Act 9: The Oathbreaker (Part 10)
ten
Yakov decided to start with the "docile one".
That day, after Yubi drank the blood, he summoned the Gallic man. A scar remained on his honey-colored wrist—it seemed Yubi hadn't left any bite marks on his neck or wrist today, preferring the taste of the cup. "Why didn't he bite your neck today?" Yakov asked casually. "He always bites my neck."
The "Meek One" hadn't expected Yakov to speak to him. "I never ask about my master's affairs," the man said respectfully. "My master can drink my blood however he wants."
This clumsy response confirmed Yakov's suspicions, secretly pleased the Slavic man of slave origin. "Don't go back today. This place isn't like the Kanakakis's; we're short-handed." Yakov, holding a candlestick, led him to the study. "Can you read and write?"
“No,” the Blood Slave said.
Yakov deliberately frowned. "Can you do laundry and cook?"
“No,” the Blood Slave said again. “My lord, I used to be a racehorse driver. I don’t know how to do these things.”
“There’s no arena for horse racing here,” Yakov said, sitting down at his desk. “Is there nothing else you can do here besides sell your blood?”
“My blood is of the finest quality.” The “Meek One” looked at him warily. “It is my duty to preserve the flavor of this blood.”
“Didn’t you hear me? This doesn’t seem like the Kanakakis family; they’re short-handed.” Yakov scoffed. He grinned, a look of disgust on his face. “Race riders are all strong. In that case, you can go help chop wood in the boiler room downstairs.”
"But how am I supposed to preserve the flavor of the blood?"
"Chopping some firewood can make your blood taste bad?" Yakov exclaimed in surprise. "Seleman also said that you are all outstanding individuals."
The "docile" are so docile that they cannot speak.
Yakov sighed, rose from his chair, and headed toward the boiler room, assuming the Gallic blood slave wouldn't dare disobey him. "Nuk, I've brought you a helper," he called out to the dark-skinned boy. "Tell him to do more of your work today; the water hasn't been hot enough lately."
The clever child turned his eyes to look at his face. "I'm so sorry." He first prostrated himself on the ground and bowed to Yakov. "It's all my fault for being clumsy... I'm sorry to have troubled you."
Yakov waved his hand, coldly leaving the blood slave behind before departing alone. Schumeer, who had been waiting by the stairs in the corridor, sighed repeatedly upon hearing Yakov's footsteps.
"You're something else," the blind Jew exclaimed, both amused and exasperated, as he followed him. "The wicked always have their own wicked people to deal with!"
“What did I treat?” Yakov led him back to the study. “Let’s continue our discussion about the port today.”
Within days, he was pleased to find that Yubi was drinking the blood of the "Merciful One" less often. Now the vampire was growing closer to the "Merciful One," nestling daily on his cradle-like chest. Yakov wondered what he should do with this man. The saintly blood slave treated Yubi with the tenderness of a mother, as if she were her own child, which reminded Yakov of Christina—and he had another idea.
"How can I make my blood taste better?" Yakov asked her one day. "How can you endure this torment?"
“This is a form of dedication.” The “compassionate one” answered him as if imparting a teaching: “When a mother gives milk to her child, she only sees the child’s satisfied face, and she is also satisfied.”
"Are there really such selfless people in the world?"
“It is true,” said the “Merciful One.” “My blood is proof of my love.”
“But you traded this blood for immortality,” Yakov said. “If you truly love him, why must you bear the mark? If the mark is gone, can you remain faithful to him forever?”
"You're just trying to disturb my peace of mind." The blood slave closed his eyes. "Jealousy has driven you mad."
“I’m not just making this up,” Yakov persisted. “I once saw a blood slave who looked like you, who was taking care of her young master. That person lost her mark and became an old woman with white hair in just two years. Later, she went mad and disguised herself to approach her master and stab him in the neck. My blood is hard to drink, but I’m responsible for preventing this from happening again.”
“That’s not love,” the “compassionate one” insisted. “She’s confusing love with possessiveness.”
“No one can prove this,” Yakov questioned her. “Perhaps if you lose the mark, your blood will taste bad too. Then the lie will fall apart.”
After a few days, the "merciful one" stopped coming. "What tricks did you use this time?" Schumer asked, whether in admiration or fear of his methods, "It's truly terrifying, Yakov! I thought you were just a brute who didn't understand these things."
“These people are too fragile, each one a mere ornament, easily shattered.” Yakov had developed a sense of confidence. “Does the blood of such people even deserve to be tasted by Yubi?”
“In this light, pure blood is the rarest and most precious. Once the mind is tainted, purity is gone forever.” Schumeer asked with a smile, “And what about that last ‘living one’? She comes from further south of the Sahara, and I can’t understand a word she’s saying.”
That's a problem, Yakov thought; language barriers can prevent the flow of ideas. "She's just a little girl," he replied dismissively to Schumeer, "Human nature is universal."
During their conversation, the dark-skinned blood slave emerged from behind the curtain with Yubi. Yakov saw them and followed. "Perhaps she could learn Greek with me," he probed Yubi. "Would you like to take on another student?"
"You're actually willing?" Yubi turned around and looked at him in surprise. "I thought you hated them!"
“I talked to them,” Yakov smiled faintly. “Once I got to know them, I found that I didn’t dislike them as much as I thought.”
"Hmm... I've been quite busy lately." Yubi paused, looking troubled. "What if we asked Naya to teach you?"
Yakov hadn't expected this answer. "What?" He glanced at Schumeer's bandaged face, immediately realizing he'd been kept in the dark, and his feigned smile vanished instantly. "What are you busy with?"
“I didn’t mean to hide it from you, it’s just that you’re never home, so I had no chance to tell you.” Yubi beckoned the blood slave away and then called Naya to help him change his clothes. “You’re busy with port matters all day, and Schumer is busy with shops all day, how could I do nothing? I’ve thought about it a lot and decided that I could learn from my sister and make more friends at night, so now I go to salons at the University of Constantinople every night.”
Yakov looked confused—he didn't understand what universities and salons were.
“There are learned lecturers and their powerful students,” Yubi explained carefully, noticing his dazed expression. “Don’t worry, it’s not one of those gluttonous banquets; it won’t make me vomit.” The vampire smiled, revealing two dimples at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose you have no objections?”
Yakov was speechless. This outcome didn't seem to be what he wanted, yet he couldn't find fault with it. Naya brought out the dress and jewelry, binding Yubi tightly like layers of shackles. Looking at the dazzling fabrics and gold and silver, Yakov realized he was like a fool who had picked up a sesame seed and lost a watermelon, being cast further and further away by his master—"...I have no objection." He felt he should be more mature and composed, yet he couldn't help feeling wronged. The engraving and ring burned against his chest. "If you meet anyone, or know anyone, remember to tell me."
“Oh! Well, there really is such a person.” Yubi put on the crown and turned to look at him again. “I met the eldest son of the Philactus family a couple of days ago. His name is Diophantus, and he is about my age. He is a knowledgeable nobleman and told me a lot of things.”
Greek surnames and given names were repetitive and difficult to pronounce; Yakov's mind went blank after hearing them, and he couldn't remember a single one. "...Who is that?" he thought warily, recalling Cicero's slick face. "What does his family do?"
“His father runs the prison,” Yubi said, his back to him. “He’s learning those things now.”
Schumer's ears twitched.
"...What kind of person is he? What's his personality like?" Koyakov persisted, "Why would he agree to get to know you? Who knows if he has ulterior motives?"
“If you’re curious, I’ll invite him over in a few days,” Yubi interrupted him, turning back. “Once you see him, don’t say anything like that, Yakov,” the vampire complained. “You’re a knight I personally appointed; you shouldn’t embarrass me.”
Yakov finally realized that the kite that had flown away was no longer in his hands.
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