How did a Vampire fare against a world filled with magic and sorcery? In a world created by gods for their own purposes–and with them seen as reviled monsters?

Blood Servants.

You didn't necessarily have to turn someone into a Vampire to make them do your bidding.

There was power in a Vampire's blood, of course it all depended on who you are and which generation you were from–but if you wished to, your blood could lengthen the lives of the short-lived races.

You could make them addicted to it, dependent that nothing else would remain the same if they tasted it and searched for it.

The Church of Solaris which was actually a far scarier organization, what might have been the predecessor of the Golden Order actually had a foul bastard.

The head of the church who captured Vampires and used them to increase his lifespan.

He blabbered about how the God Solaris kept extending his lifespan to serve his people, but he was actually using the Vampire's blood abilities to lengthen his life.

A great number of Apollos House suffered underneath that treacherous snake. How dare they feed on the poor Vampires and treat them like livestock?!

I bit back the urge to smile at the irony of that but refocused on Walter.

Walter Puck was an ordinary human man that once approached me because he wished to be turned into a Vampire–he pleaded for it, wanted to be one and I denied him.

I didn't just turn anybody into a Vampire simply because they were desirous of it. Instead, I allowed him to become my Blood Servant.

He couldn't feed on the blood of others, but he used my blood so he could live longer–and with him getting it directly from a Vampire Lord, he was bound to live far longer than his counterparts.

Truth be told, when I went for my Eternal Sleep, I had already stopped giving him a supply and had every intention of letting him die because he had already outlived his use–but now he had purpose once more.

"Before you go to the town of Werf, make sure that you at least dress yourself and look particularly human." I remarked.

I left him in a cave and five hundred years surely must have rendered his clothes into dust–so there was that.

'Yes Master.'

"You did store your belongings right?"

'It's buried, Master.'

"Tch. Then just dig it up, get dressed–or preferably find a river to bathe in first and then head on to the town. Use an alias."

'Yes Master.'

"I want it done as soon as you can–and I do not mean one year, preferably less than a day or two at the maximum."

The only problem with Blood Servants was that their minds sometimes wilted or that they forgot other things as their desire for blood grew.

Of course my Blood Servant didn't have that issue, but I made sure to rob him of his particular mind to ensure that he didn't go against me–so he was like an unrotten zombie in that sense. Or maybe the word I used earlier was better.

Puppets. Marionettes.

He was more akin to that.

While I was in no way versed with Golem Magic, or the ability to turn mindless objects into living beings–but I preferred a weapon over a servant. Someone who couldn't go back against me.

Was that wrong?

I didn't dwell in such thoughts before–this former human was now a Blood Servant, a puppet and someone that I used.

But now I thought about what it might have been like to be alive, but not be able to contemplate other things. To reduce them and to rid them of their ability to become autonomous because that was a nuisance.

The words of being a fiend seemed right.

I was one and I needed to accept that.

To live like one.

–-

Walter didn't know that he was naked, but now when Lord Cassius told him that he needed to get dressed... he looked below him and realized that he was deprived of even clothes.

But then the next order was given and so Walter tried to locate where he had buried his things before.

He knelt down onto the earth and started to dig.

His hands dug into the ground, dirt got in between his nails but he dug because that was what he was told.

He knew pain.

He sensed it as his fingers hit a rock, but his own body moved and his entire being focused on digging until he came across the old chest he had buried.

Why did he bury it before?

The thought slipped into his consciousness but then disappeared as he opened the chest and found himself some clothes.

He grabbed it and put them on and then turned to look at the mouth of the cave.

It was covered with rocks.

A landslide had locked him in and he could barely see anything but the faint hint of light that entered through the cracks.

He needed to go out.

Find a river.

Head to Werf Town.

Gather information.

The rocks were in his way, and so he needed to get past them. Walter stepped towards them and started to remove the rubble.

One by one, he threw the rock out until his limbs became heavy and his arm shook.

He could live for a long time, but he was bound to serve.

One rock.

Two rocks.

Three.

Walter didn't know how long it took him–he didn't count the time, but the light was already fading away when he removed all of the rocks that blocked his path, scratches were all in his arms and he had a chipped nail before he stepped out of his cave.

The forest surrounded him and he didn't know where to go–

"River," Walter said.

And in what seemed like forever, a memory slipped through his mind–

A boy and a girl playing on a raft in a river, the girl was pretty and the boy looked like him–

His footsteps turned in the direction that he knew as the memory retreated back from his consciousness.

He reached the river, slipped on one of the more slippery rocks and fell into the water.

Cold. Freezingly cold.

Walter's body went through the motions as he scrubbed himself. His teeth chattered in the cold, but he bathed because he was told to bathe and then it was time for him to go to town.