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"Excuse me, General Ver Leth? I just wanted to say thanks again for choosing me for this mission. I'm really looking forwards to travelling in your company."
"Easy, Smahlt. Boat hasn't even left the dock yet."
Mika had been minding his own business enjoying the salty ocean air, leaning on the railing of the large steamship they'd chartered for their voyage to Ireland. Behind them, the crew scurried around preparing to embark while their fellow vampires curiously wandered around the deck.
There was a General in Ireland that had reported a small town being terrorized by a group of rogue Vampaneze. He'd called upon the Princes for help. So Paris, Azis, and Chok had chosen their resident superstar, General Ver Leth to deal with the situation. In turn, Mika had selected a handful of vampires to accompany them - one of which being Kurda Smahlt.
"My apologies, General. I don't mean to fawn." Said the slender blond man as he leaned on the railing as well. "I'm just grateful for an opportunity to travel and learn in the company of more seasoned vampires than myself."
"You know we're going to investigate the activities of some potentially mad Vampaneze." Mika replied, arching an eyebrow as he gazed across the water, not looking at Kurda. There was a humback whale casually feeding nearby; that was much more interesting to him than Kurda. "If you're expecting this to be a vacation, you still have time to get off the boat."
Kurda sighed in exasperation.
"I apologize for being such an apparent burden to you and your troop. But I assure you I have more to offer than any of you think. And I am happy to be here, whether you want me or not."
Mika slowly turned to face Kurda, exuding a combination of annoyance and amusement.
"That's two apologies in under a minute. Smahlt, I don't know what your long-term goals are and quite frankly I don't care. But I can tell you that being a doormat won't get you very far. Neither will ass-kissing."
Kurda stood up a little straighter as he regarded Mika with one fine blond eyebrow quirked.
"Doormat? Pardon you?"
"I've seen the way you walk around Vampire Mountain, trying to play the long game and charm people into respecting you over time. That's not going to work. All I'm seeing is you getting pushed around, stepped on, and disrespected on a pretty regular basis. Am I wrong?"
"No." Said Kurda calmly.
"I know. Now listen carefully. You're too old to have a mentor and I'm too young and too busy to be one. But I will tell you this: retire the 'kill 'em with kindness' routine. Have some fire. Start standing up for yourself, for the love of the gods. Do NOT whip out a soulful speech every time someone grants you an opportunity. I don't care how happy you are to be here. Show me you deserve to be here. You seem to think you're smarter than everyone else. Prove it." Said Mika bluntly.
Kurda gazed back at him, his face was completely impassive and Mika really couldn't tell what he was thinking. Which was unnerving because he was quite good at reading people.
"I assure you, General Ver Leth -" Kurda placed a mock-pompous emphasis on Mika's title. "- if I was in the habit of kissing asses I wouldn't start with yours."
"Good." Said Mika dispassionately, turning his gaze back out to the ocean. He was eager to give his undivided attention back to the whale; he thought they were such incredible creatures. Mika always enjoyed a chance to travel by ship. The ocean and it's many creatures fascinated him. (Whereas Arrow would literally rather drive a spear through his eye than set foot on a boat). Mika and Kurda watched the whale quietly for several minutes.
"So, did you draw the shortest straw while all you Generals were picking teams? Is that why I'm here?" Kurda piped up. Mika rolled his eyes. Kurda wondered if the moody General was aware of how often he did that.
"Gods, you're exhausting. We don't draw straws. We aren't children. Just be glad you're stuck on my mission instead of Arrow's. Unlike me, he's already fully committed to disliking you. Whereas I haven't made up my mind yet."
"I figured that when he threw a boomerang at my head last week but thanks for the update." Kurda replied lightly.
"Actually, Chok thought you should go with Arrow's team. Apparently you're into maps and he thought you'd be more useful to them in uncharted Mongolia than rural Ireland with me which is probably true. But Arrow threw the bitch fit of the century and Paris got so sick of hearing about it he assigned you to me instead." Mika noted offhandedly.
"Exactly the sort of sophistication I'd expect from the mighty Vampire Generals. Typical." Kurda sighed.
"Right. I forgot you're some sort of enlightened peace-monger and the rest of us are cave-dwelling brutes with rocks for brains. Forgive me, I'll try to remember my place in future." Mika retorted, so scathingly that Kurda slid a little further away from him.
"My apologies, General." Said Kurda carefully. "That was disrespectful of me."
"Yes, it was."
Then there came a long, slow bone-rattling honk so loud and deep Kurda yelped sharply. Even Mika flinched but was more discreet about it. And with that, the vessel began to pull away from shore, serenaded by the gleeful cheers of the small crowd of vampires as they flocked to stand along the railing on either side of Mika and Kurda. The water was quite choppy and Mika observed out of the corner of his eye as Kurda clutched the railing even more tightly. The blond's rosy cheeks had taken on a distinct green tinge.
"Have you ever been on a boat before?" Mika inquired with disdain.
"Yes, of course." Kurda replied, sounding short of breath as he swayed.
"What kind of boat?"
"A canoe."
"Charna's Guts."
THREE WEEKS LATER:
"Oh gods, this is bad. We're all going to die."
"There's so many of them!"
"General Ver Leth, what do we do?!"
"Shut up, Flack! I'm thinking!"
'Panicking' would have been a more apt description when Mika's small troop of vampires found themselves trapped between a rock and a hard place. The rock was actually the edge of a cliff, a two hundred foot drop into the roiling icy waters below. The hard place was a very persistent and very vengeful army of villagers, armed with torches, guns, crossbows, and everything else you could think of. There had been a massacre by the Vampaneze yesteday, but of course the purple-skinned creatures had vanished by the time any witnesses came across the bodies. Unfortunately, what they did find was a handful of vampires at the scene of the crime. It had been days since they'd fed and one younger vampires happened to be desperately thirsty at the time. He knelt down to suck a last drop from one of the corpses. Mika scolded him for it but it was too late. That was the exact moment the humans stumbled upon them and naturally assumed the worst. They returned to their camp to regroup but these humans were smarter than most. They tracked them through forest and cornered them on the coastline.
"Can we flit out?" One of the vampires cried out.
"No room to build up speed. They'll shoot you before you take off." Kurda pointed out unhappily.
Mika was standing at the forefront of the group, sword drawn. Ready to defend his fellow clan members til the death if that's what it took.
"Tell them we weren't the ones killing them!" Wester whimpered. He was also holding a sword but he was shaking.
"Kurda tried that before they started chasing us, remember?" Mika growled. "And now he's got a bullet in his shoulder. But be my guest."
"I don't recommend it." Kurda groaned. He was standing a few feet behind Mika, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other pressed against the bleeding wound in his chest. That alone wasn't enough to kill a fully-blooded vampire but he didn't exactly feel like million bucks either. And he sure didn't fancy his odds against the mob, which was closing in quickly on the vampires. They were almost out of time and options.
"We fight, then." Mika growled, turning to face the group. His eyes shone with a sort of dark fire that only came around in the most dire of situations.
"General, you can't be serious." Kurda gasped in alarm. "There's almost a hundred of them and six of us. We can't win."
"They're just humans, Smahlt! It'll be tough but not impossible. We've all trained for this. We'll get through it." Mika argued firmly.
"How could you be this ignorant? Look how they're armed! You're sentencing us all to death!"
"Would you rather die honourably in battle or jump to your death on the rocks below like a coward? At least if we fight we have a chance!" Mika snarled back, visibly agitated. A few of the other vampires cheered weakly at this.
"I'd rather live!" Kurda shouted, voice breaking in frustration.
"Then fight hard. Gentlemen, prepare for battle. I'll see you on the other side, in this life or the next." Mika declared through gritted teeth.
"Wait!" Kurda cried out. "General Ver Leth, we can jump. Really. If we launch from here, we'll miss the rocks! We'll swim to the next cove. That's where our ship is! We can still get out of here!"
The six of them glanced over the ledge. All they could see was churning, frigid water and unforgiving black stone. Mika stared at Kurda, looking manic.
"It's dark, their eyes aren't good enough to see us once we're in the water." Kurda pressed, willing his voice not to break. "It's out only chance."
"You're insane!" Mika roared back. "No one would survive that fall. I'll take my chances against the bullets and if I fall, at least there'll be honour in it! Your blind guess would have us all die like cowards!"
"It's not a blind guess!" Kurda screamed. "I can tell by the angle of the cliff! We'd land in the water safely! It'll be rough but we can do it."
"How do you know?!" Mika demanded, whipping around to face Kurda dead-on. "How could you POSSIBLY know that?" His facade was cracking and Kurda could see the manic desperation underneath. Of course he didn't want to die. Of course he didn't want anyone to die. He was just trying to live up to the clan's arbitrary and senseless ideals about honour and mortality. Even in the chaos Kurda felt a twinge of sadness. The stubbornness of vampires was truly exhausting. And the most discouraging part was, Mika was one of the smart ones.
"You've got to trust me." Kurda pleaded quietly so only Mika could hear him. "Mika, if you only ever choose to trust me once in your life, let it be now. Please. It'll work."
Kurda could see Mika's mental gears churning even harder than the crashing waves below. They only had seconds left before the mob was upon them. Bullets were whizzing through the air. The rest of the group looked anxiously from Mika to Kurda and back again.
"Go, then!" Mika bellowed at last. "We'll follow you!"
It was rough. Rougher than Kurda could've imagined but everyone was in one piece when they finally crawled back aboard the ship after the swim of their lives. The icy water was colder than any of them could have foreseen. A human wouldn't have lasted more than minutes. One by one they scaled the rope ladder that hung down the side of the ship and flopped weakly onto the deck where they lay for several minutes, shivering and catching their breath.
"I would... have rather... been shot." Mika gasped at last as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, ashen-faced and trembling violently. A couple other vampires laughed shakily at that.
"You're welcome... you fucking asshole." Kurda snapped back weakly, too exhausted to give a damn. "And I promise... you would NOT rather be shot." The blond gingerly sat up as well, his hand pressed against his chest. The long swim had dulled the deep bloodstain from the bullet wound but it was still plenty visible.
"Right. You should take the bullet out." Mika suggested wearily.
"Thank you, General Obvious." Kurda winced as his adrenaline began to ebb away and he started to REALLY feel like he'd been shot. Mika was shivering too hard to muster a snarky retort. It was all he could do to remain sitting upright. But he was snapped back to reality a moment later -
"General! Flack's still in the water!" Yebba screamed suddenly.
Mika swore and shot straight to his feet, hypothermia be damned. He leaned over the side next to Yebba and sure enough, Wester Flack was still bobbing in the icy waves. He was clinging to the bottom of the ladder but clearly didn't have the strength to make the climb.
"FLACK!" Mika bellowed as loudly as he could. There was no response. Wester didn't even look up. He looked to be just conscious enough to keep hold of the ladder, for now.
"We have to get to him." Kurda gasped. "He's not going to last much longer."
"Yebba, pass me that rope." Mika ordered. "I'm climbing back down to get him. I'll tie the rope around him and let you when to pull him up."
He moved as swiftly as a hurricane, not wasting a single second. No trace of the fearful hesitation Kurda had seen at the clifftop.
"I'll help you." Said Kurda immediately.
"You have a bullet in your chest." Said Mika impatiently as he lowered himself back over the side of the ship. "Stay here. I don't need to rescue you too."
"Can barely feel it." Kurda insisted flippantly. "Besides, the swimming was my idea. Now get going, I'll be right behind you."
Mika shot Kurda a deathly glare at the prospect of being bossed around by the blond pacifist but didn't waste time. He descended swiftly and Kurda followed close behind. The wind was so much more bitter out on the water than it had felt on land. The swaying rope ladder was somehow rough and slippery at the same time. Kurda desperately longed for his warm coffin back in Vampire Mountain. Why on earth had he thought he was cut out for adventure?
"He's in shock." Mika muttered in dismay when they finally reached Wester.
"Wester, can you hear me?" Kurda called anxiously. "Gods, he's frozen. We need to get him out of here."
"Well, I didn't just come down here to keep him company." Mika snapped loudly over the roar of the wind. "Here, wrap this around his chest. I'll loop it under his arms. That should do it."
"Everything's going to be okay, Wester. It's Kurda. Mika and I are going to get you back on the ship, just hang on!"
Wester made a weak sort of gurgle but it wasn't clear whether he understood anything Kurda said.
"Alright, pull him up!" Mika shouted as he secured the final knot. The vampires on the deck pulled the rope taut and Wester began to ascend. Mika and Kurda steadied him so he wouldn't get bumped too roughly against the side of the ship. At long, long last they scrambled onto the deck for the second time that night. There was a pinkish tinge to the sky; it was almost sunrise.
"Yebba, Irve - take Flack below deck and put him in one of the sleeping bags. Keep him warm. Actually that goes for all of you. Go take care of yourselves and get some sleep. You were all very brave today. Thank you." Mika dismissed them. Kurda didn't miss how hoarse his voice had become and how he was leaning heavily on the railing to steady himself.
"That includes you. Come on." Said Kurda cautiously, slowly extending a hand to rest on Mika's forearm. But he wasn't surprised when Mika glared at him and swatted his hand away. The General did one last look around the deck to make sure everyone was accounted for, then he followed the rest of the group down into the warmth.
Of course, "warmth" was a relative term but it was a vast improvement over being out in the wind. Everyone cheered happily when Wester finally gained the strength to sit up. Except for Mika who seemed so overcome by relief he couldn't find his voice. He just took several deep breaths with his eyes closed. It wasn't lost on Kurda how seriously the young General took all of this. He would have never forgiven himself if Wester had frozen to death. But Kurda didn't have time to curl up in his cozy sleeping bag alongside the rest of them. He had a bullet to pry out of himself. He located a First-Aid kit in the tiny bathroom and went to work. He had a pair of thin steel plier-things wedged into his chest when Mika walked in.
"I forgot you got shot." Commented Mika tactlessly as he leaned on the doorframe and observed Kurda's attempt at self-surgery with minor interest.
"It's been an eventful night." Kurda replied unconcernedly.
"How you feeling?"
"Honestly, it's not as painful as I expected but I'm trying to avoid an infection."
"Have you found the bullet or are you just digging hopefully?" Mika inquired critically.
"I've almost got it, I just can't get the angle - OUCH. FUCK!" Kurda blurted out as he twisted the pliers in a way his body didn't appreciate.
"I didn't know you knew that word." Mika commented passively, raising his eyebrows.
"I spend hours a day training with any combination of you, Arrow, and Vancha. That's far from the worst word I know."
"Glad to hear our wisdom hasn't been entirely wasted on you. Anyway, do you need a hand getting that thing out? I'm literally only asking because you're standing in front of the sink and I really just want to wash my face."
"Be my guest." Kurda sighed defeatedly, leaning against the wall and slowly sliding down til he was seated on the floor. Mika sat down in front of him and took the pliers. He squinted curiously at the wound but didn't appear overly alarmed and quickly set to work.
"You've done this before?" Kurda asked, awkwardly looking up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact.
"Not exactly, but I pull out Arrow's slivers all the time. And those are much smaller so in theory this should be easier." Mika replied unconcernedly.
"Wow. That makes me feel so much bet- CHARNA'S GUTS, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?!" Kurda groaned, cringing in agony.
"I found the bullet." Mika shrugged.
"You don't say!"
"Stop moving. I can get it out but it's going to hurt. A lot." Mika announced much too casually. He moved his free hand up to press it against Kurda's non-damaged shoulder, firmly pushing him against the wall in an effort to stabilize him.
"You have no idea what you're doing." Kurda winced. "Give me back the pliers and go to bed - I'll get it myself. I don't need you hacking me to pieces."
Mika lifted his head slightly to meet Kurda's eyes. Kurda couldn't quite decode his expression. Amusement? Exasperation? Pity?
"What's wrong, Smahlt? Don't want a scar?"
"I don't give a damn about scars! I simply feel like I've suffered enough today and I don't think you're any more competent at this than I am."
Mika sighed, tilting his head. His eyes seemed to soften slightly.
"I almost got it, I can have it out within a few minutes. I'll go slow so you hardly feel it. Your turn to trust me." His voice sounded kinder now, almost gentle. Kurda regarded him thoughtfully. Perhaps was something that resembled a soul buried beneath that gritty, sarcastic, "fuck-you-I'm-Mika-Ver-Leth" exterior.
"Fine." Kurda exhaled. The words had barely escaped his lips, he'd finally allowed his body to relax when there was a yank and he was hit with a sudden jolt of excruciating pain so sharp he almost leapt clean out of his skin.
"MIKA, WHAT THE FUCK?" He howled furiously, clutching at the wound. Mika sat back grinning smugly (easily the most Kurda had ever seen him smile at this point). In his hand he was proudly holding the bloodied pliers which were gripping one big silver bullet.
"It was really stuck in there!" Mika insisted as he stood up as Kurda panted and cussed. He set the pliers on the sink and went about carefully washing his face, still chuckling. "There was no way you were getting it out on your own. I did you a favour. Now clean it up and get some rest."
Kurda remained seated for several moments, glaring up at Mika and breathing hard as the pain slowly subsided. He'd never admit it but it really did feel better already.
"You're the worst." Kurda moaned tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.
"Tell me something I don't already know." Mika retorted with the signature roll of his eyes that Kurda was quickly becoming familiar with. And with that, he daintily stepped over Kurda and carried on his way.
And that was their first mission together.
MANY, MANY YEARS LATER:
"Alright, young Sires. Final order of business before I set you free for the night." Said Paris as he glanced down at the lengthy strip of paper in his hands. "We will be needing a fresh crop of Generals in the coming years. We've lost four this past decade alone. When the Festival commences tomorrow night, I will remain on the lookout for any candidates that look promising, and I expect you both to do the same."
The ancient white-haired Prince peered back and forth between the two men in front of him. The raven-haired black-cloaked one was leaning back lazily in his chair, looking mildly contemplative. The broad-shouldered tattooed one was visibly brimming with impatient eagerness. The three of them were sitting in a circle at one of the round tables that sat just to the left of the throne platform.
"We will indeed!" Said Arrow as he started to stand up.
"I haven't dismissed you yet." Said Paris with a reproachful glance. Arrow sat back down and Mika snickered quietly. "We have an incredibly busy week ahead of us so I am taking this opportunity to ask the two of you if there's any up-and-comers who you think would make successful candidates for General. That way, I know to watch them throughout the Festival."
"Crepsley's good. General March brought it up last time I saw him and I agreed." Said Arrow with a non-committal shrug. "Definitely not Warwent. He's useless. Should be exiled, honestly."
"Noted." Said Paris, scribbling on his paper. "Larten made my shortlist as well. What say you, Mika?"
"Agreed about Larten." Said Mika, nodding approvingly at each of them. "Paris, I also recommend you start paying attention to Kurda Smahlt."
Arrow flinched dramatically, to nobody's surprise.
"SMAHLT?! That Vampaneze-loving dandelion-head?"
"He doesn't love them, Arrow. He just isn't necessarily on board with slaughtering them en masse." Mika corrected him patiently. Arrow reddened and glared coldly back at Mika. Which was a far cry at how he usually looked at his best-friend-slash-colleague.
"Mika, have you swapped your brain for a rock? That's not the only thing off about him. He doesn't even believe in fighting. His entire belief system goes against the clan's nature." Arrow snapped.
Paris remained silent, watching the two of them carefully. He could count on one hand how many times he'd seen Mika and Arrow butt heads.
"I never said he wasn't strange." Mika replied, rolling his eyes. "But he's intelligent. He's logical. He was on that mission with me years ago, remember when I led that trip to Ireland? Half the time I wanted to punt him off the boat, mind you. He's a little self-righteous and naive as all hell. But he thinks about everything. He asks questions. He has a brain. And you both know we already have plenty of brawn in our ranks."
"Don't you remember what happened two Festivals ago?!" Arrow sputtered.
"When he beat you in a hand-to-hand combat challenge?" Said Mika innocently. "Personally I thought it was impressive that he managed to get the better of YOU, of all vampires. Especially considering he's a pacifist. You can't deny there's something more to him than he lets on. Unless you're implying that you AREN'T difficult to beat?"
Paris laughed amicably at that. Mika casually raised one eyebrow at Arrow as he fumed and tried to come up with a rebuttal.
"Mika, I must say I'm surprised to hear you vouch for Kurda Smahlt. From what I can tell, you seem to be at odds with each other on a fairly regular basis."
"That's the point I'm making, Paris. Not only does he have the balls to challenge me, he's good at it." Mika replied firmly.
"He's not one of us! He doesn't even want to be!" Arrow groaned in frustration, voice getting louder with each sentence. He was starting to make hand gestures now. "He may be blooded but he doesn't act like a true vampire! His ideas will poison the clan!"
"That's a stretch. All I'm saying is he thinks independently and doesn't blindly follow the crowd. Differing opinions aren't always bad. The world is changing, I don't want the clan to get stuck in the past because we're too stubborn to adapt." Said Mika wryly, patience starting to wear thin.
"If you love this man so much then we might as well just give him my throne right here and now, because I'd rather die on the stakes than serve the clan alongside someone who can't see the Vampaneze for what they are and would gladly let our traditions die out in favour of pacifism." Arrow grunted defiantly.
Mika turned in his chair to regard Arrow with an expression of bored exasperation. He was taking this exactly as well as Mika expected.
"I can assure you I have no love for Kurda Smahlt. Most of the time I don't even LIKE him." Mika countered. "But it's not healthy for the clan to exist inside an echo chamber. I'm looking at the big picture and I suggest you do the same. Look, I couldn't care less whether or not Smahlt ever receives a formal nomination. I'm just giving my opinion. Do whatever you want with it."
"You wouldn't have brought it up if you didn't care." Arrow retorted. Mika narrowed his eyes and drew breath to reply.
"Alright, that's enough." Said Paris gently but firmly, raising one of his gnarled hands. The younger Princes each fell silent. It would be a cold day in hell before Mika or Arrow would dare to speak over Paris.
"We won't have this debate here and now. Thank you both for your input. We will re-visit this after the Festival. You are dismissed."
"Thank you, Paris." Mika and Arrow muttered simultaneously as they stood up. Being Princes themselves, they were not obligated to bow to Paris but they did anyway. They always did.
"One more thing. I am aware this will be the first Festival of the Undead at which BOTH of you are Princes." Said Paris sternly. "Revel with your comrades, have a glorious time. But do not forget your position. Please proceed with at least a hint of decorum. That's all I ask."
"Why are you only looking at me?" Arrow huffed.
"Because Mika is the responsible one." Paris shot back instantly. His tone was sharp but his eyes were sparkling with mirth. Mika snorted in laughter as Arrow glared at them both.
"You know he was the one who threw up behind your throne last Festival, right? And he blamed it on General March."
Mika groaned and swatted Arrow's arm. Now Paris was the one wearing a scowl, while Arrow looked smug.
"I shall pretend I didn't hear that. Now get out of my sight before I throw both out." Paris grumbled. But his tone didn't fool them, his eyes were still as bright as ever. So Mika and Arrow went on their way. They spent the rest of the night overseeing the final preparations for the Festival of the Undead and looking forwards to all the fun that lay ahead. For the duration of the Festival, there was no further mention of Kurda Smahlt.