So.

The village is haunted.

This is a very literal and very real haunting, too. By very corporeal, confused, and irritable ghosts. She thinks she remembers stories about ghosts being a thing? Probably from when she was human? But she definitely hadn't seen any until now. They are all very, very real, and very much want to kill her. At least they don't seem cognizant enough to work together; this makes them ultimately less dangerous than the spiders.

This isn't really what she was hoping for when in her attempt to find some sign of civilization, but it's, you know. Something.

It seems... kinder, to put them to rest, than to just leave them. They don't seem particularly happy about their situation. Besides, she's curious about what exactly happened, here. It has to have been something, right? So she'll carefully start picking her way through the village, methodically obliterating the irate spirits of the dead as she goes. Well, as they try to kill her, anyway, some of them seem content to linger in sorrow in various corners, and for the most part, she'll leave those alone.

Whatever happened must have been really weird because, even though the village doesn't look particularly rich—or, at least, doesn't look like it was particularly rich while its people were alive—some of these ghosts are... strangely well-armed.

Take, for instance, that person over there, ambling in her direction with murderous intent (or at least murderous vague thoughts) in their heart. They might've been a farmer or even a village guard in life, but it would be really surprising if whatever they'd been had access to a sword like this. If nothing else, had they had access to something so clearly enchanted, they would probably have been able to better fend off their attacker. Or their corpse might have at least been looted.

To be fair to the dead, the sword doesn't scream that it's enchanted. Even to Iovetra's magical senses its signature is muted, subdued. Someone that didn't have any practice looking at magic could be excused for thinking it was a normal (albeit beautiful) weapon. At least until they swung it once.

First order of business is, of course, reducing the ghost to nothingness with careful application of magic and crossbow bolts. She is not, generally speaking, in the habit of staying still to be hit by things. While she notices the sword, and also notices how it doesn’t seem to match the owner, it’s information to be tabled until the danger is sorted. A note of extended reach to be avoided, nothing more.

Then the ghost dissipates from being blasted and pincushioned enough times, and the sword still remains.

… it’s really quite gorgeous. And magical, in an artfully subtle way that screams efficiency. It’s a good thing she didn’t let this touch her, that the wielder was so confused and clumsy, because this would have hurt.

She’s torn between wanting to keep it for herself forever, and the feeling that these people have lost enough already, and it’d be worse to take such a prize from them. On one hand: this doesn’t seem to fit with the environment it came from, and the owner didn’t seem any kind of swordsman. On the other hand: if anyone should have respect for the dead, it’s probably the fellow dead, so. … maybe she’ll just. Keep it for now. While she explores the village. It’s much better than clawing at someone with her bare hands, literal ability to grow claws or no. Once she’s done, she can make a more informed decision about the graverobbing. Maybe this sword is responsible for this haunting, she wouldn’t know.

And if she tests it one or two or three dozen times, on the available angry ghosts as she explores the place, well. That’s just efficient, isn’t it.

The enchantments are subtle, elegant, and very, very useful.

Wielding this sword feels like wielding her own hand, like moving it comes naturally. But not because it's giving her skills she didn't have; rather, it seems that if she wants the sword to be somewhere, and she swings it in that direction, then... that's where the sword will be. It's not subjected to such lowly concerns as mere physics. If Iovetra wants to cut something with it, it will be cut, that's it.

And that's not all. It feels like if she wants to—and wants to is very much operative, here, the enchantment is clearly asking for her permission to do this—she can let it enhance her some more. Make her faster, nimbler, more sure-footed. It can give her subtle hints and intuitions about how and where to best use it, it can let her know when her footwork is suffering. It wants her to wield it, damn it, and it will make her to be a good swordswoman while she does it. If she lets it.

So, on one hand: the sword would like to mess with her mind a bit, and she has kind of a flinch response to this. She's still not used to her thoughts being entirely her own, and is protective of them. She went and did that whole risky magical experimentation thing based around protecting herself from being messed with ever again. This continues to matter to her very much, her brain is not for touching.

On the other hand: she doesn't, actually, know all that much about swordsmanship, and wants to be better. Very importantly, it's also asking permission. That changes a lot of the context. It's not clear that it's better to figure everything out from first principles just out of sheer bloody spite, when she wants to get to the same location the sword seems to want to lead her to. And she does have that safety net of not-all-of-her-is-here-to-control. It... makes it safer. It's offering her knowledge, not assuming control, and that's a prize she's going to have trouble turning down.

Iovetra hesitates for a while, absently (and clumsily) wielding it against various ghosts without any kind of assistance, before her own inability annoys her enough to accept help. Even if she does decide to find the original owner of this sword and return it, these lessons are useful.

She resolutely ignores the rapidly diminishing chance that she will ever willingly give up the nice sword without reasons more solid than 'it seems like it's vaguely the morally correct thing to do.'

She is made into a better swordswoman. Not a perfect one, by any means. Not even a truly exceptional one. But definitely a good one. Even with her permission, the enchantment still tries to be gentle wherever it can, tries to show rather than tell, and she has the option to withdraw consent at any time.

Whoever made this sword: 1. is very respectful of its users, 2. is a really, really good swordsman themself, and 3. is one hell of a good enchanter. If Iovetra ever stops to actually look at the magic, she will find layers upon layers of intricate, complex workings, scaffolding each other and complementing each other and just being overall very very thorough, all of that while still being very efficient about it.

The sword is beautiful, but the magic in it might be even more beautiful.

And in any case these ghosts cannot, really, stand a chance.

As she learns, she desperately wants to meet the forgemaster behind this gorgeous work of art. It's using magic in a way she hadn't even thought of, and it's, it's so damned polite and efficient about it. She wants to find the maker responsible for it and pick their brain for the next century on enchanting, and probably ask them to please make her a better crossbow while she's at it. It's not that hers is bad, or anything, she was competent enough in its making to be sure it fires straight, with vampire-strength levels of force packed into a delicate and easily carried frame. There's even a small enchantment that let her easily transfer poisons to the tips of any fired bolts, but. It's just so very, very obvious that she's an amateur in comparison.

She... is now kind of running out of ghosts to kill, actually. At least the ones wandering around outside. She decides to start poking her head into buildings to see about acquiring more practice. And maybe some sort of hint as to who made this beauty. Helloooooo, are there any ghosts that hate her and want her to die in these dilapidated buildings, she wants to educationally stab you.

...something isn't the same.

It's been so long that anything other than ghosts and Foulrot happened that it takes Cyllian a whole second to realise that something's different, and then a further second to realise that he's hearing noises that aren't ghosts or Foulrot. Or, well, some of the noises are the ghosts, but it sounds like there's... someone else? He's. Unsure. He doesn't want to hope hope is not an emotion swords feel.

He hopefully apathetically walks over to the window to try to see what is going on.

The nearby ghosts have learned to give the tavern Cyllian is bound to a wide berth. They have trouble with things like 'retaining information,' but even these cheap copies can figure out to avoid a place that is reliably defended by a very bored phantom. After some several dozen times of the same set of ghosts being destroyed, over and over again, they stopped wandering close enough for his attacks to reach them. Sometimes, he can see them, glowing faintly through the mist that clings to his prison latest binding point.

It's hard to see through the fog, but there is another figure, cloaked and hooded, cutting various ghosts down.

The shape of the weapon is hard to discern from this distance, but he might recognize the logic behind them. Like... someone that has one of his weapons. Someone that is listening to it.

What.

Where did they get one of his wea- he supposes he has been outfitting these ghosts with them in a bid to have literally anything happen, hasn't he. Hm. So maybe this figure has just recognised his work for what it is and is using it correctly?

That'd be. Novel.

No, not really, his previous masters used him perfectly well, it's just the Soultaker— Swords don't resent their masters.

The flashes of dying ghosts fade to nothingness. For a little while, he can see nothing through the mist.

...wait are they. Gone? Did they just grab his sword and leave?

Is he alone again?

But.

But.

There are the faint sounds of footsteps, creaking against the half-rotten floorboards of the the entrance to the prison once-tavern he is bound to defend.

!

!!!!!!!

...he is bound to defend it and that is of course the only reason he is sprinting madly in the direction of the entrance.

Cyllian's forge isn't one. Or not a proper one, not according to him.

The repurposed tavern and inn was probably good enough for what it was, before Foulrot the Soultaker decided they would take residence there. There's a general sitting area out front, where tables formerly used by patrons have been commandeered by the phantom to serve as, well, something approximating storage units. The cabinets in the bar and kitchen areas are not sufficiently sturdy for much of what he needs to store, the tools of his trade and the results of his work and the raw ores the Soultaker brings him and the ingots he's refined and so on, so he has a well-organised system of which table holds what that he optimised to perfect efficiency to minimise time spent getting to and searching for and accessing whatever he needs.

The wall between the bar and the kitchen has been completely demolished, though, to make that entire section of the building the forge proper, with the walls and floor made of materials that won't catch fire due to stray embers. It's clearly visible from the entrance and, though it is not currently in use, it has barely-smoldering embers indicating it's been used recently.

So the sight Iovetra sees, when she gets close enough to the rotted-off doorframe, is piles upon piles of enchanted weapons and materials to create same placed seemingly-randomly all over the bar area, a weirdly-placed stone furnace, and, of course...

...the forgemaster himself. "You are trespassing."

"Oh?" the hooded figure asks. The voice is feminine, and from this distance he can see the pair of glowing eyes looking back at him. They are the same color typical of the (other) ghosts.

She flickers back several paces (and that's what it looks like, she disappears and then reappears) to just outside the tavern, and then calls inside, "How about now?"

"I suppose now you are no longer trespassing," he allows, suppressing the brief panic he feels when she vanishes.

"Oh, good. I'd hate to offend. You're different from the other ghosts, none of them were much for talking."

She pulls down her hood, revealing a mane of too-red hair, and leans forward to peer inside without quite passing the threshold.

Then she takes in the environment and appears to brighten.

"Wait... you're a smith? Did you make this sword?"

She obligingly shows the sword that does look familiar.

"Yes," he says, twitching when she almost but doesn't quite get into the tavern forge. "And I am not a ghost. I am a phantom.

"...what are you?"

"Iovetra. A vampire. Hello."

He's heard vampires mentioned before, mostly from the Shadow Priestess. Once, they ruled the world, masters of shapeshifting and mind control and blackening out the sun itself in their power. Then, humanity discovered holy magic, anathema to them, and rose up in superior numbers to drive them to extinction.

The vampire then smiles brilliantly at him, displaying fangs. "Well, this is gorgeous," she gushes, sincerely and with great enthusiasm.

"Of course it is," he says, as if she's remarking on the colour of the wood. "All vampires are dead."

"... Aren't we both? Dead, I mean."

"...dead and not awake. Destroyed. Extinct. Gone."

"Really? Huh. Well. I was tucked away in hibernation, for a very long time, and have recently woken back up. So. Empirically, not entirely? What happened?"

"Humans happened. ...I wasn't there. But they destroyed all of you with holy magic."

"Well, vampires kind of had it coming," she says, sounding oddly pleased about the extinction of a species she's a member of. "What happened to the humans after?"

"...they lived?" What kind of question is that.

"Good for them! I haven't seen a one so far, I'd been getting a bit concerned."

"Most of them stay away from the cursed forest. At least if they want to keep being alive."

"It does seem to be incredibly filled with monstrous and murdery beasts," she agrees. "So... you're here to avoid them, or bound to the location you died, or...? I don't know how ghosts and phantoms work."

"I am bound to protect this forge by my master." The Soultaker didn't order Cyllian to feel good about doing that so the bitterness may not be altogether entirely concealed when he says "my master". "Any who intrude must be destroyed."

"Oh." She frowns. "But... that's a binding from your master, not an inherent 'you can only be here, in this one village'?"

"Correct."

"Would you be freed from your binding if I hunted down and killed this person."

"No. I am bound to his stated desires regardless of whether he is alive."

"Damn. That was how I got loose from mine. Is there a way I can free you from your binding?"

"Only my master can change what I am ordered to do. So, no, not without becoming my master."

"Ah."

She didn't ask a question or say anything so he doesn't say anything back.

(...he doesn't know what he could possibly say.)

Mostly she just apparently needed to make a face. She does, after the face has been thoroughly made, continue.

"... If I do, rgh," she says the next part like it's personally distasteful to her, "become your master, can I free you after?"

"...no???" Why would she want this.

It is make another face time. That is what time it is. Look at that vampire, so unhappy, and making so many expressions.

This time he's just confused. Vampires are weird.

"... It sounded like you don't... like your current master," she says, after a while of snarling at nothing in particular.

"That is... correct..." Mostly because it hadn't really occurred to him that "liking" his masters was a thing he could do or not do. Upon inspection he decides that he will continue to not do either of those things.

"Is... do you..." She stops again, then hisses with annoyance. "Do you want to be elsewhere. With a different one."

He blinks slowly at that. "I don't understand the question."

"... Okay. Uh. Are there improvements to your current situation that you might want to make? Like, not. Being in a haunted village all by yourself. With a bunch of murder ghosts."

He blinks again and doesn't answer, this time, because he still doesn't understand the question.

"Do you like it here????"

"No." At least that question made sense.

"Okay. You don't like it here, and you don't like your current master." Sigh. "How. Would I. Become your new one."

"You would need to find my heart and take possession of it. I do not know where it is."

The Soultaker didn't order him not to say these things, and... if Cyllian had still been under the General, or even the Shadow Priestess, he probably wouldn't have volunteered all of this information. He is not sure what exactly this means.

“Your… heart. Does it contain part of your soul?”

He shrugs. "I do not understand the particulars of the magicks the Shadow Priestess used to create me."

“Hm. Well, it’s worth checking.” She takes a ring off from her finger, then tosses it to him.

It’s a strange thing, made of strange materials. Shards of bone wound in what seems like a still living vine. It feels enchanted, though in a strange organic way he’s not accustomed to, and it’s not clear what it does without putting it on.

He is not going to just put a strange ring on that he's been tossed. Instead he will look at her and lift an eyebrow.

“… please put it on,” she requests, because he apparently needs prompting. “I made it for locating a distant piece of the wearer’s soul. It might help us find yours.”

He looks at the ring again and...

...she is not his master, but...

...

.....

Well, his master didn't tell him not to. And he has no reason not to.

He puts the ring on.

The enchantment is very interesting. If his own creations offer guidance or correction, then this one offers a magnification of the soul. It entwines neatly with his power, making it easier to grasp and direct, and… also making it apparent where all of it is. Like a flame that burns a little brighter, or perhaps hotter.

And one little ember, nestled under the floor.

His eyes are immediately drawn to that location and he has to boggle at the idea that his heart's been just... right there... all these years...

Not that he could've done anything about it, of course. But still, if it was going to be here, the Soultaker could've just, just, just let him use it in his forge? His enchantments are so much worse without his heart fuelling them, he could've made weapons even more beautiful and deadly if he could've, could've—

She can’t quite follow his gaze, but she sees his head turn. The mournful look on his face speaks volumes.

“It’s close by?” she confirms, offering what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “Good, then I can get you out of here sooner rather than later. Can you point out where it is to me?”

He points at the spot on the floor under which his heart presumably is.

It is, in fact, inside the tavern he has been ordered to protect.

Iovetra nods.

"And I suppose if I go and get it, you'll have to try to destroy me." She sounds remarkably cheerful about this; the prospect of needing to get past him sounds fun.

"Yes."

He doesn't contest the "try". The order is simple, but that also means it has wiggle room for interpretation, and Cyllian... is maybe less inclined to interpret it favourably towards the Soultaker than he'd probably like.

The vampire nods again, smiling a little.

Obviously, she is not going to be able to beat him in a direct fight. Especially not if she were to do something so stupid as attempt to use his own weapons against him, much as she likes the sword lessons. The lovely sword gets gently set aside somewhere it will be dry and off the ground, and she starts prepping her actual chosen weapon, her crossbow. She will not be having a direct fight with him, especially not in melee.

"If I accidentally destroy you while getting past you, you'll be fine, right? Just come back good as new?" she confirms. She doesn't plan to do so, but it could happen.

"...if you succeed at that, I will reform soon after, yes," he says, scoffing a little. But also he's maybe feeling a little bit excited about it.

Her eyebrows raise, and the smile turns into a playful grin.

"Noted."

And then without any kind of preamble, she shoots him.

That was extremely predictable and he dodges without trying very hard, moving in the direction of one of his piles of weapons.

Truthfully, she would have been disappointed if that had worked. But it was still worth a try. (Or a shot. Heh.)

So, she has several strengths in her corner. The first and most obvious is that she is, as mentioned, a teleporter. Being able to teleport is pretty bullshit, even if she can't multiple times in quick succession. Branching from that is that with a bit of magical finesse, she can leave realistic shadows of herself from where she teleported from. It's just leaving a bit more behind than she normally would when teleporting, really. What's left behind will find its way back to the rest of her, rather like her earlier problems of needing to rip a piece of her soul from herself. These shades will dissipate harmlessly when struck with any kind of force, but the deception is nonetheless very useful. On the whole it slows down her ability to do successive teleportations, but in many cases it's worth the delay. Especially if she swaps which type she uses.

Second: she is an alchemist, and furthermore, she had prep time. Admittedly it wasn't for him in particular, so she doesn't have anything special for countering a phantom, but they are having this contest of theirs indoors. Which means she can absolutely fill the place with mist from a little bomb she'd prepared earlier. After all, she's gotten used to fighting in these cursed woods. She's attached, and wanted to take it with her when it was running thin. The stuff that she's created (well, stored and then released) is exactly the same sort of mist that is outside. This is important, because she'd already long figured out how to let her see through the mist without too much trouble, with a potion she has taken to regularly imbibing for her outings. So, she can see in here just fine, but he might have some more trouble.

Third: she can infuse the bolts she shoots from her crossbow with magical ensnarements. Usually she'd also have poisons available to her, but, well. She doubts that any of hers will work on a phantom. Still, a spell that will slow him like he's fighting through molasses will work just fine. Such spells are not constrained to just infusions of bolts, mind, she is also fully capable of casting it without, it's just more expensive. It takes longer for her resources to recover so that she can recast it. The ability to switch between cheap physically anchored snares and more expensive localized areas of ensnarement is not to be discounted.

Add in vampiric speed and healing, and the end result is that she's an absolute nightmare to try to catch or kill. She'd have some trouble returning the favor, clearly - she tends to defeat things by a death of a thousand little cuts, not overwhelming force - but defeating or destroying him is not the goal here, now is it.

It's not.

Cyllian's orders were to destroy anyone who trespassed without leave from his master, and he is very, very good at killing things. His weapons of choice, this time, are a pair of rapiers, one in each hand, long and sharp, which he wields with the perfected ease and proficiency of decades of training. He picked them because clearly he was going to need to be agile and quick to deal with her, and with them, he dances. He may not be able to teleport, but he can become invisible, and he can float so he doesn't actually need to use his feet to move; the end result is that of a terrifying, almost liquid apparition, someone who moves and flows like water, like air, like a hallucination you can't quite know or see except for how it's very, very much capable of slicing you open.

Most opponents would not and did not really stand a chance. The very few who could overcome his near-undetectability tended to underestimate his skill on the assumption that he'd be a one-trick pony, and of the remaining ones fewer still could actually match him on skill and experience. He's been in enough battles and seen enough different ways people can be tricky that he has an answer ready to almost everything he's had thrown at him. He doesn't rely exclusively on sight, his senses are all preternaturally acute, so the mist isn't that impairing; he is very, very good at reading his foes' tells, so he can often know the vampire's intentions from watching her, which means that he often knows whether when she's about to teleport and that she can very seldom hit him with her magic bolts and ensnarements; he is a proficient enchanter, so even when he is hit by something it does not take him very long to break out of the spell, when he doesn't just do it near-instantly. And through all of that his goal is always to cut, kill, and destroy: every move, every dodge and parry, every step is in service of that goal.

He doesn't have an answer to her teleportation, though, and the vampire has a high enough concentration of tricks up her sleeve—higher than anyone he's fought before—that he still has a lot of trouble catching her. If he had his choice of battlefield, if he could leave this damnable place, he's confident he could've done it; and, most importantly, if he were trying to prevent her from reaching her goal he is confident that he would succeed at that no matter what.

But he's not. Cyllian's orders were to destroy anyone who trespassed without leave from his master but he was not ordered to prevent access to his heart; if nothing else, that would've required him to know where his heart was, which he didn't. If the Soultaker were smart (like the General was), he'd have given Cyllian a much more expansive and airtight set of orders, to take Cyllian's best guess of his master's goals as his own, and then he would have no space for choice at all. The Soultaker is not smart like the General was, though, and so Cyllian does not, actually, need to do anything other than try to destroy the vampire, and his movements and dodges and parries and steps are not in service of preventing her from getting anywhere she might want to get and fetching anything she might want to fetch from there.

It's easily the most fun she's had since she awoke. Possibly the most since before then, too, but that's harder to tell, and much of her emotions weren't her own. That makes it quite difficult to tell where her enjoyment ended and the mind control began. Either way, this game of cat and mouse is quite enjoyable, and it's such fun to keep him on his toes as he tries to catch her. She draws it out longer than necessary, even. If he were miserably acting out his master's orders, it'd be different, but he's clearly enjoying himself, too. Poor man's been cooped up in here, bored, without anything interesting to do, for who knows how long. She hasn't had an opponent of his caliber before, and he clearly hasn't had one in a very long time. Iovetra's happy to spend longer than necessary playing with him; it's even instructive, and she's already beginning to think about ways to expand her proverbial bag of tricks.

But he's clearly not trying to protect his heart properly, and so there was really only one way this was going to end.

She's rather sad, when she rips through the appropriate floorboards and retrieves his heart.

"I release you from your bindings," she says, softly, as she claims it as hers. Her smile's turned sad. Yes, released from all his bindings, except this new one that she just made. That she can't release him from.

Cyllian freezes, as soon as that happens, and the feeling of exultation that rises within him is responsible for at least 80% of that reaction. He's not sure where that came from, and he doesn't much care. Now, he has a new master. Or, well...

"Yes, mistress."

Iovetra meanwhile is having a much less pleasant reaction to the situation. Mistress. No, no, absolutely not, ew.

"... Let's go with 'lady,' please," she says, wincing. "Like a, a patron or. Something." It seems crass to make him pretend that she doesn't now kind of... own him, just. Ick. Mistress. No.

"Yes, lady," he agrees, easily. And this time he doesn't have to pretend anyone is being possessed by the ghosts of any animals whatsoever.

He absolutely doesn't! There isn't any hint of any severed animal heads whatsoever!

"Right, so. Uh. I'm inclined to just take you home with me? Unless there's somewhere else you'd like to go?"

"I shall go wherever my lady has use of me."

Ohhhh dear. She reminds herself that it is better than where he was, and that's the thing that matters the most, even if she is. Definitely going to be having some kind of time.

"Home with me it is, then, at least for now. Uh, what do you need to set up a new forge, and how much of, this," and she motions vaguely around them, "do you want to take with you?"

He frowns thoughtfully, and... doesn't answer, yet. Instead he starts walking around, peering at each of the piles he has and making slight humming sounds, looking like he's weighing a lot of things in his head.

She'll patiently wait for an answer. ... And also grab the sword she'd left abandoned, because if she's taking the smith she might as well also take whatever weapons she'd like, while she's at it.

When she comes back he says, "How much storage space does my lady have? Are there any ore mines nearby, and if so, which ores? What would my lady's goals be with the weapons I would provide her?"

"I have a living castle," she informs him, which are about as extinct as vampires themselves are. Their problem was not quite the same problem as vampires, but they've suffered with them all the same. They have no particular weakness to holy magic, but they are very noticeable, and quite immobile. Add those on top of 'associated with vampires,' and therefore 'hated by humans' and, well. They're easy to spot, easy to siege, and often not worth the trouble, even if one can craft wonders with them. It's just more efficient for the aspiring dark lord to instead raise hordes of skeletal undead to do it instead. They can more subtly complete all of the tedious tasks someone might want to have done, and if precision is necessary, well. The Shadow Priestess has figured out how to make spectral servants, now hasn't she. Cyllian is more mobile than a castle.

"Uh - ore mines, not that I've found so far, but that doesn't mean there aren't any veins that could be tapped. Goals, er. I'd like to get better at fighting and experiment with melee weapons to figure out what works best with me? And ask you to please make me a better crossbow. The one I made isn't awful, just. It's not a work of art."

He hums thoughtfully again. "Then I believe it would be in my lady's interests to prioritise the ores first and foremost. Would I be permitted the use of my heart in the forge?"

??? That's a thing??

"If it wouldn't harm your heart or anything, then as you'd like," she says, blinking. Bright side: he basically stated a preference! Directly to her! Hooray!!

"It would not; it permits me to better control and refine both the physical and the magical processes of creating weapons, at the cost of making it easier for someone to find it and steal it." Him? Bitter? Certainly not. "That would also make it possible—or, perhaps the better word is not prohibitive—to alter and strengthen already-existing enchantments, which would make bringing at least some of these weapons a more attractive option. Given my lady's stated goals I believe a selection of different weapons and enchantments would be most useful. I can provide a priority list, if it please her."

"Certainly, but I think that should wait until after we've moved everything. Er. Are you physically capable of touching and moving your heart, if I let you? Because if so, then I could let you use it in your forge or hide it at your discretion." This does of course open her up to him assisting someone else in stealing it, rather like he just did for Foulrot. Really, though, if he wants to leave her service she doesn't see why she'd stop him.

"As far as I am aware there is nothing to prevent me from doing so." Beyond it being an absolutely bonkers idea, like, it'd make it super easy for him to just let anyone steal him if he wanted?? Why would she even want to run this risk????

"Well, then do you mind if we try it?"

"If it would serve my lady." Why would it serve her, though.

She seems to be pretty sure it'll serve her! Here he goes, can he in fact hold his very own heart?

He gingerly accepts it and... nothing in particular happens. No light show, no being struck dead on the spot, and most certainly no relinquishing her ownership to him; she can still feel that she very much owns him.

Alas. She can't get out of having a sapient slave that easily. Oh well.

Iovetra nonetheless nods with satisfaction, and then will in fact take the heart back, because he seems kind of uncomfortable holding it. "Oh, good! Then we'll do both, and you can move between hiding it and using it in your forge depending on the situation."

"Understood."

"Uh... Let's prioritize weapons you think would be very good for me to test out, ones you're particularly proud of, and then we can grab ores? We'll be able to make trips back here if I leave a beacon, and the weapons seem like they're more likely to be stolen. Though I guess visitors here are, er. Rare." Nonexistent, really. Though the beacon might change that.

He nods. "The only visitors are ghosts and my old master. I do not know when he will return next, though."

"Okay, so definitely prioritize getting your heart out of here sooner rather than later," she says, nodding. "Uh - do you think we, either together or either one of us, could beat him in a fight?"

"Yes," he replies instantly. "...he fights with butcher cleavers. And only butcher cleavers. And he always breaks them."

"... But they're made by you," is what comes out, some unholy mixture of offended and disbelieving.

"I can make them last longer than they otherwise would. Not indefinitely. Not after whatever he does with them."

He says all of this perfectly expressionlessly, in a complete toneless deadpan.

She considers this.

"... So, that's a yes for helping me kill him?"

"If it would serve my lady," he says, though he sounds—a bit befuddled.

"I mean, yes, but I was thinking more, hm. Giving you closure? I'm assuming you would find it fun to kill him."

"...if he is a better fighter than I expect him to be then it... would be thrilling to fight him, yes," he replies, trying to take a guess at what exactly it is she is trying to say.

Is she weird for viscerally wanting to butcher her old master for the her treatment while she was enslaved?? Possibly it depends on how badly the mistreatment was. But Cyllian's seems like it was pretty bad. Maybe phantoms are weird?? Or being a sort of being that is built to have a master just, like, does things to one's psychology?? Unclear. He probably doesn't want to be stolen again, though, he's already perked up a lot. Even if this relationship of theirs is a little bit uncomfortable on her end.

"... Okay. Well. Unless he's, I don't know, tirelessly working to improve the lives of people everywhere then I think on principle he should die. So he doesn't show up to try and steal you back. What sorts of hobbies does he have?"

"Creating ghosts. This entire town was his handiwork."

"Creating. Ghosts. ... Does this perchance involve the butcher knives."

"He's told me that it does but I have not personally observed the process."

Iovetra's vague folk knowledge of ghosts is that they come about when someone dies in agony. Or possibly having things unfinished, being unsatisfied with life? That sort of thing. Definitely not, you know. The sort of thing that humans would consent to.

"Yeah, he's going to die," she says, very seriously. "Did he leave anything of his lying around? Some of his butchered cleavers, maybe?"

"He sometimes brings their handles back but not always, and I have been reusing them in the forge." Bad enough that the Soultaker would shatter his craftsmanship, Cyllian wasn't about to let it all go to waste if he could help it.

Damn. That would have made it too easy, wouldn’t it. She’s not particularly good at it, but she’s aware that there’s a way to track someone down by objects they’ve spent a lot of time with.

“Oh, well,” she sighs. “I guess a guy making ghosts is fairly obvious, anyway. Any, uh. Obvious characteristics that stand out? Did he give his name?”

"He calls himself Foulrot the Soultaker, and he wears the head of a dead horse. According to him, he is actually the spirit of the dead horse possessing the body of a human."

“What the fuck.”

No comment.

Yeah her sentence wasn’t exactly expecting a comment, just. Just. What the fuck.

“… he wears a dead animal’s head??? It’s actual head! Where would it even go?? Over his own?!” She considers the likely smell, and wrinkles her nose. “Is. Is there any. Any sense to the possession thing or is it just. That completely batshit insane.”

"I have not met any sentient horses, but then again, I have not met many horses, so I would not know."

“Mostly I was just wondering if he’d stay dead if I killed him, or if I would need to hunt down some mummified horse appendage or something to permanently make him stop existing,” she snorts. Then her wrinkled nose turns to a disgusted snarl. “Ugh. I’m going to have to drain him to be sure, aren’t I. While he’s wearing the dead animal head.”

"...drain him?"

? Have people forgotten how vampires work? Huh. Weird.

“Draining someone can be, ah. Intimate?” Eugh, no, that was not the way to put it, she’s talking about some sort of equine necrophiliac, “by which I mean that a vampire can pick up on bits of their memories and fears and even some of their skills.” Ask her how she knows this. Or, better yet, never do. It’s not hard to guess. “I’m not practiced at it, but between vampires the common practice was for the victor to drain the other to find the location of their coffin. And thereby have a means to end the fight permanently. This… would be in that vein.”

It is disgusting, and awful, and she hates the idea of needing to drink the blood of someone so clearly vile, but it will be worth it if she can be sure that disgusting thing is dead forever.

"...huh." He knew vampires drank blood, but... he hadn't heard about the whole everything else. "I see."

"So. To be sure he's dead it'd be safest to check." She sighs, then shakes her head. "Anyway. Uh, could I have my ring back, please? I'll need it to get us home in any kind of reasonable timeframe."

That's a very weird way for her to phrase it but sure she can have her ring back.

Yeah. Iovetra's not convinced he would take anything she asked of him as a request, instead of an order, but the phrasing makes her feel a little bit better.

They gather up the most easily carried materials and weapons - the major barrier is size, not weight, for the two of them - and then they can head out. She sets a small torch just outside the tavern door, then lights it; apparently it won't last as a beacon forever, but it'll let her find her way back to gather everything they're leaving behind.

His new lady considers the mists outside critically, then offers Cyllian her hand. "You should probably keep hold of me. I don't know how the woods handle groups of people yet, but I expect there will be all sorts of bizarre tricks to separate us."

"...tricks?" he asks, accepting the profered hand.

"The forest is magically belligerent, and it wants us to get lost in it forever and then probably die," she informs him, very seriously. "Moving thorn bushes, shifting trees, and occasional murderous beasts that come from the depths, to mix it up a bit. It doesn't mess with the underlying topography as much as the foliage, so it's just barely navigable with a proper map and methodology, but that doesn't make it easy. Without cheating. Which I am."

"Hmm. Would it be thwarted by going intangible and walking in a straight line?"

"... Maybe! That's an interesting question, and I'm now very curious." She smiles at him, even as she tugs him through the mists while perfectly corporeal. "But it should wait for testing until I've got you back home, and gotten you a ring of your own to navigate to it in case it doesn't. I don't want to lose you in here."

"A ring...? Like the one you used to show me my heart?"

"Exactly like it. The way I'm cheating is that my coffin is in my castle, and, like your heart, there's a piece of my soul inside. So I can use that as a beacon to navigate by, without making a giant obvious beacon to anyone that might wander into the woods. And then I'd just do the same for you and your heart."

"And the torch back there?"

"Not a part of me, just a very obvious magical thing that others would be able to notice. It's possible that when I return - or we, if you want to make the trip back with me - there will be exciting visitors waiting, attracted to the only landmark they can find. Really, I'm hoping it'll attract your previous master like a very dumb moth to a flame, and then he can be killed."

"Hmm. I see."

"Any opinions on that, one way or another?" she asks, hoping to maybe prod him until a preference pops out.

"...if it would serve the lady, I believe I am more than capable of taking him out."

... close enough. And probably two people to carry stuff back is more efficient, even if they don't run into any sort of trouble.

"I didn't doubt your abilities, but, all right. We can go back together, once everything's dropped off and your heart is squared away."

"Understood."

There's a bit more tromping through muddy swamp until they reach their destination, but it's not particularly notable. Through either luck, or the way being cleared in advance, or perhaps looking like a less tempting target as a pair than instead of a lone traveler, nothing comes out to try and kill them.

"Almost there," she says, as they ascend out of the marshlands and reach a particularly dense thicket of (thorned) trees. "My castle's just on the other side of this, it's just finding where the hole in the trees has been moved to." Because, of course, it doesn't stay fucking still. Nooo, that would be too reasonable.

"Would it be easier to find the hole from the other side?"

"Probably, but. ... It might get testy with us. The wall, I mean. It was hard enough to convince it to keep a hole at all."

"I see." He supposes they'll just need to search, then.

Yep. That is the way of things. In this forest, anyway. It's not too difficult to find, but it is a bit tedious. And she continues to keep hold of him the entire time they look for it.

"See," she tells... the hole in the thorn wall... "what a good and useful spot this is." She pats a slightly less thorned bit of the hole with her free hand. "... I have no idea if talking to it works, just. This is much better than accidentally teleporting into the thorn wall." Because, see, her teleport only works a certain distance, and it's hard to judge how thick this thing is from the outside. And the whole thing is possibly inclined to be hostile to her in particular. Finding out she could teleport in between thorny trees was not a fun experience.

On the other side of the thicket of trees is a garden, and a modest and vine covered castle. The garden is tidy, artfully laid out, and about half of its flora are glowing various colors. A large fraction of them are roses that match the unnatural color of their tender's hair, but some of them are a pale blue evocative of moonlight, and others burn a warm orange like they're made from fire itself. The vines grow up subtle trellises; the upper vines are an ordinary green, but clusters of blood red blooms seem to be waging and winning a war to take over real estate on the side of the castle. It might very well be swallowed by roses at some point.

He can sense the magic in the castle from here. It's subtle, but... alive. Pulsing steadily like a heartbeat. It seems to recognize that they share a mistress; while it doesn't say hello, one might get the impression that it is acknowledging him and allowing him to enter.

...huh. Well, hello to you, too, castle.

"Are the plants... not decorative?" he wonders aloud. He is not, himself, familiar with any kind of herbalism, so it's all kind of very mysterious to him.

"These are all practical, and can be used in various potions." But then she smiles. "But they're also decorative. They can be both. The blood roses can make healing potions. ... For vampires, anyway, I'll probably have to figure out something else for you."

"I reform. I do not need healing."

His mistress rolls her eyes as she leads him inside. The doors open by themselves, and reveal a lovingly decorated foyer, with a double staircase leading to a second level above. There are several doors; one directly ahead of the entrance, one to either side, and several that are visible on the second floor.

"Okay, well, I do too, but ordinary reformation is slow. And you - sustain injuries, too, right? Those also take time to heal. Healing potions just... make that happen faster. I find it irritating to be out of commission when it can be avoided."

"I do not," he replies. "Sustain injuries, that is. If I am too damaged in too short a timeframe I lose... coherence... and need to reform later. But up until that point, I am not impaired."

"Huh! That's interesting. Sounds like it's less like a body that functions and more like a container that is filled. Which does mean you wouldn't be able to use blood roses at all, but probably means I can in fact make a potion for it. Can you tell if you're close to being, er, dispersed?"

"Yes. There's an associated subjective feeling."

"Ahuh. So a potion that resets or refills that would be helpful." She's totally going to figure out how.

"It would be useful," he agrees, "though I am not sure how I would carry such a potion in battle."

"A fair point! But then, how do you have. Clothes. Weapons. Do you make those yourself??"

The door ahead of them opens, and through it is... some kind of fountain. Of what almost looks like, but isn't, blood. It stirs and swells with power, pouring not-quite-liquid from a floating orb into a pedestal below, then splitting off into separate streams that feed into the castle floor and disappear. This feels like the nexus of the castle around them; it's pretty obvious why it's called a castle heart. It's sort of like his, but on a larger (and more blood based) scale.

Huh. That's interesting. Though he has no idea how it works.

"I do make every weapon I use, yes. Clothes—some."

"Hm. And do they all come with you when you become intangible?"

Iovetra leads him up to the castle heart and reaches out to touch the floating orb.

"Everything that is on me does. ...well, most things. I have not experimented much. Larger and heavier things do not."

"I think I can work with that, then!"

She does... something... while touching the castle heart's core, then takes his hand and pulls it to touch it, too.

It feels... like how he feels when he's making a weapon. That touch of possibility in the heat of the forge, of something that isn't, yet, but could be. Something that he could shape to his will, but with something else able to assist him. This castle will let itself be guided by him to shape things he directs it to. It doesn't feel quite like he's in full control of the castle, there are almost certainly things he can't ask of it, but. ... There are many things he can. The walls themselves will reform under his will, if he wants.

Okay?

"What does the lady require of me?"

"Oh, I just figured it'd be much easier if you didn't have to go through me to get your forge set up as you like? Sorry, is this uncomfortable?"

"It is not. Milady wishes for me to set up the forge? Is there somewhere in particular that would work well?"

"Uhhhhhh ground floor's probably best for forging, correct? Easiest spot is to scootch the storage room out of the way, or maybe move it up a floor, and have your forge to the north. That's where I've set up a lot of the material processing, so it'd be easier for you there."

"Understood. If milady shows me where, I can move everything."

"Sure, this way," she agrees, and leads him back to the central room, and then off to another that looks like it was used for storage.

He... does not need to physically move things, actually. She just sort of. Waves her hand, and the boxes of materials rise up to float, and start making their way upstairs. The castle is apparently responsible for this kind of labor.

"Let me know if you need any major architectural changes for the layout you want? ... I think I'll extend this wall out a bit, give you a bit more room, both here and on the second floor. Hmm... and maybe a set of stairs from this side...?"

This does not appear to be directed at him, because the walls are indeed slowly rearranging themselves to make more room.

...ooh.

..................

"...I have a layout in mind that might be the most efficient to produce whatever milady requires."

"Oh? Well, go ahead and make it, you should now be able to pull from the connected stores. Also let me know if there's any specific thing you need that I don't already have."

Okay but this is a bit more freedom than he'd expected. Um.

"How, exactly, does this work?" he asks. "As in... are there material costs? I'm afraid I know nothing about vampire castles."

"Um - yes, material costs, but I've got a lot stored up. In essence, the castle is moving around things that are already there. Some things are better refined elsewhere and then moved around, like stone bricks instead of raw hunks of stone, but you don't really need to worry about that side of things. The castle will follow the path of least resistance to get the end result it's directed at."

Okay that's better, constraints breed creativity. "If it would serve the lady, I would find it useful to understand the limitations in more detail as well as the resources at her disposal."

"Oh, uh. Sure. So, the moving of things is pretty inexpensive, but the reshaping of objects is more expensive if it's just done directly by magic. So the less that has to be reshaped directly by magic, the better. I specify directly here, because there's a trick with efficiency that's important to understand. If you set up the infrastructure to make things you'll need a lot of, like turning logs into planks or cutting stone into bricks, that will end up a lot more efficient in the long run. The resources of stone and wood are, well, they're approximately 'yes,' to be frank. When my sire had me set up this castle's predecessor, it was a lot bigger than this. And I've since torn that all down and either used it to make what is here, or stored it away for a time such as this. The wood's similar, though that's more because we're in a forest and trees are often in the way. If you need much more space than this I'll have to pop outside and menace the local flora."