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CHAPTER II: Der Blut Das Festmahl

Manor Khushrenada had been passed down from generation to generation though the noble family, ending at last with Treize. The Khushrenada family had lived ruling, and practically owning, the little town of Goldwyn since its founding in the 11th century. There had never been a problem with the townsfolk, they did their business and the Khushrenadas did theirs. In the 13th century, around 1287 the youngest child--a boy in a family of 6 girls--came to the head of the household at the age of 16. He was Treize Khushrenada. The rest was rumored throughtout the town, but no one really knew the truth, though many fancied they did. The only thing anyone knew for sure, was that the same young man was still presiding over their town now, in the year 1476. And he had not aged a day since he turned 24.
Now, in the great reception hall of that infamous Khushrenada, Zechs Merquise stood patiently awaiting the acknowledgement of his master. The young man did not waver, holding back his anger, as the blue eyes passed over him hungrily.
“Zechs,” He smiled lazily at the man standing in front of him. “You’re....wet. How very suiting it is to you. And how very lovely you look when you’re soaked and angry.”
Zechs seethed inwardly, but carefully kept his outward appearance cold and stonic.
“I sense more than a little hostility, my pretty pet,” He said silkily, sipping his wine nonchalantly.
He was no longer able to control himself. The cool comments of the much more socially adept man, stirred the fire within him. Zechs’s anger showed through his eyes, glaring steadily at his benefactor. “Somehow, I believe you take some sort of sadistic pleasure in sending me to do these impossible tasks, M’Lord,” He snarled in a low, dangerous voice.
For the first time during their encounter, Treize looked away from his glass to stare down at his blonde minion, eyes narrowed. “Do you question my judgement, dear friend? Do you dare?” He leapt from his throne and swept to the edge of the stairs, wine still in hand. “Milliard, you have been my closest friend and dearest lover. But I don’t believe you’ve realized exactly how replaceable you are!”
His voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling, accompanied closely by the crisp sound of shattering glass. The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds, though it seemed like an eternity, and was broken by the entrance of one on the servants.
“Please pardon the interruption, M’lord,” The nervous man said glancing between the two lords with apprehension.
“No interruption at all,” Treize declared smoothly, flashing a rare but charming smile at him. “Zechs and I were only discussing trivial matters. Nothing of great importance.”
The serving man’s nervousness did not subside at the forgiving comment and he shifted uneasily under the gaze of his master. “The girl is ready, M’lord.” Giving the curtain cord a tug, he parted the heavy velvet, revealing a most appetizing sight to the noble.
The young woman, whom Zechs had captured earlier, was sitting tied to a chair under the influence of carefully timed sedatives, but soon she would awaken. Her bare skin was bathed in a rosy glow from a tinted globe above, coloring her pale cheeks and setting her hair aglow with light not unlike that of a fire.
Treize licked his lips. “Well done. Very nice indeed.” His comments were directed to the serving man, but he no longer saw him, Treize’s mind was much too focused on what was ahead.
She stirred slightly as his shadow fell over her body, shivering as he ran expert hands over her body. His hands were as cold as death.
He nuzzled her hair, feeling her warmth, hearing her heart beat. Almost regretting the life he had chosen. Almost. Savoring the moment, he bent to lay a kiss upon her neck, her beautiful neck.....
The girl’s eyes shot open as he kissed her. So gentle was it that one would never have known it to be a kiss of death. Puncturing the vein so neatly and precisely he began to drink....