-*-Spell 5-*-

The precise sound of metal striking in a tinging fashion rang throughout the Baron’s castle’s courtyard. The sun was slightly more toward the north and low in the sky. The click of fast moving boots against stone could be heard in the background of the swords’ clashes.

“No, young master. Like this!” was sounded as another attack was blocked.

Damien gritted his teeth. He hated his instructor’s boring, standard attack training. Surely, when he became a knight, he would see more creative attacks from his enemies. Perhaps his instructor was only that; one with no extracurricular experience of which he could pass on.

But Heath could. That parry—Damien craved to master how to do it.

“Enough,” he said suddenly. “The day is darkening and I grow weary.”

His instructor narrowed his eyes and scowled. Nevertheless, he bowed and turned to leave the courtyard.

A dream, Kadzuki decided.

Damien wiped his brow and heaved a small sigh. The exercise hadn’t taken much out of him but some nonetheless. He walked over to his favorite tree, just on the edge of the practice grounds and fell in a slump at the foot of it. He fished a clean cloth from his pocket and began to clean what little residue had collected on his blade.

As he began to hum a tune, Heath stepped from, seemingly, behind the white bark of the birch tree. His soft, nearly non-existant footfalls didn’t startle Damien anymore. For days now, Heath would do this; wait till his practice sessions were over and chat or spar with him. He’d been learning, off and on, the parry attack Heath had demonstrated in their first spar.

Heath took a seat next Damien and sighed.

“How are you?” Damien asked.

“Tired,” Heath replied, the fatigue clearly evident on his breath.

Damien blinked. Heath never seemed tried. Even after their spars, Heath only seemed winded and not fatigued. It came as a shock to him that Heath would not only be tired but that this was the first time he’d noticed he could be.

“You’re not usually like this. What happened?”

“Eh. My brother and I argued. It seems the livestock is still being poorly tended to. It makes us weary when we—ah. Nevermind.”

Damien raised an eyebrow. That was an odd line of thought.

“We, along with the serifs and the people that inhabit your castle here, all eat from the livestock. If they are poorly tended, everyone will suffer. My clan—”

“Does your clan have permission to use our livestock?” Damien interrupted, slightly peeved that Heath would hide something from him. It was the only explanation for his odd line of thought and then it’s sudden change.

Heath, taken slightly by surprise, answered, “Well, we don’t take much. And believe me, you’d never know we’ve used anything. In fact for hundreds of years—”

“You’re still stealing from my father’s property. And I’m assuming you don’t compensate us. You could be charged with stealing and tossed in the dungeons till you die or worse: are killed.”

“Damien,” Heath gritted out. “Will you hear me out properly?”

Damien, sighing dramatically, stood up and turned to stand in front of Heath; his figure towering over him while he sat. Why it irked him that Heath would be so roundabout now, he couldn’t be sure.

“Speak.”

Heath lowered his eyes and sighed. He could only hope that in the last few days he’d gained enough of Damien’s trust and friendship to reveal something he’d sworn to never utter to even others in on it—at least if it came down to that.

“Hundreds of years ago,” he began, “My clan’s master and the father of your father’s father made a pact. They agreed that we could live on your land and... take care of ourselves in return for monitoring the livestock and making sure it remained healthy and prospered. They sealed this deal by making a key... I’m sure you’ve seen it?”

Damien looked surprised. “Yes, of course. How could the key have anything to do with you and your clan though?”

“There is an inscription on it. Do you know what it says?”

Damien rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to make a fool of me? No one but my father is allowed to lay even a single digit on the key’s precious silver. I have only seen it from a distance that would hardly allow me to make out a inscription. Especially one as small as it must be to fit on the bodice of the key.”

“Then may I recite it? Afterward, you may go and ask your father if I am correct. And if I am, will you then trust me?”

Damien considered Heath’s bargin. Certainly, there was no harm in asking. And even leaving Heath to escape for now would be no problem since he claimed his clan lived on their land; finding him would be no problem. But to trust him?

“I suppose this means that you will finish this story then, if you are correct?”

“Indeed. In full, without reserve.”

Damien’s eye narrowed a bit as he took in a big breath. “Agreed.”

“The inscription reads, ‘Crescat Scientia Vita Excolatur’ which is Latin for ‘Let Knowledge Grow and Life too will be Enriched.’ It alludes the pact we made.”

Damien nodded, memorizing the phrase by closing his eyes.

When he opened them, Heath was gone.

-*-*-*-

“Father,” Damien addressed as he entered the Great Hall. A long table filled with many noble guests including his father at the head, his mother and his younger brother, Gavin, all chatting merrily. Their voices filled the tapestry-covered, stone hall with that distinct ring. Laughter here and there provided a quirky melody. There was a small band that harmonized the socal. The candlesticks seemed to dance to the happy air.

“Ah, Damien. I was just about to call for you. Dinner’s preparations are almost complete,” the Baron called as his son approached.

“Wonderful,” Damien responded as he took his seat across from his mother. He cleared his throat. “Father, I have a inquiry.”

“Oh? Ask away. I cannot guarantee your request be fullfilled, but I can try.”

“It’s about the Key that’s been in our family.”

“Ah. What about it?”

“First, how did it come to be in our family?”

“Hmm...” the Baron thought, rubbing his shortly cropped beard, “I believe it was given to an ancestor as a peace offering. Quite valuable. Why?”

“We show it such reverence. I was curious.”

He cleared his throat again.

“I heard there was an inscription of sorts on it?”

“Yes. Something or other. I never really read it.”

Damien sat back in his chair; quite put out. He pouted. He wasn’t sure he wanted to push his father’s amicable mood. Servants began pouring out of the kitchen to set food in front of the Baron, his family and their guests. His mother, however, was not one to overlook such actions, especially when her little boy was involved, even as the servants seemed to intervene.

“What’s wrong dear?”

Looking up at her he said in a nonchalant voice, “Oh, I was just wondering what it might have said.”

He picked up his forked and resumed eating as though nothing had been spoken.

She looked to her husband, “Why don’t you show him?”

“Not while I’m eating,” he said, an exasperation to his tone.

She pouted an looked peeved but said nothing.

“After dinner,” he grunted.

Damien smiled.

-*-*-*-

The servants carried away all the empty trays and cups as the Baron sat back in his seat, patting his chubby stomach tenderly. Damien sat patiently as his mother got up and, helping his brother, who was often sick, bid goodnight. Many of the hall’s guests also made their way to their rooms for the night. A handful remained as did the band. Some of candles were put out so that the room took on a comfortable glow.

After a loud content sigh, the Baron sat up properly and turned to Damien.

“Now let’s see what this inscription says, shall we?”

Damien nodded and moved to get up but stopped as he saw his father digging in his tunic. Finally, after a brief struggle, the Baron pulled several chains, that had been tucked away, out. Among them, an usually large, silver key stuck out. His father grunted and sorted it out from the rest.

“Let’s see...” he muttered. “Ah. ‘Cres... cat Scien... tia Vita... Exco... latur’ is what it says,” the Baron seemed to pause to think for a moment. “Ah. Something about an increase in knowledge is an excellent life.”

Then he splutteringly laughed.

“As I said, it was given to an ancestor in the family many, many years ago as a peace offering of some sort.”

“Father,” Damien said suddenly. He gulped a little. He’d promised Heath he’d trust him if he was right. And was most certainly right so... “A man came to the castle today wanting to talk to you about the livestock the serfs take care of.”

The Baron blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Mm. Okay. I’ll have someone look into it. If he comes back, tell him it’s being taken care of.”

Without another word, he got up from his chair and mumbling, “Going to bed. Goodnight,” left the room.

-*-*-*-

“Well?” Heath asked the next night.

“You were right My father will have someone look into the livestock situation.”

Heath smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

Damien narrowed his eyes. “I want you to continue the story.”

Heath looked up, seeming to have nearly forgotten about that part of the deal.

“Okay. You might want to sit down. This is sure to be long...”

Damien and Heath took their usual spots by the birch tree as Heath begun again.

“So, our clan and your ancestor made a pact that we could live on your land so long as we looked after the livestock. We’re not serfs, if that’s what you think. In fact, most of the serfs don’t even know we exist.” Damien moved to ask a question, but Heath held up a hand. “In due time, everything will be explained, so please just listen for now.” Slightly put out, Damien crossed his arms over his chest, pouted, and obeyed.

“Before this pact was made, our clan lived on your land in secrecy and used the livestock as we wished anyway. After we were found out, your family tried to have us killed but found it harder than it should’ve been. There was a war of sorts that lasted for many months. Finally, the pact was made and we all lived in peace. Your ancestor named the terms and our clan, in response, created the key as a show of friendship. We had no use for things of its nature anyway. The inscription is a way to remember what caused the rift between our peoples as well. ‘Crescat Scientia Vita Excolatur,’” he quoted, “A way to remember that with knowledge and understanding, there can be peace of mind. Also, it was to remind your ancestor that the information we knew about the livestock would keep them healthy and, in turn, keep your family thriving. In a way, we’ve kept your family alive for hundreds of years,” he sighed briefly before continuing, “You promised to trust me, right?”

Damien nodded.

“Well then trust me when I say neither my clan nor I will harm you or anyone else. You must not go crazy when I tell you this next part. Do you agree?”

Damien raised an eyebrow, but slowly nodded his head. He couldn’t think of anything so drastic as to make him frightened beyond belief at Heath. And this clan Heath came from and his family had a deal, so they were already agreed to be safe. He had nothing to worry about.

Right?

“My clan... and I... we’re nightwalkers.”

Damien’s eyebrows drew together and his head tilted.

“Vampires. We drink the blood of your cows.”