8 – Priest Tristan

I sat in a surprisingly comfortable plush chair at the head of a meeting table.

Lars, ever the dutiful knight, stood at attention to my side and slightly behind me. He was wearing chain mail today, unlike yesterday. I could smell the oil he used to keep it from rusting.

Not that it managed to cover the scent of his blood. Of all the blood I’d smelled so far, Lars’ was definitely the most appetizing. I could almost taste the rich sweetness. But it was more than that, almost like a complex mix of spices that melted together to create a combined flavor.

Hunger was increasing my sensitivity to the smell. I was sure of it. It hadn’t been nearly as overwhelming yesterday evening, just a few hours ago.

In addition to the smell, I could also sense the knight’s heartbeat. That wasn’t surprising in and of itself, but his heart felt somehow more… impactful? Like it had more bass maybe? An understated, calm beat that nonetheless projected strength.

Some intuition was warning me. This man is dangerous to me.

I couldn’t explain how exactly, but I knew it.

Unfortunately, that didn’t suppress the smell. No, it instead enhanced it, as if harder prey would taste even better. Saliva gathered in my mouth.

I was broken from my increasingly dangerous train of thoughts by a piercing pain in my lower lip.

My fangs had extended without me noticing and I’d bitten myself. An accident, but I welcomed it. It kept me from accidentally doing or revealing something stupid. I was intensely grateful for Lars’ position without a view of my face.

Luckily I could easily heal the small punctures.

“It will take another little while for the guests to arrive, so why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”

“I’m comfortable standing up, thank you.”

“Sit.”

I could see Lars’ eye twitch as he sat down on one of the vastly less plush chairs next to me at the table. Nonetheless, he held my gaze without overt complaint.

“How strong are you, Lars?”

If my question surprised him, he didn’t show it.

“Despite my training, I am merely a low-ranking knight. Without meaning to brag, any non-knight who managed to defeat me would have to use underhanded tricks and traps. Or they’d have to be unbelievably skilled, nearing a level where grandmaster knights would be willing to accept them as an apprentice even without any foundation.

“I am confident in putting up a good fight against anyone classified as a low-ranking knight like me. I wouldn’t necessarily win, but the fight would be fairly even at worst. Anything higher than that and I would at best be able to stall a little and maybe escape with my life.

“For my duties as a bodyguard, I have trained to combat multiple foes at once, though I doubt my chances against well-coordinated, massed infantry or several knights at once. It would depend heavily on the enemies’ weaponry and the terrain.”

Lars stretched his body. I noticed his lean muscles, belying the power I knew must lay within.

“As for mages,” he preempted my unasked next question, “I cannot give myself good chances of surviving, never mind winning.”

His gaze turned more serious.

“He concealed his powers well, but I am certain your former friend would have been able to kill me handily. There isn’t much I can do against a prepared mage with even a minimal level of combat spells in his repertoire. The only way I would stand a chance is if I was already at a range I could strike at them before they can react. Even then, a retaliatory strike will likely at least cripple me.

“The only real way for someone at my level of skill to combat a half-decent mage one on one would be to take them by surprise. Put a javelin through their heart or an axe in their head from range, ideally a spot I’m out of line of sight. Even then, with good perception and a prepared defensive spell, the attack might still fail.”

By now, the stare was almost a glare.

“In short, you should be glad your traitor mage died. If he survived with a grudge against you or was still under the demon’s sway, there would be next to nothing I could do to save you.”

The man shook his head, a bit of the severity flowing from his features.

“I’m sorry if that was insensitive, lord. I just wanted to express just how dire your circumstances were.”

I nodded slowly. That was good information to have. Basically, don’t fuck with mages without a good plan.

“What about demon hunters? We both know it could come to a confrontation if they’ve been bought off.”

Lars scratched his stubble.

“Good question. I don’t really know how strong they are, though they’ll likely have multiple ranks in their organization, similar to how knights are categorized. Many of them are probably knights in their own right. But I’ve heard they use a lot of esoteric tools and methods, so it’s hard to say. Also, from my knowledge they tend to operate in groups of three…

“If they aren’t real demon hunters, the estimation is completely off as well. Especially if they are special agents hired by the steward or lent to him by someone in whatever faction he belongs to. He knows my approximate strength and would have taken it into account, so I recommend you don’t expect any miracles.”

“Hmm.”

I felt a familiar heartbeat enter the manor, accompanied by a new one.

Switching the topic, I pulled out a copper coin.

“Can you bend this coin?”

“Sure, but why?” A confused look graced Lars’ face, before he caught the tossed coin.

“I just want to see it.”

With a shrug, he held the coin between forefinger and thumb and squeezed. The coin bent, similar to when I did that. The top and bottom middle folded the most, with the sides staying somewhat open, until it formed a sort of pasta shape.

The knight flicked the coin back at me.

After fumbling to catch it, I appreciated the bent piece of metal.

There was a knock. After a shouted “Enter,” the door opened to reveal two people.

Mia stood, slightly breathless, next to a winded man wearing plain robes only adorned by a wide sash woven from many differently-colored threads. He had short, messy brown hair and looked quite average besides that.

His heart was beating rapidly from rushing, but wasn’t otherwise notable. His blood smelled appetizing, but not noticeably more than Mia’s. Lars’ blood was overpowering both of them.

Kalin didn’t know the man’s name.

Luckily, Mia was smart. “My lord, I have brought priest Tristan as you ordered.” She bowed.

I waved them in. “Welcome, welcome. I thank you for responding in such a timely manner to my request for a meeting. Please, have a seat.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Lars was already back in his guard position.

After falling into a chair and catching his breath, the rather young priest spoke.

“Indeed, I came at your request. What help can I provide? Your letter mentioned a demon, I’m afraid that is beyond my abilities. I am just a humble–”

“Yes, I called you here because of the demonic attempt on my life. Don’t worry though, the demon has already fled the manor. You are needed for something else.”

The man breathed a sigh of relief.