The Price of Blood

Chapter 3: A City Up in Arms

It was just before dawn when Tru'Lis came into sight. The triplet sister cities, as it was known. Victoria never liked coming here. It was too big, too chaotic. It sprawled across the river valley for what seemed like miles. Not to mention the fact that it housed the headquarters of the Knights of L'Oriath, an order of paladins that specialized in hunting the undead. Their keep, housed in the center of the city, never failed to send shivers down her spine whenever she saw its spires against the night sky. It was always a risk coming here. But she needed money, and the vampire heads tied to her saddle should set her up comfortably for a while.

The city was divided into three earldoms, with the Chevin and Noam rivers slicing through the city as they converged further south. Each of the three districts was ruled by its own earl. But the three presented a united front. They traded favors, and kept things relatively fair--for themselves, anyway. The outskirts of all three districts were incredibly poor slums. It was in those slums that Victoria had done a great deal of hunting. The undead loved to prey upon the destitute. There was a great deal of temptation behind the power that vampirism offered. To a poor beggar being kicked around by the lords' dogs all day, it offered a chance at revenge. For a city that housed renowned beast hunters, it had an extreme problem with gangs of vampires and lycans.

Ohma, the district she visited most often, sat on the west bank of the Chevin River. Of the three, it was the least dirty and run down. Lord Omura seemed to care at least a little more about his people and his district than the others. He also paid a great deal more than his counterparts for caching in bounties. There was only one inn she trusted to trade her heads in at this time of night. Delivering them directly to the Steward was her preferred method of payment. They'd come to know her work well enough. Over the last ten years, she had brought the Earls every monster they could think of. In some cases alive, if requested. But the innkeeper she had in mind paid her well and treated her well, too.

The Chevin River at this time of year was swelling with snowmelt. It roared underneath the stone bridge as she made her way into town, murky brown with white foam from the rapids. The sight of the raging river seemed to explain why there were so few fishermen out already. She'd seen men getting up at three or four in the morning to claim their favorite fishing spots in the summer and autumn. But she knew there must be something more to it than that. Undoubtedly, it must have something to do with her friends in the vampire cult.

Even once they were under the light of the brass oil street lamps, Victoria kept her werelight lit. Tru'Lis was a dark and dank city. The cobblestone streets, stone buildings with their dark wood trim, and black rooftops absorbed every bit of light, making the streets dim even in the daytime. There was no telling who was lurking around any corner. Even though she could see far better than any of the regular humans on the street, the werelight served as a deterrent. The people of the empire were often mistrustful of magic. Not many dared to test their luck with her, especially when Riven was around.

From deeper in the city, the clocks all struck five, reverberating through the empty streets as they clanged out the time for all to hear. It wouldn't be long before the city began to wake up. Already, Victoria could see candles and brass lamps lighting up windows here and there as the people of Tru'Lis rose for the day. She leaned forward to pat Riven's flank. Undoubtedly, he was exhausted. From the long ride to Karsthan earlier that day to their night ride to the city, he hadn't had more than a few scattered minutes of rest.

Towards the western outskirts of the city, where the crowded townhouses began to melt away into smaller cottages and hovels, Victoria found the inn she was looking for; Battershin Inn. She'd always been fond of the name. It was rather appropriate, considering how often the place erupted into fights. 

Riven, sensing that his time to rest had finally come, picked up his pace. The stablehand was nowhere to be seen, but Victoria had come to expect no less. Riven chose his usual stall, which already had a trough full of water and hay as if they were waiting for him. As Victoria dismounted, he began to paw impatiently at the ground, ready to be free of the saddle and bridle. Once she'd set the saddle on the rack and removed his bridle, she retrieved the vampire heads and headed for the door.