A ship traveled across a ink dark sea. Trailing behind it the unraveling rope of its silver wake. Ruby sails, pregnant with the winds pulled the boat ever on wards into the sunset and towards a darkened land.
In the cabin a lime-green light glowed from within an oil lamp. Flickering faintly it combined with the fire light of candles to throw dancing shadows across the cabin wall as within the ship's passenger was stirring to wake, throwing off his covers and open the curtains. The dying light of the sun was ahead of him, and in the skies behind him out the window the sky was bright with the dying colors of day and the birthing shades of night. Oranges and reds gave way to purples and blues as the first stars shone bright in the sky.
In his cabin, Semiane was hardly alone. He had brought with him a portion of his harem. Still laying in bed, a pair of naked young girls lay curled around themselves. He brushed their pale arms with a finger and turned away as they stirred sleepily.
At a far dresser he threw over his shoulders a long blood red robe and wrapped it tight to hide his naked form. A long low sigh escaped his throat as he stepped to a table, where stacks of copied papers lay. These represented the collected knowledge the outside world had of the royal family of the Xelwyth Empire. He sat down at them, and meditated on his potential clients.
Zachaeus, Semiane found did not have that long a history to him. Despite ruling for a thousand years, to the nobility and leadership that lived outside his Empire scant was known, even though the known imperial vampire had reigned for a near millennium and seen so many lesser kings and emperors die around him. He was however peculiar to his race, a vampire that could tolerate the sun, and possessed great magics. It was supposed to Semiane that Zacheus' role was like that of a God, benevolent with terrible under tones. Few had sought to test him, and there was much ado about his terror when it had occurred. Much so to his staff. He put that aside for later.
Zachaeus' sons had much the same, though others better known.
His eldest, Ulrik was by far the most prestigious in the world by force of his character and accomplishments, turning the backwater duchy of the Great Weald into an admirable center of economic activity. Many had sought to deal with the baron directly, and lauded his ability. Though he was a known recluse and at odds with much of the rest of the family. Speculation abounded in the aristocratic rumor mills if the family was jealous of the baron who had accomplished so many times more than his peers in such poor country. There was considerable reason to believe among all that he would have been the heir to take control of the country when the vampiric god-emperor finally found himself a shriveled hulk after an over-ambitious vampire hunter finally managed to infiltrate his domain or so other calamity. Semiane could only imagine the number of plots that circulated in high courts to see a change of power, if simply to see the Empire shaken to its core and for it to partake in the dynamic power shifts that accompanied the rest of the world. Semiane could only see in confidence that only the damned gods could ever know the full scope!
But what was the divine to his race.
The others in the lot were known as half-breeds born from mortal women. Edward and Rory Bathory of note. Edward was commonly believed to be flat as a board, with a penchant for being knightly, but deluded in it. It was widely whispered that Rory was homosexual.
Semiane could divine no new information from the assorted information he had on the royal family which he found frustrating. And so far continued to primarily affirm his present predictions for the current political circus brewing in the Empire. That in the end – unless some other prince put himself on the board – the contest would ultimately boil down as a battle between Ulrik and Edward.
Semiane knew what he needed. First of all being a house. No good man went without a house. But this should be the easy thing to accomplish. On acquiring the house, and decorating it came time to insinuate himself into the society. A party, perhaps. Something grand and broad, with the largest crowd of the high society. An excuse to meet the princes themselves, talk, play match maker if they were unmatched. A salon later perhaps? That required he knew them at all.
And if it turned rough, if blood was let out: he was positioned to supply capital, make loans, purchase equipment, hire mercenaries. A third party that could delay collection on dues until late. He thought about his financial network, the many guilds and associations that still operated within his web. How many was it? He would need to send back for those if he wanted a count, but he could imagine. By the gods! Could he finance a full five wars? Six? He was tempted to undervalue...
There was a knock at the cabin door. He looked up as the young girls stirred. “What is it?” he called out in a deep throaty voice.
“Your honor, the captain would like to inform you we are a day's away from the Lands Under Twilight. We may be there by midnight tomorrow.” a page shouted.
“Very well, thank you.” Semiane called back.
In the cabin a lime-green light glowed from within an oil lamp. Flickering faintly it combined with the fire light of candles to throw dancing shadows across the cabin wall as within the ship's passenger was stirring to wake, throwing off his covers and open the curtains. The dying light of the sun was ahead of him, and in the skies behind him out the window the sky was bright with the dying colors of day and the birthing shades of night. Oranges and reds gave way to purples and blues as the first stars shone bright in the sky.
In his cabin, Semiane was hardly alone. He had brought with him a portion of his harem. Still laying in bed, a pair of naked young girls lay curled around themselves. He brushed their pale arms with a finger and turned away as they stirred sleepily.
At a far dresser he threw over his shoulders a long blood red robe and wrapped it tight to hide his naked form. A long low sigh escaped his throat as he stepped to a table, where stacks of copied papers lay. These represented the collected knowledge the outside world had of the royal family of the Xelwyth Empire. He sat down at them, and meditated on his potential clients.
Zachaeus, Semiane found did not have that long a history to him. Despite ruling for a thousand years, to the nobility and leadership that lived outside his Empire scant was known, even though the known imperial vampire had reigned for a near millennium and seen so many lesser kings and emperors die around him. He was however peculiar to his race, a vampire that could tolerate the sun, and possessed great magics. It was supposed to Semiane that Zacheus' role was like that of a God, benevolent with terrible under tones. Few had sought to test him, and there was much ado about his terror when it had occurred. Much so to his staff. He put that aside for later.
Zachaeus' sons had much the same, though others better known.
His eldest, Ulrik was by far the most prestigious in the world by force of his character and accomplishments, turning the backwater duchy of the Great Weald into an admirable center of economic activity. Many had sought to deal with the baron directly, and lauded his ability. Though he was a known recluse and at odds with much of the rest of the family. Speculation abounded in the aristocratic rumor mills if the family was jealous of the baron who had accomplished so many times more than his peers in such poor country. There was considerable reason to believe among all that he would have been the heir to take control of the country when the vampiric god-emperor finally found himself a shriveled hulk after an over-ambitious vampire hunter finally managed to infiltrate his domain or so other calamity. Semiane could only imagine the number of plots that circulated in high courts to see a change of power, if simply to see the Empire shaken to its core and for it to partake in the dynamic power shifts that accompanied the rest of the world. Semiane could only see in confidence that only the damned gods could ever know the full scope!
But what was the divine to his race.
The others in the lot were known as half-breeds born from mortal women. Edward and Rory Bathory of note. Edward was commonly believed to be flat as a board, with a penchant for being knightly, but deluded in it. It was widely whispered that Rory was homosexual.
Semiane could divine no new information from the assorted information he had on the royal family which he found frustrating. And so far continued to primarily affirm his present predictions for the current political circus brewing in the Empire. That in the end – unless some other prince put himself on the board – the contest would ultimately boil down as a battle between Ulrik and Edward.
Semiane knew what he needed. First of all being a house. No good man went without a house. But this should be the easy thing to accomplish. On acquiring the house, and decorating it came time to insinuate himself into the society. A party, perhaps. Something grand and broad, with the largest crowd of the high society. An excuse to meet the princes themselves, talk, play match maker if they were unmatched. A salon later perhaps? That required he knew them at all.
And if it turned rough, if blood was let out: he was positioned to supply capital, make loans, purchase equipment, hire mercenaries. A third party that could delay collection on dues until late. He thought about his financial network, the many guilds and associations that still operated within his web. How many was it? He would need to send back for those if he wanted a count, but he could imagine. By the gods! Could he finance a full five wars? Six? He was tempted to undervalue...
There was a knock at the cabin door. He looked up as the young girls stirred. “What is it?” he called out in a deep throaty voice.
“Your honor, the captain would like to inform you we are a day's away from the Lands Under Twilight. We may be there by midnight tomorrow.” a page shouted.
“Very well, thank you.” Semiane called back.