[16] Old Treasures

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Lord Cheryl Fane was not a cunning man. His mind turned like the wheels in his beloved machines, operating in practical patterns that were easy to predict.

This was not something Ira had learned from Chervnik's residents, or Orlova's sly mouth. Her own observations of Lord Fane and his habits provided the necessary insight. Ira's ability to read people was honed over a decade of work as a soldier, and rarely steered her wrong. At present, seated across from Lord Fane as the man feigned regret at their oncoming departure, she only grew more confident in her initial conclusion.

"The letters were delivered successfully. Three of the nine lords sent back replies immediately. I am certain that the rest will follow in a reasonable span of time. Are you certain that you wish to depart tonight?"

Lord Fane posed this question with utmost sincerity. So great was the man's effort to appear genuine, in fact, that he forgot to blink. The nervous thrum of his fingers over his wine glass were equally telling.

"We cannot delay," Ira replied gamely. "I do thank Lord Fane for his consideration."

Lord Fane's smile held a trace of true warmth. "It is no trouble. I only regret that our time together was short."

Ira nodded politely. The room Lord Fane had prepared for their dinner was not large, and neither was the table around which they gathered. Chervnik did not allow for the same luxuries that other lords of Fane's rank would enjoy. This was another reason for Ira's skepticism toward the man. Lord Fane did not appear motivated by material gains, or political desires. His attempts at subterfuge were juvenile at best. Ira suspected that the man would have long perished due to some political machination or another, had he not hidden himself in a pile of metal miles underground.

"Is the meal not to your liking?" Lord Fane asked.

Ira turned her eyes to the meal in question – or rather, the intricately carved goblet filled with some poor soul's blood. "I prefer to abstain when I can," she replied.

"That is unfortunate," Lord Fane sighed.

"Whose blood is it?"

Valeri had not spoken much during the polite small-talk that preceded the serving of their dinner. His tone was decidedly unfriendly now, and the single glance he spared the goblet placed before him was twisted with disgust.

"Does it matter? It was freely given," Lord Fane replied calmly.

Valeri snorted. "None of the men in this forsaken city are free. What alternative do they have, but to bend to your will?"

Lord Fane stilled for a moment. His smile remained, but thinned into something much colder. "There is no free man on this earth, dear Val, but there is always a choice to be made. Those who remain in Chervnik's halls do so at will."

Ira seized the moment to turn the conversation to more productive paths. "That does appear to be the case. There are few vampires in Chervnik's ranks." This was an understatement. Humans were a minority in Chervnik, but vampires were even scarcer. It went against reason that a Dvor outpost governed by a Vampire Lord would allow a power composition unfavorable to the ruling kind.

"There are happenings at the Dvor. I temporarily lent my officers for a common cause," Lord Fane answered smoothly.

Ira nodded in understanding. Her eyes moved to Orlova, who had not joined them at the table but acted the part of a butler instead. The woman was in her human form. Ira was uncertain whether her twin was within her, or elsewhere in Chervnik.

"Is Alia not back?" Lord Fane asked. His attention was on Orlova as well, and the tightness around his eyes betrayed his disgruntlement.

"She is distributing supplies," Orlova answered.

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