Rena stood upright then and padded over to the vampire. She cowered at the sight of the other woman.

Rena however sat onto the floor nearby. She took in the girl before her, no longer was she perceived as the enemy.

“I see you are troubled by being allowed in here.”

“A-Aye... Gavilis—Is that his name...?--was not very nice to me. I was only given orders and I followed them. Just like you are now.” Eloise removed her helm. The familiar girl who not even a week ago had been interrogated by the Grandmaster. Her crimson hues were sunken inward, her appearance frail despite the armor. She appeared like she had risen from the dead.

“Was it Valtieri who gave you orders, or was it another?”

“I-I...I cannot say. Whoever they were had eyes like her.” The vampire girl pointed to Arden, whose quill had halted as she listened in.

“What else did they tell you?” Rena asked.

“I-I...I know I told Gavilis something much different. I told him what I was told to tell him... They told me that if I suffered, I would be compensated. I still feel...afraid of Justicar and the Templarate. No amount of money or clothing could change that.”

The eldest Justicar motioned for Arden to continue writing. She hastily jotted down their conversation as it went on.

“What is like...being a vampire?”

“Perhaps the first thing you will notice is the hunger. Food will not sate you. You could eat for as long as you wanted...but your body would reject it in one form or another. You could even drink any amount of alcohol or other even water...but your body would still reject it. The first vampires fought one another and drank the blood of their own kind. They found that others like them tasted foul. Then...they charmed their way into other people's lives and then they...ate them. They found that eating their meat wasn't what they needed. It was the blood. The scent drives them mad. For a long time it was unbearable. As a child you learn quickly to cope with the hunger. You feed off cattle...whatever you can find. Unlike human, elven, dwarven or any other type of life you grow fast. Like a weed, almost. I am only...perhaps ten years of age if you were to count how long I've been alive.” Eloise halted for a moment, turning to Arden. “Y-You...are--”

“An interview like this could help us find a solution. Something less superficial than what life is for you now.” Rena explained. “Perhaps...understanding one another would be the key to working through our differences.”

“I don't see it happening.” Eloise grimaced. “I have been branded a monster since I was born.”

“Are you implying vampires are not created?” Gelehrter chimed in, pulling up a chair to participate.

“Oh, of course. We mate just like you do. However...if one is bitten, they have a chance of contracting our likeness. Vampires can also be born. There is a segregation between even our own kind. Those who are innate and those who are turned. We often find ourselves favoring those who are born to be rather than those who become.” She shifted her gaze to the fire as she continued, pulling her knees to her chest. “I am regarded highly by other vampires because I was given this state innately. My mother used to remind me that being born into this life is a blessing. We are regarded as royalty. Those who are turned are considered the true monsters.”

“What is the difference?” Arden inquired. Her sapphire gaze softened, the intensity of her aura fading.

“It is hard to explain in terms you will understand. Mortem are regarded highly because of their intelligence, their strength and ingenuity. Dwyn are praised for their wit and study of magic. Delacroix were those who wished to join either of the great houses, but could not. They were the start of lesser beings trying to ascend to something they could not be by birth. Imagine...if the Delacroix were driven mad by their hunger for power. They would pillage and rape. This is what a vampire who has turned will become if they do not feed. Those who are born can sate their hunger with the blood of animals. If you are turned the only thing which can sate you is the blood of bipeds like humans, dwarves and elves.” Eloise spoke scornfully, as if in disgust of herself and her lineage.

“I am sorry if we sound rude...the right questions escape us. We have been taught since birth to hate all vampires, born or not. They were the ones who had taken Ernald and Eloise the First.” Rena apologized earnestly, holding up a palm. “Perhaps you could shed some light on other myths which have been collected over the course of life concerning your kind.”

“Which should I begin with?” Eloise sighed.

“Perhaps listing them would be best.” Gelehrter suggested. “We can return to this subject at a later date.”

“Nay, we have the chance now.” Rena disagreed.

“What of Thalanil?”

“He will surely wish to keep her.”

“Do we stage a kidnapping? I still have plenty of rope.”

“I don't believe that will be necessary.” Arden grinned. “Since I am Ovelia's daughter...well, adopted daughter. I seem to have some influence. Perhaps I may...persuade him to part with her?”

Rena and Gelehrter exchanged glances while Eloise crossed her arms.

They turned to the sound of knocking at their door. Gelehrter was the first to stand with his weapon in tow. He peeked outside of the bars and shook his head at the rest of the occupants of the chamber.

Outside of their quarters stood a few dozen soldiers. They were equipped in full platemail armor and several of them carried a massive battering ram carved out of a tree trunk.

He motioned for them to gather their belongings. Rena reached into her pack and retrieved an ordinary leather satchel. She crammed many of their items into it, the magical energies allowing their gear to fit inside.

“By the order of the King of Burm, you are to surrender or be put to the sword!” One of the knights called out.

“They mean to create conflict with Ovelia. He did not approve of your proposal, Rena. You should work on your manners.” Gelehrter scolded the elder Justicar, who shrugged.

“If I were any more gentle, he would have surely found another means of keeping us.” Rena concluded. She slipped on her boots and then snapped her fingers toward Arden.

“I need you to focus on wielding your enchanted blade. That shortsword may have been crafted by Ana, but we need something with bite.” She turned to Eloise now and they steeled themselves.

Gelehrter rushed to seal an envelope with wax. He whistled and opened the window. Gusts of wind bellowed from the storm which raged on outside the walls of Castle Burm. The familiar snow owl appeared before him and he murmured to the creature hastily. The owl swiped the letter from him and vanished into the icy winds. Without further delay, he focused onto the task at hand.

Rena and the others however ignored him as he went through with his ritual.

Arden unsheathed her enchanted sword. The weapon burst into flame as it tasted the air, its magnificent edge gleaming as she held it aloft.

They gripped their weapons and fell silent.

“Do you yield to our demands, Justicar? What say you!” The knight's voice was muffled against the might of the heavy wooden door.

Silence greeted them. He raised his hand and the signal was given. Several of the soldiers heaved the ram against the entrance. Clouds of dust rose into the expanse before the threshold collapsed against their device.

As the dust settled, only one of the knights entered. Once he had halted, Arden lunged forward with her weapon, catching him off guard. He attempted to step aside but the flames scorched his armor. The steel melted instantaneously and he panicked, falling onto his rear. His weapon clanged as it crashed against the stonework. The others simply watched either in reverence or in shock.

Her fervor shone brilliantly, the resolve of Mortem flowing from deep within her psyche. She stood as the bulwark for her country, her comrades and herself.

In desperation, he clambered onto his feet. He reached for his sword and struggled to hold it aloft. He reared and prepared to swing. In that single moment, his body and mind were as one. The strength of his will, his resolve, resonated into his frame.

However, Arden's blade caught his. In that instant, he was cleaved in two. Sword, armor and man were split, the pieces falling onto the ground.

She took a step back and drew in a single breath. Arden felt the mantle of sin rest onto her shoulders. A man, who once stood for King Thalanil, now rested in a gory heap before her. His steel breastplate had been melted against the padding, the leather continuing to burn. A full helm had been wrestled free from his head when he crashed against the floor, the sightless eyes of a man with a name, a family, a past, stared blankly to the ceiling.

Her eyes now found the other knights steeling themselves. She shook her head and brushed the weight from her shoulders. Without further delay she rushed forward, her comrades falling in behind her.

Rena and Gelehrter quickly dispatched a few of the knights with keen strikes. The Justicar each activated their armor, the Blessed Star of Sanctuary glowing as it stitched the dark armor around each of the frames.

Arden ducked and felt the weight of sin return. Her body however reacted instinctively as the enemy apprehended her. A single stroke of her sword and they lay dead. She rushed to a corner and vomit escaped her. The flames surrounding her weapon were quenched as it was released from her grasp.

“Come, we can't dawdle.” Gelehrter reached back for her, but was halted by Eloise. The vampire smirked as she witnessed Arden's weakness.

“Seems you have not learned what it means to draw blood.” She grinned maliciously. “A Mortem showing remorse...I could not imagine a better day.”

Her hand rested onto Arden's shoulder. She instantaneously slugged her across her visage, the force knocking her from her feet. The vampire was sent to the wall nearby and she rebounded onto the floor.

“Remember that...when you think of me as weak. I am Mortem. I am the bulwark of Sanctuary's people, you are the cur of the damned!” She spat as she wiped her mouth. Arden retrieved her blade, the flames returning to its edge.

Rena glimpsed the exchange with a hint of fear.