Lydia closed the door, leaving Drake once more with Samuel. The man grabbed a portion of his sheet and casually wiped the blood off his hand. As he flexed his palm and opened it, there was no sign of the cut from Lydia’s spirit knife.
As for Drake’s, it was hurting worse by the moment. “Damn, this stings. Maybe we can set up a syringe system or something.”
“Is a syringe a tool from your world?”
“Yes, and it’s a hell of a lot more convenient than stabbing myself in the palm every time I want to pick up a new rarity. The palm is like the worst place to get cut.”
Samuel simply grunted in response.
“So how fast do you regenerate?” Drake asked. “It seems like it took you awhile.”
“The time this took was unusual.” Samuel frowned. “I can only imagine that the damage inflicted by those demons went deeper than damage inflicted by mortal beings.”
“Demons would do that, I guess. So setting aside if I get melted by demons, how long should I expect before I start healing up from normal attacks? Human attacks?”
“Small cuts from mortal weapons heal rather quickly. The time to heal a wound varies based on the severity of the cut. The deeper and wider an injury is, the longer it takes to heal. I cannot give you precise figures, but I can say the speed decreases exponentially as the wound grows.”
“So small cut fast, big wound much slower.” Drake nodded. “What about other injuries, like burns and such?”
“Again, it depends on the severity of the burn, but expect similar results. Small burns will heal quickly, while burning a good portion of your arm could take days to heal.”
“And what if something gets chopped off? Like if you lose a whole arm?”
“While it would take months, if I were able to avoid dying of blood loss from the severed limb, perhaps through the use of a tourniquet, the arm would eventually grow back. But such a feat takes months of rest. Even when complete, the arm would be slow to regain its strength.”
“And if I get my head chopped off?”
“I do not believe either of us could heal from that.”
“Highlander rules it is then. Makes perfect sense.” Drake frowned. “Let’s hope this works. The only other time I swapped rarities, it was when I took a bolt to the arm and Lydia bled all over me. I haven’t tried it with just the hand. I’m hoping all we need is the hand.”
They sat in a not entirely awkward silence after that. Soon enough, Lydia returned with everything they’d asked for, then insisted on binding Drake’s palm herself. He appreciated her thoughtfulness. Once he was no longer bleeding everywhere, it was time to shuffle off.
“Oh, Samuel, one more thing.” Drake pointed at the backpack in the corner. “Spy scrolls in there. Pretty much everything you missed. When you get time, can you look those over?”
His stoic shaggy-bearded caterpillar nodded. “That was already my intent.”
“No one is paying much attention now, lord,” Lydia said. “If you like, I can lead you to the tent.”
“Thanks.” He closed his eyes as she helped him out of the wagon, then took easy steps across what felt like mostly level ground. He was curious to see the camp, but that could wake until there was no longer the chance he would accidentally flutterstep into a tree.
What sounded like heavy leather crinkled, probably Lydia pushing back the entry to his private tent. He hoped it was private. If Emily insisted on sleeping in here with them, he doubted he was going to get much sleep... given he’d already heard her snore.
Still, he knew at least one of his battle maids was going to insist on sleeping in this tent. He understood their reasons. Lydia would be the best candidate, given he felt the most comfortable with her sleeping in the same tent with him, so he’d suggest it to her.
“You may open your eyes, lord.”
He opened his eyes to find himself inside a sturdy-looking tent that looked to be made of leather and other similar materials. He felt no trace of wind. The single lantern hanging from a hook at the center of a wooden brace provided more than enough light.
As he looked around, he was surprised to find how much this “tent” was basically a large room. The wooden braces throughout made it almost as big as his master bedroom, though obviously, he had no four-post bed. That meant he actually had more space. The inside of his tent included a small desk, several chairs, and multiple bedrolls, as well as a table for eating.
While the ground was scrubby grass and dirt, his people had tossed down a number of thick hides that would provide a soft cushion for his feet even if he took his boots off. He suspected those hides would be warmer than cold ground. The bedrolls looked snug.
There was also a smaller “tent within a tent” which was basically just some extra sheets hung up in the corner, likely for private matters like changing clothes. He wondered what they were going to do about the bathroom. He hoped they had a magical self-cleaning toilet.
Drake glanced at Lydia. “We’re really carting all this furniture to the capital?”
“It is not much by a lord’s standards,” Lydia said. “But Val suspected you would be comfortable traveling lighter than most manor lords.”
“That woman knows her lords,” Drake agreed. “Still, all this space for me?”
“I will be sleeping in here as well.”
Drake nodded. This was a huge space, she had her own bedroll, and it made sense to have his steward nearby in case he needed her. This wasn’t weird.
“Samuel will also be sleeping in this tent now that he has recovered,” Lydia continued, “along with Emily. Valentia, Nicole, and the rest of our people will be sleeping in smaller tents around this one. The final ring of our camp will be zarovian patrollers. They can go long periods without sleep, so we will be using them as our first line of defense.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Drake said. “And Emily will see anyone approaching the tent long before they reach it thanks to her soul-seeing rarity.”
“I should warn you, she does snore.”
Drake chuckled. “I heard. I’ll survive.”
Lydia grimaced. “I have brought earplugs. I would suggest you use them.”
Drake took another look around the space. “Say... what about Anna?”
“You wish her to sleep in this tent with us?”
“Jeremy’s not here.” Anna’s father remained back at the manor, tending to the stables. “She knows me and you better than most. Would it be a problem?”
Lydia smiled warmly. “I don’t see why not. I’ll go find her and let her know.”
Drake glanced around his new tent. “You know... this might be pretty nice. Like a camp out. You folks made this place downright cozy.”
“I will pass your compliments along to the thralls.”
“People. And actually, why don’t I tell them myself?” He shuffled over to a seat and sat down. “Supper’s next, right? After my new rarity kicks in, I can have a look around our new camp so I’ll know my way around. I assume we set it up the same way each night?”
“In most situations.” She pointed at a curtain. “Zuri sent along a small package for you with instructions that only you should open it. I’ve left it by your bedroll.”
“A package, huh?” Drake frowned. “Any idea what’s in it?”
“I did not wish to open it without your permission.”
“I’m giving you permission to read my mail,” Drake said. “From now on, I mean. I can look over the package for now. I don’t think Zuri would harm me.”
“On that we agree.” Lydia took a breath. “Then, if there is nothing else, and with your permission, I will go and fetch Anna.”
“You don’t need my permission, but thanks.” He waved her away. “I’ll be fine here.”
“Val even now stands watch outside this tent, and Cresh has placed one zarovian at each corner. Also, Sachi reported back while you were in the wagon. There are no enemies nearby she can detect.”
Drake impatiently waved her off. “I’m in good hands here! I know. Now go do what you need to. I promise not to die before you get back.”
Lydia turned and strode from the tent.
Drake pushed aside the privacy curtain hanging in front of his bedroll and found a small pouch sitting beside his bedroll. It was a hip pouch that was about the right size to hold a lot of coins or a can of beer. He settled on his bedroll and opened the pouch.
Inside he found a folded note inside as well as three gleaming crystal vials each about the length of his index finger. Was this a parting gift from Zuri? He unfolded the note and perused his mediator’s elegant script.
Lord Gloomwood,
I am glad that we were finally able to learn the specific operation of your rarity. In the time since we did so, I completed my inventory of magical artifacts in our possession. Since you will soon be meeting other manor lords, I wish you to be as well-equipped as possible.
The three small vials in this pack are called blood flasks, and are commonly held by manor lords. Once a lord stores the blood of a thrall inside this flask, they need simply dip their own pricked finger into the flask to contact the thrall whose blood resides in the flask. They can then compel their thralls to follow commands even at a great distance.
You need not worry about replacing the blood once you have gathered it. The flasks also have preservative properties. Once a thrall’s blood resides in the flask, you need not replace the blood unless you wish to store the blood of a different thrall. Blood stored inside a blood flask will never clot or age so long as you keep the flask sealed.
I hope you will find these artifacts useful for your purposes. I wish you every success in Korhaurbauten and eagerly await your return. Be safe, lord.
Yours,
Zuri
Drake smiled as he read the letter again. While Zuri’s words were warm, it didn’t feel like she was coming onto him. That had been the obedience fetish. What it felt like, instead, was that she actually trusted him to lead. She had also come through for him once more.
Zuri knew he couldn’t compel his thralls to do anything, so he had no way to compel them from a distance. She also knew what he could use was a way to preserve blood for long periods of time, and she had written her letter in a way that only he would understand. Even now, Zuri was cautious about any letter she wrote being intercepted by their enemies.
Anyone else who read this letter—and who didn’t know Drake had ceased compelling his people through the blood pact—would just assume Zuri truly had been advising him on how to compel his thralls from a distance. This was the type of writing and speaking he needed to perfect over the next few days. Speaking truths that meant something entirely different.
He lifted one of the small flasks out of the pouch and examined it. It was about the size of a test tube from his world, and it weighed almost nothing at all. He’d barely notice the weight of these flasks once he secured the hip pouch on his belt.
He had three blood flasks now. So if he got a sample of Samuel’s blood, and a sample of Emily’s blood, and a sample of Anna’s blood, he could carry those all around in his pouch and, if anyone asked, simply say he used it to compel his thralls. No one would think it was odd for a manor lord to carry around blood flasks, since apparently, manor lords did that sort of thing.
With these flasks, he could freely swap out rarities even when his people weren’t around to offer their blood. That was going to be very useful. He could store blood and keep it perfectly preserved. That meant he could use these flasks to plan ahead.
Drake tucked the flasks back into the pouch and then attached to pouch to his belt. He saw no reason not to keep these flasks on him for the time being. He didn’t think anyone could get into his tent and steal them, but he might as well get used to carrying this pouch around.
And to the idea of storing people’s blood like a literal vampire.
Lydia closed the door, leaving Drake once more with Samuel. The man grabbed a portion of his sheet and casually wiped the blood off his hand. As he flexed his palm and opened it, there was no sign of the cut from Lydia’s spirit knife.
As for Drake’s, it was hurting worse by the moment. “Damn, this stings. Maybe we can set up a syringe system or something.”
“Is a syringe a tool from your world?”
“Yes, and it’s a hell of a lot more convenient than stabbing myself in the palm every time I want to pick up a new rarity. The palm is like the worst place to get cut.”
Samuel simply grunted in response.
“So how fast do you regenerate?” Drake asked. “It seems like it took you awhile.”
“The time this took was unusual.” Samuel frowned. “I can only imagine that the damage inflicted by those demons went deeper than damage inflicted by mortal beings.”
“Demons would do that, I guess. So setting aside if I get melted by demons, how long should I expect before I start healing up from normal attacks? Human attacks?”
“Small cuts from mortal weapons heal rather quickly. The time to heal a wound varies based on the severity of the cut. The deeper and wider an injury is, the longer it takes to heal. I cannot give you precise figures, but I can say the speed decreases exponentially as the wound grows.”
“So small cut fast, big wound much slower.” Drake nodded. “What about other injuries, like burns and such?”
“Again, it depends on the severity of the burn, but expect similar results. Small burns will heal quickly, while burning a good portion of your arm could take days to heal.”
“And what if something gets chopped off? Like if you lose a whole arm?”
“While it would take months, if I were able to avoid dying of blood loss from the severed limb, perhaps through the use of a tourniquet, the arm would eventually grow back. But such a feat takes months of rest. Even when complete, the arm would be slow to regain its strength.”
“And if I get my head chopped off?”
“I do not believe either of us could heal from that.”
“Highlander rules it is then. Makes perfect sense.” Drake frowned. “Let’s hope this works. The only other time I swapped rarities, it was when I took a bolt to the arm and Lydia bled all over me. I haven’t tried it with just the hand. I’m hoping all we need is the hand.”
They sat in a not entirely awkward silence after that. Soon enough, Lydia returned with everything they’d asked for, then insisted on binding Drake’s palm herself. He appreciated her thoughtfulness. Once he was no longer bleeding everywhere, it was time to shuffle off.
“Oh, Samuel, one more thing.” Drake pointed at the backpack in the corner. “Spy scrolls in there. Pretty much everything you missed. When you get time, can you look those over?”
His stoic shaggy-bearded caterpillar nodded. “That was already my intent.”
“No one is paying much attention now, lord,” Lydia said. “If you like, I can lead you to the tent.”
“Thanks.” He closed his eyes as she helped him out of the wagon, then took easy steps across what felt like mostly level ground. He was curious to see the camp, but that could wake until there was no longer the chance he would accidentally flutterstep into a tree.
What sounded like heavy leather crinkled, probably Lydia pushing back the entry to his private tent. He hoped it was private. If Emily insisted on sleeping in here with them, he doubted he was going to get much sleep... given he’d already heard her snore.
Still, he knew at least one of his battle maids was going to insist on sleeping in this tent. He understood their reasons. Lydia would be the best candidate, given he felt the most comfortable with her sleeping in the same tent with him, so he’d suggest it to her.
“You may open your eyes, lord.”
He opened his eyes to find himself inside a sturdy-looking tent that looked to be made of leather and other similar materials. He felt no trace of wind. The single lantern hanging from a hook at the center of a wooden brace provided more than enough light.
As he looked around, he was surprised to find how much this “tent” was basically a large room. The wooden braces throughout made it almost as big as his master bedroom, though obviously, he had no four-post bed. That meant he actually had more space. The inside of his tent included a small desk, several chairs, and multiple bedrolls, as well as a table for eating.
While the ground was scrubby grass and dirt, his people had tossed down a number of thick hides that would provide a soft cushion for his feet even if he took his boots off. He suspected those hides would be warmer than cold ground. The bedrolls looked snug.
There was also a smaller “tent within a tent” which was basically just some extra sheets hung up in the corner, likely for private matters like changing clothes. He wondered what they were going to do about the bathroom. He hoped they had a magical self-cleaning toilet.
Drake glanced at Lydia. “We’re really carting all this furniture to the capital?”
“It is not much by a lord’s standards,” Lydia said. “But Val suspected you would be comfortable traveling lighter than most manor lords.”
“That woman knows her lords,” Drake agreed. “Still, all this space for me?”
“I will be sleeping in here as well.”
Drake nodded. This was a huge space, she had her own bedroll, and it made sense to have his steward nearby in case he needed her. This wasn’t weird.
“Samuel will also be sleeping in this tent now that he has recovered,” Lydia continued, “along with Emily. Valentia, Nicole, and the rest of our people will be sleeping in smaller tents around this one. The final ring of our camp will be zarovian patrollers. They can go long periods without sleep, so we will be using them as our first line of defense.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Drake said. “And Emily will see anyone approaching the tent long before they reach it thanks to her soul-seeing rarity.”
“I should warn you, she does snore.”
Drake chuckled. “I heard. I’ll survive.”
Lydia grimaced. “I have brought earplugs. I would suggest you use them.”
Drake took another look around the space. “Say... what about Anna?”
“You wish her to sleep in this tent with us?”
“Jeremy’s not here.” Anna’s father remained back at the manor, tending to the stables. “She knows me and you better than most. Would it be a problem?”
Lydia smiled warmly. “I don’t see why not. I’ll go find her and let her know.”
Drake glanced around his new tent. “You know... this might be pretty nice. Like a camp out. You folks made this place downright cozy.”
“I will pass your compliments along to the thralls.”
“People. And actually, why don’t I tell them myself?” He shuffled over to a seat and sat down. “Supper’s next, right? After my new rarity kicks in, I can have a look around our new camp so I’ll know my way around. I assume we set it up the same way each night?”
“In most situations.” She pointed at a curtain. “Zuri sent along a small package for you with instructions that only you should open it. I’ve left it by your bedroll.”
“A package, huh?” Drake frowned. “Any idea what’s in it?”
“I did not wish to open it without your permission.”
“I’m giving you permission to read my mail,” Drake said. “From now on, I mean. I can look over the package for now. I don’t think Zuri would harm me.”
“On that we agree.” Lydia took a breath. “Then, if there is nothing else, and with your permission, I will go and fetch Anna.”
“You don’t need my permission, but thanks.” He waved her away. “I’ll be fine here.”
“Val even now stands watch outside this tent, and Cresh has placed one zarovian at each corner. Also, Sachi reported back while you were in the wagon. There are no enemies nearby she can detect.”
Drake impatiently waved her off. “I’m in good hands here! I know. Now go do what you need to. I promise not to die before you get back.”
Lydia turned and strode from the tent.
Drake pushed aside the privacy curtain hanging in front of his bedroll and found a small pouch sitting beside his bedroll. It was a hip pouch that was about the right size to hold a lot of coins or a can of beer. He settled on his bedroll and opened the pouch.
Inside he found a folded note inside as well as three gleaming crystal vials each about the length of his index finger. Was this a parting gift from Zuri? He unfolded the note and perused his mediator’s elegant script.
Lord Gloomwood,
I am glad that we were finally able to learn the specific operation of your rarity. In the time since we did so, I completed my inventory of magical artifacts in our possession. Since you will soon be meeting other manor lords, I wish you to be as well-equipped as possible.
The three small vials in this pack are called blood flasks, and are commonly held by manor lords. Once a lord stores the blood of a thrall inside this flask, they need simply dip their own pricked finger into the flask to contact the thrall whose blood resides in the flask. They can then compel their thralls to follow commands even at a great distance.
You need not worry about replacing the blood once you have gathered it. The flasks also have preservative properties. Once a thrall’s blood resides in the flask, you need not replace the blood unless you wish to store the blood of a different thrall. Blood stored inside a blood flask will never clot or age so long as you keep the flask sealed.
I hope you will find these artifacts useful for your purposes. I wish you every success in Korhaurbauten and eagerly await your return. Be safe, lord.
Yours,
Zuri
Drake smiled as he read the letter again. While Zuri’s words were warm, it didn’t feel like she was coming onto him. That had been the obedience fetish. What it felt like, instead, was that she actually trusted him to lead. She had also come through for him once more.
Zuri knew he couldn’t compel his thralls to do anything, so he had no way to compel them from a distance. She also knew what he could use was a way to preserve blood for long periods of time, and she had written her letter in a way that only he would understand. Even now, Zuri was cautious about any letter she wrote being intercepted by their enemies.
Anyone else who read this letter—and who didn’t know Drake had ceased compelling his people through the blood pact—would just assume Zuri truly had been advising him on how to compel his thralls from a distance. This was the type of writing and speaking he needed to perfect over the next few days. Speaking truths that meant something entirely different.
He lifted one of the small flasks out of the pouch and examined it. It was about the size of a test tube from his world, and it weighed almost nothing at all. He’d barely notice the weight of these flasks once he secured the hip pouch on his belt.
He had three blood flasks now. So if he got a sample of Samuel’s blood, and a sample of Emily’s blood, and a sample of Anna’s blood, he could carry those all around in his pouch and, if anyone asked, simply say he used it to compel his thralls. No one would think it was odd for a manor lord to carry around blood flasks, since apparently, manor lords did that sort of thing.
With these flasks, he could freely swap out rarities even when his people weren’t around to offer their blood. That was going to be very useful. He could store blood and keep it perfectly preserved. That meant he could use these flasks to plan ahead.
Drake tucked the flasks back into the pouch and then attached to pouch to his belt. He saw no reason not to keep these flasks on him for the time being. He didn’t think anyone could get into his tent and steal them, but he might as well get used to carrying this pouch around.
And to the idea of storing people’s blood like a literal vampire.
