Dulce got up right before dawn, too nervous to sit still any longer. It had been quiet all night, far too quiet. He timidly approached the door on his left, knocking quietly.
The door flung open to reveal Kath'tan looking more upset than usual, but the Demon was unhurt and in one piece, so he felt relief regardless, his relief tainted with unease.
"M-My apologies for the intrusion," He spoke softly, already taking a few steps back. "I was simply worried and wanted to check in on-"
"Why? You believe the disloyal assassin is stronger?" Kath'tan scowled. He had had a thoroughly uncomfortable night, so much so that he had to resort to sitting on the bed instead of laying down.
Already in a prickly mood, being greeted with the Vampire's soft spoken apologies and nervous visage first thing in the morning only served to add kindling to his anger.
Dulce blinked, he hadn't once considered that. Gauging strength only mattered to those who cared to fight. "N-Not at all," He scrambled to remedy his misspoken words.
Kath'tan's expression only darkened further because anyone could tell at first glance that the recreant had every advantage. He stepped back and shut the door, stomping back to the bed to wait for daylight so they could resume their journey.
Anger was second nature to Fiends, so he didn't have to question his anger, yet he found himself wondering why he cared for the Vampire's opinion, which only served to enrage him further.
On the other side of the door, Dulce stood in confusion, but it was only for a moment before he wandered to the other side of his room, absently knocking on the door.
Whenever Kath'tan was in a sour mood, the Demon either went off to be by himself or took it out on him, he absently touched his neck... he hoped there would be no blood, a bloodied shirt would stand out far too much.
Asael opened the door while he was absentminded, the Shadow Demon's sharp gaze dropped to the Vampire's neck, his attention drawn there by his pale fingers. "Did Kath'tan wring your neck?" He asked, an indecipherable tone in his voice.
Dulce winced, had his thoughts been that obvious? "Not at all. I wanted to check in on you... to... to make sure no one was dead."
"Not yet." Asael's response was quiet.
"Then I'll take my leave, we'll soon resume our journey." Dulce mumbled to himself as he walked back to his room.
Asael watched the Vampire dazedly wander off, a second door opening after he opened his. He glanced past flowing, pale hair to see Kath'tan partly step out of his room at the same time that the Vampire stepped into his.
Gray eyes met purple at the same time, Asael stepped back first. The more time he spent on this journey, the more open he was to being the disloyal, recreant, he was termed as.
He was a solo killer, not just as an assassin but also by virtue of his birth. Getting entangled with an undying Vampire who completely lacked self-preservation was beyond foolish, it was also dangerous.
Dawn came soon, the tavern on the ground floor was quiet, the guests at the table a mix of those who had spent the night drunk and early visitors eating a meal before beginning their day.
Their carriage awaited in front of the inn, Dulce leading the way so he could speak to the coachman. The barmaid from the night before stepped in his path, her healthy face flushed as she fiddled with something in her hands.
"Leaving so soon?" She asked softly, her avoidant gaze on the polished wooden floor. "Won't you like to have a quick breakfast before you leave?"
Kath'tan stepped forward before Dulce could politely turn her down, he bent low so he could get between them, staring the servant down. "You're in the way."
The barmaid caught a flash of purple eyes, a deep dread filling her bones. Her eyes went wide in terror, clutching the carefully embroidered napkin she had been about to offer to the good-looking gentleman to her chest.
She cowered to the side, stumbling and falling to the ground, still shellshocked, her face pale.
"I apolog-" Dulce was about to remedy the tense situation, only to be caught by his travel bag and practically carried out of the inn.
Asael walked behind, watching everything with flat eyes. A few more days and their unlikely party would have scattered, and in a few years, it would be a forgotten memory.
So he simply went to the other side of the carriage and got in, noting that this time the Fiend didn't throw the Vampire into the carriage. Asael never expended the energy to read into things that didn't involve paid missions, the personalities of his targets were meaningless to him, they were only useful dead.
The journey resumed with vigor, their sitting positions similar to the day before. By noon, they were already well on their way to the next town, the last town before Fairwyn.
It was more apt to call it a small city, more bustling than the previous two towns they had journeyed through. It was thus because they were approaching the capital.
Mistfall was a small country recently allied with Alderth to hunt down Vampires, and perhaps staying in the heart of the hunt was rather unwise, but fleeing the west was no better, and Dulce really couldn't afford to go on a lengthy journey, all of his wealth confiscated.
He sat in the carriage with his book, relieved to not be seated so close to the carriage windows. If Dewmire turned against him or became too dangerous to stay in, then he would keep heading west until he ended up in the east.
He hoped that wouldn't be the case, but eventually, in a decade, maybe two, the kindly shopkeep would start to notice that he wasn't aging. Then his propensity for seclusion would come under scrutiny, and by then, it was only a matter of time before the soldiers were at his cottage.
It would take at least half a century, or more, for the hubbub to die down. Maybe he could find an empty stretch of woods to build a little cottage. It wouldn't be dreadfully lonely because he would have his Hellhound for company.