Shadow of the Abyss

From the instant Altair had settled his eyes on Sterling Vahn, a strong disdain permeated his being. He could all but feel the man's envy towards him, including that supple sense of fear. Fear not brought by personal power but by who or what backed him—House Nier.

The Count was a handsome man, a bit scrawny but handsome, with sandy blond hair that complimented his icy blue eyes. Tall, though two heads shorter than Altair. He was transcendent, yet he wore his emotions like a dress. It seemed a waste that such a man held such power but thought with his cock.

Ashara's girls were good. They could no doubt capture even some gods, but that didn't matter to Altair. How could it?

"Debt," Altair said slowly, deliberately. "Myra, was it?"

"Myra Cendara," said Sterling hastily. The distress was quite evident. "Skin as pale as the moon, eyes as red as blood, a petite nose, almond-shaped eyes, and…."

The man went on describing her down to the size of her tit. By the time he was done, Altair could just about envision the woman. He had truly fallen for a whore. That in itself was reason enough for Altair to scorn the man. Had he no sense of honor? No sense of pride? He was a nobleman, but he was begging him, not the Master of House Nier but the Young Master.

"Ah, yes, Myra. A lovely thing," Altair said half-heartedly. It was the best he could manage and more than enough for such a lowly thing. "But I'm afraid the woman isn't for sale. How could she be? Our Myra has quite the bloodline. Transcendence is well within her future. Keeping her where she is could prove… lucrative." He paused, letting that image spin within Sterling's mind; he looked as if he'd licked a sour toad. "Do you truly expect me to hand her over so easily?"

"You must!" Sterling snapped. Fragments of Transcendent Might whisked across his tailored black suit.

Altair smiled, though it never touched his eyes. "And who are you to tell me what to do? You are no ally of my House or the north, nor are you an enemy?"

"I could be," Serling said hurriedly.

But Altair continued on as if he hadn't heard. "You might be the head of your House, but even you must answer to your Great Elders. Enemies would do you no good. I would see you dead, You and Myra, before you could leave this manner."

Sterling turned pale then, seemingly only now realizing where he stood. There were Wardings all around the Manner. One wrong move could lead to his immediate capture or Death. It only mattered which was activated first. However, the same could not be said for Raven. The girl looked as if she was ready to combat a Transcendent, even if it meant certain death.

"Mr. Vahn, I do believe I have been patient. I've listened to your drivel for as long as I can tolerate. Tasha have Myra brought to me. I would truly like to hear why a whore is seeking to marry a—"

"No!!!!" It was an effort not to smile. Sterling's shout had simply been too sweet. He stiffened, waddling a step back. Altair commemorated the man for not immediately falling to his knees. Not that it would change anything. At least he had some pride, even if it was small.

Sterling was desperate. Trapped between the one he loved and the one who held his woman on a leash. Yet he had been softened up enough to be… persuaded. Just enough to bend. If he pushed too hard, the man might snap and attack him, even if it meant certain death.

"Young Master," Tasha said, one foot forward. "If I may, my Lord, but if the Count feels so… strongly about hour Myra, perhaps it best we have her go home with him. Just a few nights. She could use the time off."

Altair lifted a brow. "And gain nothing? No, I don't think so. Not unless the Count is willing to run a few jobs for me. Then perhaps we could negotiate you resting your head beside my property. Tasha, see to the details."

By the time realization registered across Sterling's face, Ashara had all but whisked him away, snapping at him so hard he practically jumped, hurrying after the Lilm.

Altair rolled his eyes, watching the door close on their way out his antechamber. He sighed, "What a loathsome man."

"When did you become so judgemental?" Raven questioned, standing behind him. He gave a start at the sudden question, then laughed. In hindsight, he was perhaps acting a bit overbearing, though he could hardly be blamed. Sterling Vahn was a fool of a man. He hardly deserved to be called a man at all. "You know it's rather common for men to fall for whores or exotic dancers and all. It hardly seems fair since he is up against a succubus."

Altair's laughter ceased. She had been right, of course, but that hardly mattered. Not really. His contempt for the Count would not lessen. Life was not fair. The mark of Cain on his shoulder, which branded him something akin to a slave, had told him as such. Any minute of the day, he could be summoned before Azura. No. Life was indeed not fair. But it was no reason for one to lower their head so pathetically, to beg like a rabid dog. He would not be like Sterling Vahn. He would rather die.

Considering Raven with a flat stare, he could not help but feel a sense of pride simmering in his chest. She was growing, inquiring about things unrelated to protecting him. Or was she still doing that? Trying to figure out parts of his psyche. The thought made him want to laugh.

"Have I changed again?" he asked, expecting as much. The Sin of Pride and the Sin of Sloth had taken hold of him ever since he had chosen to walk such a path. He still a bit of the Vale King's lust, transforming it into some… he couldn't put a word to it, but nowadays, his training of Ashara and Elena had taken on a more prideful sort of lust. Elena herself could not even look at him without wetting herself. Poor woman. If not for his comprehension of the various Souls of Magic, the School of Animus, Altair was sure the woman might have made a spectacle of him today on her way through the streets.

He had sealed the memory of himself in her mind, the memories of her training, albeit during the day. At night, when no one could see her, she could be a fiend all she wanted. He had quite the talent for Soul manipulation, but then, he had a talent for all seven schools of Magic—Abjuration, Conjuration, Divination, Evocation, Necromancy, Alteration, and Animus— they were the seven schools of magic, the very building blocks Soloman, The God of Wisdom, and Syris's Father had created.

As it stood now, he could create any fifth Circle spell with ease if he saw it once, thanks to Iliana's in-depth understanding of the Arcane Arts. Abyssal Magic was a bit more difficult, as Vale Qi wasn't necessarily the same as Abyssal Qi, though there existed a relation. One he could not yet bridge. At least not yet.

"You've definitely changed," Raven remarked. She glanced at the door, then at him, reaching to his cocked back head, running a hand across his cheek. "You are harder than before. It reminds me of the Vale King but different."

"Don't compare me to him."

Raven blinked unceremoniously, then smiled. "You and him are the same. That will never change. I'm sorry if you don't want to hear that, but I will not lie to you. Even if you command me to."

Altair snorted. "I am your king."

"And I am your protector. I protect not just your body but your spirit. The quicker you come to that realization, the easier it will be to protect you. The last thing I need is for you to do something stupid in response to your other self doing something you didn't like."

Altair was outraged. "I—"

"He is you. Reina and Syris will see it, just as I do. His lust and your pride. Your Sin of Sloth, and his Greed. Do you think no one notices? They'll see it in a single glance. And if they love you, they'll accept it. I have."

"He is not me!" Altair snapped, slapping her hand away.

Raven shrugged, lowering her hand. She sighed, almost as if she had expected such a response, and walked towards the door without another word; she was gone without so much as looking back.

Altair said nothing, thrown into a foul mood. How could he accept the Vale King? Even if he accepted that whatever the man felt was his own feeling. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him.

'But isn't it?'

The Vale King laughed.

'When I speak, you speak, when I fuck, you are fucking. Enjoying everything in that real-time moment. 'He crackled like a ghoul. "We are one and the same. The only thing that separates us from the other is our morals. Useless things if you ask me. You are not even a good person. So why do you try so hard?'

Altair did not bother to respond to him. It had nothing to do with him not having an answer; how could it? No, the Vale King was simply not worth his time.

'We'll just have to see what Syris and Reina have to say when they appear. After all, to anyone who cares—we are the same—no matter how much you deny it. I'm pretty sure they'll call us both Altair Blackwood Snow.'