Chapter 351: A Raven In The Night

Miriam Estroux's mini-arc. ¼.******

Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.

An unusual silhouette flew across the face of the moon.

Were anyone to look up, they'd be forgiven for thinking themselves mad.

Although horrors as great as fire breathing dragons, giant cockatrices and common seagulls might be expected to terrorise the night sky, few would ever expect to see a young maiden skirting beneath the clouds.

Even fewer would expect the young maiden to be wearing pink pyjamas.

“Nnnnhh … uwaaa~”

Miriam Estroux yawned as her small, bat-like wings struggled to propel her forwards.

Usually, vampires revelled in their mastery over flight. Because for all the things which fled at their coming, none parted as swiftly as the clouds. Unlike the daytime, the moonlit sky was their domain.

Usually.

Because unlike other vampires … Miriam was chronically malnourished.

It was even official.

The Royal Villa’s resident physician had told her. 

He didn’t even need to poke her. He’d just looked.

She’d politely declined the offer of a goat. For one thing, goats were cute and she didn’t want to be the reason for a goat telling all its goat friends the reason why it was having a bad day. Which being drained by a vampire would most certainly result in.

But for another, she didn't like blood. 

Not a single bit.

She didn't like the look of it. She didn't like the taste of it. And she certainly didn't like the process of stabbing something with her teeth which really didn't want to be stabbed while drinking them like a mango smoothie.

Other vampires thought differently, of course.

But other vampires chose their path of unlife for reasons usually to do with felling kingdoms from the shadows while forging an empire of endless blood sacrifices and free maiden buffets.

Miriam just wanted to read.

And for the most part, she’d achieved her wish. 

Ignoring the adventurers, heroes and sisters who would chide her on daring to leave everyone alone before then trying to burn her for it, unlife as a vampire was more or less what she expected.

But that didn’t mean she never paused.

Although she was never a social butterfly, the fact remained that centuries of solitude sometimes made even the least extroverted wonder if it was necessarily healthy to only hear the sound of her own squeals as The Phantom Rogue swiped another heirloom pendant from around the neck of a young duchess via sweeping her whole from a moonlit window.

These days, she didn't need to wonder.

Each hour spent in the Royal Villa was filled with sound. Of servants hurrying to-and-fro. Of a library being steadily expanded. Of maids playing and fussing over her silver hair.

Miriam never knew she missed these sounds. 

But far from distracting her from her reading, they only added colour to it. A backdrop of life in a royal household, mimicking much of what she read in her books.

Just minus the dashing thieves.

After all, there were many places where riches could be illicitly earned. And of them, most didn't have a troll guard diligently polishing the vault door. 

In Reitzlake alone, there were endless estates and manors, each lightly guarded, yet boasting secrets hidden to the eyes of the tax inspectorate. However, while the nobility were adept at hiding their treasures, they were less capable of moving them. 

No matter how subtle the mouse in the field, the raven upon the branch would always see it.

And this one was swimming alone in a wide river.

Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.

Below her, Miriam found what she was searching for.

A merchant's vessel navigating the river out of Reitzlake and towards the Wessin Bridge. Revealed beneath the moonlight, its trailing wake against the calm waters was as clear as footsteps in the snow.

An unusual scene when dawn was so far away.

All the more so given the amount of activity. The ship was narrow and slim, yet more sailors swarmed its deck than any vessel of its size could reasonably demand. They flitted about like ants freshly woken from their nest, their smiles lit by the torches and the coins exchanging hands.

Even from up high, the faint laughter could be heard.

A chorus of satisfaction. Of complacency. Of a successful escape.

Miriam nodded.

And then … she slowly descended.

Another tired yawn soon filled the air. Given the size of her wings, she had to supplement her flying with magic. The endeavour was more draining than any lich’s touch. And yet by the time she was peering through the window of the captain's quarters, all sense of fatigue left her.

She listened for a moment, hearing nothing but the creaking of the vessel and the voices from the deck.

“[Frozen Touch].”

Then, a panel of glass turned into a layer of frost against her palm.

With the following tap, it silently shattered. 

Miriam floated inside, her wings beating furiously as her feet touched the newly made carpet upon the wooden floor. It was the richest piece of decoration. Sparse and discreet, few would ever suspect that a treasure worth more than the value of the ship and all its crew was within this modest cabin.

But Miriam hadn't come here as a regular burglar.

She was here as the Royal Villa's newest librarian.

Her eyes went to the desk. A plethora of journals were on display. Each was a treasure in its own right, for the captain of this vessel was known for as many tales as there were drunken sailors in bars. But Miriam was here for something rarer.

The Icy Duke's Heart Melts To A Forbidden Flame.

Specifically, the original manuscript.

Written almost a century ago and still as divisive as the colour black, it was repeatedly panned as the worst romance book ever written. But all things had value.

And most importantly, all things were subjective.

Miriam liked it.

Ignoring the journals, she swept over to the nearest bookcase and studied the spines with a sweeping finger. She pulled them down one at a time, flicking through the larger tomes for hidden pages as she searched for a treasure many would die to own.

“That’s the wrong shelf.”

Especially if it always came with a crossbow.

Miriam looked to the side.

Standing at the open doorway was a woman resplendent in a captain's formal attire. Despite the deep scar marring her cheek and the long hair covering an eye where most would use a patch, she possessed a striking beauty which only sirens usually boasted while at sea.

“Well now,” said the woman, her crossbow more steady than her ship. “I was told to beware the gulls. A good thing I was on the lookout for vampires instead. A happy coincidence.”

The silver bolt gleamed beneath the moonlight streaming through the windows.

A deadly weapon, more practical and cowardly than any stake. And were Miriam a different vampire, she would have made the mistake of testing her speed against it. 

For as the captain calmly stepped inside, so too did her sailors.

A dozen swept past her, huddling before their leader. The cutlasses they wielded were steel, but they were sharp and coated with silver oil dribbling upon the floor.

Miriam scratched at her tummy.

“Dread Captain Neritha Blackheart,” she said with a nod. “Your ship has fewer cannons than your tales would suggest.”

“My tales are out of date,” replied Dread Captain Neritha with a smile. “I’ve since turned a new leaf. As well as a new ship.”

“A sad turn, then. There are few pirates of renown these days.”

“Even fewer now that so many have absconded. Times have been hard on us honest pirates. Our galleons are unwelcome, now with the 1st Princess commanding the Golden Prince’s ship and the man who proposed to me no less than 5 times now nowhere to be seen.”

“I believe the Golden Princes's whereabouts is public knowledge. If you haven't yet heard, I'm more than happy to tell you.”

“Please don't. I much prefer ignorance. It's less embarrassing that way.”

The Dread Captain’s chin nudged forwards. 

It was enough for the sailors under her command to move at once. Filling a space fit for only half their number, the sailors surrounded Miriam, their silver imbued cutlasses but a lunge away.

“We do not fear the reach of the kingdom, whether they serve in life or death. You made a mistake in coming here, vampire. Our backs can be caned, but not our pride.”

“Then you've nothing to fear. I didn't come for your pride. Only a book.”

“Well, that sounds like a negotiation to me. In that case, my galleon is waiting. I'm certain we can include any item you desire as part of your ransom.”

Miriam yawned with a hint of her fangs.

“Very well. I will make the first offer … Anise?”

The sailors tensed. Unlike their captain, they wore their apprehension more freely.

All the more so as they suddenly retreated as one.

“Tea is ready.”

As if she'd always been there, a smiling maid in a distinctly custom uniform appeared beside Miriam.

The sailors took several steps back to the sight of her cheerful smile. They were right to. Although the claws she'd apparently once possessed as a banshee were no more, it didn't mean she was harmless. 

After all, what shone more than her smile was the tea pot she held upon a small plate.

One which held very little tea.

“This is a flaming tea pot,” said Miriam matter-of-factly. “Inside is one of the most volatile liquids ever conceived. If dropped or improperly handled, the tea pot will violently explode, releasing the liquid and setting your ship and all it holds ablaze.”

Widened mouths met her declaration … mostly over the fact that a vampire was stooping so low as to use a tea pot as a threat.

The indignation was brief.

An enthusiastic maid gave the tea pot the slightest of tilts, resulting in a small sprout of something more green than red erupting from the tip. Terror filled every expression. All except the Dread Captain’s.

“A vampire willing to use fire,” she said with a hard smile. “How quaint. Are you also willing to see your prize burn as well?”

“The Icy Duke's Heart Melts To A Forbidden Flame survived more 1 star reviews than there are actual stars in the sky. It can survive fire. The only thing which threatens it is the dust on whatever shelf you would see it languish upon.”

Dread Captain Neritha's smile didn’t fade. 

Even so, her eyes noticeably narrowed. 

A moment later, she motioned again with her chin. This time behind her.

“Out.”

“Captain?”

“Everyone out. I will handle the vampire.”

Hesitation answered her. A single frown later, and all the sailors pretending not to be relieved slowly filed out, cutlasses held aloft even as the door closed before them.

Now alone, the Dread Captain stared over her crossbow.

“... So, what do you think of the book?” she asked, her tone bereft of emotion.

“I think it is a work of historical relevance and a classic in its own right.”

“That wasn't my question.”

Miriam gave a hum of consideration.

“Entertaining and unpretentious. I think it's a scandal that it never received a sequel. Readers at the time simply weren't allowed to express their true feelings. If it was released today, it would be competing with A Court Lady's Indiscretion upon the windows of bookstores.”

A moment of silence answered.

“Heh.”

The woman nodded.

Suddenly, a flame shone in her one eye, greater than any which could be emitted from even the most dangerous of tea pots.

And then—

Thwack.

She loosed the silver bolt nestled upon her crossbow … tearing away a map draped upon a wall.

Revealed was a small, rectangular alcove. Only a handful of books fitted within. Each was instantly recognisable, their spines as colourful as the words of scandal and illicit affairs within. All except one.

Miriam offered an appreciative nod.

Tattered and frayed, there was no hint it was the same book which had shaped all of her current reading habits … including those of Dread Captain Neritha Blackheart … or as she was known in certain circles, The Kraken Girl.

“Ah, such a shame,” she said, casually tossing her crossbow to the side. “Despite a dozen noble ladies each threatening to stab me for the right to slobber over this book, it seems the choice has been taken out of my hands. Against a dangerous vampire threatening alchemical fire, what can I do?”

Miriam carefully retrieved the manuscript from the alcove.

No complaints were levelled against her. After all, in the literary world of romance, all shared a bond of camaraderie. Especially when it concerned works nobody wished to admit they secretly enjoyed, despite everyone sharing the same sentiment.

She offered it to Anise, who accepted it upon her free palm with trained ease. Despite a dangerous tea pot and a priceless book in either hand, the maid still managed to bend her knees in a polite curtsy before vanishing as easily as she arrived. 

A gesture soon to be followed by Miriam.

“The dangerous vampire offers her gratitude,” she said, nodding with a pleased smile. “This is a rare find and must be preserved. May I ask how you came to find it?”

“Same way I find most things. By cheating at cards better than the one in front of me.”

A lie.

Miriam knew it at once. She wasn’t confrontational, but at the same time, she also hadn't created one of the most comprehensive networks of publishing industry contacts across multiple kingdoms without being able to discern falsehoods from truths.

Plus, the woman's brow was twitching.

“Such works are rarely found alone,” she said, her voice as insistent as she could make it while yawning. “Or without reason. If there are more, I'd like to know while I’m on my monthly stroll outside.”

The Kraken Girl shrugged.

“Usually, I'd agree with the sentiment. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. Even more so when it comes with a bucket full of bad omens.”

“Why? Where did you find it?”

“A house,” came the simple reply. “A nice little one as well. All the way out in the woods, overtaken by the weeds and the riff-raff from Reitzlake thinking the trees were enough for us to forget them.”

“Do you mean to say outlaws possessed this book?” asked Miriam, mostly out of hope.

“If they did, they kindly chose not to burn it. Didn’t find the ones I was looking for, but found where they were staying instead. An abandoned lordling's home. Mostly emptied, but they left what they couldn't steal, break or read. That was everything in the library.”

“Oh … and did you find many other books?”

“Plenty. And they're still waiting for you if you can find them.”

“Why? You didn't collect them?”

“Tried to. I came back with as many wheelbarrows as I could fit between the trees. Didn't need to bother. I couldn't find that nice little house again. Only mist as thick as smoke. And also half my crew gone cold with sweat. Bad omens all around.”

The Dread Captain nodded seriously. Miriam blinked.

“... Is that it?” she asked in all earnestness.

“That's it. And that's all anyone needs to know. A sailor's intuition doesn't stop just because it's land. We got lucky. That wasn't a place meant for those who walk this world, living or unliving. I expect curses work the same on us all.”

It did.

But Miriam didn't just walk. She also flew. And for the moment, she was still awake.

“This is a wide stretch of countryside,” she said, blinking to keep her eyes fully open. “It makes sense if there are homes once occupied by rural nobility here. Did this home have any emblems or insignias on the walls or doors?”

“Sure did. Each as scary as a bump in the night.”

“Why? What was it?”

The Dread Captain wore a slight smile.

Then, she pointed towards her lips.

“Like a masked face twisting into a laugh.”

Miriam became utterly still.

Suddenly, all thoughts of buried romance books exited her mind. For the image she saw instead was clearer than all the embossed covers still waiting for her to categorise.

A laughing mask.

It was a household crest she'd seen often.

An unusual, even unfashionable choice for a coat-of-arms. Yet it suited the one she’d last seen wearing it. Likely since he’d picked it out himself. That man was always nothing if not whimsical. A fact which made up most of his charisma.

After all—

It was how he'd convinced Miriam to become a vampire.