"...-ear the old viscount's last remaining son died in that ambush!"

"AGAIN?! Hooh!"

"I know~! It's like he sends them off in search of achievements just to get'em killed! Makes you wonder if there isn't some trickery going on under the table..."

"Oh, shoosh, you! You know we're not supposed to bring up open secrets like that! It's unbecoming."

"Ah, yes, do accept my apologies. I don't know what came over me there!"

"...Well, it's not like that matters at this point! The old bastard's on the brink! He'd have to be an idiot to not have noticed he's being set up. I bet you he's well aware of what's going on and simply can't do anything but stew in his own rage!"

"Hoho~hoo! I hear he's been trying to net himself a SIXTH kid to throw into the grinder! Emphasis on trying, of course. At his ripe old age of being two feet in the grave, I'd be surprised if there was any fruit left on the vine."

"Wew! Wonder with whom~? His wife has been deathly ill for what seems like years, now! I bet you he's been going after that Volkairn guest from the other day, trying to win her over with stories of the so-called good ole' da-!"

"M-milord?! What brings you to the maid's quarters?! I-If you need assistance, I would gladly-"

"...Silence."

"I-I'm sorry?"

"I said, SHUT up. I swear, you tramps... No class!" he sighs. "Guards, at ease. I don't want anyone hearing what I am about to say."

The guards promptly abscond as the old man waves his cane at them. The door slowly closes, and light from outside it quickly dims. What was once a quaint little bedroom now felt uncomfortably like a cell, the thick air stuffed to the brim with the noble vampwelf's presence.

"..."

"Now, where was I?"

The sound of a singular clap cuts through the silence and the tension in the room.
"...Right. Congratulations! You are now adopted, and a full blooded Elzenstein from here onwards."

"W-what?"

"I did not say you could speak. My patience wanes these days and I'm spending what little limited amount I have here, so you better appreciate every second of it."

"Point is, Lisa, you may not know this, but your mother, uncouth and common blooded a woman as she was, was once a particularly lovely little lover of mine!"

The maid wanted to object, to say anything in response, and yet, she couldn't, for she did not have the floor, and the noble man before her did not have the time.

"She had some, well, two good points about her, yes, but also quite a menagerie of bad points. Terrible points, even. She was prone to keeping secrets, you see?"

"And you, yes, YOU, look me in the eyes, happen to be one of such. You may BE a bastard child, but you are MY child nonetheless, and at this point I am running out of options."

"Your role here as my now daughter is simple! Lisa, you will marry. You will get me an heir. You will be a good wife, and you'll make it so that my fortune never so much as has to be in the same room as that blasted Bela. The only issue is..."

A fragile, yet pointy cane hits a lowly muck blooded maid in the ribs.

"You're dirty."

It spikes harder, it digs deeper.

"You're classless."

It prods. It drills. It pushes the girl back until she falls over on her behind, and then continues and threatens to stab.

"You're so.... Disgustingly, obviously plebeian, it is plain to see."

"And we must fix that, or else you will never get me an heir. Your training starts tomorrow. Your backstory, and stick to it like your life depends on it, because it VERY much does, is that you've always been under my wing, and were simply hidden from the world due to sickness. Any questions?"

"...Lisa is not my name, sir..."

"-What? Did I get the wrong maid? Blah! So be it! You will have to do, you've got a similar enough hair color, I suppose. We're on a tight schedule! I'm not one to shy away from a challenge, let us see if we can turn one of your kind into a blue blooded vampwelf! It will quell my boredom if nothing else!"

The old man grabs the maid by the arm tightly, pulling her out of the room. Her concerns and pleas are ignored, as the red outline of his hand bores into her paler skin. Whatever she once owned to be left behind in this small, out of the way room, soon to be spread among the personnel.

"That DAMNED Bela thinks he's so smart just because he held a Bloody Banquet once! He wants my blasted money, well he's not going to see a single CENT of it! If he thinks he can corner ME, the grand XXXXXXX VON ELZENSTEIN then he has a rude awakening coming! Inheritance my ancient be~hind! I'm going to live forever, gods damn it!"

"...Come to poison the old well, oh dear daughter of mine?"

"...! F-father! No, I would never...!"

"Ohhhhh...! Shut it! We both know what it is you came here for Eliza von Elzenstein! Do you take your old man for a fool? Do you think he's survived this long without having been stabbed, poisoned, betrayed?! Did you think I didn't attend that blasted Bloody Banquet of Bela's for reasons as daft as having missed the memo?!"

"B-but I swear! I would never consider committing such a-"

"WHAT PART OF SHUT IT DO. YOU. NOT. GET?! It's been 6 BLASTED years since I took you in and the only plebeian habit we haven't managed to whip out of you is your inability to shut up like a good woman!"

The old man holds the bridge of his nose. A sigh exits his mouth alongside a puff of smoke from a cigar in hand.

"...Fine then, if you really believe me to be a blithering idiot, then would you care to partake in a toast to this fine evening? You know I DO appreciate a fine wine glass at this late moonlit hour of the night! Now, don't be shy now, you brought your own wine with you, didn't you?"

The girl hesitates. Her heart beats faster. Her bloodflow quickens. She sits down opposite the old man and picks up a crystal clear glass set down in front of her.

"..."

She holds it. She desperately holds it. She forces her beat steady. Her hand still. She fills it with a nondescript red liquid, from the bottle of wine she brought with her. She holds it up to her face and...

"...I can't."

"............Haa. Blast the BASTARD GODS that you were born a woman. I would have gladly taken in a son brave enough to try to take me down with such a thickheaded, boorish plot. How long have you been bloodletting into this wine bottle? Vampwelf blood is classic poison, you amateur. Anyone half my age could've seen this coming a mile away."

"...A week. I've been sneaking extra portions after meals to make up for the blood I've lost."

"Moron. You daft, god damned moron. If I didn't need you wedded I'd have you beheaded."

"...S-so..."

"...Why?"

"Why don't you?"

"What? What did you just say to me?"

"...Why... Why don't you just do it then!? Why not just end it here?"

The girl stands up from her chair suddenly, knocking the bottle of wine onto the floor and creating a pool of crimson.

"I WILL come again. I'll kill you. Why not just get rid of me and spare us both the bother?"

"It's not like you've ever liked me anyways! I've always just been your little experiment on the side, your toy to break and laugh at!"

"I must seem sooooooo~ funny~ struggling along, trying to keep my head above the water, trying desperately to become something I'm not, something I've never been."

"..."

"...Huh."

"...Huh! So you DO have some semblance of backbone hidden in that dainty little stick of a body of yours!"

"You'll come back? You'll ...Kill me? YOU? With those flimsy arms of yours that have never held a blade? That half hearted bloodthirst you've barely managed to scrounge up? A mere week's worth of blood? You make me laugh! You're not even worth the back of my blade, let alone the guillotine!"

“I’m not…”

Eliza produces a weapon from the insides of her dress and points it straight at her Father’s face.

"...I came here prepared, blast it! I’m not scared of you! I'm done with your games! I'm done with this farce! I didn’t spend months planning this, enduring the pain of slitting my own wrists into a dumb wine bottle, over and over and over, just to let you laugh at me like this!"

Her hand trembled with a mix of anticipation and nerves as she held steel forwards.

“I don’t care anymore if I have to kill you with my own two hands… I don’t… I don’t care if I have to stab you in the throat for all of this to be over!”

The old man stared blankly at Eliza as she proclaimed her resolve. He’d look down, the shadows of the night obscuring the features of his face… and slowly but surely a deep, mocking sound would rise from within him.

"...Hoh… Hohoh… HohOHOH! …Now THIS! Is some entertainment! I'll tell you the truth, oh, dear daughter of mine, it's been so quiet since the rest of the family stopped trying to kill me and decided to just wait for me to keel over. I've been so, so bored lately! This has been the funnest AND the funniest thing to happen to me since I took you in!"

"You want to KILL ME? With that shoddy sharpened letter opener you think a blade? You want to feel steel cutting through my flesh? You want to feel some worth in that hollow, empty life of yours by donning the title of Kin Slayer?"

The old man would slowly rise from his seat.

"...Fantastic! In fact, I couldn't ask for anything more out of a sham like you!"

He would take a step towards his daughter.

"Let me give you a lesson, Eliza, the one and ONLY thing you will ever learn directly from me as your Father. We're ALL Kin Slayers here. ALL vampwelf, including you, including me, including EVERY Elzenstein, every Drakken, every Volkairn, every piss blooded commoner that wanders the streets, are near and dear to blood in all the worst ways to take that little phrase I throw around."

"Every vampwelf you have ever met and WILL ever meet wants their fellow dead, or so damned be the gods."

His daughter would take a step back.

"The big difference is nobody is dumb enough to do it out in the open, unlike you! ...Atleast nobody without a death wish, that is!"

Her Father would absentmindedly take another step forward.

"...Or power like that damned Bela totes around, all cozy up in his quaint little fey tower of his, with his stupid Bloody Banquets..."

His daughter would walk backwards into a wall.

"Ha... What you are, is not a Kin Slayer. You are not special. You never WILL be special. You are a coward and a moron and a puppet."

"You dance to the tune of other men's plots, walking down prelaid roads, acting like YOU'RE in control when in reality I'd be surprised if the idea of filling up a wine bottle with vampwelf blood even came from your empty little head and not from some blasted relative of ours."

His daughter would shove her letter opener forwards, towards the old man, just barely not making contact.

"You want to kill me?"

And in response, he would calmly and slowly place his hand on its tip while looking her straight in the eyes.

"You REALLY want to have me dead?"

Blood would flow from his palm as steel slowly punctured his skin.

"Then I’ll ask you the same question you just asked me! Why not kill me right here and now and be done with it!?"

"I'm an old man! Over thrice your age, barely capable of walking without assistance! Certainly not as easy as something as cowardly as poison, but all in all it'd be simple, really!"

Suddenly, he would firmly grasp the blade. Blood would violently spurt from his hand. Her dress would be dirtied with the blood of her own Father.

"You could strangle me on the spot! You could PUNCH me to death! You could DIG your THIN FUCKING FINGERS RIGHT INTO MY EYES! RIP OUT MY TONGUE! TEAR OFF MY WINGS!"

And finally, he would slowly, carefully, guide it towards his own neck. He would let it rest on its surface, just barely drawing a thin, red line. And he would stare into her eyes, and he would bellow with a disgusting, unnerving smile on his face.

"YOU COULD BITE RIGHT THROUGH MY NECK! TEAR IT APART VEIN FROM VEIN LIKE A REAL VAMPWELF! YOU WANT TO BE CALLED A KIN SLAYER? YOU WANT TO BE FREE FROM WHATEVER CAGE YOU HAVE IMAGINED YOURSELF INTO, YOU DUMB BROAD? ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS PUSH THIS DINKY LITTLE KNIFE OF YOURS A TAD BIT DEEPER…"

"...And then die to the rest of the family, for having comitted a great sin."

"..."

"..."

“IT'LL BE FUN! COME ON, I INSIST! DO IT! SHOW ME A GOOD TIME! GIVE ME A PROPER SEND OFF! I'M WAITING!"

Her grip would weaken. The pressure on the old man’s neck would disappear.

“...”

"...What? Suddenly not thirsty anymore? Suddenly scared of doing the VERY deed you came here for? You really can't look a man in the eyes as you throttle the very soul out of his neck?"

The old man would let go of his daughter's arm and step away as she slinked down to the floor.

"Heh! No matter! I expected as much out of you, you baby meg you, trembling where you stand, wondering what it is that went wrong, where it is it went wrong..."

"It’d be such a shame to end things here however… So I’ll give you a chance. You may not be a Kin Slayer, but neither are you a noble, and it's been fun enough a time turning you into one! What say we give another little experiment of ours a try?"

"Tomorrow your fencing classes will begin."

Her father would walk back to the table he once sat at and pick up a handkerchief with his unbloodied hand.

"I'll grant you a great teacher! My rudest, most bloodthirsty second in command! We'll turn those noodly arms of yours into a proper knight's! I'll turn that half hearted bloodthirst of yours into an unquenchable and desperate NEED for revenge! I'll make your very being, every fiber of your miserable existence, beg, plead, and crawl for the opportunity to fell the man that upturned your life and destroyed whatever semblance of normality you might've once had."

He’d look deeply into the blood pouring from his own hand.

“I will make you near and dear to blood, and if it so kills me, then that will only mean I have succeeded. A fitting end to both you and me."

And suddenly he'd wipe it off, as if it were never there.

"Oh, just the thought! It'll be terrific!"

“...It wasn’t meant to be this way.”

"True! You were meant to die tonight, and instead, what I’m seeing is an opportunity for you to be reborn."

"I do believe that will be all! I guess we'll be seeing each other in the barracks tomorrow. Have a good night's rest, Eliza. I wouldn't want you to be too tired to appreciate the first day of the rest of your life. Off you go then! I have things to contemplate and one less bottle of wine to do so with. Can't have you hanging around, 'lest you break another prized glass of mine."

"..."

"...Fine. Whatever."

"Have it your way you old fuck."

Eliza stands up while trying to hide the tears in her eyes. She makes a dainty, curtsy bow, and kicks pieces of glass from the broken bottle towards her Father.

"Careful now! You might accidentally cut an important artery or something, and actually accomplish what it is you came here for!"

Incapable of thinking of a retort, she stares in anger at her Father, then hangs her head and silently heads for her room.

Her head pounding with a headache like she's never had before, her heart pumping with blackened, noblelike blood the likes of ash and oil, her dress dirtied with the proof she failed the one thing she had prepared so long for...

...and her fate, once more, taken in by a ripcurrent she couldn't fight against.

“...Whoever taught her to say such words anyhow? Certainly not me, I wouldn't disgrace her with vocabulary that unfit for those blasted 6 years of training…"