Act VII All Roads (Part 5)
five
A pair of small, cold hands roamed over Yubi's body. Red-dyed nails brushed against the ends of his growing hair, kneaded his cheeks and chin, then traced down his spine, pressing against the two wing-shaped marks on his lower back. Yubi felt uncomfortable under the touch, yet couldn't hide. "Sister..." he stammered awkwardly, only to find Anbichia staring at the corner of his mouth, scrutinizing the sharp fangs protruding from within.
"You've grown taller than me, it's a miracle!" The red-haired vampire stared into his eyes, taking his hand and guiding him to the ruby ring with its obsidian base. "You look so much like my mother..."
A miracle? What kind of miracle is it for a child to grow taller? Yakov remained stunned in the courtyard. He saw Anbichya stand on tiptoe and kiss Yubi's forehead, leaving a bright red mark on that smooth skin. Seleman had somehow entered the room through the back door, dismissed all the servants, and was now standing in the corner watching him.
“Mother…” Yubi was almost in tears again because of the intimate kiss—but he swallowed his tears and sobs. “Mother has passed away. I can only bring her head.”
Ambicia noticed the jar wrapped in fine linen in his hand. “Let me see.” She took the jar and, without a word, wrapped her fingers around the knot in the fabric. This action made Yubi’s hair stand on end, and he stumbled. “Wait, I…” he took a step back, “It’s been two months, and I haven’t looked inside…”
“A rotting head,” Ambicia interrupted his timidity. “Everyone rots like this when they die. You have to accept it.”
Yakov's mark began to itch and burn. He didn't understand why. He saw Yubi fall silent, adopting a strong yet sorrowful expression. The sight made his heart pound painfully—that slender, fair hand with red-painted nails quickly untied the mysterious knot. Like lifting a curtain in a circus, Ambikia abruptly pulled back the thin layer of linen.
The head beneath the glass bore no resemblance to Camilla's former beauty. Her silver hair, now completely gone and soaked with blood, lay haphazardly at the bottom of the jar, forming a sticky, filthy, dark mass. Her eye sockets were sunken, all the muscles of her face clung tightly to her skull like black spiderwebs, her skin like dried, yellowish cloth, knotted together, many places withered and cracked. Her nose seemed shorter, and her gums and teeth were clearly visible beneath the thin skin—but these were not the most horrifying aspects. Yakov saw that white-green mold had covered her mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, growing profusely on the rotting, withered flesh, a testament to the corpse's demise into the earth.
How disgusting. Yakov glanced worriedly at Yubi, checking his face. He guessed Yubi must have closed his eyes in fear—but his master stood there steadily, staring intently at his mother's empty, rotting eye sockets covered in mycelium. Moonlight and spring water shimmered in his ruby-like eyes. Like a fishbone slicing through Yakov's esophagus, the etched pain ceased, but a wound seemed to remain.
Ambicia held the gruesome glass jar in her thin palm, rotating it to examine it closely. The scene was utterly bizarre, like some kind of primitive and barbaric sacrificial ritual—she stared intently at the nearly inhuman head inside the jar, as if trying to discern some secret, but clearly to no avail. "You've been waiting to tell me how she died," her small, bright red lips moved rapidly, "Now you should tell me."
“…On the night of my eighteenth birthday, a group of crusaders came to the castle, and my mother killed them. She stood in the hall, crying, her head falling…” Yubi’s hands clenched tightly at the hem of her dress. “All the blood slaves were gone; my mother only left Yakov…”
“She turned me into a blood slave that night,” Yakov interrupted. “She wanted me to take care of her child…” As he spoke, he noticed that Seymour, standing in the corner, was giving him a stern look and shaking his head, silently warning him—it was clearly too late.
"How dare you interrupt?" Ambikia was more surprised than angry. "Shut your mouth."
“He… Yakov didn’t do it on purpose!” Yubi grabbed Yakov’s hand. “He was dragged into this; he didn’t know anything…”
“Oh, poor little thing!” Anbicia looked at him with a condescending pity. She slowly rewrapped the jar in fine linen and handed it to Seilman. “How much suffering you must have endured on your journey!”
That look made Yubi feel inexplicably uncomfortable. He looked apologetically at Yakov's face, only to find the Blood Slave standing there with a gloomy expression, biting his lip until it bled. Yubi couldn't help but turn his head away guiltily, avoiding that hostile face.
“I have already sent men to Transylvania to receive my mother’s fiefdom. I suspect there must be a rebellion there, and they need an army. I should receive news in a month,” Ambicia said fluently. The gold ornaments in her red hair gleamed coldly. “You brought her head; we should bury her. I will immediately have preparations made for the funeral and invite guests. The ceremony should be held in the finest church, without any loss of dignity. It will also be a good opportunity to introduce you to others—two birds with one stone.”
"Introduce me?" A wave of panic washed over Yubi. "Introduce me to whom? Why would you do that?"
“You are my brother, of noble birth! These hard times have really ruined you. You must listen to me and get back on track.” Anbicia affectionately put his arm around Yubi’s shoulder and led him into the cold corridor. The intricate patterns on his gorgeous dress moved hurriedly with each step. “You will need the skills to support yourself. Connections, wealth, and resources are all indispensable. Do you really want to live as a dependent forever? Perhaps one day, I will need you to return to Transylvania to inherit your mother’s title.”
"I..." Yubi stammered, at a loss for words, "I'm grateful to you, sister. I don't want to cause you any trouble..."
He was too timid, his voice too soft. Ambicia seemed to ignore him. Her red eyes darted beneath her thick lashes, letting out a cold sigh of disappointment and frustration. The group moved down the corridor, servants following to light candles for them.
"By the way, how's the battle of Batur going?" Anbichia suddenly stopped and asked, "Did you watch the battle?"
Yubi tried to adopt a serious expression as he recalled the events of that time. "...I watched the entire battle." He couldn't keep up with Anbichya's train of thought, so he carefully chose his words, afraid of causing any misunderstanding. "His...his army and the army of Brasov were almost completely wiped out, both sides were severely wounded. His wife, Turana, abandoned him, he..." Yubi lowered his head, "...he wanted to come with us, but Yakov abandoned him."
Anbichya glanced at Yakov silently. That terrifying look sent chills down Yakov's spine, and cold sweat soaked his back. "I'm going to teach you the first thing," she suddenly changed her tone, earnestly warning Yubi, "Don't ask for everything from a blood slave, understand? If you don't put all your eggs in one basket, they'll all break if you keep moving them."
Yubi clearly didn't understand her words, only giving a perfunctory "hmm." Ambikia didn't pursue the matter, and continued walking with him. The group's pace was hurried, making Yakov wonder why these leisurely nobles lived such an efficient life. Soon, the two were led to a spacious and beautiful side room, two nested rooms of different sizes, with soft beds and elegant reclining chairs, as well as neatly arranged tables and chairs beside a large balcony. Servants quickly lit oil lamps in the room, making the surrounding corners bright and warm.
“This is for you.” Anbichia held Yubi’s shoulders, her cold fingers gripping his thin shoulder bones firmly. “If you need anything, just ask Seleman. He will give you everything he can and should.”
Yubi noticed his sister's hand leaving his shoulder. He opened his mouth, then suddenly remembered he hadn't asked her anything. "Uh, Helen!" he stammered, turning his head. "Helen wants me to ask you, Emperor... do you know anything about the recent situation in the Genoa concession..."
“Oh, that matter,” Anbicia interrupted the awkward phrasing, looking into his panicked eyes, “tell her not to worry, just focus on looking after her shop.”
Did she understand my question? Was there some deeper meaning in her answer that I didn't understand? Yubi thought with difficulty, he had to reply to Helen word for word. "Well... there's one more thing, we, we have a Jewish friend who might write soon..." he said timidly, his voice growing softer and softer.
As she spoke, Anbicia had already hurried to the depths of the corridor. "Why are you telling me this?" Her voice was stern and contemptuous, it was impossible to tell whether she was angry or pleased. "Go tell Selman."
Yubi gazed at the cold, receding figure in the long corridor, finally letting out a long sigh of relief mixed with disappointment, pulling himself out of the tension and exhaustion. In its place, a vague sense of loss of control spread throughout his body, as if countless thin threads were passing through his joints with each breath, trying to strip him of his thoughts and consciousness.
Yakov was standing behind him. A heavy, hard hand covered with an iron glove pressed down on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Yakov,” Yubi said, looking up at him sheepishly. “I should have asked her how to remove the mark…”
“I don’t have that idea for now.” The Blood Slave’s words were tinged with an unspeakable turmoil of emotions. “And she will never answer you.”
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