood had a vibrant, almost spiced texture to it that made it hard to resist taking more than her fair share at times. Myra, a quiet thing, with her dark hair cut in a bob cut, dozed against Amber’s shoulder. Lauralee had been feeding from her just the night before, and the girl still felt woozy from it. Lastly, Sasha, who’s blonde hair was cut similarly to Lauralee’s own, but the difference in their height and features would never cause anyone to say they carried any sort of resemblance. She looked the most nervous of the three to be leaving her home.
‘Sasha?’ Lauralee asked quietly, putting down the book she had just started to open.
‘Yes, mistress?’
‘Come here, please.’
The other girl shuffled over to sit beside Lauralee, fear dancing in her eyes. The bite had many benefits, sating her hunger of course. Rejuvenating her vitality and stamina. But more than that, those who her kind fed upon regularly, found it more and more difficult to refuse them. Sasha tilted her head to the side obediently, exposing her neck, as a thrill of predatory instinct rushed through Lauralee. The want to feed and feed and not stop until she was coated in blood. It was always there, that thirst. Controlling it was what separated true vampires from mere beasts.
She lay a gentle kiss against Sasha’s cheek.
‘Don’t be scared. It’s not going to hurt, you know that.’
Then her arms wrapped about the girl and she sated her thirst, for now.
After that, even Lauralee deigned to sleep. The warm carriage pulled her into a doze for several hours, arms still wrapped about Sasha. This was to be a journey of at least a week or two, maybe more, depending on the weather. Her driver was still mortal and could not ride at all hours. They’d be stopping at a number of waystations and taverns along the way so they could get proper rest. They’d be hitting the first of them late in the following evening, he told her through the slats of the wood. That gave her time to begin her report, now that she had fed and rested. She was feeling much more herself, more than she had in some time, perhaps since Jane’s madness truly began to come clear to her. Gods, what she’d do for a bath, but that would have to wait.
She rummaged through the things she had within the carriage with her, looking for a pen and parchment to begin her report. Her hand paused against the book she had with her. Wyvernclaw Chronicles. She flushed, for she had fed recently enough to do so. She’d meant to return that to the library, and that nice blind dwarven librarian before she left. She’d likely never do so now. She paused at the thought, and a small chuckle left her lips. That was hardly the worst of her crimes, and was in many ways, a bizarre thing for one such as her to feel even an ounce of guilt for. Yet still she did. Curious.
There it was. Her hand found the pen case where it hid from her at the bottom of her satchel. She shuffled about in the carriage so she could pull down the board in the wall, specially designed to serve as a miniature writing table in moments like this. The maids were quietly talking amongst themselves now, but she paid them no heed. She nibbled on the back of the pen, trying to figure out how she would even begin this report.
Dear Mother,
I hope this missive finds you well. I am not ashamed to admit I miss you most terribly. This city and its people have ill-suited me and I pine for the comfort of the manor once more. I send this missive ahead of me as an early warning of the strange tidings I have to tell, but first I feel I should lead with the most tragic news. Mother Jane is dead. I would name her assailant, but in truth, I place the blame of her death squarely at her own feet. Whilst I have been with her, I have seen caution and propriety flee before the oncoming hordes of bluster and madness, brought about by a strange acquisition.
Mother Jane treated with a strange, terrible creature that named itself ‘Icaria, Scholar of Ascension’. Its servants are creatures of moulded flesh and whimsical mutation, brought about by the desires of their creator. She traded this creature a mystical tome, the secrets to which I am not privy. But its value must’ve been great, for in exchange she received not only a spell-book curated with the most dangerous of magics, as well as a small force of the scholar’s creations to serve her will. Nay, she also received a demi-god, recumbent and indisposed within a coffin. I believe this demi-god’s blood was the source of her madness. For once she had acquired it, she began to feed upon it regularly, not in lieu of other sources of vitae, but in addition to. Many servants died to her hunger in the following weeks. But great power did she receive from this creature, for Jane’s magic, strength and will reached levels I had thought impossible even for those of our vaunted kind. However, her confidence in these abilities would prove to be her downfall.
A noble girl stole into Jane’s vault within the royal library, apparently with the intent of repairing a broken window, but chanced upon the gifted spell-book, and saw within the illegal spells that this scholar had gifted Mother Jane. Jane threatened this girl, and when she retorted with the knowledge of these spells, Jane did attack, provoking the girl into flight with the spell-book, using the magics within. After she defeated all sent against her, with the aid of sellswords she encountered on the roads of the nation, Jane did then decide to poison her parentage, to provoke her into self-exile. This appears to have been the catalyst to provoke the girl into forward action, for she did arrive at the manor with allies in tow. It was my belief that Jane did act far too publicly in these matters, as more and more known warriors died at her behest, and more and more servants disappeared from our manor. She did deal with this girl to have her parentage cured of the poisoning but was remiss in following through. In my humble opinion as your daughter, the public poisoning, with quite insidious and fast-acting poisons, unique to Nachthelm, against, not only well-known nobles, but close friends of the king, was far too public an action. It was at this time I did decide that Jane’s bluster had made her a threat to the mothers and daughters as a whole. I admit, I did not aid Jane during the battle, and indeed, it was I, in disguise as a maid, who provided the girl with the antidotes to the poisons, before they could be identified by physicians who would lead her back to Nachthelm. It is my belief that it was better that Mother Jane perish, being thought of as a solitary force, or a rogue agent, than as a member of our family, working in concert with us. I have collected or disposed of all references of her affiliations with us in the hopes to reduce the impact of her folly, but I fear that despite my efforts, the name of the Mother’s Hand will be known in Russenholde for time to come. I advise great caution in how we proceed. Seeking vengeance against this girl will only draw greater attention to us. However, I believe that this ‘Scholar of Ascension’ creature bears further investigation. It is my belief that the level of power it is able to give away so freely insinuates that it holds even greater power back for itself. This creature could prove to be a threat not only to Russenholde, but the region as a whole, Nachthelm included. This belief is only doubled with the knowledge that Mother Jane has given unto it something with value and power it believes equal to a spell-book worthy of an archmage, a force of its creations and a demigod.
Addendum: It is worth noting the demigod appears to be active once more and has returned to the celestial realm. Mother Jane kept me at arms-length, so my knowledge of the creature is lacking, but in the final moments, the demigod appeared to aid the noble girl’s companions in defeating Jane, by creating a burst of sunlight. To my surprise, this sunlight only weakened Jane momentarily, rather than destroyed her. This speaks to just how much power its blood was able to provide, but I do not believe the madness was a worthy trade. As you have taught me, what is power without wisdom?
P.S I miss you. I look forward to coming home.
Your loving daughter,
Lauralee
She folded the letter carefully, after dusting it with sand and giving it time to dry, then slid it away into an envelope. The next time they stopped, she’d find a messenger company to run ahead. With the ability to switch horses and riders, they’d get the letter to Nachthelm days, if not weeks, before she arrived. She sealed the envelope with a dollop of wax, stamped with her mother’s symbol.
Then she looked up and let out a small sigh. That had killed a few minutes at most. She had weeks of travelling in what amounted to a tiny coffin to endure. Once they were properly out of Russenholde territory she was going to insist they stop so she could have a run while the moon was high.
For now, she settled into her seat. Sasha looked sidelong at her, wondering if she was going to address them. She shook her head, but reached into her satchel, retrieving a pack of cards she flicked in the maid’s direction. Give them something to busy themselves with.
She picked up her book. Finding her place and trying to get comfortable.
She remembered briefly that Syline had asked they meet for coffee sometime, that they come together to discuss the series. Her lips turned to a half-smirk. What a different world that would have been. Now, she knew it would be for the best for all involved if she and Syline never saw one another. Perhaps in another life, or, well unlife, they could have been friends.
Almost two weeks later, far south, in the city-state of Nachthelm, a letter was opened. The pearl-handled letter opener was set aside, as the reader settled into their high-backed leather chair to read. Outside, the city was empty. Those who valued their lives knew better than to be out after curfew in Nachthelm. The steady percussion of the city regimentary marching down the streets was even muffled by the gentle snowfall. Nights like this put a smile on her face. Nights like this were a vision to what she imagined other nations could become, with their guidance. Orderly, safe, prosperous.
She read the letter. A small smile found its way to her lips at the final note left by her daughter, but it fled quickly as the rest of the news resettled itself within her mind. She turned to the maid standing by the door.
‘Fetch my mage, I need a message sent to all my available sisters. I need them here by the time Lauralee returns.’
The maid nodded and departed. She turned in her chair to face the window once more, looking up at the moon.
‘Jane’s dead,’ she mused aloud, letting the words curdle in her mind.
An oil slick smile spread itself across her cheeks. But this “Scholar of Ascension”, that was a worry. That was something she knew nothing of, and she did not like to feel in the dark about anything that went on in her domain, and whether or not it fell within the borders of Nachthelm, this entire region was her domain, as far as she was concerned.
She gently placed a hand on the letter, looking over the final words one more time.
