Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Chapter 72

Kath’tan made his way to the armory, holding even more curiosity after the impressive state of the training grounds. He went through the right entrance and was presented with an array of projectiles and ranged weapons, all well kept.

For an armory in a home, it had an impressive variety, it almost seemed like it was more for show than anything else. The attention to detail and workmanship were something only a true fighter or someone with a strong interest in weaponry would notice, he couldn’t see Dulce as either.

He stepped out of the arsenal after a quick look to go to the left arsenal where his interests lay - melee weapons. It was even more impressive, and he was drawn to the hammers in all lengths and sizes.

Kath’tan was itching to try one of them on one of the training dummies a room away, his gleaming eyes scanning the room, taking in unfamiliar weapons as well as weapons he knew well.

He reached out to touch a maul similar to his weapon that he had lost on the battlefield, it had most likely been set aflame like the fallen soldiers on the Red Plains.

Occasionally, there were pillagers who would prey on the aftermath of a battle, taking weapons and whatever valuables they stumbled across. And on a more positive note, there were families of fallen soldiers, a precious few who didn’t uphold the views that defeat in battle was a measure of one’s strength and therefore the defeated didn’t deserve honor.

There were a few who would wander through the bloodshed, mourning their loved ones lost. But Kath’tan didn’t even have the vaguest hope of that, so if his beloved maul hadn’t been burned, then it had been pillaged and likely sold for profit.

He picked the hammer off its stand, weighing it in his hands. He could feel the disparity by mere touch, and it made him realize that Asael had made a replica of his very weapon when he fought the Vampire witch in the castle.

Because the shadow weapon had felt familiar in his hands, far more than this hammer despite it being a better-crafted weapon.

His eyes took on a distant look as he absently swung the hammer around. He had gotten his maul from the training grounds available to lower-ranked soldiers and it was the only weapon he had.

In comparison, a Fiend born in his position would have his own arsenal of finely crafted weapons. It was something he had grown used to, preferring the commonly made weapon...

He thought back to his last battle, which had also inadvertently been his first battle. It was the first battalion he had led, despite the notable lack of soldiers made available to him, he had been overjoyed, thinking that his father was finally giving him a chance to prove himself.

He had been to war before but he was usually assigned grueling tasks that no one else wanted to do, often sent to flank the enemy with only a handful of soldiers.

Kath’tan placed the maul back on the stand and looked around a bit more. It was the home of the foolish Vampire, the circumstances around his birth did not matter here. He was free to explore the arsenal as long as he liked.

He drifted over to an array of strange curved shortswords, their blades gleaming in the light that spilled in through the high windows, clearly well kept.

Perhaps if he asked Dulce if they could linger in Marlen for a few days, the Vampire would agree, but he was no good at making demands, even more so when he already felt so indebted.

Perhaps more of Dulce’s estates would be equipped with such a well-made armory and he could take the chance to train as they traveled.

Kath’tan also planned to take advantage of the current armory he was in, he would return after dinner and spend the night here. A sparring partner would teach him more than a metal statue but he would take what he got.

He went over to the impressive longswords next, reaching out to touch one without much thought only to pause at the last moment, taking his hand away. It was a rather pleasant way to spend the afternoon, visibly in a good mood as he went from weapon to weapon, studying them with interest.

-+-

Asael sat next to Dulce as they embarked on the short trip back to the castle. This time it was in one of his carriages, it was lavish, pulled by powerful white steeds.

The coachmen from Fairwyn had been invited in to rest, their services no longer needed but they had refused, riding off. No doubt to return to their master with a report of their completed task.

The carriage drove leisurely away from the manor, drawing attention from the mansions on the other side of the street. There were rumors about the biggest manor in Marlen, talks of ghosts and Vampires were common, it was the first time they had ever seen a carriage leave the homestead, it rightfully drew attention.

Asael ignored them, glancing at Dulce who was curiously looking into the endless compartments the carriage came with, clearly looking for sweets.

He never once thought that the Vampire had lied to him about the treasures in his desert palace but he was coming to realize that the lies had been in the part where the Vampire diminished the wealth he actually possessed.

If a manor as old as this which was also abandoned by Dulce for several centuries was still thriving, it meant that the treasures in his palace would be unfathomable. His brows dropped low on his head, for his age, he had done well in building his wealth and his name but that only held weight when the Vampire was impoverished.

The carriage ride was mostly silent, nothing but the quiet sounds the compartments made when they were opened and closed.

"If your manor has enough to outbid the Fiend’s father, will you still travel to the east?" He asked, his tone serious.