The fireplace bright and warming the room shone a flickering light over the faces of the people who stared at each other, no one saying a word. Those closest to the fire rubbed long hands together before it, warming themselves as they cast weary glances towards the stoic looking Vampires across the room who sat around a large wooden table near the tall arching windows.

“Well,” the Vampire said, staring at the Elves coldly, “let us begin this little meeting at last, shall we?”

The Elves clicked their tongues together, an odd barrage of noise issuing from before the fire as they turned from it and eyed the Vampire behind his desk in interest.

The Vampires started, their bored expressions dissolving with the Elves’ movement.

With a swift hand, Dracula ran his fingers over the paper presented to him previously by the Elves and eyed the words:

The Elves of Etria
Request for Freedom

He looked up at them. “Is this not tiring?”

“Alinneis refuses to give up, as you can see, Dracula. Which is why we are constantly sent here.” He looked around the room with slight disgust. “And we will continue to be sent here to regain our freedom, until you see it through. Alinneis’ orders, I’m afraid,” a charming Elf with a higher nose than his brothers said coldly.

“Of course,” Dracula said stepping from behind the desk, his long white hair swaying along his back. He leaned against the dark wood, his light brown eyes scanning the room, a small smile upon his lips as he eyed the Vampires within their chairs.

Turning his gaze back toward the Elves, he said, “I’m afraid our dear friend Alinneis will never regain the freedom he so desperately seeks, as I have told you all time and time again. Really, these ‘surprise’ visits are getting rather routine, aren’t they? You all come in with your papers,” he gestured to the paper behind him, “and your requests, and you are sent home empty-handed.” He eyed the Elves once more and recalled this being the twentieth time he’d had to entertain them. “Time and time again.”

Tittering angrily amongst themselves, the Elves turned to each other to discuss what must be done, surely, when what appeared to be the Head Elf, a very tall, red-eyed Elf with a malicious sneer, lifted a long white hand to silence his comrades and stepped forward.

“With all due respect,” although his voice was the last thing one would call respectful, “Dracula, this has gone on for far too long, do you not think? Alinneis is growing angrier and angrier and these trips to this godforsaken City are wearing on my nerves. I grow tired of having to venture here, and I’m quite sure you grow tired of having to look at us. Do you not think that all of this would be solved once and for all,” and his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, “if you would just grant us our freedom and we could resume our lives, never having to lay eyes on each other again?”

Dracula glared at the Elf as the words reached his ears. “I’m afraid, Swile,” he said, “your words, as usual, will not change my mind about this matter. Your freedom should’ve been thought about when your men were ambushing my City.” He threw their request at the Elf’s feet. “It’s taken us three years to rebuild our army to what it was ever since you greedy Elves decided to attack us—for a reason, to this day, I still know not—and until I feel like it, you Elves shall never get your damned freedom.”

Victor and Lillith shifted in their seats, causing two Elves to eye them with disdain, yet Swile remained focused upon the only other standing Vampire in the room besides Xavier. His voice was quiet as he spoke, yet still alive with seething anger. “Alinneis has asked for forgiveness for that rather foolish matter that has, as you have pointed out, taken place several years ago. Is it his fault that you would not accept this forgiveness? Or is it the fault of you, dear Dracula?

“We have learned from our mistakes and we have groveled at your feet for what any King would require as the amount of time needed to repent. Are you not a ‘King,’ Dracula? Are you not selfless?”

Without looking at him, he spoke tersely, his voice commanding, “You will be grateful that I have allowed you Elves to continue your rather useless existence. Stripped of your powers, you are nothing, but men—men with unusually large ears. I could have ordered your deaths right then and there, but no, back then, with the deaths of my men on your shoulders, it would not be the clear course of action for any ‘King’,” he sneered, “so I sent you all away to live out your days away from other Creatures. Can you not be happy with that?”

Swile’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth once more, the anger building in his red eyes. He made no attempt to keep his voice low, as he was clearly past the point, “Had that Vampure,” he pointed to Damion, who looked as if his mind was elsewhere, “not held us back, we would have surely taken this underground City! Your armies were no match for us then—!”

“But they are a match for you now, Swile. Is it you who forgets that my Vampire,” and he gestured to Damion who eyed Swile with red eyes, “took all of your men on singlehandedly. An attempt both foolish,” Damion looked up at him then, “but all the same, acknowledged by me as an act of grand loyalty to his City, and his own kind, and for that he has been greatly rewarded, and rightfully so.”