The elven village bustled with activity and noise it had not experienced before, and probably never again. The elves were readying to leave for our journey south. Over uneven terrain and with a heavy baggage train, Maelor estimated it would take us at least three days before reaching our destination.
As what had been discovered, the elves didn't need food or water for sustenance, and so there was no need to bring supplies with us. But that didn't really make a difference. We had tons of serpent scale with us, skinned from more than two dozen snakes. The elves had to build several large carts from rough-hewn logs and lashed planks, each of them filled to maximum capacity and bound tight with ropes made from braided vines.
I stood atop the chieftain's roof, watching the activity below. The preparations were about to be completed. A train of carts carrying large mounds of scales lined up from the gate up to the village center. A few elves were already rehearsing how they would pull the carts, pacing back and forth as they tested their grip on the handles. There were no oxen or horses to do the heavy work, and even if there were, I bet the elven vampires would still be stronger and more effective along the narrow forest trails.
Maelor hadn't stopped being busy since that night. I could hear his conversation with his two most trusted elves—Floren, the one who tried to shoot at me with a bow, and Vaelir, the other elf who was gutsy enough to charge at me with his sword. They talked about the short supply of arrows. Busy dealing with the serpent scales, they had just realized they hadn't replenished their stock.
I thought it an unnecessary worry. I would be enough to ward off any attack on our caravan. But I guess it was simply in the nature of elves to feel more secure with a full quiver.
I sighed even before she landed. I could hear her and smell her from a mile away. Lesser vampires might not be able to turn into bats, but they were strong and agile enough to manage unbelievably long jumps—like one straight from the ground up to the roof.
She landed gently behind me, the roof tiles barely shifting beneath her feet.
"I got this for you."
I turned to see Lysandra holding her hands full of berries. She had that bright, smiling face that wasn't expecting to be refused.
Since she became a vampire, she wouldn't leave my side if she could help it. During the first few days, she would just shyly stand beside me, stealing glances. But she was growing confident by the hour, much to my chagrin. I could easily escape with a bat transformation, but sometimes I just couldn't be bothered.
This overt fondness typically fades in a few days.
I eyed the fruit. "You do know that I am a greater vampire, and I don—"
I stopped myself short. Greater vampires only consume blood and nothing else. That was what the knowledge lodged in my mind was telling me.
But unlike the former Frans, I didn't hate the idea of eating something else, like the berries being offered to me. I wasn't excited to taste it either, since I had yet to feel hunger since coming into this world. But my instincts showed no resistance to the idea of entertaining my palate.
Lysandra's smile widened as I reached out to pick a piece. The berry, expectedly, tasted sweet in my mouth. I liked it as much as when I was back on Earth.
I smiled. I wouldn't need to eat food with the [Photosurge] skill, but it was good to know that I could if I wanted to. Because—could I really fully explore this life if I couldn't even eat what I wanted?
"Tasty, isn't it?" Lysandra beamed, picking another one for herself. She had already been eating her fair share. The red stain from the berry juice around her fanged mouth would have caused a human to faint. So far, the elves had not shown any bloodthirstiness, perhaps another result of their noble bloodline.
"How old are you?" I asked. Even without knowing the answer, I knew she was old enough not to be clumsy when eating—or to be too close and trusting to dangerous strangers.
"I am one hundred and seven years old, your highness. Why do you ask?" she answered so casually.
She had the appearance of someone in her early twenties, but still, I shouldn't have been surprised. Frans would look as young as her, and he was already seven hundred years old. That was why the youthfulness of my consciousness was easily cloaked; I was inside a body with the instincts, sentiments, and mannerisms of someone with several centuries of existence.
That said, we were still young in the context of this world and our kind. Frans' father, for example, had lived for over three thousand years before he decided existence was becoming too boring and went into a slumber inside a coffin. Maelor, Lysandra's father, would likely be around a thousand years old, if the former was ever his contemporary.
"Would my age matter, if I want to be your bride?" she asked, tilting her head and looking too innocent for the question.
I huffed. The vampire lord in me didn't like the question. "You mistake my tolerance for fondness, elf. You aspire for something beyond your station. I am vampire royalty, and you are only a step above lowly human rubble."
My words stung—driven by vampiric instincts instead of careful thought—and I regretted them as soon as they left my lips. Lysandra, though, wasn't as hurt as I thought she would be.
She quickly lowered her head and took a single step back. But there was still a smile on her lips. "Forgive my impudence, lord vampire. But I want you to know, I am flattered enough by you simply tolerating my presence."
Even through Frans' dense perception of things, I was still unsettled. By how she called me 'lord vampire', or by how she seemed to find pleasure in my hurtful words.
I was getting ready to 'bat' out of the situation when relief came.
Maelor was done talking, and Floren was running our way, before stopping right in front of the house, where I could see him. His steps kicked up dust, and he stopped with a hand to his chest.
"High Prince, the chief has said we are ready to leave at your behest," Floren hollered.
"About your lack of arrows, Floren—was that resolved?" I asked.
The elf was momentarily confused but soon answered, "There is another dark elf village we'd be passing through on the way, my lord. The chief said we could try and ask for arrows from them."
I furrowed my brow.
Floren continued, "He also wants to try and convince them to join us. The chief there is his brother."