It was faint, but also tender at times, as the warmth had spread out throughout the room.
A smell so strong that it could make one's body topple down, the scent so fragrant that no simple common folk would sit in front of it without asking, 'Is it really for me?' while trying to wipe their teary eyes, which hadn't tasted something so breathtakingly beautiful.
Like a work of art, it presented itself on the dining table, surrounded by tall walls of polished marble and red carpets made from crimson, like blood that filled each corner of the floor.
Four chairs waited around it, placed at the further ends of the table, so far that you'd need to take a stroll just to pass a piece of bread.
With a smell that made people drool over it, the breakfast was prepared, waiting on the silk, linen cloth that the workers had brought.
- Creak
The main door to the dining room opened quietly, the faint creak of its frame gathering the gazes of the workers who were still decorating the table.
A youth entered inside, his deep hazel hair fluttering faintly from the weak breeze that came through the door's hard, wooden frame.
His eyes drifted to the side where three workers stood with their heads dropped down, eyes focused on the soles of their feet as if it were the most important thing in their world.
'New faces.'
They all wore simple uniforms of black and white, the ones every butler, worker, or any person who had some dignity to be seen in their good light.
"Good morning." He bowed his head just enough for it to count as polite.
Then, with a deliberate and graceful movement, he strutted over to one of the chairs, pulled it back, and sat down like he didn't care about the sweat that formed on one of the workers' heads.
'Hmm...'
He hummed for a moment, taking in the sight of his usual breakfast, something he was already accustomed to, something he tasted many times, and something he was horribly tired of.
It was a meal made from the second-best cooks in the entire citadel, something one could only dream of while trying to scrape by on the scrawny checks of their low-life jobs. The bread alone was priced at thirty thousand to fifty thousand credits, making it the first product that you could eat in a bite as well as buy a house with.
Vlad looked down at the empty plate in front of him, then, with slow and calm precision, he unbuttoned the highest button of his shirt, the one that was placed over his throat.
'Phew... Finally, I can breathe freely.'
Picking up his fork from the left side, he placed anything that he could think of on his plate.
The choice was limited, but acceptable.
A cut of fresh steak drizzled with sweet sauce made from fresh blood, it's smell that of fresh grass and freedom, an egg that came from the lower floors of the rift with its watery yolk shifting from side to side, some sort of salad that let out a tiny screech the moment his fork pierced it, it wriggled on his plate for a second before being cut in half with a knife.
He chewed the food for a few seconds, savouring the distinct taste he had grown accustomed to, and then reached for two cuts of bread that were lying in a small basket somewhere along the middle of the table.
'Let's see...'
Vlad hummed quietly as he glanced at one of the workers and then back to his plate.
Taking his fork, he carefully cut his meat into thin strips, setting them aside on the edge of his plate. The same was done with the other ingredients as he cut them into either straight strips or simply in half before stacking them on one piece of bread and then putting another one over it.
His hands immediately held onto the sides of his strange sandwich that dripped with yolk and moved slightly from the middle.
'Much better.'
It let out a loud snap as he bit into it, tasting it all at once.
For some reason, whenever Vlad ate anything, a sudden urge took over his body, making him make a sandwich that people usually wouldn't really think of making.
And, it was understandable, no one really expects one to eat a dish by making a sandwich out of it.
"You."
He suddenly spoke up, his knife gesturing to the worker whose sweat was already dripping on the carpet, staining it.
The three workers turned stiff at his words, the sweaty girl's face turning deathly pale as she stepped forward and bowed her head so low that she could touch her legs.
"I-I'm sorry, it's just-"
"Go."
Her face crumpled at his words, her pleading eyes locking onto Vlad, who leisurely put a piece of salad in his mouth and chewed it patiently.
Then he added after swallowing it with a frown.
"Go take a break, you look like you're about to pass out."
Her eyes regained a tiny light, she smiled, a clumsy smile of gratitude which she hid quickly while bowing even lower.
"Thank you!"
She wiped the sweat with her handkerchief and darted out of the dining room, leaving Vlad with two other workers who watched him eat with dry throats.
***
The door closed quietly, prompting the two workers to let out the breaths they've been holding for the past twenty minutes. Their eyes watched the door vigilantly, almost like they expected him to go back and finish the rest of the prepared food.
But after a while, it became obvious he wouldn't. Honestly, it surprised them, the fact that someone would actually use their service on the first days of their job.
"I didn't think I'd get to see him." One worker said from the side, his voice low.
"Didn't you apply here just to meet them in person?" His colleague asked as he went up to the table and began to clean it up.
"Right.." The boy scratched the back of his head. "But to see 'Him' out of everyone, I thought he would be a little less-"
"Intimidating?" His colleague took the words right out of him as he was prompted to nod and stack a couple of empty trays onto his shoulder.
"I'm more surprised by how much he eats. I can't imagine finishing all of it with my family." He added jokingly before shifting the weight of the trays and turning to the door.
The other guy scoffed, remembering something.
"His family could probably eat thrice as much."
"Maybe."
The older one then stopped in front of the door, his watchful eyes sweeping over the red carpet before muttering something. He then opened the door and disappeared alongside the dozen trays.
Alone in the dining room, the young worker looked at the place where Vlad sat.
'To think someone like him has so much authority.'
The thought was brief, but heavy.
His eyes darted around, looking for anything or anyone that might have been watching, and when he was sure that no one was around, he pulled the chair back.
It scraped against the stainless carpet, his heart pounding heavily inside his chest.
'Just for a second.'
Stiff as a tree, he sat on the chair and immediately relaxed. The warm, soft material in which it was covered made his entire pent-up stress turn into a blur.
"Must be good to be rich."
He sighed to himself, his fingers tapping on the table impatiently, before suddenly, the door opened.
'!'
Startled, he fell to the floor alongside the chair, and a loud thud echoed across the walls of white. But he couldn't let out even a mere whimper, because in front of him stood the person whom he thought wouldn't come back.
His hazel eyes pierced him like he was a mere worm, a faint presence before his eyes.
Only one thought resurfaced inside the dazed worker.
'T-the failure of Albrecht!'
He stared at Vlad wide-eyed like an owl, tracing every line of his white shirt. It was suffocating. To lie under his feet and wait for the final judgement that would drop from his lips. The scar across his cheek made it even more terrifying to look at him. Who could have inflicted it?
The silence was broken by Vlad, who knelt beside the fallen worker and picked something off the floor, a small pill-like item which he hid inside his pocket.
"Don't let Gabriel catch you."
Vlad whispered to the young boy whose face turned blank.
"Unlike him, I can grant mercy."
He stood up, corrected the collar of his shirt, and confidently walked out of the room, leaving a new impression of himself on the young worker.