Adela
The carriage rocked back and forth as it traversed the dirt road, swaying much like a small ship at sea. Adela knocked on the window beckoning the guard outside. "You sure the coachman doesn't need a break?"
"Yes, princess." The guard replied for what seemed like the hundredth time. His voice sounded metallic as it echoed in his fortified helmet.
"How about you soldier? You deserve rest." Adela felt bad enough not knowing any of her guard's names, but she felt even worse that they had to walk all the way from Teyron to Crichton, while she rode in a lavish cart.
"I'm sorry princess Adela but you know I am under the direct order of your father, Master Aquilo to keep you safe. Besides, it would not be fit for a High noble let alone the daughter of our master to tread foot."
"Who the hell's gonna know!" Adela shouted. Her temper flared like a freshly fed flame, but soon the roaring tinge of annoyance dwindled down to a calm crackle. She realized how odd it must have seemed to her retainers that she kept demanding to walk alongside them. That a princess would resort to bribery, all for the chance to march on a dirt road rather than ride in a cushioned cart. She admitted it was an unusual request from someone of higher rank, but they'd understand if they were the ones getting seasick on land!
Adela glanced at the suit of armor she should be wearing. She absolutely hated the thing, despised it even. Dawn armor was large, bulky, and cumbersome. Sure it kept out the sun's deadly rays, but it did nothing for the unbearable heat. Still, she was ready to trade her "comfort" if it meant freeing her from boredom and nausea. Adela was growing paler by the second and she wanted out. She had thus far spared the foot soldiers the dishonor of actually having a princess who pulled her own weight, and did what was expected of her. Which was apparently nothing! And to be blunt she wasn't sure how much more she could take.
A weary-sounding soldier's voice piqued up outside to answer her question. "Your father might learn of it."
Adela was readying herself to shout once more but another voice in the formation spoke first. His very words seemed to slither. "He always has ways."
She couldn't see the suspicious-sounding vampire, but if the caravan had a squealer she was positive he was the one. The curtains were drawn tight to keep out the morning sun so there would be no peeking till night. Instead, she gave the air a strong sniff, trying to discern their scent, but at this point, they all smelt the same to her. Like sweat and metallic must. Walking outside was suddenly less appealing.
Adela threw her chin in her hand. She wasn't sure why one of her cousins from the house of James couldn't go speak to Lord Kratz. A five-day wagon ride for one boring meeting hardly seemed necessary. If Master Kres was having Kratz answer on his behalf surely they could have done the equivalent. Hopefully, her father didn't think of her equal to... Kratz. Adela inhaled, and then let the air slowly escape her inert lungs. No that couldn't be it. Her father wasn't that petty. She was simply best suited to the task.
When she was originally told that the humans of Crichton were falling ill she debated saying tough luck. So the vampires of that region had to deal with bad taste, their whole society had bad taste, and little was new about that. Humans weren't dying from it and vampires being undead, whether by blessing or curse, were unable to contract diseases. Their innate healing factor could cure them faster than any cancer or pathogen could spread. She'd know. Once a certain, specific situation had caused her to dive into the phenomena of vampiric healing. Adela paused looking at her gloved hands... That's what made this disease different. It was quickly becoming an epidemic amongst humans and vampires alike. She had to admit this was unheard of and terrifying in its own right but she also found it intriguing.
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