Chapter 2: Afraid of the Lights of Hell

"Sebastian, why are we walking around the docks?" Nico asks me, and I sigh. We make for a queer picture. The richly dressed gentleman, and the street brat. I will fix this, but before that, I need to sate my thirst.

"I need to find you a father," my joke is lost on the boy. I can see it by the way he scoffs at me. Hm, I like the fact that he still has spirit left in him. Blind desperation did not do justice to such a small cherub of a boy.

And Nico is a cherub. He could have passed for my son, if he did not have olive skin. I wonder, then, if I will discover that I have taken a vampire under my wing, if I simply sip from his blood.

No, I shake my head. Children and small animals, apart from rats, are not on the menu. I must have standards. If not for myself, then for the humanity I still pretend to have.

Yet, I wonder, if I am left in a grave, with Nico, would I do my best to dig us out, or will I use his blood? I rather like to think that I will put his survival before mine, yet, well…

"Sebastian, we have passed through here. Are you lost?" Nico asks, breaking me out of my musings. I smile down at him.

"Not lost, my boy, shopping," I wink at him. I can see that he is still confused. These aisles, with their dockworkers, each one of them muscular, some of them even healthy, are a thing of the world of Moria.

I know, from the demon lord's memories, that dockworkers are an easy fare. Most of them want to fall in the hay, no matter with what. This world is in an eternal Dark Age.

 Yet, it is unlike the Dark Age of Earth. For one, men liking men won't get you stoned. I hear women enjoy the same luxury. Yet, the population still peeks. I wonder what the priests of Earth would have to say about that.

I am just about to let out another joke that will fly over little Nico's head when I see him. He is standing by the ship, but not making any effort to unload it. Perhaps, that is because he is missing a hand.

I smile at the boy, and then grip his hand a little tighter. Just because my company won't be making the man ill, it doesn't mean it won't be spurned. Nico still doesn't understand. Then again, he is yet to see my true self.

"Hello, sir. My name is Sebastian Leroux, and this is my son, Nico Leroux," I tell the man. He is tall, but not taller than me. His mane of red hair covers his eyes. But most of all, his sunken blue orbs tell a story of hunger, and more than a little flexibility. Just what does it say about me, that I am already salivating?

"Hello, my lord," he says, with a bow of his head. His eyes trail from me, to Nico. I don't believe he is buying the story, yet, he doesn't seem to speak up.

"Are you looking for a job, sir?" It didn't escape me, that he didn't introduce himself. I use my mana, to make myself more appealing. Nico sniffs the air. Hm, well, I guess I will have to give him the talk later.

As the ten-year-old Nico sniffs the air, the dockworker's eyes narrow.

"I don't want any trouble," he makes to leave, but I reach out, and grab his stump.

"And I am not bringing you any," I smile at him, showing off pearly whites. "I do offer a job, and a roof over your head. In the countryside."

"You don't look like the locals," the still nameless man says, but doesn't try to shake me off. "Do you have a plot of land, somewhere?"

"Do I? Well, yes and no. What are the going rates for a farmhouse with a plot of land attached to them, do you think? Maybe, 100 gold coins? I have that, and more," he is staring at my canines, his eyes narrowing, as he listens to me speak.

"Find other farmhands," he tells me, and finally shakes me off.

"You will find that this town will be your death. The ships are bringing in the catch of the day, and it is the Pale Horseman," I say, wanting to sound more dramatic, for some reason. The dockworker snorts.

"You speak flowery. I bet that you will find your bed mate soon enough," with that, he walks off. I follow him, with Nico still sniffing the air.

If the boy is even noticing that he is edging closer to me, practically hugging me, he doesn't seem to comment on it. I am more than a little disturbed, by what my powers can do. I turn them off, before Nico ends up one very scarred little boy.

"I was wondering when you were going to stop with that," the dockworker says, and I look at my boot clad feet in shame. I notice that he also wears boots. If you can call the stitched together wreck a boot.

Nico, on the other hand, is wearing sandals. His feet must be freezing.

"I am new in town. My son needs better clothes. If you help me get him everything, then I will pay you," if not a meal, then a guide. I am many things, but I still try to uphold the image of a hero.

Not that I have ever saved anyone, bar perhaps Nico.

"The boy does need better clothes. Just from whom did you steal him?" The dockworker asks, and I sigh.

"Must you accuse me so, sir? And you are yet to tell me your name," I press the issue, seeing as I might not have the chance to, later.

"Gaius," he shakes my hand, then, and begins to lead me to wider streets.

 I notice that there is tension in the air when we enter the market. For how long will this market be functioning, I wonder. Should I warn them of the death bringing ships?

 No, not now, not ever. Not my problem.