Chương 28: Something Interesting Showed Up

The world had changed again. Roads stretched farther than they once had, electric lights burned through the night, and automobiles rattled along the streets trailing smoke and noise behind them. Cars were hardly new to me. I remembered sleeker, faster machines from my previous life, but after centuries of horses and carriages, even these crude metal contraptions felt like evidence that civilization was finally making progress.

Of course, the wealthy men behind the wheel behaved as though they had personally invented motion. That was almost endearing. I could still outrun them. Ninety-five years had passed since the death of Duke Vale. To me, that was an inconveniently long construction project. To everyone burdened with a mortal lifespan, it was enough time for rulers to die, kingdoms to collapse, and historians to invent dignified explanations for disasters caused by ordinary stupidity.

In terms I remembered from my former world, this era most closely resembled the early 1920s. That should give you some idea of how much the world had changed. Now we may return to the blood-soaked march of history. We no longer lived in Stonehaven. The kingdom had once appeared permanent, grand, and swollen with generations of arrogance. After Vera's father died, it collapsed like wet parchment in only ten years. I owned furniture that had endured longer.

Vera's siblings tore the royal family apart in their struggle for the throne. They drained the treasury, lost the military's loyalty, provoked the merchants, offended the established noble houses, and blamed everyone but themselves as the kingdom collapsed around them. She watched the collapse with exhausted disgust. Vera felt no sorrow for the ambitions her siblings had destroyed in their struggle for the throne.

She grieved only for her father, mourning him quietly while nobles circled the empty crown and argued over what remained of the kingdom. Once she had laid him to rest, she left Stonehaven behind and joined House Vaust permanently. Malcolm came with her, as he always would. By then, he had become Vera's personal knight, fulfilling a role he had carried in everything but title from the moment he chose to stand beside her. Malcolm wore the position well.

I still found it amusing that the man who once cheated at my tables in a desperate attempt to become worthy of a princess now crushed noblemen into the floor whenever they forgot their manners. Gravity suited Malcolm because it was direct, steadfast, and impossible to ignore, much like the man himself. As Stonehaven entered its final death rattle, I gathered my family and traveled west, settling as far from the dying kingdom as practicality allowed, near the sea.

I had always respected the ocean, although not for sentimental reasons. It was vast, violent, and indifferent. It swallowed ships, drowned fools, and concealed horrors beneath a glittering surface. Naturally, I approved of it. More importantly, the coast offered everything a growing empire required. Trade routes converged near the water, travelers passed through in constant numbers, and wealthy fools arrived with more money than restraint. It was ideal.

Near the beach, where roads and rail lines were beginning to branch through the expanding city, I finally built something close to the vision I had carried for nearly two centuries. It wasn't the final version. The world still had considerable catching up to do before it could properly accommodate my taste. For now, however, it was enough. Construction on the Vaust Hotel & Casino was complete, and fifteen stories of stone, steel, glass, and ambition now rose above the coast.

Inside, polished dark wood, red velvet, gold trim, and black marble veined with violet gave the hotel the elegance and menace I considered appropriate. Tall windows overlooked the sea, while electric lights glittered across the entrance like captured stars. A massive sign hung above the front doors, visible from far down the street. VAUST HOTEL & CASINO. The name was straightforward but accurate. I had considered calling it the Vaust Royale, though the title still felt premature.

Royale demanded greater scale, grander spectacle, and enough theatrical arrogance to make the world feel obligated to kneel. We were not there yet. Soon… The first floor was devoted almost entirely to gambling, with long rows of slot machines gleaming beneath the electric lights. I despised their endless clanking, ringing, spinning, and clicking.

Combined with the cheers of winners and the groans of everyone else, they created a metal orchestra composed by someone who had never known peace and wanted revenge upon the world. The guests adored them. They fed coins into the machines with the desperate faith of priests making offerings to small, greedy gods. Painted symbols spun behind glass, levers were pulled as though fate itself might be negotiated with, and coins spilled into metal trays whenever luck briefly favored someone. Women laughed. Men cursed.

Dealers watched with polite smiles and eyes long past sympathy. It was beautiful. We also retained the classics. Poker, blackjack, dice tables, and private rooms for high-stakes games occupied much of the remaining space. A large tournament hall allowed wealthy fools to contribute to enormous prize pools and convince themselves they were brilliant until someone more talented took everything.

The tournaments drew considerable crowds, proving that people enjoyed watching strangers risk their fortunes almost as much as they enjoyed risking their own. Alcohol flowed just as freely as money. Whiskey, wine, gin, brandy, champagne, and whatever terrible burning liquid happened to be fashionable that month crossed the casino floor in staggering quantities. Drunkards crowded my tables, laughed too loudly, and made disastrous decisions with remarkable enthusiasm.

I never understood why anyone would deliberately dull their judgment before gambling, although I was the one selling the alcohol and collecting the resulting losses. Perhaps I understood perfectly. The second floor offered something slightly more generous: a safe place for children. It was practical. Parents could descend to the casino and destroy themselves financially while their children remained somewhere safe, supervised, fed, and entertained. It was a form of kindness, although a profitable one.

Children's entertainment was still limited by the era with no sprawling arcades, glowing screens, or elaborate machines designed to steal attention and coins with equal efficiency. Instead, the second floor offered wooden toys, puppet shows, books, sweets, drawing tables, small rides, live music, and supervised games. Celeste adored the entire idea and called it sweet. I called it customer retention, while Adrian appreciated that it kept children away from restricted areas.

Vera claimed it made the hotel seem less predatory. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I told her not to insult my business model. Regardless of our motivations, the second floor became popular. Parents appreciated the service, children screamed less often in the lobby, and no one wandered beneath a card table searching for a missing toy. Everyone benefited, probably…

There was no question that this world differed from the Earth I remembered. Humans shared it with vampires, giants, monsters, and countless other beings that had never belonged to my former life. What remained difficult to understand was the way its technology developed. Cars, engines, roads, and electric lighting had advanced faster than I remembered, while other inventions lagged far behind.

Magic and the presence of nonhuman races had altered the path of progress, producing a world where some machines seemed decades ahead and others remained stubbornly primitive. Paper currency, for example, had never fully replaced precious metals. Gold and silver still ruled commerce, carrying a weight and certainty that printed money had failed to match. Coins, bars, ingots, and stamped plates remained the foundation of wealth.

Letters of credit existed, and banks had become increasingly clever, but true fortune still possessed weight and shine. My wealth had become quite literal in its weight. The vault held enough treasure to make Scrooge McDuck stare with envy and perhaps reconsider several of his life choices. Gold bars stood in carefully arranged stacks, while reinforced chests overflowed with silver. Gems were sorted by type, cut, value, and magical resonance.

Deeds, contracts, bonds, artifacts, and emergency blood reserves each occupied secured sections of their own. A few cursed objects remained as well. Adrian insisted they should be destroyed, while Celeste believed they might look attractive inside sealed display cases. After living as long as I had and making enough profitable decisions, wealth ceased to feel like a goal. It became a weather pattern. Money rained, and I built roofs shaped like funnels.

Our standing within the Mercenaries Guild had risen alongside that fortune, eventually reaching SSS rank. It was a ridiculous title, but humans had always possessed an unhealthy affection for letters. The guild followed us west like mold spreading across bread. The moment its leaders learned that I intended to leave Stonehaven's corpse behind, they sent surveyors, clerks, negotiators, and builders to establish another branch near my hotel. The guild's decision had nothing to do with affection.

Remaining too far from me simply made them nervous, and several incidents over the decades had given them good reason. A giant descended from the northern ranges. A plague beast emerged near the marsh cities. A necromantic bloom consumed the ruins of Veyr. Something beneath the Red Gorge possessed far too many mouths and not nearly enough manners. Formidable enemies had come and gone over the years. Most died, some were erased entirely, and the rare few who endured long enough became stories.

Defeating someone who regenerated without limit was difficult, especially after I had abandoned restraint long ago. Even so, I fought less than I once had, not because I had grown weaker, but because my children had become eager to take my place on the battlefield. Adrian had become a nightmare with a blade. His movements were faster than most eyes could follow, while nearly a century of discipline had sharpened his vampiric strength and enhanced body into something mercilessly precise.

Celeste had become a storm wearing a woman's shape. She still smiled, still talked too much, and could turn a battlefield into a burning, frozen, lightning-struck ruin while asking whether everyone had eaten enough. Malcolm's gravity could crush stone, bend armor, and force creatures many times his size into the earth. Vera's familiar had grown into something truly fascinating.

Vesper still perched upon Vera's shoulder whenever she wished to appear harmless, although harmless had ceased to describe her many decades earlier. The creature could assume her crimson-winged female form, complete with red skin, red hair, glowing eyes, and enormous crow's wings. She could also become a massive blood-crystal bird capable of tearing through the sky like an omen with claws. Then there was Murder of Crows. The name remained wonderfully dramatic. Celeste remained painfully proud of it.

When Vera pushed the ability far enough, Vesper multiplied. One crow became ten, ten became fifty, and fifty became a shrieking red-and-black storm descending upon enemies with crystalline beaks and talons. The ability was as horrifying as it was powerful, and the thirst it left behind carried a dangerous price. Vera learned that during an encounter with bandits that ended with a burning caravan and Malcolm nearly losing an arm.

Long after the battle should've been over, the crows continued multiplying while her control slipped away. Her eyes turned glassy and feral, her fangs remained bared, and her hands trembled as the flock tore into bodies that had already stopped moving. Malcolm was the first to reach her. The foolish man sliced open his palm and pressed the wound to Vera's mouth before her hunger could turn toward anyone else.

She drank through broken sobs and nearly bit through his hand, but Malcolm only tightened his arms around her until the frenzy passed. Love was apparently a chronic disease. Celeste remained my shadow, and no amount of time seemed capable of changing that. Centuries could pass, kingdoms could vanish, and machines could replace horses. Gold might become paper, paper might become numbers, and humanity would undoubtedly invent countless new ways to embarrass itself.

Through all of it, Celeste would remain somewhere nearby, speaking far more than necessary. She spent much of her time with Adrian or managing the endless demands of the hotel. Staff, ledgers, entertainment schedules, guest disputes, menus, decorations, and anything else that caught her attention eventually became her responsibility. No matter how busy she became, she always found her way back to me. My right side had belonged to her for so long that neither of us remembered when the arrangement began.

Some unspoken law had settled between us, and I had stopped pretending to object. On the day construction finally ended, I stood before the wide windows on the highest floor of the Vaust Hotel & Casino and watched the sea stretch toward the horizon. The entire floor belonged to me, as it naturally should. It contained private suites, my office, a sitting room large enough for negotiations, executions, or particularly dull parties, and a private dining room.

Several guest rooms were reserved for my kin, while a balcony opened toward the ocean wind. Heavy curtains framed the dark walls, while violet accents lent the room elegance sharp enough to feel threatening. The entire floor carried an air of tasteful menace, exactly as I intended. Beyond the windows, the city moved beneath me. Cars flowed along the streets, crowds filled the sidewalks, and guests approached the hotel in fine clothing with polished luggage and greed they barely bothered to conceal.

Past the city, the beach shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, and the blue-gray sea stretched toward the horizon. I stood with my hands folded behind my back and considered everything that had changed during the last ninety-five years. Stonehaven had fallen, House Vaust had risen higher, and the world continued dragging itself toward the future. It was still moving far too slowly for my liking. A soft knock sounded at the door.

"Enter." Celeste swept into the room without waiting for permission, rendering the knock entirely meaningless. She wore a deep blue dress trimmed with silver, and her hair had been pinned with enough care to suggest she either had an important meeting later or had already terrorized someone of consequence. Adrian wasn't beside her, which meant he was probably downstairs ensuring the hotel's opening didn't descend into a riot. That was unfortunate. Riots could be excellent publicity.

"Mother." Celeste entered with a smile far too bright to mean anything good.

"No." The refusal escaped me on instinct. She stopped just inside the room and placed one hand against her chest in exaggerated offense.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"That has never prevented you from saying it." Her smile only widened as she closed the door and crossed the room.

"Someone from the Mercenaries Guild has requested an audience."

"The guild requests an audience every week."

"This representative came in person."

"How tragic for him."

"He looks nervous."

"They usually do."

"He asked for you specifically."

"Then his judgment is already questionable." Celeste was nearly glowing now, which immediately made me suspicious. I turned fully toward her.

"Why are you enjoying this so much?" She clasped her hands together, barely containing herself.

"Because the request concerns a dragon." For a moment, everything beyond Celeste's voice seemed to fall away. Even the distant roar of the casino faded until only that single word remained. A dragon… Not a wyvern, a drake, or some oversized winged lizard with delusions of grandeur, but a true dragon. My eyes widened before I could stop them. Calling such creatures rare didn't begin to capture the truth.

Across all my centuries in this world, through wars, kingdoms, and horrors dragged from mountains, swamps, ruins, and nightmares, I had never encountered one. I had always wanted to, obviously. What self-respecting immortal monster wouldn't wish to see a dragon? Celeste noticed my expression and became unbearably pleased with herself.

"That caught your attention." I turned away from the window.

"Where is the messenger?"

"He's waiting in one of the private guild rooms downstairs."

"What details did he provide?"

"Very few. He refused to explain much without speaking to you directly. He only revealed that a dragon had been sighted beyond the western cliffs near the volcanic range." Excitement glittered in her eyes.

"Several towns have also gone silent."

"How considerate of them to become ominous."

"I expected you to say something like that." I started toward the door, and Celeste immediately followed.

"Should I gather the others?"

"Does Adrian already know?"

"Probably. He knows everything before I do now. It's extremely rude."

"What about Vera and Malcolm?"

"They're downstairs. Vesper is frightening guests near the chandelier."

"Again?"

"She believes they were cheating."

"The bird told you that?" Celeste hesitated.

"Vera claimed Vesper strongly implied it."

"Wonderful. We now accept legal testimony from birds." We reached the elevator. It was another modern convenience I had immediately approved of. Stairs were for people with shorter buildings and fewer ambitions. The polished metal doors opened with a mechanical sound. I stepped inside, and Celeste followed, practically vibrating with curiosity. As the doors closed, she leaned toward me.

"You're excited."

"I'm interested."

"You're excited." She echoed.

"I'm considering the strategic consequences of a dragon appearing near my newly completed hotel."

"Your eyes lit up."

"My eyes are reflective."

"You smiled."

"I was baring my teeth."

"That's smiling for you." I looked at her. She stared back with obvious delight. The elevator began descending. Fifteen floors below us, a guild messenger waited with news of a dragon. My children waited somewhere below, each of them stronger, stranger, and more troublesome than they had been the decade before. A restless energy stirred within me, sharper than irritation and far more welcome than hunger. As the possibilities unfolded in my mind, anticipation tightened pleasantly beneath my ribs.

A true dragon had finally appeared. At last, the world had brought me something truly interesting!