Chapter 6: The Regent's Court
Lucius
Ördögház smelled of old blood and older money.
The Grand Salon sprawled before me in baroque excess—velvet furniture, crystal chandeliers, oil paintings depicting hunts and battles spanning centuries. Vampires lounged on every surface, drinking from crystal glasses that definitely didn't contain wine. Human servants moved between them, wrists and necks bearing bite scars like badges of addiction.
Blood Appraisal painted the room in crimson numbers. Most signatures hovered between [ 45-80 BP ]—standard coven vampires, centuries old but not exceptional. A few Death Dealers registered higher, clustered near the exits with the alert posture of professional soldiers.
And at the center, occupying a throne-like chair that made no pretense at subtlety, sat Kraven.
[ KRAVEN - REGENT - 156 BP ]
[ NOTE: POLITICAL AUTHORITY EXCEEDS COMBAT CAPABILITY. MANIPULATION SKILLS: HIGH. THREAT ASSESSMENT: SIGNIFICANT. ]
He looked exactly like the films had portrayed him—handsome in a calculated way, dressed in silk that probably cost more than my previous life's monthly salary. His eyes tracked my entrance with the cold appraisal of a man who viewed everyone as either tool or obstacle.
Rigel walked beside me, throat fully healed now, moving with renewed confidence. The Death Dealers near the door had questioned our arrival, but Rigel's status and my story—corroborated by three Lycan corpses left at the waterfront—had granted passage.
"Regent." Rigel bowed, the gesture practiced and precise. "I bring news from the docks. Lycan ambush, three attackers. Two dead, one fled. And..." He gestured toward me. "A fledgling who saved my life."
Conversation in the Salon died. Dozens of vampire eyes turned toward us—some curious, some hostile, most simply bored. Another fledgling claiming glory. Another story that would be forgotten by dawn.
Kraven's expression didn't change. He sipped from his crystal glass, letting the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable.
"A fledgling. Saving a Death Dealer."
His tone made the words an insult. I felt the challenge in them, the invitation to prove myself or be dismissed.
"The Lycans were focused on him. Made them easy targets."
"And your sire?"
"Dead. Three weeks ago. Lycan ambush in District Seven."
Kraven's eyes flickered—checking, cataloging, filing the information for future use. "We found that kill site. Two Lycans, one vampire. Assumed no survivors."
"I hid. Waited. Crawled out after dawn." I kept my voice flat, clinical. Survivor's detachment. "I've been hunting them since. Alone."
"Alone." Kraven tested the word. "No coven. No support. A fledgling, hunting Lycans."
"Someone had to."
A ripple of amusement passed through the watching vampires. Kraven smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Bold words. The question is whether you can support them with action." He snapped his fingers. A servant approached—young woman, maybe twenty, wearing a white dress that did nothing to hide the terror in her eyes. "Prove your commitment to our kind. Drain her."
The woman froze. The scent of her fear flooded the room, sharp and copper-tinged. Her heartbeat hammered against my enhanced hearing like a desperate drum.
"He's testing loyalty. Willingness to kill. Willingness to follow orders without question."
Blood Appraisal tagged her at [ 4 BP ]. Healthy, young, terrified. The kind of target I'd killed on my first night—János, the veteran, the forgotten grandfather. The memory of his daughters' photo burned in my pocket.
I stepped toward her. She flinched. Tears streaked her cheeks.
"Please..."
The word was barely a whisper. The vampires around us leaned forward, anticipation thick as perfume. Blood sport. Entertainment. Another fledgling proving their monstrosity for Kraven's amusement.
I took her wrist gently. Found the pulse. Bit.
Blood flooded my mouth—warm, clean, tinged with fear-chemicals that vampire biology apparently found intoxicating. Memory Siphon activated automatically, but I pulled back from the fragments. I didn't need to know her name. Didn't need to see her life flash by.
Instead, I focused on control. Counting heartbeats. Monitoring her vitals through the connection. Surgeon's precision applied to predatory feeding.
When her pulse dropped to sixty percent baseline, I stopped.
She slumped against me, unconscious but alive. Blood trickled from the puncture wounds, but the bleeding was already slowing. She'd wake with a headache and new bite scars. Traumatized but functional.
[ BP ACQUIRED: 3 ]
[ CURRENT BP: 59/100 ]
I lowered her to the floor, arranging her limbs in recovery position. Old habit. Pointless here. But the action felt necessary.
Kraven watched with raised eyebrows.
"You stopped."
"She's more valuable alive. Repeated feedings over months yield more BP than one drain-and-dump." I met his eyes directly. "Unless you prefer waste?"
Silence. The watching vampires exchanged glances—some approving, some confused. Kraven's expression shifted through several emotions before settling on something like respect.
"Pragmatic. I appreciate pragmatism." He gestured toward an empty chair near his throne. "Sit. Tell me more about these Lycans you've been hunting."
The next hour was a dance of half-truths and careful omissions. I described the metro tunnel encounter without mentioning Nathaniel by name—claiming I'd witnessed a Death Dealer patrol stumble into a Lycan ambush and scavenged from the aftermath. I outlined the black market without revealing my activities there. I painted myself as a survivor, a scavenger, a fledgling who'd learned to hunt because the alternative was starvation.
Kraven absorbed every word with politician's attention, filing information, testing for inconsistencies. Twice he asked questions designed to trap me in contradictions. Twice I navigated around them with careful vagueness.
"You have potential," he concluded finally. "Raw, untrained, but potential. Rigel believes you saved his life. That debt means something in this house."
"I just want to fight Lycans."
"Yes, you've mentioned that." Kraven's smile turned predatory. "Interesting motivation. Most fledglings want safety, comfort, easy prey. You want war."
"They killed my sire. They've been killing our kind for centuries. Someone should return the favor."
"Someone should." He stood, and every vampire in the room stood with him—reflexive deference to authority. "Erika will show you to your quarters. Tomorrow, you begin training with the fledgling cohort. Prove yourself worthy, and you may earn Death Dealer status."
A woman emerged from Kraven's shadow—blonde, beautiful, dressed in red silk that matched her lipstick. Blood Appraisal tagged her at [ 72 BP ]. Her eyes raked over me with open interest.
"Follow me, little fledgling."
[ NEW RELATIONSHIP: KRAVEN - SUSPICIOUS ALLY (25/100) ]
[ NEW RELATIONSHIP: ERIKA - INTERESTED (35/100) ]
Erika led me through corridors that shifted from baroque opulence to functional stone. We descended staircases, passed through service areas, entered a wing that clearly housed the coven's lesser members.
"Your quarters." She pushed open an iron door to reveal a cell-like room—stone walls, narrow bed, single window covered by heavy shutters. "Fledglings don't rate much. Prove yourself and accommodations improve."
"Understood."
She lingered in the doorway, studying me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Kraven's interested in you. That's rare for fledglings. Usually he doesn't notice new meat until they've survived a year." Her head tilted. "What makes you special?"
"Nothing yet."
"Hmm." She reached out, running a finger along my jaw. Her touch was cold, deliberate, evaluating. "We'll see. The Regent likes ambitious tools. Just make sure your ambition serves his purposes, not your own."
She left before I could respond. The iron door closed with a sound of finality.
The room was exactly as advertised—cramped, cold, barely furnished. Other fledglings occupied adjacent cells; I could hear their heartbeats through the walls, sense their signatures hovering between [ 25-40 BP ]. Weaker than me. Probably resentful.
I lay on the stone bed and stared at the ceiling.
[ QUEST AVAILABLE: EARN DEATH DEALER STATUS ]
[ OBJECTIVE: COMPLETE FLEDGLING TRAINING. DEMONSTRATE COMBAT PROFICIENCY. ]
[ REWARD: 50 BP, WEAPON ACCESS, HUNTING AUTHORIZATION ]
[ ACCEPT? Y/N ]
Fifty BP. Enough to push me over the first gene tree threshold with room to spare. Plus weapon access—real weapons, Death Dealer arsenal quality. And hunting authorization meant freedom to leave Ördögház, pursue targets, accumulate power without hiding in sewers.
I mentally selected yes.
The quest notification faded, replaced by a status summary I hadn't requested.
[ CURRENT STATUS ]
[ BP: 59/100 ]
[ LOCATION: ÖRDÖGHÁZ COVEN (MEMBER - PROBATIONARY) ]
[ RELATIONSHIPS: ]
[ - RIGEL: TRUSTED ALLY (45/100) ]
[ - KRAVEN: SUSPICIOUS ALLY (25/100) ]
[ - ERIKA: INTERESTED (35/100) ]
[ - SELENE: CURIOUS (2/100) ]
[ ACTIVE QUESTS: EARN DEATH DEALER STATUS, REACH 100 BP THRESHOLD ]
[ HUNGER STATUS: 47 HOURS UNTIL FEEDING REQUIRED ]
[ GENE TREES: VAMPIRE (LOCKED), LYCAN (LOCKED) ]
Selene's name caught my attention. Curious—2/100. We'd barely exchanged glances across a crowded room. But the system had tracked it anyway, noted her attention, flagged her as relevant.
"Two points of trust from three seconds of eye contact. At this rate, I'll earn her loyalty sometime around 2047."
Footsteps in the corridor outside. Multiple heartbeats. Other fledglings returning to their cells for dawn rest. They passed my door without pause, but I caught fragments of whispered conversation.
"...new one that saved Rigel..."
"...Kraven noticed him already..."
"...thinks he's special..."
Jealousy and contempt. Expected. I was the new fledgling who'd walked into the coven with more status than vampires who'd been here for years. They'd either respect me or try to kill me. Either outcome was manageable.
I closed my eyes. Not to sleep—vampire biology didn't require traditional rest—but to process. To plan. To map the next moves in a game that would take months or years to complete.
First: survive training. Build combat skills. Earn the title and the rewards.
Second: accumulate BP. Push toward the gene tree threshold. Unlock actual abilities instead of scraping by on baseline fledgling stats.
Third: get closer to Selene. Earn her trust point by point. Position myself as an ally before Viktor's awakening changed everything.
Fourth: survive Kraven. The regent was already suspicious. One mistake, one exposed lie, and I'd join the blood dolls in the servant quarters—or worse.
The stone ceiling offered no answers. But the silence felt comfortable now. Peaceful, almost. Like the calm before surgery, when the patient was prepped and the instruments were ready and the only thing left was to cut.
Tomorrow, training started.
Tomorrow, I began the slow work of becoming dangerous enough to matter.
I reached into my coat and pulled out János's photograph. Three daughters in graduation robes. A family that had forgotten their father. A man I'd killed for two BP and a countdown reset.
The picture went under my pillow.
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