Zach grinned cheekily as he entered Lysander’s viewing box, his serving tray laden with two bottles of the most expensive wine from the host’s cellar. Finally the evening was starting to look up! The Vampires of Dray’Mel largely kept to themselves, not that the other Undead were largely forthcoming. Nobody, not even that bloody Rat with his book obsession, knew much about them.

And here he was, getting on the good side of one of them! He couldn’t wait to rub it into the smug Ratling’s face!

“Excellent, excellent,” Lysander nodded as Zach presented the tray with a flourish. He held his wine glass aloft with one pale hand, his long elegant fingers wrapped around the bowl. He was wearing a gold ring with a large ruby set into it. Zach didn’t need to be a jewelry appraiser to know that it was worth thousands, the ruby's shining exterior swirling like thick blood.

“Are you bidding on anything?” Zach asked as he uncorked the wine and poured some into the glass. Jormir had expressively forbade him to speak unless spoken to but, fuck that Halfling prick, there was no way Zach was going to let a chance like this slip him by while he stayed mute like a fucking idiot.

“Hardly. Every few years you mortals host this auction, and every time I’m forced to endure this farce.” Lysander sniffed in distaste, sampling the wine and letting out a small noise of approval. “No, I’ve been sent here on the off chance something of real value is offered. But it’s been quite a few decades since a proper artifact was up for grabs.”

Zach nodded thoughtfully as Lysander drained his cup in one long drought. Quickly stepping forward to fill it once more, the Halfling was happy to play the part of a dutiful servant.

“I’m sure Lord Casey wouldn’t be thrilled to hear that. It’s been said the man considers himself the peak of wealth.” Zach said glibly, watching the vampire carefully to catch any facial tics.

“Ah, but there's the rub. For all the pomp and pageantry, this is an auction for mortals and thrown by mortals. As rich as Lord Casey might be, he’s still not as powerful as the lowest of Tomb-Makers.” The pale man intoned, looking down as the second item was shown off.

It was some kind of bracelet, and from the gasps of the crowd it was impressive in some way… but Lysander took one look at it before rolling his eyes.

“Well, us mortals are just trying our best, can’t fault a man for trying to earn some coin.” The Halfling grinned, taking a sniff of the wine and wrinkling his nose at the coppery smell. Zach was more than happy to stick with his meads, even if it was a poor man’s drink.

Tapping the side of his goblet in thought, Lysander was slow to reply. “Perhaps that is exactly the issue, indeed. Always scurrying about, searching for the next opportunity, the next meal. When one joins the Tomb-Makers, things change. Life doesn’t feel like such a rush when you’re no longer looking behind your shoulder for the Grim Scythe of Death.”

“I’d imagine it must be freeing, having such grand options.” Zach agreed, idly rubbing his chin in thought. “Though I always wondered if the Undead on the Wall earned a proper wage. Can’t quite picture them buying themselves a mug of ale.”

“You’re not alone in that thought,” Lysander muttered in a dry tone. “No, the lesser Undead aren’t paid at all, they’re simply told what to do, and are happy to have purpose in Undeath. Even those who’ve been around since the beginning don’t seem to mind, all too happy to protect their city.”

Lysander raised his goblet and poured the last of his wine down his gullet, before beckoning Zach forth. “The smarter Undead prefer to barter in favours. When you have time unending before you, simple favours can have quite the impact. Still, most Undead are happy to be a cog in the design of Dray’Mel.”

Tipping the bottle of wine slowly, Zacharias met the lily-white man’s eyes, and watched them swirl. For a moment he felt an overwhelming urge to… but then it passed, and the Halfling quickly stepped back, frowning to himself.

For a long moment Lysander stared at the distracted Halfling, his eyes considering Zach for a moment, hungry eyes calmly calculating his prey. Circling the edge of his goblet, the Vampire let a small bit of his Mana pour forth, it's very essence rooted deeply in blood and malice... before pulling it back inside of himself with an errant thought.

Placing his goblet to the side, the vampire let out a single sigh as he leaned back in his chair and addressed the Halfling as Zach shook the cobwebs from his mind. “Of course, those born naturally to Dray’Mel aren’t quite suited to dealing with mortals, so our family tends to... manage the living.”

“Wait.” Zach considered, muddling through his thoughts and finally landing an a pertinent question. “There are Undead in the Tomb-Makers that aren’t native to Dray’Mel? I thought our lovely city was special in that regard.”

Standing from his cushioned chair, Lysander let out a throaty chuckle. “There are all manner of Undead out there, but there’s only one haven like Dray’Mel. Is it truly so shocking that we’d seek out such a home?” The vampire shook his head slowly, staring out at the crowd as the second item was sold for nearly three hundred thousand gold. Sneering in a way that showed off his elongated canines, the Vampire seemed to make up his mind about something.

“I tire of this conversation. Bring word to your employer that the wine offered isn’t up to my standards.” Lysander announced, leaning over the ledge. “And tell him to send up that first serving boy. I’m sure he’ll do fine serving me, lout that he was.”

Bowing quickly, Zach quashed his urge to complain. If the Vampire wanted a different server, so be it. Still, the opportunity wasn’t a complete loss, the Halfling mused to himself. To think, the Tomb-Makers weren’t quite the united front he’d always imagined them as.

Still, if he had his choice of Undeath after he finally kicked it, he surely wouldn’t pick bring a Wraith over a proper Vampire.