Orion woke up in a fit of sweat, feeling fear but not knowing why. He scanned his surroundings and calmed as he realised he was still in the Korshi’s base, Kora dosing off beside him, a streak of red coming off her pink lips. He had a sneaking suspicion and felt around his neck, finding a new set of shallow bitemarks. Rising to his feet, he told himself he wouldn’t sleep in her “protection” ever again.

After rummaging dry rations from his bag, he spent the following minutes reflecting on what she had said without his volatile pride interrupting. Was it possible? Had his House actually been planning a coup? But these thoughts faded without foundation as he thought of his family: none of them had craved the Empire. While his dad hadn’t been the head of the House, he had still been the brother of the head, with enough power to stop idiocy in its tracks. Besides, his uncle hadn’t lusted the Empire either.

On the other hand, he knew the monster Kora had mentioned was somehow involved in the House’s doom. Yhaoli, she had called it. It was impossible for an influential upstart to keep its grubby claws off such an apocalyptic event. There was no doubt the Tribes to the west had heard of their demise, and there was similarly no doubt an invasion was around the corner.

Orion swallowed the last dried prune and rubbed his palms together, before clapping.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said as he wiped his bag and wore it.

“What? I thought you’d abuse the opportunity…” she mocked as she broke out of her fake sleep.

“I’ll soon kill you if you keep sucking my blood,” he growled.

She giggled, but he wasn’t amused.

They swept through the rats and climbed out of the sewers a few minutes later, taking a taxi to Aaron’s home.

The bright sun above told them it had been a full day since they had entered. While no one gave a second look to the cloaked and (mostly) clean Kora, many people peered at Orion at the various rips across his clothes, but more so at the ridiculous number of bandages he sported - his whole body was hidden from sight except his face.

Aaron swiftly let them in and prepared coffee, arranging the second bout.

“Must have been a hard fight,” he said as he placed Orion’s opponent onto the table.

“Yeah, this idiot got caught by the Korshi,” Kora said.

“Yeah, the vampire was a real bitch,” he said while dipping a finger into his bitter foe, testing the waters.

“But you won, unlike the two you sent back. They left for Visgamar a few hours ago. They told me they just magically realised their boundaries, but I’ve got a hunch you kids aided them with that,” Aaron said, before downing his cup. “Ahh. But let’s forget that, why don’t you pop the head up here,”

Kora complied and lifted the roped head by its cord. The oval eyes stared at Orion while Aaron inspected it. The finger-long teeth protruded out, stained by dirt and blood. Its skin was cracked like dry clay and its features seemed sculpted out of the material now. However, the worst was the smell which still carried the sewer’s spirit.

“Big nose, brown hair, tanned skin. It would have perfectly fit in Lesan in just a few days,” Aaron noted, “Also, almost no cuts. You killed it cleanly, very cleanly,”

“I’m sure you want your reward now, so I’m sorry to say it’s a no-go.” He continued, “The council will take a few weeks to pay up, even after seeing the head. But don’t worry, I’ll write you guys a note so you can withdraw the reward from Visgamar,”

The minutes breezed by as Orion sucker-punched his coffee to oblivion and finally saw the appeal of the bitter drink. They left with Aaron’s note and bought rations, a new set of clothes for Orion, coffee grains, and a pack of cigarettes after Kora explained to him what Sophie had meant by her husband going out for “a smoke” when the Korshi had attacked him. This came to 40 silvers, mainly from the cigarettes, and totalled at 2 golds when they bought horses.

While they could have found another merchant to bunker with, they realised, as a Fullhorn and Zakari, it was both safer and quicker to travel by themselves.

Bullets of rain thundered against the forest floor, drowning out any cries from the outside world. The air was cold but still. Orion and Kora hid below a dome-shaped canopy while the invasive wetness flooded dry ground. Their horses grazed on dry grass by the edge of the canopy.

In between them, a fire crackled, fruitlessly erupting sparks against the dampness outside. Orion sat perched on a thin boulder, joining the campfire by puffing smoke into the muted-blue night sky. He had smoked once since leaving Lesan four days ago: it had tasted like shit and its ash had scorched his skin. Now, his second experience with the chill blasting in his face and the blaze at his back was much better.

“The water’s ready,” Kora called out while lying on the ground, staring up at the leaves stitched together.

He had figured ever since their fight that her senses were good, as in scarily good. He flicked the cigarette out his fingers to under his feet, twisting his foot over it – still tasted like shit. Sighing, he walked over to the metal canteen and lifted it from the flames. Having practised several times now, he made two coffees in less than a minute and handed one to Kora.

“Hey, you know how you Zakari mark your serfs and vassals with Szu, why are you marked?” she said after a few seconds of quiet.

Orion’s mood soured, and he almost spit out his mouthful at her mentioning the scars on his face. “It was my brother’s cruel joke. He got punished,”

“It felt so weird,” she continued. “Your mark, it felt so… ughh. Though, I guess that’s the reason I thought you weren’t a Zakari even when you gave away so many clues. Like, a Zakari owning a Zakari? That’s just mad!”

“You know there was no need to fondle me while I slept; you could have just stroked the mark I gave you. Instead, you got rid of it without even telling me,” he teased. “Besid-”

“You’re such a joker! Let me at least catch my breath,”

“Besides, we don’t own them; they’re marked for their own protection. Although, I guess that doesn’t matter anymore,” he replied cheerlessly.

“My gods, don’t talk about it if you’re just going to get mopey again,”

“What about you then? Why did you leave your House’s lands?”

“I had my reasons. They basically own all the Western Empire so I had to come East, and the capital was a no-go with the Piros there, so I came to the second biggest city instead,”

“Yeah, but what are those reasons?” he repeated.

She remained silent.

“Is it do with Yhaoli?”

“Maybe,”

He eventually gave up after realising she was stubborn about the matter.

“Hey, isn’t your real name Krarem or something?” he said once his flask was empty.

“Cruorem,” she said, stressing the first syllable. “Fullhorn works better for humans; alcoholics are preferable to vampires.”

“Interesting, Cruora,” he said, stressing the first syllable.

“Are you serious? You’d be a hilarious jester with your wit, you would be.” She paused. “Also, do you think I actually used my name?”

“What is it then?”

“Pfft. As if I’d tell you,”

“Alright,” he said, before rummaging through his bag and taking out the cloth cover to sleep on.

She got a feeling he was hiding something. It was easy to beat him, but not this easy – he’d usually at least put up some resistance.

“Wait, are you using a fake name as well?” she asked incredulously.

“Of course,”

“I thought you’d be too dumb to think that far ahead. What is it? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,”

Her trade fell flat as he turned away from her. Her persistence didn’t help either, as mere minutes later, he was lost in his dreamland.