Nerys sighed, writing carefully every word in the letter. She raised her gaze slowly, frowning as she glanced at her surroundings again. Her troops were settled in a small camp, which was hidden in shadows, crooked trees all around them. They roamed a dark swamp, where one could lose himself.

They had been hunting down lone vampires around, exploring. This area was isolated, for the most part, full of decaying ruins. But it was strategically important, near vampire territory. They were daring to venture into it. She would surely fight soon; the enemy was not too far away, it was certain. Only time was needed for them to clash against more beasts, have a dreaded encounter.

Lately, they had been managing to push the enemy back. All thanks to clever ambushes and planning, careful manoeuvres through the land. Things that she did not come up with, like everyone would believe back at home. She needed guidance.

A sad smile grew on her face when she dropped her quill, the letter finished. She took it tiredly, turning to face the scout waiting nearby, one of Bastian’s pathfinders. There was always one around to carry news and reports.

“Scout the area. Then, inform him. Make haste.”

The man nodded, saluting when Nerys gave him the letter. It was sealed, only for Bastian to read. She stood there as the scout got on a horse, kicking and shouting for it to move. He galloped away into the dark, in order to explore, gather the surroundings into his mind… and describe it in detail to Bastian, in writing.

Bastian always stayed back with other troops, far away from the frontlines. He wrote from the solace of distant camps, where she could retreat if he so advised. Her friend would ponder the best course of action, and then relay it to her, sending another letter to answer her.

She only had to wait. They could not venture blindly into uncharted areas, which were still disputed. It would be foolish, suicidal. Her troops knew this well, because she had gotten them alive out of many deadly situations, which made them much more loyal than other squads. A lot of captains found their demise when they undervalued the predatory ways of their enemies.

She would wait for him to send back a report, always trusting his word.

————–

His tent was a mess. He kept on pacing back and forth, with his arms behind his back. He glared at the ground, intensely, seemingly unbothered by the dark circles around his eyes.

If one thing he hated, it was miscalculation, unplanned results. He did not trust in much, and he loathed doubting himself. Any possible alteration in his thoughts would always make him an inner anxious mess.

There were so many variables that could change a situation. Like the delivery of a letter, which he had been waiting for, from a scout that should have arrived already.

He ruffled his hair once more, stopping pacing to let out a tired sigh. Many things he hated, few as much as his scouts being late. It sometimes meant they had been ambushed and killed, while they ventured through the lands.

Bastian’s frown intensified when he looked back at his desk. He debated sending another messenger, in case the one he had sent with Nerys had been lost. It would not be the first time it happened.

Still, he decided not to. He would not send another scout yet. Impatience should not be one of his traits, he knew that fact. And so, he shook his head and began to pace in his tent again, trying to control his worried thoughts. There was still time, this delay was still normal. Danger lurked everywhere, and everyone had to be careful of their every move. He couldn’t send another scout with the same orders if he was not sure of the first one’s fate. It would be a waste of precious time and resources, another variable.

No, he could not do that. Life was the most easily lost resource. He had to think carefully, and never act blindly due to emotion. Those beasts waited around every corner, and there were worse things than death. Food was scarce, every soldier could be essential. Another man taken away could mean another vampire being born, or another source of blood.

We’ve been lucky lately, I can’t just-

He stopped overthinking when a rooster crowed, because he finally realized that morning had come. Traces of dim sunlight were piercing his tent’s walls. He stood there like a fool, processing those facts. Again, he had stayed awake all night.

Well, at least his bedroll was not open. He wouldn’t have to put it away.

He could hear how the camp was beginning to wake. The sun brought the safest time for a human to roam. Even fledglings were dangerous, but those avoided the light. The morning was the best time to make their move, perhaps prepare an incursion. Soldiers were dashing all around, ready to commit to their daily tasks.

Lyssa surely had been awake for hours already. He did not know how she could be so spirited. Sure enough, he heard her outside, bossing around. Her shouts were even reaching his tent, always separated slightly from the rest.

A new dawn proclaimed another day, one in which to fight and perhaps die.

She would order everyone to have breakfast, and then group her most agile men, in order to explore the surrounding areas. She was hunting down any vampire trying to hide from them, loners mostly. Of all rebels he knew, she was the only one to inflict instant fear on any vampire unlucky enough to cross paths with her.

While he pondered… a hooded figure moved between soldiers. His dusky eyes fixed on the two documents he carried, his expression shadowed by the hood he wore. A confident smile grew on his tan face as he made way, past every man and woman in the camp. All were working and getting ready under the faint sunlight, no one paid mind to him. He was just another scout, heading for Bastian’s tent.

Once he reached his destination, he looked over his shoulder one last time, almost seeming to glare at the soldiers behind him. Then, he knocked on a small wooden pole by the tent. Inside, Bastian tensed, hearing it. His eyes brightened when he saw a shadow outside, the unmistakable sight of someone waiting to be addressed. Those dusky eyes blinked when the tactician bolted to open the tent, instead of calling him in. The greeting was hurried and imperative.

“Tell me you have news from the southern border!”

The scout frowned, taking a step back. His next whisper was calculated, monotone.

“Yes… Sir.”

Those grey eyes opened more, hopefully. Bastian literally snatched the two letters from the scout’s hand, not paying mind to his seemingly apprehensive stance. He opened the documents in a hurry, waving a hand for him to come in and explain.

“You are late. I suppose you have detailed what you have seen in the second letter.”

The man kept his hood on, standing now in the dimly lighted tent. His words were carefully let out.

“Indeed. May I report it verbally as well?”

Bastian shook his head, smiling slightly in relief.

“No need, I will read everything myself anyway. I must deliberate the best course of action, rigorously.”

The man chuckled silently, seeing Bastian take Nerys’ letter first, reading fast. He was dismissed with a quick glance and order.

“Go rest. I’m sure you found struggles on your way back.”

“Nothing I couldn’t deal with, sir.”

Bastian frowned, seeming to catch something on the other’s face. The man halted when he called, firmly.

“Wait.”

His dusky eyes moved sideways, without facing the tactician. Bastian let down the letters and stepped closer, his eyes hinting suspicion. His voice was low as he questioned.

“Which day did I send you with the general?”

“Sir?”

The scout was not turning around.

“Answer, you must know it. It’s a formal procedure, to keep a record of my lookouts.”

No. It was not. He wanted to make sure of something. He did not know his men personally, but he still kept an eye on them. This one was not familiar to him. The answer was sighed, rather wearily.

“Two weeks ago, sent to meet the general’s troops. Three days to reach their position, one week gathering their information and scouting the area. The rest was spent coming back safely.”

Bastian seemed to relax somewhat, his reason overpowering his paranoia. The details were right, yet he did not feel completely at ease. He made one more question, his eyes fixed on the scout’s hands. There were no claws, and they looked human.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you your name.” The scout snarled silently. “After all, you did your best to deliver these, and I always thank-”

He could not finish.

“Sebastian!”

His grey eyes widened when he heard her roar. After a second, he saw her shadow bolting for his tent. The scout watched baffled as the tactician cowered, a woman lunging into his tent without second thoughts, almost pushing him out the way to glare at him. Her voice was angry and scolding.

“I’ve been told that you didn’t eat dinner yesterday!” Her eyes narrowed, seeing Bastian peek from behind his desk, sweating nervously. “Are those dark circles around your eyes? Didn’t I tell you to sleep more?!”

“I was not tired! I-”

“Bullshit! You look worse than a vampire!”

“H-hey, don’t insult me!”

The scout took his chance to sneak out the tent, seeing he was not being looked at anymore. While he walked away with a condescending growl, he could still hear the two humans bicker.

“I’m dragging you out for a meal and then I will make you sleep all day!”

“No! I have work to do! Reports just arrived, I must-!”

“You must obey your captain, you fool!”

“But it’s Nerys’ letter!”

“…” A yelp echoed when fast footsteps did. “Let me see it!”

“Now you change your mind?! I wanted to read it first!”

“I hold a higher rank, so my eyes have priority! And I’m still going to force some food into your mouth if I must!”

While they argued, the scout walked away from the camp, knowing well how to avoid attention. No human saw him leave into the surrounding woods, finally out of sight.

Once away and concealed in the dark, he growled and pushed off his hood. His dusty eyes sharpened, hinting disgust. He crossed his arms and glared back at the human camp, unbothered by how three figures lurked above him, crouched on the tall branches. He rolled his eyes when three of his fledglings called worriedly for him, always fearful for their bringer.

“We could have done it, sire.”

“It was risky.”

“The sun shines above.”

He raised an eyebrow at them, disappointed.

“My children… The best way in which to fool prey is to approach it when it feels safe. When will you learn?”

They were still uneasy and nervous around humans, reluctant to leave him to act all by himself. They should trust in his aptitude, for he was a lord, a sire. He was unfazed by sunlight, old enough to mock it. He had survived for decades.

He was almost a century old, and yet, time was not rewarding him. A sigh escaped him as he glared at his hands, so human-like. How he wished his gift gave him strong claws like some of his brothers. There was nothing he desired more than to evolve and grow more feral, stronger. Instead, he kept his resemblance with those weak creatures. Weaklings who dared defy them.

That human had almost noticed his fangs and sharp eyes below his hood. But he was still a fool, not clever enough. Only a very young vampire would look human, and those would not be able to walk below the sun without wavering. And so, his presence between them was inconceivable.

He let out an angered chuckle, clenching his hands. All vampires who survived for long enough developed nails and sharper features. No lord would look human… except him. That was his shameful gift.

Still, it was a useful trait. And he was as strong and proud as other lords. He could still remember the fear in the scout’s eyes, his screams while he forced every word out of him. That memory made him smile smugly. He looked up to his brethren, laughing.

“We are done here. They will surely send out orders soon.” They followed when he began to walk away into the shadows. “In one way or another, our clan is going to benefit from the outcome.”

Humans were just tools for them to use, until broken.