Horris was a big man. And tough.
He'd honed his skills in the forests of Transylvania hunting bandits with a small band of bounty hunters. Mikkel had been one of them.
In his time, he'd fought all kinds of thugs and warriors.
His body had the scars to prove it.
Leaning against a post, he watched as the fledgling went through the forms of his combat style in the courtyard. At first, the former bounty hunter had almost sneered when he saw Vlad pull out the large two-handed Great Sword. The blade was thick and heavy.
It needed both hands on the overly-long handle.
It would be prone to overswing and its ridiculous size would make it useless in close combat. Just looking at it in the vampire's hands was enough to make his head hurt.
Then the fledgling moved.
And Horris found himself hypnotised by the fluidity and responsiveness of the vampire's movements. He'd seen Vlad fight before.
But at the time the fledgling had mostly used a stick and a short sword.
Vlad had fought with brutal efficiency, sure. But it hadn't been impressive enough to warrant a sword of this size, Horris would have thought.
But his mind was changing fast.
He began to have his own doubts about who would win if he fought the fledgling. He'd considered asking him to spar. But now?
Sighing, the big man scratched his jaw and turned away.
He wasn't sure his pride could accept losing to a fledgling.
It would be better to walk away…
Vlad closed his eyes as the merchant guard slunk away with his tail between his legs. His lip curled at thought of calling the big man back and challenging him anyway.
But it had been many years since he had been that petty.
If the big man didn't want to cross blades, then he would respect his decision.
To some, they might think Horris was a coward. But Vlad recognised the heavy weight which had pressured the guard to walk away.
Horris knew his limits. He had gone as far as he could with his mortal body.
To understand your limits was a sign of wisdom, and Vlad grudgingly respected the man's self-awareness. There were times when it is best to turn your face and live for another day.
Vlad himself had learned this lesson more than once.
He expected to turn his face many times in this new body.
Pushing thoughts of the merchant guard aside, Vlad continued through the flowing forms of the Black Dragon Great Sword Art.
As he reached the fourth step, he could feel the power coursing through his body. It wasn't the same as yesterday. If yesterday the power had been like a wild stallion raging through his veins, today it was an entire herd of them.
They stampeded through his body, flooding him with the raw heat of blood energy.
Fifth step!
He stomped hard, and a thunderous shockwave blasted in all directions. The ground beneath his boot crumpled and split. His ears echoed with the sound of the blast and his blood sang with the force expelled.
Sixth…
Blood energy rippled out of his hands and down the blade.
He brought the blade down diagonally, then back up. Down and up. A double-eight pattern that was made to smash the guard of his opponent and slash up their body. The step ended with a straight downward cleave which carried the momentum of the previous movement and could split his opponent in half if they were not prepared.
The red energy flared as he managed to complete the step.
As the blade slashed down, he felt the weight of his power and grinned in satisfaction.
A sharp gust of wind raged in the wake of his sword. The wind itself was sharp. It carried the echo of the blade's edge and would slash just as easily.
Seventh step…
The sword in his hands had already performed this step.
Simply, it was a strong forward thrust which ended with a violent upward tear.
During the thrust movement, he would channel blood energy down the blade and form a spike of crimson energy which extended like a spear and impaled his opponent at range.
Range depended on his power.
At the moment, that range wasn't exciting him.
But power would come. For now, he concentrated on engraving the memory of the form into his new muscle and testing the limits of his ability to use his blood energy.
The spike erupted with a flash and a roar.
The roar wasn't as loud he knew it could be, but the echo of a dragon was plainly heard like distant thunder as the spike stabbed for his invisible opponent's belly.
It could punch through steel armour.
Burn through flesh.
Cut through bone.
It would leave a hole in a normal person's torso as wide as Vlad's fist.
As he completed the step with the vicious upward tear of blade, he felt the stress on his wrists and he knew his shoulder wasn't moving quite right. He'd need to practice this more.
His body compensated by dipping slightly forward.
This was a weakness.
It was leaving his side exposed.
Pouting in disappointment, he still committed himself to completing the form.
Leaving him wondering if he should attempt the brutal eight step?
He began to whirl the sword in his hands.
The move would bring the blade over his head, full circle around his body in a tight circular motion.
As he brought it around, his blood energy would attract shadows and the murky mix of black and red would wrap around the blade like a coiling serpent to form a vortex that shrank inward within the full rotation.
The resulting strike would focus that energy into a single point.
A final move which would unleash the power of the Black Dragon in a blast of mixed energies that would melt through nearly anything.
The cost?
Tremendous amounts of blood energy.
As he started the motion, he could feel a sudden drop of temperature and shadows flickered at the edge of his vision.
His heart screamed.
His blood flared brightly, causing his veins to glow as though pumping lava through his body.
The pressure built.
The pain started.
Vlad stopped, dropping his sword to the ground and crumpling to his knees.
Gasping, he glared down at his smoking weapon as the blood energy dissipated from the blade. It was too much for him right now.
He couldn't complete the first quarter.
Not yet.
Another might feel shame.
They might feel humiliation as they clutched their chest where their heart was stumbling awkwardly as the gathered blood energy lashed at his meridians. It had no way to vent itself and was instead loose inside his body like stray bolts of lightning.
The crackle and snap of the electric tongues left him snarling in pain.
And when it was over, he simply stared at his hands as his glowing veins subsided.
And accepted that, like Horris, he knew his own limits.
But unlike the mortal, Vlad knew he would grow beyond them. He hadn't reached the end of his path yet.
Far from it.
One day, I will do the 36 Steps again!
Exhausted but determined, He wrapped his hands around the Great Sword's long hilt.
And climbed awkwardly to his feet.
Giving himself a shake, he wiped blood off his lips and shook his head.
First step!
"Hya!"
His body moved again.
When he finally collapsed, the sword fell from his grip and he didn't move.
Moonlight spilled down his neck. Sweat glistened on his punished body. Blood trickled down his mouth.
Creeping out of the shadows, Mina knelt down beside him and gently pushed the hair out of his face.
Then placed the basin down next to his face and began washing the blood and sweat with cool water and a cloth which quickly turned red.
Nibbling her lip, she sighed.
Maybe she could ask one of the guards to help carry him to his room?
She was so absorbed in her puzzle that she didn't hear Lucy's light steps as the woman stepped up behind her.
But she jumped when Lucy's slender fingers gently brushed her shoulder.
"Eep!" She dove for Vlad's sword and struggled to pick it up, her eyes wide with fear as she turned to protect the fallen fledgling from the League's assassins.
"It's only me," Lucy said, her lip twitching. "I'm sorry to frighten you."
"You didn't frighten me," Mina snorted. "What do you want?"
"To help you move him to his room."
The two women stared at each other.
Above, the clouds drifted across the moon, hiding its pale glow. A gentle breeze, carrying the promise of winter, slithered into the courtyard and between their shared gaze.
Who could tell which was colder?
Their eyes, or the wind?
Then the cloud shifted and the moonlight's soft rays broke the spell.
Mina nodded and lowered the heavy sword. In truth, she doubted she could ever swing it anyway. "Thank you," she said, her voice carrying only gratitude.
Lucy nodded back and offered a smile. "I owe you an apology, Mina. I will give that to you properly in short time. I ask that you bear me no grudge. It seems we may have the same goal. I am thinking it might be easier to reach if we work together."
Mina bit her tongue to prevent letting her recent experiences feed something spiteful from her mouth.
Glancing down at Vlad's motionless body, she knew Lucy wasn't talking about getting him to his room.
"Do you mean that?"
"I do."
"I don't want a war with you."
"Nor I with you."
"For reasons of my own, I find it hard to trust you. It's not personal."
"Then I shan't take it so."
"Alright. Then, I swear I won't start a war between us without declaring first."
Lucy cocked her head at that. "That sounds reasonable. I will swear the same."
"Deal, then?"
"Deal."
Mina grinned and spat in her palm before holding out her hand.
Lucy, a merchant's daughter, knew the ritual. And, though she was a lady, she recognised the power of tradition.
She spat in her hand.
She shook Mina's own.
"Say, Lucy?" Mina looked around nervously. "You know the guards around here, don't you? I mean, they'll listen to you, won't they?"
"Most of them."
"Wouldn't it be better to ask them to carry him? I mean, if we do it, we might drop him."
"We are the weaker sex," Lucy agreed. "It might be prudent to get assistance."
The two women stared at each other.
Then giggled as one.
And like that, their potential war was ended.