Horace had a complicated expression on his face as he walked through the building that was meant to be his home.
Not too long ago, he was forced to give up ownership of it to a young Vampire that gave him quite the beating.
He still had nightmares when recalling the awful strength displayed by Damian that fateful night he came to him.
Walking past the halls adorned with various art pieces collected during Horace’s travels around the continent.
Curtains from Emet tailors, artistic designs from Henos artisans... as he walked, his eyes wandering about his collection, it reminded Horace of a certain time.
A time when he was free to do as he liked or at least as much as the Peace Accords allowed him.
In any case, the freedom was long gone and there was only one reason for that.
"Sir." Two Vampires, supposed lackeys of Horace but now clearly loyal to Damian, greeted Horace halfheartedly while walking past.
"Wait," Horace called out.
Both Vampires stiffened before slowly turning to face Horace.
Despite appearing calm, Horace could smell the fear in their demeanor.
’Stupid bastards know that though I may no longer be in charge, that doesn’t mean I can’t rip their hearts out.’ Horace thought inwardly as he restrained the slight bloodlust threatening to burst out.
Taking a deep breath, he calmly asked. "Where is Damian?"
"Sire, the Monarch is in his chambers, in the company of the chamberlains."
"His chambers?" Horace raised a brow before it slowly dawned on him.
Pursing his lips, he inquired. "Is it my chambers?"
The Vampires flinched as they could have sworn they sensed a terrifying trace of bloodlust escaping Horace’s demeanor upon hearing their answer.
Gulping nervously, they hoped he wouldn’t be petty enough to take out his frustrations on them, after all, they were quite familiar with Horace.
A calm being on the surface capable of causing pain in more ways than one.
Even his fellow dukes were wary of what Horace was capable of if angered.
A few minutes passed before Horace let out a sigh.
"Alright then, you may go."
"Thank you, sire." With that, both Vampires quickly scurried away, their previous calm demeanor all but gone.
Watching them run with their tails between their legs, Horace recalled when Damian had first come to him.
A newborn seeking to prove himself.
Damian at that time was a genius vampire but Horace didn’t accept him into his dukedom.
It was simple actually.
Ignoring Damian’s desire to prove himself and his genius, Horace saw an overzealousness that made him understand that keeping Damian by his side would end in his downfall.
Damian was proud, arrogant, and too dangerous to be made a mere subordinate.
So, Horace had chased him away... far away.
But who would have thought, 150 years later, Damian would come to him yet again but this time not as a youngling or even as an equal.
He completely crushed him and turned him into a lackey, something Horace tried so badly to avoid.
One might even say it was inevitable, a cruel play of fate.
Horace made his way up the winding stairs, his footsteps echoing on the stone structure.
Now there was nothing he could do but serve Damian, no matter how infuriating it was for him.
Coming to a large double door, Horace took a deep breath before softly knocking on it.
A moment later, a voice was heard.
"Alright." As Horace turned the doorknob, he could already hear the feminine laughter within the chambers as well as soft moans.
Gritting his teeth, he opened the door and stepped into the chambers.
Half bedroom, half bath... Horace’s, no, Damian’s chambers were quite exquisite with aesthetically pleasing designs placed on the stone walls that had been weathered by time, but in a good way.
As Horace walked, the laughter and moans grew louder and louder until he got to the bath.
A pool large enough to fit over 50 people was at the center with red wine filling it.
At one end of the pool, Damian rested his back against the stone with his head in between the thighs of a female Vampire that was barely clothed, wearing nothing but just enough to cover her privates.
There were two other female Vampires in the pool with Damian, one on both sides.
They were unclad with the wine from the pool clinging seductively to their porcelain white skin.
Damian had his hands full as each of his palms rested on the breast of a female and as he spoke with the girls, eliciting laughter from them, he occasionally pinched their nipples, causing them to let out soft moans.
Horace watched this scene with anger boiling in his heart.
Each of the girls Damian was currently having fun with was once a mistress he had picked to warm his bed.
Yet at this moment, he could only watch as Damian enjoyed them to the fullest with none of them showing any form of repulsion from having to change masters so quickly.
’Whores!’ he screamed in his heart while barely suppressing the bloodlust that threatened to escape his control.
If he had his way, he would have already decapitated the girls but of course, that was impossible given his current circumstances.
Gritting his teeth, he muttered in his heart. ’Just you wait.’
Just then, Damian retracted his attention from the lovely women around him as he glanced at Horace.
"Ah, my loyal right-hand man, you have arrived," Damian said loudly, clearly trying to reduce Horace’s figure further in the eyes of the girls.
Sure enough, the female Vampires had a hint of disdain in their eyes as they glanced at Horace before they quickly turned away.
Horace flared up internally but somehow managed to keep himself calm as he replied. "I come with news, my lord."
"I see." Damian nodded. "Pray tell."
"Your order was delivered as instructed and as of last night, the black markets for the Extensions were hit and only one survivor was recorded for each location," Horace replied while cursing in his heart.
From a Duke to a butler, how the mighty had fallen.
He could only curse his bad luck for his current situation.
At least his fellow dukes were still able to enjoy a sliver of respect in their dukedoms but he was completely disregarded on his own!
He was angry but had no idea who to take it out on.
’Hopefully, this bastard takes the bait and dies at the hand of the Liason.’
Horace didn’t even care about the Dark Ages, it was a terrible time with bleakness and no artistic beauty.
Humans may be lesser creatures but their artistic genius was like no other... so Horace saw no reason for a war to take place but then again... his opinion was worth less than a fart.
"That’s good. It’s only a matter of time now before the Liaison will come asking questions and we can set your plan into motion."
"Do not worry, my Lord. All will go as planned."
"I am not worried, after all, I trust you will do a good job for the betterment of our race."
"Thank you, my lord," Horace replied with a slight bow while cursing internally.