Thor came across a gaping hole in the floor, and looking up, he saw a series of interconnected holes leading several floors up. To reinforce his new reputation as Thor the Curious, he decided to peer over the edge, only to fall in, landing several stories below.

His furious shouts could be heard throughout the entire castle.

“Looks like he found the hole,” said Saturn, taking Arthur’s knight.

“Sounds like he’s having fun,” said Arthur, looking out at the moon.

Saturn had made two holes the day she lost to Arthur - one in the floor, and a second one in the wall, which was later turned into a window. A real window, and a rather large one at that.

Arthur was thankful Saturn had not exploited some technicality, making a window that looked into another room, or making it so small he could hardly see out of it.

“I should go to training,” he said, taking her queen. “We can finish the game later.”

“No need,” said Saturn, moving the bishop and knocking over Arthur’s king. “Checkmate.”

“Hey, I’m supposed to do that”

“But it's more fun when I do it.” She recorded her victory in a leatherbound book, where she wrote down move sequences and made note of Arthur’s strategies. Since they first played, she had won “Twenty seven games,” as she informed him. “And you have won five times.”

She scowled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You’re handily beating me. What are you so upset about?”

“You shouldn’t be winning at all.”

Maybe not, thought Arthur.

However, he may have been winning even more, if not for the vampires who watched him at night. Like any wish, the window had unexpected consequences, and he had forgotten how easily it let someone peer inside, just as easily he could see outside.

No, not someone.

Something.

Many of them, crawling about in the darkness, glaring at him. But it was not the ones in the darkness that worried him. Arthur had expected some attention, but most of the vampires dressed in dark colors, and his window was at the top of a rather tall tower, making it impossible to see them. He knew they were out there, watching from the woods, but they were easy enough to ignore.

But one night a vampire with a large white parasol appeared.

It was not just the parasol, but her clothes and skin and her hair as well, all the very same color as the moon. She appeared to shimmer and wane as she went for her nightly walks, her wind blowing in the midnight wind.

But what disturbed him most was how she would wave at him as she passed.

And each time she came a little closer, until he could almost make out her face.

And there was another vampire, this one large and completely covered in armor, who would just stand there and look up at his window, the moonlight swimming on his metal plating, reflecting in unnatural ways.

Arthur called him The Helmet.

It was for this reason that Arthur was so motivated during combat training, and why he found himself spending more and more time with Caesar.

“Terrific dodge,” said Caesar, as his fist sank into the wall.

Arthur had hardly dodged that attack - his shoulder was raw, the flesh shaved clean off, and his tooth was lodged in the floor. But he took the compliment - as well as his chance to strike at Caesar's side.

The vampire jumped up, held aloft by his arm in the wall, and struck out with his leg. Arthur held his arms up and felt the crunch as his left hand was crushed, absorbing the brunt of the blow.

But there was still enough force left over to send him flying, landing him against the opposite wall. Arthur’s whole body seized up on impact.

Caesar now pulled his arm from the wall and took a piece of dislodged stone, launching it at Arthur's face. “Remember to use your environment to your advantage,” he said, as Arthur barely dodged away in time, the wall exploding behind him. Bits of stony shrapnel lodged themselves in his back.

Arthur had been taught how to channel energy, and he poured as much of it as he could onto his feet and his one good hand, getting ready to lunge.

But before he could even compose himself, Caesar appeared, his fist moving with such force that it created an air pocket. Arthur grabbed some gravel from the half-destroyed wall and hurled it at Caesar's face, temporarily blinding the vampire, giving him the chance to attack.

He struck his opponent in the jaw, knocking him off balance. Caesar's fist careened harmlessly into the air. Arthur then managed to land a blow in the vampire's chest, before he noticed a foot against his stomach, crushing his ribs.

Arthur flew halfway across the training hall, skidding as he landed, rolling over five to six times before finally stopping. He gasped for air, his body alternating between immense pain and total numbness.

“Way to use the environment to your advantage!” said Caesar.

The vampire held an arm out and helped Arthur to his feat, before falling to the floor and doing push-ups. Of course he did, thought Arthur.

And of course he did them with one finger.

And of course he was holding a dislodged piece of wall with his free hand.

“What are you doing push ups for?” asked Arthur, too exhausted to even watch someone exercise.

“I’m rewarding myself,” said Caesar. “I think I deserve at least a hundred push ups for my performance. And once you’re healed up, I think you've earned at least forty five.” He switched to his index finger and started moving faster. “But you can do more if you like.”

“Can my reward be zero push ups?” he asked.

“Oh, you’re hilarious Arthur.” Caesar laughed. “But truly, you’ve earned them. If you keep training, you’ll be a great fighter, I know it.”

“I’ll be better,” said Arthur, “But never good.”

He had learned not to trust any compliments from Caesar. With his perfect teeth and chiseled jaw and endless charm, Caesar could make you feel proud of anything. He put the perfect spin on everything. “So you lost a hand. That’s not so bad. If you hadn’t dodged so perfectly, you would have lost a lot more than that. I’m proud of you,” or “If you do die, imagine the lifetime of taxes you won’t have to pay.”

Caesar stood and handed Arthur a green elixir, thick and pungent, bubbling over onto the floor. “Have some of this,” he said.

“What is it?” said Arthur, recoiling.

“It’s made of natural herbs and medicines. High in protein. Also, I cast a powerful healing spell on it. You’ll need to recover for your next fight.” He noticed the way Arthur was examining it and added “It tastes better than it looks.”

“But,” said Arthur, nauseous from the smell. “Is it even edible?”

“Anything is edible. But some things you can only eat once.”

“Because it kills you,” said Arthur, eyeing the medicine.

“Yes, or you kill it,” said the vampire, flashing a rye smile.

Arthur should have been concerned by that comment, but what really worried him was something else Caesar had said. “What do you mean another fight?” he asked. “Didn’t we just finish?”

But Caesar ignored his question, and instead said:

“Something is bothering you, isn’t it."

He was not asking.

He was telling him.

“Yes,” said Arthur.

“Tell me.”

“Well…” he started, seeing no good reason to lie. “Some vampires have been following me lately. But it really shouldn’t be bothering me. I know Octavian forbids anyone from harming me.”

But as he heard himself say it, he did not sound convinced. After all, these had not been Octavian’s exact words - no, he simply did not want to see Arthur hurt. No, even worse. He did not want to see “a scratch” on him.

And given that Arthur had not seen the vampire since he arrived, adn in turn had not been seen, that order gave him very little comfort. And as if to confirm his worries, Caesar said:

“Well, yes, they’re not supposed to kill you. But there are plenty of ways to get away with murder…”

“Such as?”

“Well, it’s kind of like stealing,” he said, squatting next to him now, placing a hand on his back. “Not that I condone theft, mind you. But if you walk out of somewhere with a broach, or a severed head - whatever it is - as long as you act natural, like you paid for it, you’re good. Or wear nice robes,” he added. “Literally anyone will let you do anything if you are wearing nice clothes.”

Arthur lowered his head. “I guess I should stop coming,” he said. “I mean, what was I thinking? Why would I leave my room…”

But as he said this, he felt a great pressure on his back, as Caesar pressed down harder, his fingers sinking into his skin. “Come on now, don’t talk like that,” he said. “Getting away with murder and getting away from murder are as similar as they sound.” He poked Arthur in the chest. “It’s all about confidence, you got that? Confidence!” He rose to his feet and started doing squats. “Now eat your soup and get ready. Your fight will start as soon as you’re feeling better.”

Arthur stared at the vampire.

“Alright, I’ll fight,” He said.

“That’s the spirit!”

Arthur understood Caesar better than the other vampires did. The others had the imperfect understanding that Caesar loved humans. And indeed he did. He loved the humans very much, and he would be the first to admit it.

He’d even boast about it.

But Caesar loved humans the same way an amateur taxidermist would overstuff an antelope, sticking things in all the wrong places.

He loved humans like an evolutionary biologist who had just landed on a previously undiscovered island with a loaded crossbow.

He loved humans like a five year old catching an oh-so-beautiful butterfly and pulling its wings off.

But only Arthur, being a human himself, understood any of this.

This is why he was not surprised to see his opponent - a gargantuan vampire, at least a head or two taller than Caesar, his body carefully stacked with muscle. These muscles were not just for show, not just thrown on carelessly, but assembled for maximum damage. Both a suit of armor and a deadly weapon, all wrapped into one.

The vampire grunted when he saw Arthur, his muscles tensing.

“Hello,” said Arthur, timidly raising his hand, not sure if he was waving or reaching out to shake the vampire's hand. He wanted to shake hands - he didn’t want to be rude, certainly not to this creature - but it seemed dangerous. The vampire's hands were large and covered in calluses, the fingers topped with talon like nails.

“Greetings human,” said the vampire.

He nodded.

“Congratulations,” said Caesar, breaking the tension, patting them both on the back. Pushing them closer together. “You both just met a cool person. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

The fight did not start long after that. Arthur’s injuries had yet to fully heal, but the green murk Caesar had given was as effective as it was rancid. He was hurting, but he could fight.

That said, he decided not to rush into things.

For the first minute or so, neither combatant moved, sizing the other up. Arthur was surprised to see the vampire act so cautiously. And disappointed. He was really betting on his opponent's overconfidence. He needed to set a trap, otherwise, how would he win? Could he use the environment to his advantage, like Caesar had told him?

Could he rely on luck?

“If you won’t come to me,” said the vampire, crouching low, “then I will have to come to you.” He burst forward, kicking up stone, landing only inches from his prey. He raised a muscular arm.

Arthur was stunned for a moment. But he managed to dodge at the very last moment, and to his surprise, he avoided the blow all together. Then he focused his energy in his fist and struck the vampire in the chest, in what appeared to be an old wound - a bright red mark in the shape of a cross.

The vampire roared in pain, lashing out at Arthur with both arms.

But he appeared to be moving in slow motion, and Arthur easily ducked out of the way. Then he clenched his left hand into a fist - the hand Caesar had crushed - and went for the chin.

His hand had not fully recovered, so he was surprised to see the vampire fall to the floor, seemingly knocked out cold.

“Marvelous,” said Caesar, running up and wrapping his arms around Arthur, jumping up and down. “That was easily a two hundred push up performance! No, you know what? I’d say you’ve earned two hundred and twenty at least. Good work!”

Arthur just looked at Caesar, then at his hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. But with what? With shock, with fear, or could it...

Or could it have been with excitement?

“I don’t understand,” stuttered Arthur, still in shock. “What just happened?”

“What did I tell you,” said Caesar, prodding him hard in the chest, nearly knocking him over. “You need to have more confidence in yourself. I mean, ask yourself - how many times have you fought with me?”

“Yea, and how many times have I beaten you?” asked Arthur, still stunned he just won, stunned he had done so easily. Stunned he had not died in some horribly brutal fashion.

“Ah, but ask yourself this,” said Caesar. “How many times have you died?”

Arthur considered this. His limbs had been broken, his flesh cleaved clear off, his organs ruptured and his muscles pushed to the point of no longer working. He had been battered about and impaled and crushed. Caesar had been trying to kill him, Arthur now realized. Truly trying to end his life. Yes, he had been holding back - he had no illusions about that - but not nearly enough to guarantee survival.

And yet, after all this time, Arthur had survived.

He could not help but feel a little pleased with himself.

“Ah, there it is!” said Caesar, patting Arthur on the back, giving him a perfect, toothy grin.

“There’s what?” asked Arthur.

“The look of confidence,” he said. “The look of a proper vampire.”