Mir regretted the extra trip to Holly-on-Green. Not only did the village just look tired and sad but the interaction with Broll had left him a little homesick and nostalgic. Maybe he and Lei should head North to see the aurora for vacation? Mir knew where some wonderful hot springs were. They could spend time being par-boiled in those pools of steaming mineral water and watch the solar winds paint the skies in shimmer blues, greens, and pinks. Even if the dragon wasn't fond of the cold, Mir was certain that Lei would love the beauty of a polar night with proper preparation.

  He could make it an anniversary gift! A romantic getaway just for the two of them. The goblins could watch the demesne, he was certain that with the wards they had in place the Shadow Gang could deal with any basic pests that got in to rummage the gardens. Or he could see about reclaiming the beasts from the menagerie, he did remember where he'd released them. Lei had been talking about taking care of pets recently and the way he'd looked patching up that peasant boy. Yes, this was a good plan of action.

  The ex-Dark Lord had completely put the current surroundings out of mind. Broll was staring at him with dumbfounded fury, shoved out of the way by a strong straight-arm, missing the grab at Mir's cloak to hold him. The high tail of his ivory hair swayed lightly in the night breeze, long strides taking him across the inn yard, cloak shifting with each one. The moon hung full and bright, it's light covering everything in those smooth blues but leaving shadows sharp as razors. It made the yellowed light cast from the open inn door look sickly in comparison, Broll's shadow looming and distorted as the stocky man stood backlit by it.

  The flutter of magic from behind him made him pause, head turning ever so slightly. A charm. Small. Discreet. Single use. A spell so simple that even a rock could activate it which is likely why it was in Broll's hands. The magic that had built it was acrid, ashy, and scented with copper. It was too small a sample for Mir to pass final judgement but he was prepared to be let down.

  "You'll never outrun the Black Coach, alchemist. Even if you had a fairy steed, it would catch you long before you reach that bridge. On foot? Well..." Broll through back his head and laughed. "You should have just come with me when I was making a friendly offer."

  Mir shook his head, braids swinging, and resumed his walk forward. "You're very young to have memory problems. I don't recall a proper offer or any friendliness at all. Just a boy, swaggering with borrowed power, trying my patience."

  "You'll regret this!"

  "I think not." Mir chuckled softly. "And if I do, it can go on the pile with it's other, more painful, brethren." He didn't spare Broll another thought, letting himself out the inn courtyard and turning his steps toward home.

  If the road had been off-putting in the daylight, it was downright eerie at night. Almost nostalgic in the way it reminded him of being young and arranging his own area of influence the first time. Maybe every Dark Lord went through this phase, leaning too hard into the mystique of Evil and not branding themselves more uniquely. In the past whenever Mir heard about others trying to rise up and take his title from him, his minions would always bring him reports of lands just like this. Creepy and unsettling.

  He was glad he'd outgrown it. He'd rather be home in his comfortable cabin, drinking something alcoholic by the lake, doing intimate things with his husband while a wind scented of wildflowers surrounded them. A sigh rippled out of him, fingers drumming on his thigh under his cloak. He didn't really want to move. It had taken them thirty years to settle on this place as their choice for the location of their marital home. They hadn't even been engaged then, just two lonely hearts slowly learning to beat in tandem. Now it was tilting toward ruin because it didn't seem like their new neighbor was going to be someone they could get along with. Maybe it was unfair to think that before he'd met the man but just going off what he'd seen so far, this Baron was bound to be young and petty. He wouldn't take his losses gracefully.

  And apparently he wouldn't take no for an answer.

  Mir felt the change in the air, a gust of unseasonably cold wind that pushed frost with it's touch. In an instant his breath fogged the air, cats claws of rime dragging across his cheeks. He paused, turning, to look back. A thick mist was creeping from amid the trunks of the trees, a curtain of fog that crawled toward him with a mind of its own. It reminded him of certain weather phenomena back home, and those never proceeded anything good.

  A shape boiled in the fog. A creak of leather. The sharp jingle of tack. Thuds of perfectly synchronized hooves. The Black Coach rocked free of the fog, its team trotting gracefully. Show beasts, ominous in the night, with their ears pinned and nostrils flaring. It would have been classy if the Baron had added any other color to make it pop. Instead the black on black on black just made it look ugly. The eye slid off of it. Not appealing at all.

  The coach rattled slowly to a stop, the cowled coachman reining in his team. For a moment they just stared at each other, the breath of the horses steaming in the same breeze that stirred Mir's hair into an ivory banner.

  "I don't have time for your games, vampire. This is your only warning, leave me and mine in peace." He turned away from the coach and its occupant, resuming his journey back home. Perhaps now was the time to use some haste? Or he could fly. Or he could break into the trees and use a few of his favorite forest tricks to get himself home. Wait, nobody would get angry if he teleported, would they? Teleportation was hardly world breaking, common mages could do it.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He hadn't taken half a step before he saw the figure ahead of him. Mir gave them points for the theatrical, they were using the fog and poor light quality to good effect. Were it not for his unique sight, Mir might have been partially fooled by the tricks. An incredible sense of weariness soaked into him. He was so done with this creature and his dramatics. A hand rose, pinching the bridge of his nose sharply. "So, am I to take this as your answer? No peaceable co-existence possible?"

  "You are quite bold, alchemist! Your heart is beating sweet and steady, as calm as if you stood in your own home. Your blood sounds almost sluggish. I am most intrigued by you. A pity about your rudeness but I understand. Northerners take some... refinement."

  Mir raised his other hand. "No. We're not doing this. We're not standing here and trading monologues. That just feels pathetic, I'm sure we both have better things to do with our lives. At least I know I do with mine. So let me tell you how this night is going to go. You're going to get back in your carriage. You're going to go back to your manor. You're going to congratulate yourself on being very, very extra. And you are going to make the smart decision not to bother me or my husband whenever we visit the village on monthly business, and the occasional festival celebration. I am going to continue on my way home. Take my boots off. Eat some leftovers. Cuddle my husband. And then I'll be kind enough to forget you exist."

  For a moment there was only stunned silence from that other figure in the fog and then, laughter. One of those masterful evil laughs that the vampire must have spent an age perfecting, testing it out in all manner of environments until it was just perfect. Mir knew the struggle, a good evil laugh was a must for any Dark Lord worth their villainy. He waited patiently for the laugh to end, you couldn't rush these things after all. Slowly the laugh tapered off, stuttering to a stop, replaced by a few stuttered breaths.

  "You are not joking..."

  It was almost endearing, the way the Baron slowly came to the realization that Mir was not impressed. That he didn't care about the whole show the vampire was putting on or his threats. The vicious creature of the night, used to being the most powerful thing in his ecosystem, slowly seemed to deflate. As the mist rolled away from him, it revealed him to be nothing particularly special. Medium height, slender build, aristocratic features refined by the increased allure the vampiric essence brought. His clothing was nice, neat, and smelled of some exotic southern flower that Lei would have been able to place but Mir didn't care to.

  "No. I am not joking." Mir took a deep, steadying breath. "We're both here because we liked what this place offered. Peace. Quiet. Good views. Nice proximity to clean Leys and untainted magic. Which, I'd like to point out, you've absolutely ruined and I will expect you to fix if you want to stay. If someone had told me a decade ago someone like you would move in and start bringing down the value of this place, I'd never have chosen to retire here. So I'm telling you to clean up your act and watch yourself. Because so help me if you keep making trouble for me to the point we have The Church and Heroes breathing down our necks, then I'm going to snap yours first, and make your fangs into earrings for my husband's anniversary gift. He likes ivory."

  Mir stepped forward, a hand coming down to rest heavily on the vampire's shoulder. He didn't make eye contact, his gaze stretching down the road. But he felt the other man tense, the vampire no doubt confused about how things had spiraled to this point.

  "...who are you?"

  "Your very, very disgruntled neighbor. Now, don't make me have this talk with you again, Baron Bedivere. I'm not a man known for my kindness." Fingers slid from the Baron's shoulder as Mir strode away, the mist stirring around him before he was swallowed by the thick fog bank.

  For a long time after Mir had gone the vampire just stood there, listening to the sounds of the night forest all around him. He'd started exerting his influence on this patch of land nearly two months ago, the same time he'd been working on the minds of the human nobility to elevate himself to this position. It hadn't been terribly difficult, he had the three Cs of making it at court. Coin, Compliments, and Cunning. Securing a minor title, something easily overlooked, and a good territory with both resources and remote distance had been child's play. When he'd first scouted it and laid claim, nothing here had stood out as a possible stumbling block to his ambitious plans.

  Alastair Greystone was realizing far too late that what he'd thought was an untouched opportunity had, in reality, been a carefully managed projection. He had seen exactly what that man wanted him to see, what he wanted the world to see. And maybe the alchemist was just living peacefully. Maybe he really was content visiting that pathetic little village and dealing in his petty little potions. But that, like this place, was just the managed appearance. He'd felt it in the grip on his shoulder. Heard it echoed in that unchanging heartbeat and the cadence of speech. Sensed it when he'd let a lick of power push out against the alchemist. It had met a reserve of power so vast, so deep, so cold it had reverberated back with a whisper of something that the vampire feared at at level as instinctive as sunlight.

  That man reeked of death.

  And Baron Alastair Greystone decided that it was in his very best interests to become a very good neighbor to the alchemist that lived just north of the village...