Originally Soav was governed by a king. One supreme ruler for the whole island, coming from the same dynasty that first claimed this land as their own. However, with Mist creeping closer, corrupting more and more, and turning fertile fields into wastelands, kings’ position weakened. Northern Dominion descended and carved pieces of land for themselves, some were taken by Vrasmus Empire… And all of that long before Priat-Gva even joined the picture. 

Back then Mindsa wasn’t even the capital, it was just a small town in the center of the isle, not important enough to gather attention. But the time passed and things have changed. And the Eternal Battlegrounds kept creeping closer. And Soav kept shrinking down…

What was left of the kings' dynasty was a single human family, not powerful enough to rule on its own. In their wisdom and desperation, they reached out to others living on Saov, ones that didn’t care for Dominion nor Empire - southern elves and dwarves. This is how the Triumvirate was created - a council of three lords, each representing interests and species of Saov.

Obviously, the invaders didn't like that. With skillful diplomacy, or outright threats, the council was expanded by three additional seats. One for the Northern Dominion, one for the Vrasmus Empire, and one for the Exalted of Priat-Gva.

That was the story behind the title of the book I have read. Seventh Lord of Mindsna. Originally there were only six seats, and what Jacques de Asper desired wasn’t actually any of them. He wanted to represent only himself and his interests. To sit equally with other Lords.

Something small to start with. A fraction of power just for taste. To bind time and gather followers before he reached for a much more precious prize…

Jacques, however, wasn’t a lord. Not yet, at least. 

I stood in the spacious dining hall of his manor, each detail of decoration the same as it was described in the book. The tables were arranged in a U shape, almost bending under the weight of amazing food. A real feast with excellent meats and wines, all in the name of the saovine Lords. They weren’t actually there, sending their aids instead and that was the reason for Jacques’ foul mood.

It wasn’t hard to spot him. Jacques de Asper sat in the big ornamental chair, throne really, behind the main table. He looked regal in the red delia with golden details, abundance of buttons running over his sleeves, now left loose to not hinder his movements, collar decorated with soft, snow-white fur. Really, the only thing missing would be a crown resting on his blond short hair.

He sat there as if he was already the ruler of everything and the whole world had to yet hear of his ascension. I suppose in a way it was even true.

He was a handsome man with sharp cheekbones and eyes in the color of polished jade. He watched the party with a small frown and cold gaze, realizing that other lords didn’t appear in person. Jacques had enough control on his face to not outright grimace, however, knowing him well enough I could see the wicked twist to his fake smile. Well, if there was one thing the seventh lord hated the most, it sure was being ignored…

It was hard to turn my eyes away from Jacques. Neither the book descriptions nor my own imagination seemed to be anywhere close to reality. Suddenly I felt very glad that I got to see him now, in this dream space, instead of in the waking world. I would definitely freeze like a fool if I wasn’t ready.

Other than Jacques and the few people around him, everything else seemed hazy. Unfocused and lacking in the color. Maybe those were the edges of the dream - details unimportant to the dreamer?

“She will get jealous...”

It was the voice of a man sitting on Jacques’ left. No pop-up window appeared to hint at his identity, but I wouldn’t need them anyway. For me, it was clear who he was. The second worst character in the story, Rod Devetus.

Originally he was a good-for-nothing young noble from Vrasmus, sent by his father to aid the imperial armies on the western coast of Saov. In some unfortunate accident, however, Rod ended up stranded on the Eternal Battlegrounds - he survived, somehow, and was found by Jacques’ people near Asper. Since then he was Jacques’ trusted companion. A leech, really.

“You jest!” laughed Jacques. “By now, she should realize that it’s only by my grace alone that she gets to see you at all.” 

Rod sat almost draped over his Jacques, his eyes however straying towards the lady sitting in a central place by one of the side tables. Lady Ada, the beloved and only daughter of one of the saovine lords. And Rod cared for her favors enough to worry about how he was seen in her eyes.

In reality, in later parts of the book, it becomes clear that Rod Devetus never cared for anyone. As I said, he was just a leech.

Neither Lady Ada nor Rod was important at this moment, they were just a setup for some plot and intrigue in the book that wasn’t even that interesting. Instead what drew me into Jacques de Asper’s world was what was about to happen next. It wasn’t grand either, just a simple exchange of words, an order. One carrying the weight of a great sin.

I walked from the center of the room where I appeared at first, to Jacques’ table, rounding it and him, my eyes never leaving his face. Like watching prey if such a man could ever be considered anything but a predator. I stopped only right behind his chair, close enough to hear every whisper. Me on Jacques’ left shoulder, fitting in this space perfectly as soon as Rod undraped himself from the man to talk with someone next to him, and approaching Fela behind Jacques’ right.

She appeared like out of the Mist, suddenly but calmly, with a swirl to her dark crimson robes. For once she wasn’t smiling, she never smiled while directly addressing Jacques. Maybe she already knew that nothing can compare to the way he radiates…

“My lord?..” she leaned down by his shoulder.

“Bring me more of my wine, Felicia.” Someone not knowing him well enough, falling for the skillful act and mask of a liar, would think his face is a kind one. Sweet lips and soft eyes, happily tipsy on one or two cups of rose.

But Fela knew him, and I saw as her face palled. For one what Jacques called “his wine” was never a wine, to begin with. And secondly, sending his trusted enchanter to fetch a bottle was just plain cruelty.

Her gold braid slipped from Fela’s shoulder, as she clearly tried to come up with some argument. It dangled by Jacques face and his lips quirked seeing it, like a cat spotting a new toy. Gently, he grabbed the end of the braid, and tugged, once, and twice.

“Felicia~”

Fela swallowed nervously, her eyes straying, running all over the place, but never landing on Jacques. “There’s not much left,” she finally whispered.

“Do I care?” Jacques laughed quietly and tugged again. “Is it not your responsibility to care for my cellars?”

The woman just nodded. She would look submissive, but it was clear that there was a fire raging in her. It was in her clenched fists, steely eyes finally focusing on the room's far end. At this moment Fela had both the way and will to raise hell, yet she still could not do it…

Still, her power was nothing compared to what Jacques de Asper was capable of. No matter how much she would train her magic and herself, it would be always not enough.

So to the cellars, she had to go.

Jacques hummed happily and dropped her braid. A lesser villain might threaten her further, say something like “Listen to me or you will be the one locked down there!”. But he never had to. 

Fela excused herself and started heading back, carrying out the order, but while I knew I should go after her, I couldn’t stop myself from looking back. It was still so unreal to see him, other characters…

Jacques looked back again, as if to check if Fela is in fact going to the cellars, and for a second it was like he was looking right at me. His eyebrows shot up and eyes widened in surprise. As if he could really see me. But then the further Fela went the world became hazier and colorless, and before even a second passed this light of life faded from his gaze. Jacques turned away and then he too started to fade away…

That finally made me go. I almost ran after Fela, trying to keep up with her, going through the hallways of this giant mansion. Eventually, we reached the stairs leading to the level below, and the heavy door emanating with some twisted, malevolent aura. Fela took a deep breath and opened them, me right behind her.

What Jacques de Asper drank wasn’t wine, not even a drop. He was a vampire, a monstrous creature of nightmares, so feeding on blood came naturally to him. However, what was interesting, what was different, was his palette. According to his own philosophy, anything could be the source of magical energy - air, plants, animals, oneself, or other people… And according to his own, empirical experiments, the best way of acquiring such energy was by drinking already-charged blood.

Jacques de Asper. The vampire. The future seventh lord of Mindsna. The Mage Eater.

His wine cellars had more prison cells and draining equipments than racks of vintage. Fela walked between them swiftly, as if she could somehow escape the feeling of guilt she had to feel. And who wouldn’t, in her position? In the land where mages were scarce not only was she a witness to his crime against her potential colleagues, but she was also actively a part of it. She got to live so long because she never hesitated to kick further down those already under her feet.

I had to admit to myself, that following her in this dream like that, like a shadow, knowing so much from the book, made me feel somewhat powerful. Weird, but also intoxicating.

Suddenly Fela stopped in the middle of the hallway where on one of the walls was hung a mirror, to reflex this small amount of light that was in the underground. She halted abruptly as if she saw something in the corner of her eye, and was now looking into the reflective surface. Did she, like Jacques upstairs, notice me somehow? Impossible.

I turned to the mirror as well, but all I saw was its silvery surface drenched in the blood slowly dripping from under the frame. No reflections, only crimson, tap, tap, tap, falling on the stone floor.

TL NOTES

Rod Devetus - This one if funny because it seems that both the author and Hubert managed to mangle this name. It’s actually Roderick de Vetus, I won’t say more, but if you know then you know ┬┴┬┴┤=･ω･=)ﾉ haha! Of course, vetus = old, ancient, experienced, which I feel like already tells you a lot about this family (=`ω´=)