Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow. The harvest of hay was going smoothly, and if the weather held, they could be done by the end of the sennight. Even if a spot of rain rolled by, they would be able to rescue more than enough of the remaining grass.

He watched as Jack, freed of his final chores, eagerly took turns slinging stones at a boulder with some of the neighboring lads. Agnes denied it, but Thomas could hear their son's voice starting to change, and though the boy hid it, his appetite was becoming nothing short of voracious. There was no mistaking it: his son was soon to become a man.

Thomas watched fondly for another moment, reminiscing of his own days of tossing stones, before he turned and continued towards the fields. After a day of backbreaking work under the sun, tending to the livestock was a wonderful reprieve. With a pail in one hand and a stool in the other, he strode into the pen to greet the cattle.

The tabby farm cat glared at him from atop a fencepost for daring to intrude upon its hunting grounds, and Thomas shooed it away. The kids had taken to calling it Gil, short for Gilbert, as though the savage little beast was capable of anything but hostility. Where it not for the cat's skill in hunting vermin, he would have chased it away long ago.

Thomas rattled his pail at the two cows and they lazily wandered over. He patted the flank of the nearest one, which eyed him with disinterest before flicking its ears and lowering its head to pick at the grass. Setting the pail aside, he sat down heavily on the stool and leaned against its flank. He rolled up his sleeves and set to work.

It was relaxing. As a child, he had abhorred being assigned the chore, but now he found that it soothed him. The shhm-shhm of the milk slowly filling the pail was something easy to focus on. His calloused hands squeezed the udders with practiced ease.

Squeeze-release. Squeeze-release. Squeeze-release.

Thomas glanced over at the barn and spotted the cat toying with a mouse. From where he was, he could hear the squeaking as the cat set its claws upon the vermin, doing the difficult job of keeping their grain safe from pests. He grunted begrudgingly in respect. With even the cat working so hard, he couldn't afford to slack either. Thomas redoubled his efforts.

Squeeze-release. Squeeze-release. Squeeze-release.

Before he knew it, he had finished milking this cow dry. Thomas rose to stretch his limbs before moving the pail and stool over to the other cow, beginning the process anew.

Squeeze-release. Squeeze-release. Squeeze-release.

Engrossed as he was in his work, Thomas only noticed the approach of his wife once she was within a few paces of him. He looked up at her and smiled, hands still deftly squeezing milk from the cow even as his attention left it. Agnes returned a dazzling smile as well.

"Hello, dear," she beamed. "The pottage is almost finished, and supper will be ready quite soon. Call Jack back here once you're done."

"Good to hear," Thomas smiled back. "I will soon be done. Although, if you are here, then who is watching the pot?"

"Little Clara," she replied. "She's still a mite weak to be cooking, but she is most eager and receptive, so I have had her watch me prepare meals. I have high hopes for our daughter."

Thomas nodded his understanding and returned to his labor. Soon, he was squeezing the last strippings of milk into the pail. With a quick kiss, the handed the pail off to his wife, who carried it back to begin straining. With a smile on his lips, he whistled at his son in the distance, who waved back in acknowledgement. The boy slung one last stone and bid the other lads farewell before jogging his way back.

The weather was fair, the crops were good, and his family was fed.

Life was good.

~~~~~~~~~

Vane wiped the blood from his lips. Almost half a year of meticulous preparation had payed off today, and he stepped over the drained body to properly admire the study he was in. It was positively luxurious. Rich, lacquered wood. Ornately decorated leather. Exotic curios. The fool on the floor had spared no expense.

This was what he had been working towards. Ever since he had been blessed, he had been fighting for it. Not just the table scraps of someone who had simply been around longer, but something substantial. Something real.

And now, it was his.

Vane looked out of the massive glass windows, staring at the sprawling landscape and basking in the moonlight shining down on it all. The deed had been done, and the world still turned, quietly oblivious. But none of it was the same. Now, he looked down at all those below, who hadn't the strength or the courage to rise above. Now, he was no longer one of them.

On a whim, he sauntered over to the crystal cabinet by the far wall and threw it open, marveling at the selection of spirits within. He grabbed an expensive-looking bottle and a tall, stemmed glass, filling it to the brim. A proper drink, to celebrate the occasion.

For the first time in far too long, the taste of real wine danced across his tongue, and Vane sighed in satisfaction. This was what he had been missing. Perhaps it was a fine vintage, perhaps it was not. It hardly mattered. He downed another swig.

All of a sudden, an uninvited memory crossed his mind, bursting forth from the exquisite flavor of the alcohol. He knew had once drunk a wine like this before. But when? Certainly not after he had been reborn. Try as he might, Vane remembered little of his past life, but he knew that he had been weak and helpless in those final moments before he had been remade. Good riddance. He had seen humans plenty of times since. Had he really once been such a lowly creature?

His turning, too, was hazy, but the hunger that followed was unforgettable. The thirst, the desire, the impossibly powerful compulsion that he could not even understand until he had found his hands moving of their own accord. How fortunate he had been to have had three meals right there, waiting for him! And it was good that there had been so many, too, for the first had been pitifully small, serving to little more than whet his appetite, and the second had been barely any larger. With every one he had drained, the memories became clearer, and he could almost remember the third. A human, he recalled, and though he could not remember the words on her lips or the expression on her face, he remembered that she was beautiful. Something to be cherished. He had taken his time with her.

Vane decided not to dwell on the past. Reminiscing of how his sire had named him or his first sprint through the night would not make his path forward any clearer or draw his goals any nearer. He had gotten this far, and that was proof enough that he could go even further. With the first foothold firmly in his grasp, he could now heave himself upward and reach for even greater heights. Already, plans were forming in his mind. If the overseer of House Vargas was wise, then he would cease to ignore the new power rising under his nose, and if he wasn't, then he would make a fine stepping stone. After that, it was only a matter of ingratiating himself to the right people and doing away with the rest. And from there? Anything was possible if he could make a lord of himself. Yes, this was just the beginning.

Vane sipped at his drink.

Life was good.

~~~~~~~~~

The adherent wiped the blood from his brow. The expansion of the stables and construction of additional pens was going well. At the current rate, they would be done before the week was out.

He watched as an initiate finished drinking and hurried to catch up with his team. This batch was especially eager to please, and he knew that they would likely pass their trial and become adherents. Well, most of them.

The adherent watched for another moment, thinking back to his own days as an initiate. Filled with doubts, he had been determined to resist, but the Prince had shown him how wrong he had been. the adherent shook his head at his past foolishness before turning and heading deeper into the pens. After a day of cooking up feed for them, it was good to actually tend to the livestock. With a needle in one hand and a stool in the other, he strode towards the furthest pen of the block he managed, greeting the cattle as he went.

An exemplar deigned to glance at him as he passed, and the adherent bowed his head low in reverence. These were those devoted brothers and sisters whose loyalty had been recognized and rewarded. They were what the Princess encouraged each and every one of them to aspire to.

The adherent arrived at the first pen and tapped at the bars until the human crawled over. He patted it on the shoulder while it stared blankly at the stone floor. Pulling over the cart of emptied flasks that another stable hand had delivered, he sat down lightly on the stool just outside the pen. He rolled up his sleeves and set to work.

It was relaxing. Before the Order found him, he could not have imagined doing such lowly labor, but now he found that he was strangely drawn to the oddly soothing work. The smooth flow of blood slowly filling the flask was something easy to focus on. His scarred hands plunged in the needle with practiced ease. As soon as the flask was filled, he moved on to the next pen.

Stab. Drain. Remove.

The adherent glanced over at the holding cells and spotted the exemplar strapping down a captured enemy of the Order. From where he was, he could hear the screaming as the exemplar set to work, doing the difficult job needed to keep all their brothers and sisters safe. For that alone, the adherent was filled with nothing but the deepest respect. He couldn't afford to slack either. The adherent redoubled his efforts.

Stab. Drain. Remove.

Before he knew it, he had finished draining the entire block of pens. The adherent rose to stretch his limbs before pushing the cart over to the next block, beginning the process anew.

Stab. Drain. Remove.

Engrossed as he was in his work, the adherent only noticed the approach of a sister once she was within a few paces of him. He looked up at her and smiled, hands still deftly draining blood from the human even as his attention left it. The other stable hand returned a dazzling smile as well.

"Greetings, brother," she beamed. "The batch of fodder we are preparing shall be ready soon, and our clave shall dine together while the initiates feed the cattle. Call the others when you are finished."

"Wondrous news," the adherent smiled back. "I will soon be done. Although, if you are here, then who is watching the pot?"

"An initiate," she replied. "Though new to the ways of the Order, she is most eager and receptive and has been assigned to learn directly from us. I have high hopes for this sister."

The adherent nodded his understanding and returned to his labor. Soon, he was filling the last flask on the cart. He had completed his task, and thus fulfilled his purpose. He handed the cart off to the sister and stood, stretching. With a smile on his lips, he sounded the whistle to recall the brothers and sisters of his clave so that they might all dine together. Here, he had found his family again. At long last, the prodigal son had returned home.

Life was good.