“The Beginning of a Break?”
Hey! So I’m going to be on hiatus for like the next month or so because I’m going on like three different trips. The biggest one is, of course, the trip that I’m going on with my dad and my brother; we’re traveling down Route 66 from Chicago all the way to Los Angeles! I’m very excited for the trip, and it’s going to be awesome. But I’m also going camping with some friends from high school and going to northern Minnesota for… reasons. I’ll talk about that some other time. But either way, I’m going to posting just Spectral Crown for the next few weeks, which is tough because I think I’ve got some momentum for this blog and I don’t want this to derail it, but also I don’t have the time right now to prep a month’s worth of stuff in advance, so eh. I’m just kind of going to be in the background for a while, it seems.
But, in other news, there’s an interesting coincidence for this chapter. I swear I didn’t plan this, but the gay vampire stuff I’ve been talking about for ages is finally showing up, right during Pride Month! The fact that my characters are finally engaging in openly queer activities during Pride Month is, I promise, entirely coincidental, but it’s kind of fun. Except that, well, the queer stuff in here isn’t very good. It’s, you know, a thing, and it’s a part of the book as I wrote it back in the day. And in my own personal life it’s something that I still struggle with emotionally (though it isn’t an openly large part of my life, which always makes me feel guilty and fake). But the way it’s presented here, and the interactions between characters and the meanings of their relationships aren’t… great. Yeah. It’s mediocre at best. Which is why, whenever I finally get a chance to rewrite this book, I’m going to rework a lot of things, but the relationships between Saelac and Iacob is going to be the big one. I’ve learned a lot more about myself and about relationships since I wrote this, so that’s the big reason, but also, it’s just, y’know, not very good, in my opinion. It feels like queerbaiting, or something. So I’ll fix that someday, but that day is, unfortunately, not today. And when I fix it, the queer relationship(s?) will be hopefully more meaningful and realistic, even in a book about vampires ravens and haunted castles. Think of this whole thing, all these chapters, as, like, a draft, or a promotional stunt. And if you want to read the final, better version, you’ll have to buy it some day. I’m publishing this damn book, one way or another.
So, anyway, I’ll see you in about a month or so! I’ll still be posting weekly stuff, I’m just updating it in advance. See you soon! And here’s the previous chapter, in the meantime.
Spectral Crown, by Andy Sima: Chapter Twenty-One
The store room was well-lit and contained nothing unexpected. There were crates and boxes and chests of all sizes, as well as dressers and cupboards that hopefully contained dining utensils or jewelry. The troop of Sorina’s handmaids led me to the back of the store room, winding through a maze-like setup of the various containers scattered about the room, until we came to another door. Upon opening it, I came face to face with an Umbral soldier for the first time.
“Guard,” the tallest one said, “Escort Saelac Bergmann to Iacob’s chambers. They shall be dining privately.”
I had to swallow a gasp for the thing before me was certainly not human. No wonder I had never seen any of the other soldiers around the castle; they were ghastly and would have scared Maynard out of the wedding proposal.
“Follow me, Sir Bergmann,” the thing said, and when I tried to look to the handmaids for guidance, I noticed that they had already disappeared. So I was stuck, alone, in the stone halls of Castle Blestem with this frightening creature before me.
It may have been human at one point or was perhaps trying to become human. It wore a suit of armor dotted with a few more spikes than necessary, but its face was what shocked me. It was pale white, like everyone else in this cursed place, but instead of having the appearance of flesh, a more accurate description would be one of a reptilian nature. It seemed to have scales instead of skin and its eyes were yellow and serpentine. It had no nose but would occasionally extend its forked tongue in rapid motions. This gross cross between man and snake struck me as not only unsettling, but also out of line with the rest of the Blestemat’s style. I would have expected a bird-headed person instead of a lizard-headed one.
“You are upset by my appearance,” the thing said, voice low yet melodic. Totally unlike a snake. “Are you surprised?”
“If I may be so frank,” I said, “yes.”
“Iacob was surprised, too, when Titus introduced us,” it said. Or was it a he? I could not tell. It did not matter. “But what better way to catch birds than with snakes?” And it smiled with sharp teeth, stained with dark streaks.
And silence fell, for I had no response, and the guard was not expecting one. So it turned and lead me down the stone halls that looked a bit closer together and a bit older than other halls I had seen. Sort of like the rings in a tree, the castle seemed to age the deeper we moved into it.
“I have not met King Titus yet,” I said, trying to break the silence that had settled.
“I would imagine not,” the snake-guard said. “He has been sick for quite some time.”
“Iacob told me that,” I said, glancing at the occasional statues of royalty that stood in the crevices of the walls. “You answer to King Titus, I presume?” I said, hoping to make some sort of inquiry worthwhile.
“Titus first and Titus only,” the guard said. It did not look at me. “With some exceptions.” I dared not ask further.
After walking for some time, we reached the end of the hall, and found a modest obsidian door, a smaller version of the one to the throne room, set into the wall. Stationed outside of it was another albino reptile soldier, this one bearing a small stringy crop of white hair. It did not look at me.
“Prince Iacob is through here,” the soldier said and pushed open the black door. It swung inward noiselessly, and I could not see anything beyond for a time. “Proceed.”
I thanked the guard, and nodded to the other, but gained no acknowledgment from either. So, I stepped through the door and into Iacob Blestemat’s private quarters. The door shut behind me.
I did not quite know what to expect, but whatever I had been thinking, the room met my expectations quite readily. A dark, wooden table, shimmering under the light of glass chandeliers above, sat in the middle of a roughly oblong room, with windows on both walls. Vases of flowers on white marble pillars dotted the edges of the rooms, and the upper echelons of the ceiling were ornamented with more tapestries. At the other end across from me was another black door.
The table was set for two and had only two chairs. A silver candelabra decorated its center, even though the grey cloud-light from outside was enough. At each place on the table was heaped delicious-looking meats and vegetables. I noticed then that I was hungry and sat down. I waited until my host appeared to begin eating.
Once I sat down, however, I realized that Iacob was already seated at the far other end of the table; I had simply failed to notice him. But that did not make sense. I was certain the table had been empty before I sat down. But it did not matter, for Iacob did not bring it up.
“Good afternoon, Saelac Bergmann,” Prince Iacob said. Though he was far from me, across the table by a distance of a few meters, he had a way of talking that made it feel as if he were whispering in my ear. “Do you wish to eat?”
“Yes, your majesty,” I said. “Thank you.” And began to eat. Iacob sat and watched me, eyes following my own.
“Your majesty,” he said. “Trivial formalities. You may refer to me as Iacob. I believe we had this discussion once before, did we not? Or perhaps you were too incapacitated to remember.”
A hazy memory drifted out from two nights ago, when we had all eaten with the royal court members. “I recall it vaguely,” I said.
“You do, perhaps, recall other things that were said that night?” the handsome prince said. I felt that I was blushing under his gaze.
“Yes, Iacob,” I said, breaking the prolonged eye contact and returning to my lunch. Iacob continued to not eat.
There were a few moments of silence while I ate a fair amount of the food before me. Iacob said nothing, and I had nothing to say, for while I was appreciative of his time, I still did not know why I had been called. Though I had a rising suspicion.
After I had finished eating, or at least slowed down to a rate where we could converse openly, Iacob spoke. “Your mayor, Reinhard, tells me that you and your fellows have been exploring tunnels behind the walls. Is this true? I will know if you are lying.”
I swallowed heavily, and my breathing quickened. I thought I was a decent liar, but this already told Iacob all he needed to know. I relented and admitted defeat. “Yes,” I said. “We have been in the walls.”
“Reinhard named you specifically,” Iacob said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Did you know this?”
Ah, so that was why the gnome had been so delighted to see me called away. This was his doing. He expected me executed. “I was the one to first find the entrance to the tunnels,” I said. “I will take responsibility.”
“You realize,” Iacob said, breaking away from staring for just long enough to take a swig of wine, “that you have broken a contract between host and guest? You have violated the sanctity of our castle, have broken my trust, and have even damaged the structural integrity of your own quarters.”
I should have been afraid, but I was not. Something about the way Iacob related these offenses did not impart menace. Rather, it imparted disappointment.
“I suppose this is true,” I said.
Iacob nodded. “Should one of my own people have ventured into the walls, it is a crime meriting execution, or at least eternal imprisonment. But for guests… it is different.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“Since you did not know of our customs, you shall not be reprimanded this time,” Iacob said. “But,” and there was an undertone of actual force, “should I hear from my servants or Reinhard again about this matter, punishment will be more severe.”
I bowed my head again. “Yes, Prince Iacob.”
“I’m glad that I have been understood,” he said. And now he leaned even farther forward, and somehow gave the impression of being up against my face. I imagined I could feel his breath on me. “Now, tell me, what did you find behind the walls?”
Did Iacob not know what was back there? No, that was absurd. Iacob was a prince. He had to know what was in his own castle. Including the vengeful spirits and that thing that had killed Kolte. But was there something else, too? The green room seen through the wall popped in my mind, and I decided not to share that or my guesses as to the missing servants. Instead, I shared most everything else, from the short-lived first expedition, ending in George’s death and Franz’s breakdown, to the second expedition, including overhearing Laurentiu, the stablemaster, and Maynard. I guessed that Laurentiu had told Iacob already about the encounter. Possibly in conjunction with Reinhard.
As I told my tale, Iacob’s eyes would light up at certain key events, such as the roaring from the sewer room or the thing that lead us to the room behind Maynard’s quarters. He seemed fascinated.
After I finished, the table seemed to have physically condensed, and now Iacob was not just metaphorically near me but also literally near me. I did not notice him move, but here he was. “So, you must think that this land is a place of magic and monsters, yes?”
“I cannot rationally explain what I have seen here,” I said. “So, I must conclude some otherworldly forces are at work.” Iacob smiled widely.
“Do you now believe in curses?” he said.
“If what you say is true, then yes,” I said. “The Uradels are most certainly cursed.”
“Quite,” Iacob said. And he leaned back into his chair, and seemed to recede a much greater distance than he actually moved. He regarded me for a few moments, and then spoke. “The lunch hour is at a close, and we must soon return to the matter of marriage between Sorina and Maynard. But I bore of those matters. Would you care to join me while I freshen up?”
My heart beat quicker in my chest and blood coursed through my veins. “Certainly,” I said.
Iacob smiled, stood up, and pushed his chair back into the table. “Good. Let us depart for my quarters.”
I stood up, too, and pushed my chair back. I walked around the table to the back of the room, which now seemed much smaller than I initially thought, and Iacob opened the door at the back, and led me into his personal quarters.
I was surprised by the modest quality of the room. It was tight and condensed, with shelves and mirrors built into the walls and a ceiling that was not farther than a few feet above my head. There was large window, complete with shutters, on the far wall. What struck me most, though, was that there was no stone in this room; everything had been covered in dark oak, or with a sort of luscious carpeting on the floor. The bed set in the center, with black quilts to match the color of Iacob’s hair, was far larger than any single human needed.
I was not sure how the room was lit, as there were no candles I could see, and the shutters were drawn, but it was still lit well enough to be comfortable, though not as bright as the dining room. A faint orange glow seemed to emanate from the plank walls. It reminded me of something from my childhood, though I could not quite gauge what.
“Your quarters are quite…” I started, unsure of what to say that would not come off as offensive.
“Cozy?” Iacob offered. I nodded. “Yes, I agree. I like it this way. It makes the room more personable. My father was never much of an interior decorator. He liked his plans large and in stone. The rest of the castle is far too detached for my taste.”
“I like it, too,” I said, looking around and stepping carefully on the carpet. I did not know what it was made of, and feared tracking mud or debris on it.
Iacob glanced at my fearful steps and chuckled. “Do not worry about dirtying it,” he said, from in front of a large mirror. He seemed to be combing his hair. “My servants will clean it as necessary. Take off your shoes, if you wish. Rest a moment.” And so I did. Before I knew what took hold of me, I removed my shoes and took a seat on the black bed at the middle of the room. I watched Iacob as he continued to play with his hair.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Iacob said. “These clothes grow stiff and uncomfortable. I will have to change before the next meeting.” And then, right before me, Iacob began to remove his garments. I had seen him do this once before, when he showed me the tattoo as all this madness began, but there was a different tone to this instance. From the mirror, Iacob’s eyes watched me trace the images of the tattoo. He smiled coyly. “Surely your own clothes grow uncomfortable, Saelac.”
I tried to hide my excitement as best I could, but it was to no avail. I, too, began to remove my shirt. Iacob turned away from the mirror, bare chest staring at me as I leaned back on his bed. I smiled at him, too.
“Is there anything else you hunger for, Saelac,” he said to me. It was not a question this time.
“Yes,” I said. And there was no more that had to be said.
—
After we had both finished, we lay back on the black bed and heaved together, skin on skin, warmth on warmth. I was happy. I hoped Iacob was happy, too. I had not had an experience like that for a few years.
Iacob was the first to speak. “You are quite a man, Saelac,” he said, smiling as he eyed my naked body.
“Same to you,” I said, and did the same. We lay next to each other for some time. My heart twitched in my chest, and I couldn’t help but feel just a little awkward in the situation.
“We do not actually have to go back to the meeting, do we?” I asked, staring at the ceiling.
“No,” he said. “We do not, if I do not wish it. And I don’t.”
“Neither do I,” I said. But for just a moment, my sense of duty hit me. “What of Maynard?”
“Maynard will be taken care of by one of my own,” Iacob said. “Do not worry about him.” There was a moment’s pause before Iacob spoke again. “If I am going to be honest, we did not have to come to that meeting in the first place.”
“Oh?” I said.
“Yes,” he answered. “But how else would I have gotten you here?”
“I do not know,” I said. We laid in silence a few more minutes before Iacob started talking. Our time together seemed to have loosened his lips.
“I already knew of your excursions into the tunnels, long before that spiteful man told my kin,” he said. This knowledge came as a surprise, though I supposed the ravens would have seen it all anyway. “But Reinhard telling the servants forced my hand. However, it worked out in the end, as it proved a convenient way to spend time with you in private.”
“This is true,” I said, not wanting to say too much. I had certainly enjoyed my time in this room. But Iacob and his castle were still far too strange for me. And Iacob had seemed so interested about what I had found in the walls.
Iacob stared up at the ceiling, talking to no one in particular. Almost as if he were talking to himself. “If the Uradels knew about this, they would call us sodomites. Sinners and heathens. But this has not bothered me before. I do not particularly care for their book.”
“Nor I,” I admitted. “This was not my first time.”
“I can tell,” Iacob said. My heart fluttered. “It is so crude, so hypocritical, the way they look to their book for judgement and use that to justify whatever actions they take on this earth, as if it excuses anything. They believe that if a higher power is on their side, they are forgiven, nay, glorified for anyone they murder or condemn, for any country or region they ransack and pillage. That sort of thinking is dangerous. My people, at least, we do not justify our actions by anything other than ourselves.”
“Perhaps the world could do well to learn from you,” I said.
“Indeed it might,” Iacob said.
A thought occurred to me then. “Does Sorina know of this?”
“Sorina?” Iacob asked. “Of course she is aware. She is privy to everything that goes on in this castle, same as I. Not that she cares. We both have our needs.”
“My needs have been met,” I said, rolling over to face Iacob. He was still staring at the ceiling.
“I am glad,” he said, breaking into a small smile. “Perhaps we may see each other in this capacity again, some time.”
“I hope we may,” I said. And added, “if God wills it.”
Iacob could not help but smile at the irony. “If God wills it, indeed. And even if he doesn’t, I will still see you again.”
Yeah, it’s a bit rough around the edges. Kind of cringey, maybe? I’m not sure. Authors are always their own best and worst critics, so I always appreciate feedback about what I could improve for this stuff. Feel free to reach out to me! And see you next week.
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