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They call me Jack Shandy. Or 'Captain', if they've any sense. But that wasn't the name I was born with. Centuries ago, I was Sir John Chandagnac, a knight of Bretonnia. At least, that's what I wanted to be. In reality, I was a drunken, whoring wastrel. I squandered my wealth, my youth and all hope of living up to my aspirations. I was an effete fop garlanded with lace and the finest silks, which were usually sopping with sweat and spilled wine. I have nothing but contempt for what I was back then.
Oh, I had plenty of excuses. My parents died when I was barely more than a child, leaving me with far too much money and privilege I didn't know what to do with. I was too cossetted and wrapped up in my own pleasures to think about anything else. My so-called friends were layabouts who led me astray. And I had dreams… dreams of a past life in another world, of mile-high towers of glass and steel, where almost everyone owned a vehicle like one of Leonardo da Miragliano's steam tanks and used them to travel around at dizzying speeds, faster than a horse at full gallop. Most incredible of all, the people of that world knew about this one, but to them it was just a story: a work of imaginative fiction dreamed up by a group of greedy moneygrubbers who were eager to sell books and tin soldiers. They must have glimpsed the future somehow – they told stories of things that didn't happen for centuries after I was reborn in this world – but to them, it didn't matter because we weren't real. Our lives, our triumphs and sorrows, our terrors and desperate hopes meant nothing to them. At most, we were toys for them to play with.
In helpless dreams, I saw the death of this world. I saw it consumed in blood and fire and the laughter of thirsting gods. I knew there was nothing I could do, not even if I became the greatest knight of them all. And so, I glutted myself on whatever pleasures I could find, trying to forget what I'd seen. I became such a worthless sot that… Ah, I don't know if there were any chaos cultists around, but if there were, they didn't bother to recruit me.
And then, when I was roused from my drunken haze, I was forced to take a young girl as my ward. Her name was Lady Melissa D'Acques, her parents had both died in an calamitous accident, and I was her closest living relative. She was about twelve years old, I thought, but she gave very vague answers when I asked about her birthday. Maybe I should have been more suspicious about that, but… Well, never mind. She brought with her an entourage of maidservants who seemed to spend most of their time brushing her golden hair, draping her with jewellery and dressing her up like a child's doll. I kept being told – by my friends, acquaintances and various passers-by – that she was a pretty little thing and they were looking forward to seeing her grow and 'blossom into a beautiful flower of womanhood.'
Actually, it made me dreadfully uncomfortable. I bloodied my knuckles against the face of a man whose speculations went far beyond the bounds of common decency, after which I was hauled before the magistrates and forced to pay a hefty fine.
"I will protect you," I told Lady Melissa, when I came home with scabby fists and a swelling black eye. I knelt before her as if I was at a dubbing ceremony. "If anyone seeks to harm you, I will stand against them."
She gave me a pitying, cynical glance that made her look much older than the sweet young maiden I knew her to be. Then, she ran her hands through my hair and murmured, "My knight. My brave, noble knight."
I wished I could be worthy of those words. I tried to clean myself up, restrict my alcohol intake and dedicate myself to those duties I had so far neglected. But it was too late.
Plague had come to Parravon. It began amongst the poorest, whose deaths went unnoticed, and then spread throughout the rest of society. A few dark blotches appeared on the skin and then spread over the entire body, causing fevers, convulsions, madness and death within a week. Many fled the city, spreading the disease even further, all over Bretonnia, even to remote villages and the country estates of the nobility. I would have fled with them, but it occurred to me that many of them would already be infected with the plague and could easily spread it to me I encountered them on the road. I decided that it made more sense to stay put, barricade all the doors and windows, and wait for the plague to abate. There was plenty of food stored in the cellars and pantry of my townhouse: enough for me, Lady Melissa and a few servants to survive for several months, although I was dimly aware that scurvy might be a problem. But that was something I wouldn't have to worry about until much later.
As long as no one went in or out, I was safe. Or so I thought.
One day, I woke up, weak and woozy. I felt a terrible thirst and reached for the jug of water I kept on my bedside table. I drained it to the last drop, but it couldn't quench the burning dryness at the back of my throat.
I shouted for my servants. There was no answer.
Getting up, I shambled through the house, looking for something to drink and a servant to shout at. There was a nagging pain and a sore on the side of my neck.
Lady Melissa's bedroom door was open. I saw one of her maids sitting on a chair in the corner, her head lolling back as if she were unconscious. It occurred to me that I hadn't seen any of them for several days.
All other thoughts forgotten, I entered the room. It was very important to me that I should ascertain that Lady Melissa was safe and well.
She wasn't there. The room was soundless and still. Every breath I took was an ragged gasp that tore through the air like a rabid animal.
The maid I'd seen sitting in the corner was pale and lifeless. Her neck was marked with two puncture wounds, but there was no blood. Her flesh was cold and stiff.
Two of the others were lying in the bed. I don't know for sure, but I'd guess they'd been dead for quite some time.
"Have you found what you were looking for?" asked Lady Melissa, from somewhere behind me.
I slowly turned to face her. My heart was thumping like a frightened rabbit.
She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a delicate lace handkerchief. Her eyes peeked out at me from behind a curtain of blonde hair. Ancient, pitiless eyes. How had I never noticed them before?
"You're a vampire," I said, aghast.
A tinkle of laughter. "What was your first clue?"
I pushed past my fear, focusing instead on something that made me indignant: "W-why did you kill your maids? They were loyal to you. They didn't deserve that."
"It was the kindest thing to do. They wouldn't have lasted much longer," she said, carelessly. "I tire of this game."
I hesitated. For a fleeting instant, I glanced around for a weapon. What if I smashed the chair against the wall? Could I use one of the legs as a makeshift stake? No, of course not. She was a vampire, immensely strong and fast, and if I tried to resist she would tear me limb from limb before I had time to do anything.
"So, I am about to die," I said, trying to steady myself. "Fine. Why should I be different from anyone else in this wretched city?"
On her lips, I saw the flicker of a warm smile. "You have courage. That's one of the things I like about you. You've wasted your life, but I've always had the feeling that you could be something more. Now, I'm going to give you a chance to prove me right. I'm going to set you free."
I opened my mouth, but had no idea what to say. In the next moment, I was caught in an iron grip. I felt her fangs on my neck. I fell into a swoon.
"My knight," said Lady Melissa, as my blood dribbled down her chin. "My brave, noble knight."
***
Afterwards, I felt fine. I didn't mind what Lady Melissa had done to me. All of my pain, fear and horror had faded away. In fact, I felt grateful.
For the first time I could remember, I felt faint stirrings of hope. Having become a vampire, I was faster and stronger than I had ever been. With the passage of years, I would become even more so. I now had centuries to hone my skills and become the mighty warrior I had always wanted to be. I could battle the darkness, stand against the horrors of this world, drive back those who would destroy it, if only for a little while. I could be a hero.
Of course, I needed to drink blood or else become a ravening monster, but I didn't think that was an insurmountable problem: there was no shortage of people who deserved to be killed and drained of blood. Or perhaps I could pay someone to let me drink just a little from them, not enough to kill them. Plenty of healthy young men and women might consider that a generous offer, especially if they had few other prospects in life. I didn't have to be a monstrous predator. I could be better than that. Better than I'd ever been before.
"You've got a lot to learn, young man," said Lady Melissa, fondly ruffling my hair.