Vlad sat uncomfortably in his chair.
They were inside the Great Hall, which no longer resembled the hall he knew. Gone were the banners, the plush rugs in front of the wide fireplace.
The Dragon Throne, too, was absent.
Paintings. Trophies.
Memories.
All vacant.
In their place, a simple long table and simple chairs.
He wanted to scream.
The elders sat to his left and right along the length of the table. The Count sat opposite him.
The head of the table was left vacant.
Vlad found this system of seating to be confusing.
Count Bela's grey eyes studied him without blinking. "Our position confuses you, fledgling?"
"It's not my business," he said with a sharp shake of his head.
Elder Miklos clicked his tongue while Elder Matyas rolled his eyes at his answer.
But Count Bela simply accepted it with a nod.
"When the war ended, many things changed," the Count said. "Not all were for the better, as you can see. Your eyes constantly stray to the head of the table, fledgling. Do you wonder why I don't sit there?"
Smart bastard, Vlad thought.
He would need to be careful around him.
He held the Count's gaze for a moment, then shrugged. "It's not my business," he repeated. "You said you wanted to talk about my reward?"
"Insolent brat," Elder Miklos huffed. "Can I slap him?"
"He's lucky Elder Laszlo isn't here," Elder Janus sighed. "Or he'd have been slapped a hundred times by now."
The Count held up his hand and the elders fell to silence.
"We reserve the head of the table for the Prince," Count Bela said as though there'd been no interruption.
"I thought the Court had no Prince," Vlad said, pursing his lips. He was unsure what to make of the Count's words.
They seemed pointless.
But he felt the Count was trying to tell him something.
Something important.
"That is true," the Count said. "There has been no Prince since the great Prince Ferenc."
Vlad almost choked as he tried to hide his amused snort.
Great?
Ferenc would be rolling on the ground in tears of laughter if he could hear that.
Although, as the Prince's death played out in his mind, Vlad could think of no other who deserved the name.
"It has been discussed, of course," Elder Amir said. His face was hidden beneath his cowl, and his voice was papery thin. "Even amongst us. There are five elders, and one Count. It would be easy to simply call us elders Counts and elect Count Bela as Prince."
Vlad nodded.
He understood that Court law stated there would always be five Counts and one Prince.
What was conveniently unmentioned was there should also be five Brides.
So far, Vlad couldn't recall seeing a single one.
"Why are we telling him this nonsense?" Elder Miklos asked. "He's still a fledgling. Even the Knights aren't told this."
"Maybe they should," Elder Matyas said.
"Matyas? Really?"
"Well, look at what the boy has done. The castle looks so much better and all he did was kick his fledglings to get them to wipe off the muck and clear up the rubble." He showed a sardonic smile. "And in the process found enough gold to clear our debt and invest into the Court properly. He's saved us from crumbling to dust. There. I said it."
The other elders shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.
"We consider ourselves to be caretakers," Count Bela said, again ignoring the elders. His grey eyes had never moved from Vlad. His words caused them all to gasp. "We are the remnants of a weak Court. A Court with no experience in violence or war. A Court with no intrigue. A Court living on the edge of death. Even the Full Moon Clan has no interest in us anymore."
Vlad held back his sneer as the Count admitted his weakness.
In his youth, he might have unleashed his contempt.
Maybe beaten all the elders with his stick.
But despite the body's features, he was no youth. He had lived for hundreds of years before he'd died in the war. So, he understood what the Count was telling him.
They were waiting for a dragon to purge the Court.
To bring it back its power.
On one hand, Vlad wanted to condemn them as cowards.
On the other, he admired how they'd lasted this long.
What deals they must have made with the moneylenders.
What promises they must have stretched.
The humiliation they must have felt.
The silence stretched as the Count seemed to be waiting for something from him.
He wasn't sure what.
"I want access to the Library," he said. "Not just the books you let fledglings read. All of it."
"You may have it," Count Bela said calmly as the elders shot shocked looks at him. Only Elder Amir seemed unmoved.
"And I want to go to the village. Or city. Whatever it is."
"The merchant is due in a few days. You can travel down with him."
"Whenever I like?"
"You have my permission."
"My Lord!" Elder Miklos let out a strangled sound. "Even the Knights don't have such freedom. Elder Laszlo-"
"Oh, let the boy go, Miklos," Elder Matyas growled. "Vlad? If you see a tree you think needs to be dug up, please start digging. Maybe you'll get lucky and hit a vein of gold or something."
Vlad grinned at him.
"Is there anything else?" Count Bela asked.
"Ask for your own tower," Elder Matyas said with a barely restrained giggle. "The gift you gave the Court yesterday is worth that and more! Ask! Quickly! Before they come to their senses!"
Vlad shook his head. "Not yet."
"Come to me when you're ready to see the Library," Elder Amir said. "I will take you there."
Later, Vlad sat on one of the few remaining blocks of stone left of his old tower. A goblet of Bren's thin blood in his hand.
The hole in the ground which led to his hoard was now just a hole. The gold had been moved into the more secure vault beneath the Great Hall.
"I didn't even get any interest," he muttered. "Ferenc, you must be laughing your stupid head off."
The night was cool. A pale mist was creeping in from the trees and threading through the ruined castle.
Its crisp dusty smell filled his nostrils.
And wasn't doing anything to improve his mood.
The Court was taking everything from him.
Everything.
Only one thing might cheer him up now.
With that, he threw the blood back and gulped it down with a grimace. Then snatched up his stick and stomped into the common room where the fledglings were milling about like little lost lambs.
Janos had been showing them some grappling techniques.
There was nothing wrong with grappling. Vlad had considered himself quite good at grappling himself. And wrestling was an important technique for war. While a sword would finish off an enemy, wrestling would get them to the ground and turn what might have been a battle of attrition into a swift execution.
His eyes narrowed to slits.
The fledglings, sensing his presence, rushed to form a small square and dropped quickly to their knees.
"We greet you, brother," Tibor shouted for them. "Please train us well so we can be strong!"
That was new.
Vlad blinked at the enthusiasm. He hadn't expected it, and it dampened his mood. He'd felt a bit peevish and had hoped to beat a few fledglings and use their reluctance as an excuse.
Well.
That was out the window! What was he supposed to do to them now?
Hang on.
Didn't Tibor just ask for training?
Vlad's lips widened into a merciless grin.
"Brothers," he said, pushing a note of regret into his voice. "Alas, I have no training for you today. You see, I was just looking at the old ruin of my, umm, namesake's tower. And I thought it was such a shame to see the others in such poor condition, too."
He heard a collective gulp.
"Isn't it a shameful thing to treat our forefathers so badly that we don't clean up the mess left by the lousy mongrels of the Full Moon Clan? Shouldn't we clean it up?"
"Yes, brother!" Ist shouted at the floor, his head low.
"How much time are you giving us?" Jenos asked nervously.
"Hmm." Vlad made a show of thinking about it. "If we split up, I think it can be done by dawn."
"Dawn?" Bally's gasp of horror cut through the collective silence.
"What?" Vlad rounded on the little fledgling. "You think it can't be done? You need this chore more than anyone! Bally, your arms are like twigs! I think you're being lazy!"
"No, Vlad, I'm not!" Bally cried desperately. "I swear! I'm just thin-boned…"
Crack!
Vlad's stick smacked down on Bally's shoulder. "I want you to lift twice the stones as Hans! Hans, you are to count them!"
"What?" Bally's face paled. "But he can't count past five!"
"I can so," Hans growled in a hurt tone.
"Okay, seven, then."
"That's not a nice thing to say, brother."
"Hans!" Vlad pointed his stick at the big fledgling. "You will count. For every stone you carry, Bally will carry two. Is this clear?"
"Yes, brother."
"Bally?"
"Yes, brother."
Vlad aimed a puzzled look at everyone. "Why are you still here? You are all lazy bastards. Do you all want a beating?"
The room broke into pandemonium as the fledglings fought each other to get out of the room first.
The pained yelps of the stragglers who felt Vlad's stick pushed them even faster.