((A collaboration between Dinh AaronMk and gorgenmast))

Commander Yorrek and the chamberlain stood at the foot of Edward's bed in the castle's infirmary, watching the nurses and assorted caretakers swap out the linen bandages on the Prince's abdomen. The small army of healers and apothecaries who had worked feverishly to save the handsome vampire's life upon first arriving were reduced now to just three nurses and a few maids. The prince was still in critical condition, but the situation was now much less dire. Emily, however, remained a constant fixture in the infirmary, like a statute positioned beside the prince. Even now, she caressed the vampire's silky hair as the maids carefully removed the soiled bandages covered with crusted blood while the nurses massaged a green salve into and around a deep, swollen scar on the prince's side.

"Silver blade," Yorrek said to the chamberlain. "They say that was a silver blade that did that to him. Few things hurt their kind but silver is one of them. The prince is either tough, lucky, or both, because a cut like that with a silver blade would be lethal to all but the strongest vampires."

"Before I left the court of Felboge Keep, Ulrek would purposefully touch silver with his bare hands. First time I saw him do it, he put a little silver nugget no bigger than a pebble in his hand. Set his hand on fire and nearly killed him. A few days later I saw him do it again, and then again and again until only a little smoke came off of his fingers."

"Why would he do that?" Asked Yorrek.

"I think that he was trying to build immunity," the chamberlain surmised. "By this time, I think he had committed himself to this rebellion, and thought that he might one day find himself on the sharp end of a silver blade like our prince did."

"Our prince is doing splendidly, healing right up," a nurse mentioned in passing as she went to fetch some fresh linen gauze. "I think he'll be able to walk a little bit in two or three days."

"Excellent news, dear," said Yorrek

"Oh yes, Edward'll be fine. If anything, I'm more concerned about that poor thing sitting beside him. Inseparable, she is. Hardly eats, drinks, or sleeps even; just sits beside him and asks me how he's doing when I come by."

"The prince has found a loyal woman to be sure. Emily will make for an excellent Queen."

"When the prince is feeling better and these troubles are behind us, I'll have to ask the prince where to find such a devoted woman. My wife can scarcely be bothered to have a decent supper ready in the evening," said Commander Yorrek in jest, eliciting light laughter from the nurse and chamberlain.

Their laughter was interrupted by a knock at the infirmary's door. A maid, escorted by two guards, were allowed inside.

"There's a visitor. A foreigner requesting an audience with Prince Edward. Keeps saying he has something important to discuss with him," reported the maid.

"So did the one that wanted to speak with our King," said a suddenly-somber Commander Yorrek. "Tell him the prince isn't taking visitors."

"What exactly does he want?" Asked the chamberlain, interrupting the maid as she turned for the door.

"This one says he's a... financer?" The maid - a simple woman - struggled to remember. "Says he has... a broad network of contracts, financer resources, and personable capabilities, was it?" The maid recited with difficulty. "Let me go and ask him what he said again."

"Let him in," ordered the chamberlain at once.

Semiane braced himself at the maid's warning as he stepped inside. The guards watching him curiously as he went. Across a large open court yard he gazed up at the towering palace. Decorative over hangs, supporting buttresses, and gargoyles looming out from the high walls gave the structure a thorny look. Or spun by a spider between several firm trees. The great ramparts that surrounded it sealing off the view from the city proper. Torch carrying guards slowly walked the parapets. He felt watched. Munchsin, for his part looked and acted serene and composed.

He was lead by a servant through the vaulted halls of the palace and up wide staircases and into the crowns of towers and they rose even higher. Wind whistled through the windows and there was a salty chill in the air around them that hung off their shoulders like a heavy cloak. The air was as humid and cool and oppressive as in a tomb, Semiane remarked in his thoughts.

High up in the palace they were lead to an unremarkable door. The servant opened it, and with a bow invited them through. The two entered into a room, where laying on the bed was a sickly thin and pale vampire youth, his eyes closed and lips thin. Beside him, a human girl who looked up at Semiane from her seat impassively, and back further a pair of stately dressed gentlemen.

"Baron Semiane Munch Strige," the chamberlain greeted, now having been more-completely appraised of their visitor by a less forgetful guard. "Former Baron, rather, of Transavonia. Three hundred leagues or more by ship, no? You've certainly come a long way from home to be here. Too far to simply be a moneyed samaritan wishing to provide aid in our time of need."

"Well no, I haven't come straight from there." Semiane said smiling, "I've been about the world in the past few centuries. Which does bring me to why I'm here: no, I'm not here to perform charity but I do know the kingdom is in emergency and I would like to offer services of course: for a fee."

"These are indeed trying times for our Kingdom, Master Semiane," said Commander Yorrek. "We have made certain efforts to maintain a calm demeanor within the capital and the countryside. But there is call for alarm. His brother, the Baron Ulrek Bathory of Felboge Keep, openly marches against against us and any loyal to our late king or Prince Edward."

"Ulrek has raised levies from every corner of the realm answering to his call. He has assembled at great expense the entirety of the north's knights and yeomanry, along with virtually every peasant that can march and hold a spear," the chamberlain explained.

"Ulrek and many thousands of fighting men will be upon us soon. Our walls are strong, the guard unwavering, but I fear that we are greatly outnumbered."

"We need men to bolster our forces," said the chamberlain. "As many as your purse can afford. We will gladly repay you once the usurper Ulrek has been dispatched."

"I will be willing to provide." Semiane answered the chamberlain, "Though it is worth noting my servant has already left the city to fulfill contracts for other clients. Besides waiting for him: I don't suppose the realm would be willing to loan a ship and crew? I know people, I can get things organized with a word through them and the realm can have all the finest fighters from all over the known world."

"We can procure a vessel easily enough," said Commander Yorrek. "My concern is how quickly these foreign fighters can arrive. It is our understanding that Ulrek, even now, has mobilized his levies and marches against us. Let us say he marches from the Great Weald today, and that his army moves slowly as it likely will; we shall have - at best - a fortnight before Ulrek and his army reach our walls. Is it even possible that these warriors could be sent for, mobilized, and summoned within such a short period of time?"

Semiane frowned, "I'm afraid not." he admitted, "Though had I had an audience sooner then the capital would be bolstered."

Thinking, Semiane approached the window and looked out at the city rolling out before him. "Over the passed day I was working with the minor aristocracy and the wealthy tradesmen of the capital to procure protection for them and their families in these trying times. If nothing else once sell swords are found for these contracts they may be the first to arrive. It'd be a force numbering in the few thousands, and I don't know how much men Ulrek could furnish. At the very least so long as the capital is not fully blockaded it may be enough men to keep the capital safe."

He paused for a moment to consider, "Could the capital make any short term levees in the mean while? Ulrek will need to be held at bay for as long as its possible."

"I see no better option at this time than to summon levees from the citizenry," said Yorrek. "They will be a pathetic fighting force, but from the ramparts they will be able to throw stones and javelins down onto Ulrek's army if he attempts to take the walls, and in a pinch overwhelm any soldiers attempting to scale the walls with towers or ladder. It would be a desperate move to be sure that will unsettle the populace more than it already has."

"Hopefully, the simple sight of so many men on the walls will give Ulrek pause, allowing Master Semiane's contacts abroad to furnish professional soldiers. The populace will be unsettled, sure, but they will understand knowing the alternative is being ruled by Ulrek."

"Word is that a chariot ship arrived in the harbor a few nights ago," one of the palace guard thought aloud. "A merchant from the Orient, they say, with of those boats drawn by harnessed whales. They say they're the fastest things on the sea. Maybe if Master Semaine can take a ride on that boat, they can send out word in time to bring us help against Ulrek."

"If that's true, we must look into it and ask its captain if he can send word out to th-"

The chamberlain was interrupted as the door was abruptly thrown open. The sounds of combat rang out through from the atrium outside from behind a servant girl standing in the doorframe. In her hand was a wooden stake, and her eyes fixed upon the vampire prince laying unconscious upon the infirmary bed. At once, she sprinted across across the floor, shoving the nurse down out of the way as she brushed past Semiane and the chamberlain with the sharpened stake raised above her head.

"God wills it!" she screamed.

As soon what was happening became clear, it was too late. Those guards not occupied trying to keep the assailants out of the infirmary bolted to stop the servant girl, but were already several paces behind her as she approached the foot of Edward's bed.

"Stop her!" Yorrek roared, "Stop her!"

But the guards were too late as the maddened servant lunged toward Edward, her stake clasped in a vice-like fist, ready to plant it firmly into the vampire's heart.

But she never landed upon Edward's bed.

With a hateful shriek, Emily sprung from her bedside vigil and tackled the assassin mid-pounce. The stake was thrown from the servant's white-knuckled grip and clattered onto the stone tiles a few paces away from where the two women had tumbled onto the floor. Emily was on top, and despite the servant's frantic scratching and wriggling against her weight, Emily laid on top of the servant and managed to wrap her fingers around the girl's neck. 

"You'll not touch my Edward, you [i]bitch[/i]," Emily snarled, spittles of frothy saliva spraying from her lips as she spoke. Emily planted her thumbs firmly into Lillian's throat, pressing all of her weight upon her neck. Lillian kicked and wriggled furiously against Emily, but her thin body resulting from a short life of relatively poor nutrition was incapable of freeing herself from Emily's weight. The servant girl's face went from pale white to red and then to a swollen, unnatural purple against Emily's relentless grip. Lillian's kicking and squirming slowly died down into ineffectual quivers and convulsions. The servant girl's eyes rolled back into her head as she finally went limp.

The guards holding the door back against Yanick and his co-conspirators opened the door after the sound of fighting from the outside had ceased. The castle's guard had converged against the would-be assassins and skewered them against the barricaded door of the infirmary. The guards outside entered the infirmary cautiously and were stunned to see Edward Bathory unharmed, with Emily straddled over the body of the girl who had so nearly ended his life.

"Milady," Commander Yorrek said at last. "You've saved Prince Edward. You can let go of her now."

Emily's shoulders heaved and fell with each breath, a lock of her gray hair knocked loose in the struggle matted against her moisted brow and blew against her lips with each pant. Even now, she did not release her grip. After she was convinced the assailant had truly expired, Emily collapsed onto the floor in an exhausted torpor.