Lucian

The evening air of the Waldensian Plain was permeated with the scent of manure, spices, and a strange celebration. I stood by the inn window, absentmindedly rubbing my temple. The engagement negotiations had gone exactly as I expected—humiliating, boring, and left me feeling like I was being bought along with the peace treaty. Some princess with a pale face and empty eyes. I didn't even remember her name.

From below, in the market square, came the noise. Drums. Shouts. Laughter. At first, I wanted to order the guards to disperse this rabble—the migraine after a daytime nap in a closed carriage was unbearable. But something in the rhythm of the drums made me freeze. It resembled a heartbeat.
I descended and stopped at the edge of the circle, pulling the hood of my cloak lower. And I saw her.

Fire. She twirled it around herself like a tame animal. Two balls on chains, soaked in oil, traced fiery circles in the twilight.
The crowd gasped. And I stood there, feeling something tightening in my dead chest. Hunger? Yes. But more than that. Envy. She was dancing with something that could kill her at any moment, and in that moment she was indecently alive. I hadn't felt this alive in ten years.

I waited until the end and approached silently, as only vampires and court intriguers can. I stopped two steps away, allowing her to notice my presence first, pulled the glove off my right hand, and offered her my flask of water. A gesture calculated to gain her trust.

"Impressive"
My voice sounded quiet, almost intimate against the backdrop of the dying bazaar.

"I've seen a lot in my travels, but your dance with death is something special."

“My name is Lucian Noctis. I have an estate north of here, in Arcadia. And I’m… bored. Your art could alleviate this boredom. I offer you and your troupe a contract. A generous one. A roof over your heads, food, decent pay, and the freedom to perform—but for me. What do you say? I’m in no hurry. My cortege departs the day after tomorrow at dawn.”