The summonings had ceased a few hours ago. Maybe he was out of turn rushing to the origins of such a powerful calling, yet he had to attend his Master's will.
His superior officer had relayed instructions after too long a consideration to Demian, and that was the reason he was not dispatched at the very moment of hearing the summonings upon the Winds. It was always thus. The Blood Knight was usually given the lowest of tasks, not as consequence of poor skill or lacking proper manners, but simply as a remainder that, while promising as a Knight, he was relatively new to the Order, but more importantly, not sired within their ranks.
Yet for all the trouble he went to further his station, Demian did not care to be the one sent to execute the survivors of an assault, or bathe his blade in the blood of the meek that could do nothing to escape the horrors of whatever battle they cowered from. He gladly took their lives with honor, giving voice to the higher fate they would now share, for they would leave this world as warriors; the young vampire carrying their souls with him intimately, until the end of times.
Given his disposition, however, this was the first time Demian was set loose upon the world after joining the Brotherhood. A strange but well earned task, to act as an emissary of the Blood Keep, to a being powerful enough to voice a summoning that even the Brotherhood would consider attending. Gaining the honor of carrying a banner of his own, a flag to recognize him as a trusted member of the Blood Dragons, Demian rode with haste to meet his commanded duty.
His Barded Nightmare strode relentlessly throughout the wilderness, needing neither sustenance nor respite, the young Blood Knight made effort to reach his intended destination, but the summonings grew weaker and weaker still, and it was hard for him to keep proper track of their origin. He was burdened with both banner and lance, those which he usually did not travel with, for he favored his swords and ground fighting than atop a steed, with a shield. Yet he acted as emissary now, and his reflection that of his knightly order.
He rode with haste, and was rewarded for his perseverance...
...
The landscape was of that of a great battle! Many lay dead upon entering the great city, where the fire yet burned as testament of a great invasion. Demian saw the toll of what such venture had caused and, for a moment, was stricken with a hint of grief, for many of the fallen were not warriors, but civilians, and their blood staining the streets with red meant their hearts once beat with ease, contrary to what he was expecting meeting with a fellow undead.
His orders were to present himself to Lord Sanai Morden, Lord of the Night, but the young Demian did not expect him to rule over such a peaceful mortal city. The Blood Knight strode amongst the ruins, catching glimpse of horror and death, his cold heart moved to give voice to respectful prayer, not to a god but to the fallen. A good thing his brothers were not there to frown upon such lowly act of kindess.
But he could not linger in the aftermath of a battle he himself was not into. He had to do as commanded. Demian first thought to head towards the Tower, the only building apparently unscathed by calamity of war, yet his senses swiftly alerted him of the presence of a gathering, nearby. The summonings were gone, but the flow from which they spawned came from such a place, and thus, with little time to waste, the Blood Knight rode to his destination.
The flag of the Blood Keep high upon his standard, the crimson Knight appeared at the distance, allowing everyone present to lay eyes upon the newcomer, as a sign of respect. When he neared the gathering, the Knight dismounted and removed his helmet, allowing everyone to see the face of the undead monster. His dark-brown eyes, trained in the ways of diplomacy and proper maners gave a salute before the vampire himself gave voice, a true reverence to the figure he sensed was the one in command.
- Greetings, Lord Sanai Morden of Callistaire, I am Demian Ruthven, Knight of the Blood Dragons. The Blood Keep sends its assistance in the form of myself, to answer the summonings. - then, the young vampire offered a parchment to the Count, containing his orders, written perhaps, by Wallach Harkon himself. The Blood Knight did not know. But the phrasing of his introduction was not his, as he was commanded by his Master to be spoken with exact tone, with emphasys in "answering the summonings". Again, Demian did not know the meaning of the gesture, but it was thusly given, as commanded.
Only after the Lord of that land had given permission would Demian relent his salute and allow himself to gaze upon the ones gathered there, their forms and impressions. He was somewhat stranger to vampiric aristocracy, for his labor only carried him into the fields of battle, but not as much as into courts. As a final thing for all to notice, the young vampire pronounced his last name differently than his own name, adding no title save for that of a Knight.
He awaited reply...