The Vampire & Her Witch

The following day, Ashlynn dutifully slept until the afternoon sun had turned soft and golden, shining through the vale’s mists in soft edged rays of pale light.

On her terrace, overlooking the valley beyond the ancient fortress walls, Ashlynn sat with Virve while they enjoyed a sumptuous feast prepared by an enthusiastic Georg. The bearish chef had used every technique at his disposal to assemble the flavors of fall in the Vale and place them all on artfully arranged plates for his most prestigious student and the soon-to-be Oak Witch.

Sitting across the table from her, Virve dispensed with knife and fork, using her claws directly to disassemble the soft duck breast that had been slow clooked in its own fat along with fresh herbs and sharp pepper corns, resulting in a texture so delicate that it melted on the tongue like butter, with a flavor so rich that Ashlynn had struggled to eat more than a few bites of her before moving on to lighter dishes.

”Did you sleep well, Virve?” Ashlynn asked, cutting a small piece of orange autumn squash that had been studded with cloves and basted with honey as it roasted. The flavor was just as delicate as the duck, but sweeter with a touch of earthyness that paired well with the goblet of red wine at her elbow. ”Seeing a ritual like that, and being so close to the energy of it all, I can understand if it made it difficult to sleep afterwards.”

”I slept fine my Lady, er, I mean, Mother Ashlynn,” Virve said awkwardly as she licked the juices of the duck from her claws. ”I sleep when I can and wake when I’m needed. I lost track of day and night years ago.”

”I wish I could say that it will be better now that you’re joining the coven but...” Ashlynn said, sighing heavily. ”I’m starting to lose track of day and night myself. There never seem to be enough hours and I get so few to spend with Nyri,” she said wistfully.

”The winter should be a good time to slow down,” Virve said, picking up bright pink lamb chop by the bone and placing the entire medallion of mutton in her mouth before biting down and tearing the meet free from the bone. The meat wasn’t as tender as spring lamb, but somehow, under Georg’s tender ministrations, he’d still delivered a chop that was rich with an earthy flavor that blended with a crust of crushed walnuts and dried berries to create a flavor that exploded in the veteran soldier’s mouth as soon as she bit down.

”My clansmen might not hibernate through the winter,” she added around a mouthful of mutton as she dropped the bone on her plate. ”But we all tend to withdraw to our long houses to escape the dreary days and the snows when they come. No one wants to be trudging through the cold and wet when you could cozy up by the fire with your close ones. You should do the same,” she suggested, picking up another walnut crusted chop and pointing it at Ashlynn to emphasize her point.

”This winter will be for making preparations,” Ashlynn said, shaking her head. ”You and Ollie have much to learn in order to become true witches. Once the winter snows stop and the world begins to thaw, I intend to strike at the Lothians, before they have a chance to organize their army or receive reinforcements that have gathered in Blackwell County.”

”Our window of opportunity is too small,” Ashlynn said, moving from the squash to her own mutton, though unlike Virve, she worked carefully with her knife and fork to cut delicate slices. ”When we make our move, we have to secure victory swiftly or risk provoking a war that drags on for years with more deaths and tragedies every day.”

”I thought the humans only fought in the summer, like sensible people,” Virve said, frowning at Ashlynn in puzzlement. ”Or do you mean that we’ll enter a cycle of wars every summer?”

”This time it will be different,” Ashlynn said firmly, poking the center of a mutton chop with the point of her knife. ”This time, Lothian City will fall in our opening move. But capturing the city is the easy part,” she said, carefully carving out the center of the mutton chop. ”Holding it means we have to pacify the citizens within the walls.”

”If they don’t accept our rule then we will constantly face small riots or uprisings from within the city,” Ashlynn explained. ”If we can’t feed them through the winter, if we can’t settle their grievances when they bring them to us for justice... If they feel like they have been conquered and enslaved instead of feeling that they have been welcomed into something greater and liberated from the crushing Lothian boot...”

”The Vale of Mists has never conquered anyone like that,” Virve pointed out, dropping a third bone onto her plate and picking up a bowl of creamy soup made from goats milk and smashed carrots, drinking it down as though it were a mug of ale. ”Can you really make the humans accept our rule?”

”I don’t know,” Ashlynn said, shaking her head at the way nothing seemed to disturb her next coven-member’s appetite. Virve ate with gusto whenever the opportunity presented itself, but when the time came to fight, she was just as likely as Lennart to lead the charge, standing shoulder to shoulder with her companions when the fighting was at its fiercest.

Sometimes, Ashlynn wondered if Virve even stopped to taste the food she was devouring, or if it was simply fuel, like logs thrown upon the hearth at night for warmth. The brief flicker of disappointment that passed over the bearish woman’s face when she ran out of soup, and the way she licked at the edges of the bowl before setting it down, however, suggested that she’d at least found a few favorites among the dishes Georg had prepared for them.

”Do you think that your clansmen can act like an occupying army?” Ashlynn asked pointedly. ”The hatred between the Vale and the Lothians goes back generations, and not without good cause,” she said, clutching her wine goblet as she considered her own grudge with Owain Lothian and the knights under his command.

”Can the people of the Vale walk the streets of Lothian City without causing problems?” Ashlynn asked. ”Can they act as constables enforcing the peace without becoming tyrants who rule by the force of their arms?”