Dusk slowly crept over the horizon, swallowing the vast wilderness whole.
The group came to a halt beside a frozen stream.
Gentle slopes undulated on both sides of the stream, ending at a natural stone cliff three or four meters high at the bottom. Facing south, the rock face blocked the wind.
Beneath the cliff lay a relatively flat patch of open ground.
Vera pulled on her reins and dismounted smoothly.
Looking up to judge the cliff's height and angle, she nodded. “We'll camp here.”
Rosie clumsily dismounted after her and tethered her horse to a boulder.
Hawk's men parked the flatbed wagon at the edge of the camp, tight against the cliff face.
They unhitched the draft horses, tied their reins to another rock, and stepped back a few paces. Not a single one of them touched the black cloth.
Then, unloading rolls of canvas and folding wooden poles from the horses, they set about pitching tents with practiced efficiency.
Vera and Rosie gathered dried shrub branches, building a campfire on the open ground in front of the tents.
Orange-red flames flickered, illuminating the ground for a few yards around and pushing back some of the bite in the air.
Nikus fetched feed for the horses and laid it at their feet, waiting until they began to eat.
Only then did he lay his bedroll on a patch of flat ground at the base of the cliff, resting his greatsword across his knees as he leaned back against the stone to rest with eyes closed.
Vera sat on a stone near the campfire, placing her repeating crossbow across her lap to check the tension of the string.
Sitting on the opposite side of the fire, Rosie looked past the dancing flames, her eyes landing on the black cloth covering the wagon at the edge of the camp.
Vera glanced up at her. “Don't stare at the wagon. They're watching you.”
Rosie pulled her gaze back, picked up a twig from the woodpile, and tossed it into the fire, sending up a shower of sparks that drifted back down. “The prince specifically sent Hawk with us and made him bring that thing. It's hard not to be curious.”
“Whatever's inside probably isn't anything good,” Vera said.
Wind swept over the top of the cliff, letting out a low howl before breaking against the jagged stone edges and fading into the night sky.
Rosie was silent for a moment before speaking up again. “It's something alive in there.”
“Secrets always reveal themselves eventually. We'll find out when the time comes,” Vera replied.
“Can we really find that vampire? It can fly, after all.” Rosie changed the subject.
“Everyone acts on instinct, and vampires are no exception,” Vera said in her best expert tone. “It just awakened and was injured by you. It needs blood to recover.”
“The Kingdom of Norman is huge. Couldn't it just pick any random village? Why are you so sure it will head to Mahal?” Rosie asked.
Vera stowed her repeating crossbow and looked up at Rosie.
“An ordinary vampire might do that, but this is a vampire elder. It needs high-quality blood, not the sweat-soaked blood of bumpkins.”
“High-quality?” Rosie asked, puzzled.
“Did you forget why it captured that cleric?”
“Are you saying clerics have high-quality blood?”
“More or less. Mages are actually better, but those folks wouldn't set foot in a backwater like this,” Vera said. “Aside from Stratholme, Mahal is the only city in the southern part of Norman. It's a royal chartered territory filled with all kinds of preachers and mixed crowds.”
“So that's why you're sure it'll go there—it's the only place nearby with enough high-quality victims,” Rosie chimed in.
“Smart,” Vera smirked. “Though this vampire is a bit unusual. No one knows exactly what it'll do.”
A thick log in the fire snapped in two, the top half sliding down and sending up a shower of sparks.
“We set off first thing tomorrow morning and aim to reach Mahal before dark.” Vera stood up and dusted off her pants.
Rosie remained seated. “Hawk is way too calculating. I don't trust him.”
“Don't worry. House dogs like him won't make a move until their job is done.” With that, Vera walked toward the nearest tent. “I'm going to sleep first. I'll take the second watch.”
Rosie turned to Nikus. “Lord Nikus, you should rest in a tent as well.”
Nikus opened his eyes and shook his head. “My knight's armor repels the cold. This is more convenient.” Having said that, he closed his eyes once more.
Rosie looked at his heavy suit of armor with envy. Does that thing seriously come with built-in insulation? That's awesome, she thought to herself.
Night deepened.
Hawk and his men crawled into their tents one after another, leaving a single guard behind to watch the wagon.
Rosie sat by the campfire. Her meteoric iron sword remained resting at the ready by her side.
The wind picked up, slapping against the tent canvas in irregular thuds. Snowflakes danced in the firelight, softly hissing into tiny wisps of steam the moment they touched the edge of the embers.
A gust swept across the wilderness, carrying the campfire's smoke off to the southeast.
The night passed without incident.
By dawn, the fire had burned out, leaving only dull red embers at the edge of the ash. A layer of frost coated the tents, glinting in the early morning light.
Hawk's men were already up and packing away the tents, working in total silence without unnecessary chatter.
Rosie stood up and stretched her stiff shoulders. She pulled out her waterskin and took a gulp; the icy water instantly cleared the fog from her mind.
“Time to head out. We'll grab a quick bite in the saddle,” Vera said, leading her horse over.
Rosie didn't say anything, simply nodding in response.
The weather on the second day was pleasant. The clouds were much thinner than the day before, letting shafts of sunlight spill through the gaps and beam down onto the snow. The wind had abated as well, so they no longer needed to hunch their shoulders against a biting crosswind while riding.
The party picked up the pace, finally arriving at Mahal before sunset.
There was no portcullis above the city gate, only iron-bound wooden doors standing wide open. On either side of the archway stood a guard in worn leather armor, leaning casually on a spear.
Nikus rode up to the gate without dismounting. He flipped up his visor, revealing his face, and stated his name and title to the guards: “I am Viscount Nikus, Captain of the Third Battalion of the Order of Norman Knights.”
“My lord!” The guards immediately snapped to attention, straightening their spears. “How may we serve you?”
“I am on an urgent mission. Where is your commander?”
One of the guards quickly pointed inside the gate. “My lord! The captain is inside the guardhouse.”
“Take me to him,” Nikus said.
Guided by the guard, Nikus turned the corner to the guardhouse inside the gate. He dismounted and walked inside.
A moment later, Nikus stepped back out alongside a city guard clad in half-plate armor. He turned to the group and said, “Nothing suspicious has happened in Mahal over the last couple of days.”
Vera sat atop her horse, mused for a moment, and said, “Then we'll wait for it to come to us. Let's head to the city's largest temple.”
Nikus turned to the city guard. “What is the largest temple in Mahal?”
The guard immediately answered, “My lord, the largest is the Temple of Art, located in the southern district.”
Nikus nodded. “If anything suspicious concerning clergy occurs in the city, report to me immediately.”
“Yes, my lord!” The guard bowed promptly in agreement.
The vampire hunt squad set out once more.
The temple mentioned by the guard was easy to find. The buildings in Mahal were generally low-built, but in the southern district stood a massive structure whose soaring spires were visible from several streets away. Its outer walls were painted purple, glowing with a soft, matte sheen in the evening twilight.
Two young women in purple robes stood at the temple entrance. Seeing the group stop outside, they stepped forward with welcoming smiles. “Welcome to the Temple of Art! Are you here to pray, or perhaps...”
Nikus presented his credentials. “I am a Norman knight. I require an audience with whoever is in charge here.”
A moment later, they were led inside, passing down a corridor lined with deep purple carpet into a reception hall at the rear.
A sweet incense burned in the room, its subtle fragrance lingering in the air. Several murals depicting scenes of music and dance hung on the walls.
The person receiving them was a beautiful woman in a sheer, floor-length gown. The fabric was deep purple and semi-transparent, shimmering with a fluid luster in the candlelight. Her exact age was hard to tell, but her skin was remarkably well-maintained, and her demeanor carried a serene, seductive composure born of experience.
“Greetings, honored guests. I am Cassia, High Priestess of the Temple of Art.” The beautiful woman's voice carried a languid, melodious lilt, almost as if she were singing.
“I am Viscount Nikus, Captain of the Third Battalion of the Order of Norman Knights,” Nikus introduced himself.
He then briefly explained their purpose: they were hunting a culprit specifically targeting clergy and hoped for the temple's cooperation.
After hearing him out, the High Priestess asked no further questions, simply nodding with a smile in agreement. She then clapped her hands.
The curtain on the side of the hall was drawn back, and over a dozen young women entered in single file. They wore gauzy dresses of various colors that swayed gently with their steps. Some had their long hair flowing loose while others wore it pinned up, all sporting graceful smiles.
They lined up behind the High Priestess, gazing curiously at the visitors.
“These are handmaidens of the temple...” the High Priestess introduced. “They will keep you company during your night in Mahal. You may do as you wish...”
Rosie stood in place without moving, her expression unreadable.
Vera shook her head, declining politely. “Thank you for your hospitality, but that won't be necessary.”
Nikus waved a hand dismissively as well, staying silent.
Hawk stood near the rear of the group. His eyes swept over the line of young women, lingering for a brief moment before he, too, shook his head. A few of his men had brightened at the sight, but after a sharp glance sideways from Hawk, they fell completely silent, none daring to accept.
Seeing that everyone had declined, the High Priestess did not mind. Maintaining her smile, she gave a light wave of her hand. The young women curtsied and filed out of the reception hall.
“In that case, please make yourselves at home. Let me know if you require anything else.” With that, the High Priestess took her leave.
Hawk was stationed in the temple's outer courtyard, making it convenient to tend to the horses and their mysterious wagon.
Rosie, Vera, and Nikus were arranged in rooms near the inner courtyard corridor. Nikus got a room to himself, while Rosie and Vera shared a room.
Their room was modest in size but neat and clean. A large wooden bed rested against the wall, covered with a deep purple sheet, and an oil lamp sat on the nightstand. The window faced the temple's rear courtyard, where an unfamiliar tree stretched its interlaced branches against the dusk.
“I've always heard that the Temple of Art has special ways of recruiting followers. Seems the rumors were true,” Vera said with a grin.
“Can followers gathered like that truly be devout?” Rosie asked, taking off her pack.
“They're devout while in the temple, at least,” Vera replied, laying down her weapons.
Rosie plopped down onto the bed. It was soft and comfortable, wafting a subtle fragrance. “I feel pretty devout right now, even though I don't even know what the God of Art looks like,” she said.
...
That night, the group split into two shifts to take turns keeping watch. Since they couldn't enter the High Priestess's prayer room, they kept watch nearby. Rosie and Nikus took the first watch; Hawk's men and Vera took the second.
It had to be said that the Temple of Art certainly had style. Even out in the corridor, rich incense hung thick in the air, relaxing the mind and body.
The night passed quickly.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the gaps in the window, casting long, slender streaks of light across the floor. As Rosie sat on the edge of the bed wiping down her meteoric iron sword, she heard hurried footsteps approaching.
A moment later, a knock sounded at the door next door.
Vera opened her door to see a city guard standing outside Nikus's room.
“Is Lord Nikus here?”
Nikus stepped out of his room, his voice steady. “What is it?”
The guard straightened up. “Reporting, my lord—the priest of the Temple of War is dead!”
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