“Long may the Prince of Mousillon reign!”

Those were the words that echoed through the halls of Bastonne as the now undead Mallobaude’s bloodhaze lifted and he came to realise what he had done. His fangs and nails were covered in blood just as all around him were chunks of flesh, muscle and bone strewn across the floor. These were the remnants of his friend, Ennar, the man who gave him a chance. A man destroyed by Mallobaude’s animalistic urges.

Overwrought by grief yet unable to cry due to his recent transformation, Mallobaude hunched over the corpse begging Ennar to somehow wake up when behind him he heard a voice.
“Well done, son. I always knew you had it in you. What a stunning conclusion to your short existence as a mortal.” Duke Merovech spoke as he stood from Duke Bohemond’s throne.

Mallobaude looked up at Merovech and asked “What did you do?”

“Me? You’re the one who attacked him. It was you who sank your fangs into him just as it was you who used your strength to sever his arteries from the rest of his still-beating heart. This was all you, Mallobaude. Yes, I gave you my kiss to grant you your powers but beyond that it was your feral mind that took hold from there. A shame really, he could have made a useful wight if it weren’t for your indulgence, now he will added to our thralls as a mere zombie instead.” Merovech pointed out.

“But I… he was my…” Mallobaude began before being cut off anew.

“When first we met I told you that you would be heralded for serving my court but I also warned you of the dangers involved in siding with me. Alas, it seems like any vexed princeling you were more concerned with your own vengeance than the sacrifices you would have to make along the way. Look around you Mallobaude. Bastonne is ours, Mousillon rises once more and I am so proud of you… you, my heir, my son. What is the value of a peasant, a convicted thief no less, compared to all that glory?”

“But he didn’t need to die?” Mallobaude interjected.

“Didn’t he? He was born dying my son. The peasantry of this nation have never known sustenance. As you mature you will realise in time that the only kinship a vampire can truly feel is that which is shared with other members of the occult. You see, mortals despite their curiosities are little more than leaves holding onto branches in the midst of a storm. We are the wind son, you are my storm. They spend all their lives missing their potential, fearing Morr’s icy grip instead when a vampire would otherwise use the knowledge of his death to better himself. In time you will learn to respect me as the father you never had, just as I will learn to love you as my own blood.” Merovech concluded.

“You? You will never be my father!” Mallobaude yelled. “Perhaps I should just kill you now!” Mallobaude barked.
….
◙ Wow React: Before Merovech could even respond or have time to react, Mallobaude took up the discarded Senechals’ sword that Ennar had briefly held and struck his new father’s neck, beheading Merovech in a single strike.

As Merovech’s body fell, Mallobaude turned to the Cannibal Knight Jules de Fontainebleau and proclaimed “The Duke of Mousillon is dead!”

The cannibal knight and his cohort of blood knights in the room confirmed this was true before promptly kneeling before Mallobaude and declaring “Long may the new Duke of Mousillon reign!”
….
◙ Love React: Mallobaude reached for Ennar’s discarded blade only for Merovech to strike Mallobaude with a simple slap of his palm that sent the young vampire flying. However, Mallobaude never even hit the ground for just as he was about to land, Merovech dashed over at superhuman speed to grab him and thrusted him face-first against a nearby wall.

“I hoped this wouldn’t be necessary. But alas, you are far from the first young vampire with a sense of hubris on their mind. In time you will realise that unlike mortals who weaken as they age, the mature vampire only grows stronger in his nourished years.

Should I make an example of you? A century being picked at inside a ghouls nest could do the trick, perhaps some community service plucking snails in Mousillon, or then again should I perhaps just chuck you in the sea as I did to my last challenger? Nevertheless, the fact you are now my son should be kept in mind. Hmm… Maybe I will show you mercy this time.” Merovech spoke before turning to the Cannibal Knight.

“Find a tower and lock my son in it until he learns some humility. If he wants to behave like a spoilt princess, he is welcome to pout there for as long as it takes his blood to cool….”