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[Villian] Chapter 55: Slavers from Staedbergh
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 02:55:22 +0000 UTCDamien and Fay lay upon the large but creaking bed. Damien attempted to suppress his germaphobia from acting up. Fay had thoroughly cleaned the room and bed sheets multiple times yet couldn’t remove the yellowing of the sheets nor the peculiar stains from the floorboards.
Having been hospital bound on modern Earth, Damien wondered how anyone could settle for these awful living conditions. He was staying at the most prestigious inn the town had to offer, yet there were no toilet facilities except for a crude bucket in the far corner—not that he needed them, but Fay certainly did. The building was poorly constructed with rusty nails jutting from the floorboards; the room was drafty, and cold winter winds whirled through cracks in the walls like a screaming banshee.
He had bought out the entire inn for only a single silver coin. The innkeeper tried to give him the room for free, but he wished to win the population’s support and keep nasty rumors to a minimum.
“So you wish to run a drug cartel,” Fay whispered with an alluring smile on her face. Damien glanced at her but quickly returned his sights to the ceiling. He didn’t mind sharing a bed with Fay so long as he could pretend she wasn’t there. It felt like sharing a bed with a pig or cow; she was still livestock in his eyes.
Damien let out a sigh and began voicing his thoughts. “I plan to live for a long time, potentially forever. To accomplish this safely, I must have the personal strength to defend myself. A mundane mortal tries to live day to day. But the curse of immortality is that any inconceivably unlikely event becomes guaranteed as time moves along.
“Both the vampires and the humans despise me. Neither can be considered a safe place to live without watching my back at every turn. Although the Mage Tower is a perfect temporary backer, I prefer to be the one in control. I despise leaving my fate in the hands of others. What if the Mage Tower collapses? Or an Archmage dislikes me and kills me? It would be all over.
“Therefore, I wish to take matters into my own hands, develop my own power and those around me that I can trust or mind control. Blackthorn is the start of that. We both require elemental stones to advance to A-grade in our respective schools of magic. Although these elemental stones are more common in the central continent, they are still ludicrously expensive and gathering all the ones we require by ourselves would take far too long.
“I have few options to acquire such a vast level of wealth. I know the location of a few items and could sell some information to affluent buyers, but my knowledge only extends so far into the future, and those funds will eventually run out. So, I need a steady income stream that is profitable and fits my abilities.
“I was granted a barren wasteland filled with farmers that cannot farm and hunters that have nothing to hunt. The king has done this on purpose. I am tied to this useless land that he believes cannot help my growth of power and influence.
“This is where the drug cartel comes into play. With my unique skill set of guaranteeing loyalty, I will set up operations here over the next few weeks, and once I am sure it can function without my input, I will have secured a never-ending income stream to fuel our rise to power. We can then venture off to the central continent.”
Fay politely hid a yawn behind her hand as her eyes slowly closed. “How will we cross the mountains?”
Damien pondered for a moment, but then a fantastic idea came to mind. “Have you ever heard of the floating city Icrilis?”
Fay’s droopy eyes opened with excitement. “The city of mages? Where the Archmages vote on research papers?”
Damien nodded slightly. “Indeed, the yearly conference occurs during the summer months. If I can write something to impress the Archmages in the Mage Tower, they will allow me to join them on the expedition to Icrilis.”
Fay’s breathing slowed down as her eyes closed once more. “I always dreamed of going…” she said in between yawns as she drifted off to sleep with a peaceful expression.
Damien smirked as he closed his eyes to ‘sleep.’
He did not dream; instead, it was a peculiar state of mind. Nevertheless, he was conscious and aware of his surroundings, the rhythmic breathing of a sleeping Fay, the movement of insects hidden in the darkest corners of the bedroom, the activity of Blackthorn’s residents in the dead of night.
He lay there motionless, yet his mind was ticking away. He felt as if he was suspended in the void, surrounded by a bubble that displayed memories he did not remember making.
Memories of a long, long life inside the Kazimir Mountains. Compared to his measly human life, his vampire one dwarfed it in both magnitude and apparent misery.
He was called weak and laughed at, hidden away to avoid embarrassment. He felt different from the others. He watched as his siblings slowly lost their sanity over the years; the endless boredom of eternity corrupted even the purest of souls. With little entertainment within that everlasting prison, Damien sought something new, something greater. The others laughed at him and labeled him a foolish prince who didn’t understand the wider world.
They were right.
If Damien from Earth hadn’t transmigrated into this body, the previous owner, the clueless and lost prince, would have died a short and pathetic death, one way or another.
There would always be a quirky one, a person who didn’t fit the mold society had presented them. Damien was one such vampire. Unfortunately, the noble vampires had little interest in pursuing the arcane, which was a real shame considering their eternal life. Instead, they sought to fulfill their desires to artificially increase their power for pointless internal politics.
Noble vampires were intelligent yet lacked the resources and safety to utilize their minds. The Kazimir Mountains were bare of resources, especially plant life. Although vampires did not require water nor traditional food to survive, they lacked the ability and resources to make clothes or anything intricate like furniture.
Damien found it rather amusing looking through his body’s memories. He almost laughed at the hundreds of wasted years. Due to his aptitude for magic and refusal to train in the martial arts that utilized Blood magic as it corrupted its practitioner’s soul, Damien was weaker than a Thrall and possibly even a mundane human trained in Weapon Arts. Luckily, Damien had taken over and made full use of this body’s latent and hidden potential. It was pointless to teach a fish to climb a tree, as they say.
Ever since unlocking Sleep Casting and Perception Field, Damien’s way of sleeping had changed. Instead of dreaming, he found himself casually browsing through his vast library of distant memories while keeping an eye out on his immediate surroundings that were displayed to him in faint outlines.
The closest analogy he could make was x-ray vision. He couldn’t see color or smell. It was also a soundless void. The only small glimpse of change was the tiny ball of light that sat within every living being—their soul. He watched the tiny lightbulbs of light wander around the outlined world with amusement.
If Damien looked within himself, he could see his soul, a blinding sun that appeared to dwarf any other. Golden chains pierced the void in all directions, showing his soul links.
Damien had pondered at length over the reasons for his abnormally large soul. Did he merge with the previous Damien’s soul? Were all noble vampire souls this large? He, unfortunately, was grasping at straws and could only make up wild theories.
He let out a mental sigh and vowed to increase his personal power and security so that he could return to sleeping like normal. Currently, he felt imprisoned in his mind; sleep was a time to rest and forget life’s worries. Yet he found himself having the deepest and most bothersome thoughts during this time of peace.
Damien expanded out his senses to cover the entire central part of Blackthorn. There were many residents enjoying their lovers’ embrace. Although slightly off-putting, it was relatively easy to ignore due to the lack of sound or intricate detail. Apart from lovemaking, there was some nightlife, although rather primitive due to the lack of street lamps. Drunks wandered the dark alleys, and a few whores attempted to draw in customers for the night.
Damien quickly got tired of watching the nightly activities of featureless, outlined people and instead turned his attention to the largest building in town.
Within the second floor of the mayor’s house, a group of three outlines, likely men, surrounded a man sleeping in a bed. Damien assumed it must be Leon from the outline.
Feeling left out of the fun, he activated his clairvoyance skill. It was an interesting skill; if he had to describe the sensation, it was like watching an event through a television screen in his mind.
Three men surrounded Leon’s sleeping body with concerned and anxious expressions. Their clothes were of higher class compared to the rags the common riff-raff wore around these parts.
One man with a terrible bowl cut spoke up. “I can’t believe this! One more batch! One more batch, I tell you, that’s all we required, gents, and then this happens? Preposterous! Duke Nightshade? A fucking vampire is proclaiming himself as a duke of all things?”
“Cameron, calm down. What if he can hear us?”
“Calm down? Calm down you tell me? Listen here, Cameron; I was there for three days…three days from leaving these wastelands and these poor fucks. I was planning on returning to society, and now it’s hopeless!”
The bowl-cut man pointed at Leon, who was deathly pale and shallowly breathing. “A war is coming, and everyone knows it. My father has requested I return home! I cannot remain here any longer!”
Cameron shrugged. “I told you to stop pushing your luck here, Mike; why don’t you just leave?”
Mike gaped at Cameron as if looking at a fool. “With what supplies? With what horse, you fucking idiot? Of course, that’s assuming that vampire bastard even lets me leave. You saw how he has complete power over us ordinary people. We just had one last deal with those bastards from Staedbergh…”
The third man who had been quiet till now spoke in a tired voice. “Their caravan arrives in three days. Maybe we can make a deal with the vampire? We could offer him an eighty percent cut but swindle him for a better cut for ourselves?”
Mike stared at the tall but quiet man in disbelief. “Alex, do you truly believe you can swindle a vampire? Go on, be my guest!”
Alex shrank back under Mike’s shouting and protested, “Well? What options do we have, Mike? Those slave traders will butcher us! Aren’t they bringing a force large enough to capture all two thousand residents here as slaves? Although they might flee once they learn of the vampire residing here, they will hunt us down in revenge, I’m sure of it!”
Leon’s misty eyes opened, and he stared daggers at his closest associates, causing them all to freeze in place.
“You should all run,” he said, “There’s no hope left for us here with that Vampire’s presence.”
Damien grinned. Who would have thought he almost missed such an interesting conversation?
Comments
Marin Schmidt
TFTC a great book to breeze through
