Once and Future King

Legacy of Kain: Once and Future King

(A continuation fan-fiction for Legacy of Kain: Defiance)

/../- implies vampiric ‘whisper’ a.k.a. telepathy/mental projection.

The Soul Reaver isn’t capable of speech as such, but I gave it dialog anyway to show that Kain can interpret its wordless snark without difficulty? I have no idea. Just go with it.

The Beginning - Prologue


There were some days when the simple routine of living made it easy to forget that he had done it all before. Kain rested a minute against the thick oak door and ignored the murmuring conversation taking place on the other side. Meridian’s customary low fog rolled along the narrow alleyways of the dock district. The scent of dank decay and the salty tang of the tide crept even into the landwards side of town thanks to the heavy air. Short cloudbursts added to the general atmosphere of misery. The cold trickles of drizzle weren’t strong enough to clear the fog, but still flowed sufficiently to saturate the blanket of filth on the streets. Mud churned up with the aid of pedestrians and carts throughout the evening, leaving the lane a treacherous mire for the inattentive.

It was not a hospitable night for vampires or humans caught out in it. Kain settled his overcoat a bit higher on his shoulders, not minding the damp, and enjoyed a rare bit of peace and quiet. How many times before had he observed such an evening on the streets of the city? In how many different futures? The repetition didn’t bear thinking about. If he started to ponder how his every step, breath, word -probably every kill- was all an echo of a previous one, the result was more than a little maddening.

Ironically Kain existed with a sublime awareness that he was perfectly sane in an otherwise lunatic world. It provided him a measure of comfort on days when the past was especially exhausting to bear. It also made him wonder, how much the change within himself would cause inevitable repercussions in future, no matter his attempts to ‘act the part’ when occasion demanded it. It was all well and good to take on the roll of his fledgling self, but in his heart he just couldn’t muster the energy to keep up with the bloodthirsty megalomaniac tendencies of his youth. It was not only his appearance that no longer tallied with what should have been.

He was an old vampire reliving a young age. It was a poor fit at best. The pure rage that had driven him for so much of his so-called-youth had long ago been channeled in more useful directions. Likewise the willful blindness and arrogance that had once been his besetting-sins, had also fallen mostly by the wayside after several millennia of study and self-reflection. Kain couldn’t claim the man he had become was ‘good’, but at least he was better than the spoilt dolt he used to be. He figured that had to be worth something in the long run.

Still, Kain did his best to remain true to the past he remembered. It wasn’t that much of a stretch. What would have once infuriated was still irritating. And no matter how much calmer his blood had become over the years, crushing a deserving bit of trash was still satisfying. Some things he just couldn’t help, however. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking, from acting instinctively, from being aware. Having the chance to do it all again, he was amazed by how obvious some of his mistakes had been. Despite all good intentions he just couldn’t bring himself to repeat every failure when the proper course was so blindingly clear.

It was a worrying trend. Too many changes, even small ones, and the future would shift away from the one he remembered, and perhaps his opportunity to save the world would shift with it. He could no longer blindly assume that history would self-correct around his actions. He was as much a free agent now as ever Raziel had once been. A maddening conundrum; to balance himself between those choices he could to live with in the ‘present’ against those actions he needed to repeat in order to steer himself towards his meeting with destiny. Like walking a rope bridge across a crevasse, the task was arduous and slow; leaving him unwanted time to have second thoughts.

Kain sank deeper into the shadows of the doorway as a cart clopped past his lounging spot, not interested in exchanging greetings with the driver. Wraped in several layers of oilskin and cloak, hat pulled low over his head, the tired human didn’t even see him. Man and beast both kept their heads down, focused on their weary trek. A lonely night for deliveries, he speculated as he watched the wet figure retreating. It was an unexceptionally miserable night in general save that he was out in it, camping as it were.

His front door was sheltered from the cold drizzle by a worn-down but serviceable overhang. But there was no place to sit. He wondered that he had never noticed sooner. If he had had any of the foresight he claimed to, he would have ordered a bench and expanded his humble entryway last year; but he hadn’t, the thought has completely slipped his mind. And so the best he could do was lean against the doorjamb and wait for the appropriate moment. Some ‘oracle’ he had turned out to be. Kain couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself at his unlikely role in the cabal.

At times, being constantly aware of the shadow of the future had its benefits. There was a dark entertainment value, a quietly vindictive joy that he couldn’t entirely disavow, in being able to say “I told you so” as frequently and certainly as he now could. Even with his constant worrying about changes, it seemed some events and people were too pivotal for things to alter much from one timeline to the next.

Tonight, for example, he had high hopes of overhearing something of value if he stood in front of his own house. History had not disappointed him. A millennia ago he would not have bothered to tarry outdoors on such an inhospitable night. The sewers were only steps away, and Vorador’s safe house, or the taverns, made for interesting ways to while away the damp hours.

Digging through his memories, Kain couldn’t recall having any particular agenda on this night. It hadn’t been very memorable, what ever he had done. The only thing that mattered was that he had gone out, and come back late. Perhaps Magnus had been with him? No he had sent the earnest vampire off on a mission to Willhelm, hadn’t he? Whatever the reason, he had returned home at dawn, alone, and gone to sleep. The following morning half the city guard had attacked and nearly burned him in his bed.

That had been a singularly unpleasant close call, and had signaled the ending of amicable relations with both Meridian at large, and his first crop of children specifically. Of course he hadn’t known at the time whom had been responsible. _That_ information had come much later. Deduction had led him to realize that it was tonight, and here of all places, that things had truly begun. Satisfying curiosity was one of the few perks his prolonged reiteration through history could grant him, and he was inclined to make the most of it.

Kain tilted his head back against the wood, easily picking up the thread of the longwinded conversation happening behind him. The three vampires were finally coming to the point of their little assignation. Sebastian’s words were the easiest to pick out, but he could sense Faustus and Marcus, even when they remained silent. Sebastian was off and rolling, complaining bitterly of the injustices he felt he suffered. Lord but the child did love the sound of his own voice. Jaded he might be, but to hear his eldest discussing his betrayal to the holy knights of the city in his own front hall was vaguely impressive. Kain hadn’t thought the former-nobleman had the balls for it. The betrayal of course, was old news, but he was pleased to note that it was happening just as scheduled. It would have been depressing to learn that he had been feeding months of false information to the young vampire just to have Sebastian turn out to be faithful this time around. Smirking he considered the outcome of his ‘change’ to the continuum. Sebastian-the-traitor was an expected and necessary sacrifice to the wheel of fate. Sebastian-the-laughingstock, as surely he would become when his new allies realized he knew nothing of the real vampire plans? That was something of a bonus.

More murmuring, and now they seemed pretty much resolved amongst themselves. Faustus was as usual, blithely agreeing with what his elder brother was preaching. Always more for action than thought, the red-clad vampire was a natural born yes-man. Marcus, also true to form, was whimpering a little in his protests, but in the end he was no more loyal than the others, and soon changed his tune once assured all was safe. The only difference between this time and last was that their plotting was strictly against him.

Of Magnus, not a word was uttered. Hardly surprising given that the vampire didn’t exist in this timeline. What would the stoic have made of this infantile rebellion? It seemed he was destined to never know.

Kain tutted quietly to himself as his remaining children’s plans were finalized. He had always been faintly curious to know whether Marcus had ever held out in favor of him or had been in the plot from the beginning. Not that it mattered in the end, but he had his answer. They were self-serving wretches to a man. They and every last pompously self-righteous Saraphan priest on the continent would be found and piked like they richly deserved. Looking forward to the upcoming war was one of the few things that had made living through the last decade at all tolerable.

Pondering his options, Kain realized he would soon have to either slip away, or confront the trio. He could hardly pass them on the stoop. They weren’t even supposed to be here tonight, they would wonder at his lack of curiosity, maybe even call off the raid they were supposed to be insulting him with tomorrow morning. The memory of his meeting with them the following evening, himself scorched and angry, them full of kindly concern and offers of assistance, made his claws itch for violence. At the time he hadn’t known whom to blame for his Saraphan-inspired homelessness, and had been grateful for their aid as he and Vorador had begun preparations for open war. He’d never guessed that three out of four, now three out of three, were up to until it was far too late.

But in this continuum the Pillars were strong and whole. The Hylden were contained for a few years yet at least. Thus there was no Saraphan Lord with unearthly powers, no Nexus Stone of origins unknown. So did it honestly matter whether their betrayal was revealed now instead of in a year’s time? He weighed histories and his own mood, and could find no pivotal events that would be affected either way.

It was for the best. Kain cracked his knuckles in preparation for some mischief. Arrogance was all well and good, but tastelessness and insipid stupidity were unforgivable. If he _was_ to be betrayed and drawn into a supposedly ‘surprise war,’ then history be damned, he’d do it on his own terms. It wasn’t like things could hold forever to the history he remembered. One child more or less, one battle’s opening gambit altered, did it really matter? Events would have to change. His future Raziel had told him so. The Hylden would have to be allowed out sooner-than-later. It was with them directly that his real battles for the Empire would be fought, not the shadow of Mobius’ human campaign or any Hylden-possessed church lackey.

Besides, Sebastian’s oily tone always set his teeth on edge; and just once, he wanted to be able to really speak his mind to the little backstabber. In the past-futures, the vampire had always ended up dead one way or another before they could have a proper heart to heart.

Shouldering the door open in an abrupt jolt, Kain smirked to see the dumbfounded looks on his lieutenants’ faces. Once again he vowed to himself to never recruit from nobility on the assumption that they were any better suited to rule as vampires than anyone else. This lot, even on his second attempt, were little better than avaricious wastrels. Sighing mightily at his youthful folly, he folded his arms across his chest.

“So. This is how you thank me for elevating you? With disloyalty and lies…”

His gentle remark did little to dispel the horrified silence in the hall. It took a physical effort to not burst out laughing at their stupidly cow-like expressions. Even Sebastian was caught flat-footed, the usually cunning fledgling looking around the room nervously as if expecting more nasty surprises to leap out of the shadows. The urge to kill them all and be done with it was ignorable for the moment. He smirked at the disappointment Sebastian had to be feeling.

Catching the dark haired nobleman’s eye he was forcibly reminded that this first-born wasn’t a patch on Raziel. Callow and spineless, the best thing the vampire had going for him was a bit of refinement and political savvy. Not enough, however, to realize his grave misalignment of loyalties. Kain crossed the room, still ignoring the general stunned silence that his arrival heralded, and settled in his favorite chair. Assembled from several massive logs of carved oak, it wasn’t gilded but was unmistakably throne-like in nature. It was comfortable as well, something else he’d learned to look for in the trappings of his daily life.

He lacked the patience he’d once possessed for constricting fashions and fine-looking-but-poorly constructed furniture. The only thing keeping him from tearing down the decadent, and dust-attracting, curtains hanging at regular intervals in his present home was the thought of Vorador’s horrified expression to find him living even more spartanly than normal, and the annoyance the resulting sunlight might cause his occasional night-loving visitors. Still, his chair suited both his vanity, and his spine. He was somewhat sad to have to say goodbye to it, but smuggling it out of the soon-to-be-burned apartment would hardly be subtle. The whole point of the upcoming exercise was to be ‘surprised’ after all. Packing his worldly goods and freighting them across town the night before his home was invaded could only raise eyebrows.

Tapping his claws idly on the worn wood of his armrests, he considered his near-groveling audience. “I suppose I should remark on being surprised at finding you here. That would be the usual thing.”

“You are…” Faustus was as usual the first to speak, even when he had nothing to say.

“Yes.” Kain cut him off before he could start to mindlessly babble. Leaning forward to glare the vampire down he hissed, “I _am_. Scion, oracle, vampire lord, I am the reason why you are here, I am the reason that you _exist_. Although it seems you have forgotten. What else is there? What did you think was more important than that?”

“We just wanted-“ Sebastian was quick to find a pleasing lie, attempting to defuse the situation, but Kain was quicker.

“Did you honestly think _your_ wants every played any part in my plans? Did you think I would hesitate to rip every last bone from your body without compunction should you ever do anything to displease me? No. Clearly you thought me too soft, or perhaps too stupid. You’ve forgotten that each of you lives only at my sufferance.” Steepling his fingers in front of his chest, Kain had to admit it was satisfying, if cruel, to crush his lazy children for sport. “Your betrayal shows a distinct lack of mental and moral fortitude.”

“Moral fortitude?!” His eldest clearly took that barb to heart. The vampire was almost bristling with outrage as he sputtered, attempting to counter the highhanded accusations. “Who are you to speak to us about morality, Kain? You are nothing but a petty and bloodthirsty tyrant! Not even a tyrant! You rule over nothing! A tumble-down apartment next to the docks and a few sewer rats? A fine kingdom! Which you are obliged to share with the old fool by the highway, I might add. Morality- I declare! You could no more provide moral guidance than you could control the _weather_ you old fool. And I for one am sick to death of being your un-respected and unwilling serf!”

Kain let Sebastian roll on without comment. The child seemed to be in fine form and he didn’t want to ruin his speech too soon. Shouting was cathartic to the young, he had once been told. Still it didn’t mean he had to listen. Tuning out boring conversations was easy after a few years of practice.

He mulled over the young vampire’s outraged dare instead. He could lecture on morality with the finest, he was certain, but _could_ he control the weather? It was an interesting proposition. With the Pillars whole and unified in obedience to his will, it was theoretically possible that he could effect such a change on the world. The thought had simply never occurred to him before. It seemed a useful talent to have, especially on dreary nights like this one.

Still ignoring the babble from his accuser, he sent his consciousness northward toward the Pillars’ sanctuary. The monuments were semi-sentient beacons that were hard to miss even with his attention partially elsewhere. Greeting him with their usual primal contentment they appraised him on the status of the world at large with wordless hints and impulses. The Hylden were restive, the kingdoms of men were generally at peace, no new cataclysms were on the near horizon. Kain put to them the question of the moment and received an immediate and not-unexpected answer. Nature’s persona came to the fore of the group and filled his thoughts with instructions and advice on the nature of clouds and the patterns of the winds along with myriad other details too complex to understand easily. Kain mentally recoiled at the volume of knowledge on a subject he had never studied before. It was quickly apparent that while he might summon up a clear day at will, the ramifications for the rest of the continent might be dire if it was done wrong. He made a note to converse with the Pillar about it at length another time.

“… And- Really, Kain. Are you even listing? I swear you are the most insufferable creature. Even that filthy old malcontent Vorador has the decency to listen to an honest grievance from his kin; tin-pot dictator that he is. We’re not even worth that much to you, are we?!”

Kain blinked, returning to the conversation at hand. “No. Not particularly,” he offered thoughtfully, still mulling over ideas involving the weather. “At first I thought I might become attached to you all, given enough time in your company. I was fond enough of you the last time, so there was always the chance I would be again. But apparently my taste in companions has changed considerably over the years. Knowing how it would all work out in the end, I just didn’t have the stamina to care a second time. I regret to say that you three have just been a means to an end for me.”

Sebastian shut up for a full minute as the honest assessment sunk in. Sadly it didn’t last. “We were a means to an end? What end? What do you mean _last time_? Sometime I really think you’re as mad as a magpie, Kain. It’s a wonder Vorador and the others judge you safe to be around, much less follow.” The young vampire’s amazement gave way to a fresh torrent of disgust. “Rather that I had been born of Vorador’s getting that have suffered pointlessly under your uncaring yolk all these decades…. Well! No more! I and my fellows are leaving your _august_ presence, sire, and you will just have to content yourself to rule over your true subjects! I doubt you’ll miss us. It seems the shadows, rats and trulls that occupy this street are more to your liking!”

“Very well.” Kain waved a hand in idle acceptance. “Have fun. Don’t come back.”

Faustus looked to his livid brother and dared to speak up. “We’re leaving to found our own cabal and overthrow your plans for the city… And you say ‘Have fun’? What kind of madman are you?”

“A bored one.” Kain shot back. “Off you go.”

“Don’t you even care what our plot is?” Marcus protested weakly. Sebastian looked death at his brother who quickly shut up.

Kain slouched back into his throne. “Not really. I’ll just let you three impress me. As for doing without you, I imagine I’ll get along well enough. Most of the time you lot did more harm than good. Go off and do whatever pleases you, children. It will not change Vorador’s or my own plans a jot. Just do whatever it is as far from me as possible, and I will honestly have no further quarrel with you.”

Sitting up, he directed a final shot at the already frazzled Sebastian. “Cross me however, and you will be crushed.”

Kain opened his front door from where he sat, sending the kinetic pulse with a kingly gesture. “Now. Get out of my sight.”

For a minute the three vampires stared alternately at him, and the door, stunned by his declaration. Finally Sebastian clicked his tongue in disgust. With a swirl of his elegant cape and click of his boots, he stormed out of the room taking much of the aura of hurt pride with him. “Come brothers!” He called from the street. “We will not linger in this moldering ghetto a moment longer. We have friends, in more lovely places, whom are eager for our company! Our future awaits!”

Kain rolled his eyes and looked at the other two. Faustus was still incredulous, his long fingernails tapping his thigh as he considered his liege and the open door. “Is this some kind of trick?” He wondered aloud. “You’re not going to slaughter us out of spite?”

“Why bother?” Kain didn’t have to feign ennui. He rested his chin on his fist and waited for their inevitable decision.

“We plot against you!” Faustus hissed. “We have sworn an oath, Kain, that we shall be the authors of your downfall!”

“Have you now?” Kain felt almost pleased. “Good for you. That’s the first evidence of any long-range initiative that I’ve seen from any of you since the very beginning. I’m impressed.”

Faustus bridled at the apathetic response. “Maybe you _can’t_ destroy us,” he pondered the new hypothesis. “Maybe you’ve grown weaker. You haven’t had a real fight since your last evolution… Maybe your advanced age has finally caught up to you, Kain?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Kain bestowed a smile that was mostly teeth. “Go on then. Get lost. And take that other ditherer with you. I won’t have him here.”

“But Kain…” The last of his crop of children gasped.

He cut the vampire off before Marcus could do something damn foolish like change his mind about rebelling. “No no, child! Don’t renege, you’ll ruin the moment. Off you go and form your new cabal. I’ve no further use for you.” The calculated level of indifference had the desired effect. His last two lieutenants snarled in hurt fury and stalked off after the instigator.

Kain mentally slammed the doors shut on their heels and considered the empty house. It was a fine old building, richly appointed, if more to Vorador’s taste than his own. He tapped the arm of his favorite chair in thought. Vorador and his peace-loving sire were across the canal. The enclave had until now been well hidden behind the shabby exterior of an old lodging house. Sadly, keeping its whereabouts from Sebastian and the others hadn’t been an option. The cantankerous old bastard wouldn’t be well pleased to learn he would have to move. He smiled grimly. With the threat of war around the corner, the whole of Meridian was soon going to be too hot to hold them regardless of any of his former-lieutenants plans. It was time to pull back to the countryside, and begin swelling the ranks of his little army in earnest.

Standing, Kain resolved to pack some of his more portable and valuable possessions off to Vorador’s cabal while time remained. No doubt Sebastian had run straight to his zealot friends howling for revenge. But with fate dancing to a tune of his making, Kain was not concerned that the attack would begin a moment before dawn. It took a while to mobilize and prepare a strike force of the size the Seraphan would be obliged to muster. He was an extremely dangerous creature after all. There was time, if he didn’t dawdle, to pack the essentials. The fire wouldn’t be the complete loss it had been the first time.

The only worry was that he wouldn’t make it back from his errands soon enough to put in his part of the performance. If the knights were going to put so much effort into it, the least he could give them was a show. It was probable after all that the fools would supply him with some light entertainment, and if he was lucky, breakfast.

* * * * *

In the end he was confident that none of his neighbors, the owners of the tall dusty tenements on either side of his hovel, would think to thank him for his kindly intervention on their behalf. The Seraphan brought torches with them, as he’d known they would. Somewhere in the first five minutes of their scramble to get him, one of the idiots had naturally brushed against the moth eaten drapes, and the rest, as they said, was history. Kain danced between several pillars of roaring flames, the remains of the primary support struts holding up his roof, and let the Reaver drink it’s fill of souls, or blood, or whatever its preference of the hour was. The blade hummed with contentment as it was pulled free of the unfortunate knight. He was half tempted to tease it for ‘purring’ the way the weapon thrummed happily in his grip. Sadly there wasn’t really a good moment for a heart-to-heart. Two monsterously large mortals with axes both tried, and failed, to get the better of him in quick succession. Cutting first low, then high to block and behead the second soldier, Kain had to marvel at the man’s dimensions.

Years ago in an alternate time-stream, he had suspected Hylden meddling in the Seraphan ranks as an explanation for their prowess. But clearly the human paladins hadn’t needed the intervention, they were stupendously large by birth. He pitied the woman that had carried his current foe within her as a babe and labored to draw him forth into the world. Or perhaps as children the knights were undersized, he idly speculated. Maybe the Priesthood had found some miraculous food to push upon it’s orphans and accolates such that their muscles grew even as their brains shrunk. It was something worth looking into, when he had exhausted all other means by which he could kill time in a given century.

Dancing backwards, out of the way of another mighty axe. Kain took the opportunity to kill another knight as he bumped into him, before turning back to his latest target. The titan had delivered a fantastic blow, but now was paying the price. The tip of the blade had embedded itself in the old timbers of his floor. Stepping up onto the back of the axe head while his opponent struggled to pull it loose, he tisked the templar’s startled expression before punching the cow-eyed farmboy in the face. Judging the level of the flames, and the general lack of new opponents, he caught the bear-sized human by the edge of his breastplate and hauled him out of the middle of the inferno. It looked like the preliminaries of his fight were done, and so was his house.

It had taken surprisingly little effort to corral the flames to the confined area and keep them from spreading. With his magic keeping winds and whimsy from spreading the disaster beyond his doorstep, they rapidly consumed his portion of the narrow row of buildings, burning a neat slice out of the remaining structure. There was no need, he could see, for the poor bastards who shared his slum to have to suffer just because destiny demanded _his_ property burn to the ground. Meridian was smoky and miserable enough without a major fire wreaking havoc in its docks. Kain patted himself on the back for his generous nature as he nimbly stepped over the charred remains of his doorstop and out into the street. Hurling his rescued knight into the waiting arms of the reinforcements only furthered their panic.

The clouds broke overhead even as the crowd of soldiers all turned to stare at him, proving that Nosgoth herself had a sense of showmanship. Or maybe the world at large was just humoring his good mood. Kain didn’t know. Blinking a little at the sudden brightness of morning, he planted the Reaver blade’s point between his feet and folded his claws over its hilt, feeling the heat of the flames at his back. Neither fire nor sunlight could do more than annoy him, if he so chose. Instead of throwing himself right into their confusion and butching the bunch, he indulged himself a moment to inspect their ranks.

The look of abject terror on the faces of the poor fools in front of him was worth the hassle of relocating outside the city. This was one vampire-raid they would not forget.

Kain smiled slowly, savoring the moment. He could almost feel the legend of the morning’s battle being born. As petty as it was? He had to confess he was enjoying himself. “Now.” He murmured softly to the slack-jawed mob. “_Run_.”

With their captains dead, and their prey clearly more than they’d bargained for, the humans took his advice. Two of them led his titan away by supporting his shoulders. Kain shook his head at the idea that the ox-sized soldier he’d cavalierly thrown a moment before had lived through his mistreatment. A few of the other Saraphan knights had probably broken his fall, he smirked. The constables half scrambled, half limped their way down the main street and around a corner out of sight. A far cry from the haughty pride they’d arrived with, he sighed in amusement.

A few pale faces peered out at him from behind filthy glass, his neighbors finally brave enough to see what the commotion was all about. Kain ignored them, knocking the gore off his sword and sheathing it across his back before turning to admire the last of the blaze. The roof beams gave up at last, too fire-eaten to support their own weight. The crash of collapsing shingle and rafter, and the ensuing gout of smoke skywards had an undeniable element of poetry to it. He smiled at how entertaining his morning had been, almost sorry that the fight was over.

Sadly there’d been no sign of Faustus or the others. He hadn’t expected them to show, honestly. But if one had broken with history and decided to come and watch the charade? There could have had a moment of real fun in pinning one of his ungrateful spawn to the pavement and stepping on his neck. With no pressing appointments to be anywhere, he watched the fire a few minutes longer and then picked his way over the bodies to the nearest sewer entrance. There was plenty of time to catch a nap someplace discrete and get his urge to grin uncontrollably under wraps before he was obliged to go tell Vorador his news.

*****

“I still say you should have killed them.” Vorador grumbled as he kicked a clod of cinders that had probably once been a banister. “You foresaw their rebellion weeks ago, why let it happen? You put all of us at risk.”

Kain made a disapproving noise at his partner’s unnecessary fears and watched Janos prod the half-buried remains of a guardsman unlucky enough to be caught beneath a collapsing wall. They had already argued about traitors and Saraphan, and what was to be done for the better part of the day. With dusk he’d invited them to continue their debate on his former-doorstep, just to get some fresh air.
Vorador examined the blackened remains of his house with an eye of amused toleration, but Janos seemed genuinely concerned. _Everything_ the man did was genuine. Kain despaired at ever seeing the vampire demonstrate an ounce of venality. When he wasn’t being compassionate, he was _earnest_. Really the Saraphan could have taken notes, if they’d wanted a true role model for chivalrous behavior. Even after several hundred years of putting up with the blue-skinned sage, Kain still had the itch to knock him into a wall at times. The ancient vampire looked a hunch-backed cripple with his wings circumspectly tucked beneath his long cloak. The mortal currently on the receiving end of his pitying look was undeniably dead, not to mention three-quarters mangled. There’d be no restoring him.

The urge to tell the pacifist that the corpse had probably been a wife-beater or craven drunkard and hence deserved his fate was amusing, but hardly likely win him any charitable feelings from the fussy old man. Instead, Kain answered Vorador’s complaint. “I knew they were going to betray me since before their inception, old friend. They proved useful enough for a time. And will now likely be more useful still, at least for a little while. Then they’ll be dead, and your worry will be irrelevant.”

“You knew all along.” Vorador gave him a look he was well familiar with. Being ogled as if he was a madman was expected when conversing for more than a minute by the green-furred vampire. Vorador simply had no appreciation for the absurdity of life. His stalwart seriousness was part of his charm.

“You knew all along and still bothered to raise and train them?” The vampire repeated. He seemed stuck on the concept. “Why put yourself through all the trouble, Kain? You’re hardly the type to enjoy useless labor.”

“It was necessary.” Kain shrugged, gesturing to the smoldering remains. “So was this.”

He shifted his cloak so as to be able to rest his hand on the hilt of the Reaver hanging from his belt. The sword hummed again at him as his fingers rubbed over the carved skull. The blade was also kind enough to provide an aura of comfortable warmth for its wearer on yet another dank and miserable Meridian night. Kain spared his favorite weapon a thought of gratitude, wishing - as ever - that it showed half the sentience it had during its first few years since the restoration. That the blade was fond of him, he could readily determine. Whether it had any concept or idea of what was going on around it, or to him, he could no longer sense.

The spirit within the weapon had grown progressively more subdued over time. The soul within retreating further from the waking world with every day and month that passed. Soon he was certain the blade would be very much as it had always been. Alive, but not living, the Soul Reaver slept as Nosgoth shifted and changed, awaiting it’s next moment of awakening at the hands of a Raziel-not-yet-born. At least this time, he did not feel the bitter hatred and despair from its fitful dreaming. Madness, it seemed, was not an immediate development. He wished however, that he could ensure that the soul trapped within the steal would not be lost to him completely. He’d come too far with _his_ Raziel to ever feel truly comfortable trading him in for another. It was both worrying, and insolvable, at least for the moment.

In another fifty years’ time his theory of repetition would be truly put to the test. If everything went as expected, whether his sword was mute or not wouldn’t matter, because there would still be another Raziel alive and aware in the world. A sane copy of his lieutenant at his side, to someday merge with and restore the version sacrificed to his weapon, would go along way towards convincing him that he was on the right path. All that was required was patience. Kain sighed and nudged some rubble with his foot. He hated waiting.

“Necessity.” Vorador looked around the neighborhood. “Forgive me, Kain, if I seem stupid, but I fail to see how this could have been needed.”

“They’re baiting our trap, remember?” Kain tapped his claws idly on his hilt. “All that lovely misinformation we concocted for them is even as we speak being eagerly delivered into the hands of those who want it most.” He laughed. “Besides, it has been amusing to torment them occasionally over the years. You can hardly call anything that’s kept me entertained and out of trouble for a century or so a complete loss, now can you?”

“They’ll come after my cabal next, you damn fool. They’ve already tried once. Even now they’re arming for a more serious incursion…” Vorador griped, digging his claws into the crumbling masonry. “Unlike you I have more than myself to think about! _My_ children are not all traitors and imbeciles like yours. Are we supposed to sit back and watch them get slaughtered by the turncoats?”

“Not at all.” Kain conceded. “That would be unkind of me, old friend. Not to mention ill advised.” He waived the winged vampire closer to join their discussions. “I think that it is time to confront this particular ‘scourge’ once and for all, gentlemen. We have been skulking long enough in this city. It would be nice to have this war tidied up and done before we’re obliged to start the next one, don’t you agree?”

“The Hylden.” Janos murmured darkly.

“Exactly so.” Kain nodded. “It is time to assemble our little flock and relocate someplace more… discrete while we prepare. Perhaps Mobius’ old citadel will serve? Since clearly I don’t have the knack for creating useful fledglings, I fear the task will fall to you and yours Vorador. Can we have an army in time?”

Considering the challenge, the old vampire raked his goatee. “Yes. Yes I think there will be time to fledge and train an additional group. Especially if we stick with small sorties to start.”

“In that case let us proceed with all due haste.” Kain gestured that they should all depart the scene of his most recent prophesy. “Cheer up, Vorador. The mountains are lovely this time of year. And once the children are all safely out of the city, you can hang back and kill all the Saraphan you like.” Feigning inspiration, he clapped his ally on the shoulder in friendly fashion. “You never know! Faustus might just be stupid enough to lead the charge! You never liked him anyway.”

“Fast talking, flash bastard.” The green vampire agreed, looking around as if saying goodbye to the city already. “Ah well, we had to give the place up sooner than later. The Saraphan have been goading this fight for years.”

“Exactly.” Kain threw back his hood to better appreciate the thick Meridian air. “Think of it as a generous gesture on your part. You’re only giving them what they’ve been asking so insistently for.”

Vorador snorted in cynical amusement. “I think it’s the manner of the delivery that they might take amiss.”

Kain grinned maliciously. “In that case they ought to have been more careful in the asking.” Watching as Janos circumspectly doffed his cloak and took wing over the darkened city, Kain felt a momentary pang of jealousy. The ancient vampire made flight look so effortless, in addition to reminding him of the Raziel from the future who had briefly served at his side. Bats were all well and good, but they made for a poor way to travel if one wanted to enjoy the scenery.

Turning to Vorador he thought of something else. “Remind me to dispatch Janos north with the non-combatants for a decade or two. He’s never been terribly interested in fighting humans, after all, and he can protect those for whom battle is unappealing at his old keep.”

Vorador nodded in agreement. “He’s better off out of it for now. Although I don’t think you’ll be able to keep him away should the Hylden come. They are one tribe against whom he has no difficulty wishing ill.”

“I guess there’s some heat left in his blood after all these years after all.” Kain remarked, strolling beside the larger vampire. “Things will get a bit more lively for a while at any rate. I confess I’ve been rather looking forward to it.”

Vorador gave him yet another variation on his insanity-implying stare. “Are you sure you’re sane?”

“Quite sure.” Kain chuckled and lead the way into the sewers.

* * * * *

A more poetical man might have remarked that the nighttime noises seemed less threatening in Meridian now that the vampire cabal had taken its leave. Kain smirked at the sound of footpads racing over the rooftops of the church nearby. In reality the city felt little different, even with its dramatic reduction in undead population. With the exception of a few well placed spies and a generous double-handful of informants, he was the last vampire within the city’s sphere of influence. The conventional human criminal element was more than happy to fill the void. He wondered morbidly if perhaps his kind would be missed given a few weeks of unbridled gang warfare on the docks.

He settled himself onto a toppled and forgotten obelisk as he considered the mist shrouded cemetery. Despite being on the high side of the city, it had gone out of fashion with the noble families to bury their dead here compared to a hundred years prior. Now they all had private mausoleums outside the city, or paid to be buried in the crypts within the church itself. Probably he had something to do with that. Kain mused.

Not fifty feet from where he sat lay the remains of Sebastian’s burial plot. Beloved second son of the House of Delile, tireless public servant of Meridian; never had he seen a tomb marker more fanciful. He’d disinterred and raised the avaricious fool mere days after he had been covered in sod. The resulting scandal had left quite the impression on his community, apparently. Kain snorted, entertained by the magnitude of the human’s alarm should he track down the worthless vampire, behead him, and restore his corpse to its rightful place.

How ironic then, that not two plots over lay a far better sort of man, a true gentleman in every way. Kain reached out to dust some of the random filth from the simple monument. Here he found words far more believable. Magnus von Etrisden, the engraving read: beloved father, grandfather, and husband, and then the dates. Magnus had lived long for a human of this age, some forty years. He didn’t regret the small part he played in seeing that happen. As a vampire, Magnus had been a valuable and useful creature, a vast deal different from his contemporaries, but as a man it seemed he had not been without a full measure of success and happiness. He did not regret turning aside the fate that had once befallen the man, even if it meant the past hundred years had been nothing but the grim toleration of the other three.

“Well well, Magnus. I think you at least have escaped the tedium of history repeating itself.” He signed. “Not that I think you would ever thank me, I make a poor guardian angel after all.”

The grave was silent as ever. The dank night air curled through the long grasses.

“You were better off as a mortal, old friend. Rising to join me would have brought you nothing but trouble.”

Kain rested his elbows on his knees, considering what he knew about the future-past and what he could extrapolate from the effects of his own changes on the continuum. It had been nothing to stop the outlaw destined to kill the knight as a young man. Similarly little effort had been necessary to shield him at the few points in his life that had required intervention. As a human, Magnus had attributed his survival until old age to luck. Kain snorted, knowing full well that luck was usually a byproduct of hard work and attention to details. Still he couldn’t begrudge the old man his delusions, had never shown his hand, even when paying silent visit to his one-time-friend’s deathbed. Magnus had been content with his life. That was enough for Kain.

He had seen at least two futures with his own eyes, his ruminations with the Pillars had shown him infinitely more possibilities. One way or another Magnus the vampire would have been betrayed by his brethren and killed, or worse. Even now, Kain hesitated at the idea of raising him. The immediate danger was past, even encumbered with a fledgling he could escape the city easily. For a few years yet he might enjoy the company of one rational creature amidst Vorador’s idiotic flock. Staring at the grave, he already knew he wouldn’t.

Bad enough that he had, and would again, sacrifice one loyal friend, to his cause. He grimaced at the weak sentiments implied in the word. Raziel and Magnus both had been in their way far more than mere vassals, as dear to him as family could be, he supposed. But Raziel’s torment was a foregone conclusion. Galling though that might be he could not yet see a way around it. At least Magnus was not so integral to history that he must suffer as well. Standing up, Kain dusted his trousers with his claws, saying a temporary farewell to the familiar grave. It would be some years, he suspected before he visited it again. “Rest in peace, old friend. You deserve it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kain spotted a band of sun-glyph enhanced knights. Normally he would let such obstinate prey pass. Certainly they had no idea he was near. They wouldn’t be marching so idly by if they did. They would have had to pass far closer to his quiet hiding place for their wards to flash the alarm. Still, with Vorador and his ilk gone from the city, there was no particular reason _not_ to harass them. It wasn’t like anyone could complain that he was stirring up trouble. Trouble was coming, with or without him. And the temptation to leave a final parting enigma for Sebastian was also strong.

Feeling nostalgic, he drew the Soul Reaver. “Well Magnus, perhaps I will indulge in one more hunt, for old time’s sake.”

He grinned as he silently leapt first to the top of the wrought iron fence, and then into the thick of the soldiers. The first was crushed beneath his claws. Gravity did most of the work as he slammed the armored body to the paving stones by landing on him. Vaulting from the shattered corpse he let his weight carry another startled Saraphan down, snapping the stunned knight’s neck as they fell. From there it was child’s play to kill the remaining six. He let the Soul Reaver feed until it was sated, it’s aura a cool burn along his arm. Sheathing it, he could feel the phantom flames tickle his shoulder as he fed himself as well. The taste of blood, raw and vital reaffirmed his sense of nostalgia. There would be no more hunts like this for a while to come. Other than the brigands in the forest, on whom Janos would not approve of feeding, there would be precious little sport. The Blood Shrines were all well and good for feeding large groups of vampires discretely, but he had lived too long without them to ever feel truly satisfied by such mundane means of acquiring food. Some lingering element of his Dark Empire nature, he supposed. He preferred his meals with a little fight in them.

Looking at his handiwork he couldn’t help but snort in laughter at how easily they’d fallen. The fools hadn’t even had the wits to send up a cry of alarm. Kain stooped and gathered up several fallen swords, and after a moment’s deliberation, their banner as well.

The flag he lay at the foot of Magnus’ monument. The swords he blithely drove one-by-one into the carved wooden angel that decorated Sebastian’s abandoned resting place. Old as the wood was, it was of fine quality. It barely split as the weapons were driven through and left nailed into the sculpture’s heart. The end result was rather artistic, really. He smirked as he walked away. Let his traitorous offspring make of it what he would.