Renoir sat on his balcony, listening as Fluttershy filled him in on Equestria's vampires of yore. The number of mistakes the vampire ponies made was laughable, the sort of thing that would have brought his family crashing upon them within a week. For one, they were easily identifiable, and functioned almost exactly like Cyrodiilic vampires; their coats were all pale shades of whatever it had been before they turned and their eyes were various shades of red, varying from pink to deep crimson. They were stronger and faster than their mortal counterparts, and the unicorns possessed more powerful magics, but they were not without their fair share of weaknesses.

“They burned up in direct sunlight unless they wore heavy clothes,” Fluttershy recounted, her voice filled with childhood fears. Other fillies at flight camp had told her the stories, and her parents explained they were just tall tales. Then she met Renoir and those words came crashing down. “And they got really weak if they didn't drink enough blood.”

“That's the opposite of Tamriellic vampires,” He replied, taking a sip from a small flask. Unlike werewolves, vampires were not entirely immune to alcohol's inebriating effects, despite it technically being a poison. He chuckled a bit as he recalled the experiments he performed with Reman on the subject and the information they pulled. They had opposite resistances to intoxicants; he could get drunk, but drinking skooma and smoking moonsugar did nothing. They caused Reman to transform and hallucinate. “We get stronger the longer we go without feeding, but the sun hurts us more.”

“But you didn't burn up earlier.” Fluttershy looked at him strangely, scrunching her nose up at the liquor's odor. Renoir noticed and laughed, but said nothing about it. Truthfully, she didn't care for drinking in excess like some ponies, but she wasn't going to complain to her new friend.

“No, but sunlight weakens me, and fire magic burns me more than most.” He tilted the flask to her, but she kindly shook her head and refused. He shrugged and took another drink; he only figured he'd ask. They sat in silence for a while, looking out at Canterlot. Renoir was amazed at its lights, which obviously weren't torches or candles on top of posts. Next to him, he heard Fluttershy's breath hitch a bit, then return to normal. He looked over at her briefly, and noticed she seemed to be pondering something. “Something on your mind?”

“Um, does it, um, hurt?” She asked, pointing a hoof at her own mouth. The vampire in question raised a brow, a smiled rapidly forming on his face. “When you bite somepony, I mean.”

“Not as much as you'd think,” He truthfully replied. He didn't actually remember if being bitten hurt when that vampire infected him, but Reman never complained any of those time he helped him out. Perhaps he wasn't the best subject. “Probably just like two needle pricks.”

“Oh; I figured it would hurt a lot.” Fluttershy averted her eyes, but kept glancing back at him. It may have been the alcohol talking, but Renoir thought she may have been propositioning him. It was odd; he'd never had anyone offer their assistance in something so... unusual. He gave her a skeptical look. In response, she shrunk a little, now looking directly at him. “W-well, it's just you seemed so, um, uncomfortable, s-so I thought I could h-help.”

“You're too nice for your own good.” Renoir resisted the urge to laugh at her, understanding that everything she said was out of goodwill, a genuine desire to aid him. He wasn't even sure he would receive any sort of benefit from feeding on her; men and mer were a vampire's diet, and while he could receive sustenance from regular food, it did nothing to sate him. “But I can see you're having a few doubts.”

Much to his surprise, both of her fore hooves dove forward and squeezed around the flask. In a flash, she raised it to her muzzle and started chugging. Renoir did not intervene, too enraptured by the sight. Part of him wanted to see what she was like with half a flask of hard liquor in her system; another half wanted to see her realize how deep a hole she had dug for herself, which would probably be a moment before she relieved her stomach of its contents. When her body realized what went into making that specific batch, she'd almost certainly have a reaction.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“So, that was the stallion you tried to get me to sleep with?” Reman asked, sliding into bed. Celestia had been kind enough to set the pair up with a diplomat suite overlooking the east courtyard. Personally, he would have preferred his old cell; he didn't want to spoil himself on luxuries, but he supposed it would happen eventually, especially once word spread of Glade's pregnancy. Speaking of such, Celestia would speak to them about what Luna told her was something important, which it was.

“Well, I didn't mean it.” Glade looked up from the saddlebags she was busy unpacking, a flat look on her face. She really hadn't meant it; for some odd reason, the idea of Reman even looking at somepony else made a nerve twitch somewhere in her head. It must have had something to do with being a werewolf, like actual wolves mating for life or something. “So, uh, what are we gonna do about Hircine?”

“Probably nothing,” Reman replied, shrugging his shoulders. Truthfully, now that he'd had time to settle down, he didn't really care if Hircine's Aspect of Guile was stuck in one place, encased in stone. More than that, he was glad to finally settle for a moment, even if it forced his mind to wander. To alleviate this, he stuck his nose back into Mannimarco's notes, using the dark arcana to occupy his time. “We have other things to worry about right now.”

“Like making sure Celestia doesn't offend anypony?” Glade asked, plopping down on the bed, unsure of what could really go wrong. From what she knew, Imperials weren't that easy to offend; one almost had to directly insult them to rile them. But, she supposed that was exactly what the princess was hoping to avoid, especially in such a formal setting. She rose and crawled next to Reman, resting her head on his shoulder. She couldn't understand a word in that book, but the anatomical diagrams were freaky enough to get her mind off Equestria's next political nightmare. “What's that? It looks like Frankensty's monster.”

“A skaab,” He answered quickly. The specific diagram was detailed to the extreme, on par with most medical texts, but sent a wave of uneasiness through anyone who didn't know exactly what it was for. The effect was probably due to the suture lines detailed over what was labeled a cadaver, and it certainly wasn't an autopsy. “It's a zombie pieced together from multiple corpses.”

“That's disgusting.” From what little she knew about magic, Glade still thought it made more sense to just summon things up instead of reanimate the dead. If not that, why not just use one corpse? It seemed so much easier than sewing a bunch of bodies together. “It's ugly, too.”

“Well, it's designed for durability, not looks; besides, they don't get stuck in places very easily.” Reman seemed to have poured over that section for a good while, and she could see his reasoning. Zombies weren't smart, at least not in the movies Glade had seen, so they probably couldn't follow anything beyond basic direction, let alone evade danger, and the stitched abomination seemed to do that quite nicely. If it got a leg stuck in a hole, a skaab could just rip it off and keep going; a zombie couldn't do that because it had too much meat around the joints and such because everything's connected by tendons and ligaments. “Besides, you can sew armor plates into them.”

Glade just rolled her eyes and nuzzled into his neck. As nice as it was to see him occupied with something other than keeping everypony alive and out of danger, it was creepy as hell that he was spending his free time looking at dead bodies, but as long as he didn't start killing ponies just to resurrect them, she wasn't going to blow the whistle on him. Equestria, for obvious reasons, had laws against necromancy, stemming back to the actions of King Sombra if anything Springs told her about magical law was to be believed. She wondered if Celestia knew about Reman's black magic, and if he happened to have taught Twilight any of it.

Just about everything in the book seemed creepy, evil, sadistic, or some combination of the three, and she was deeply uncomfortable seeing it. She couldn't just ask Reman not to read around her; it was his only way of occupying himself while everything settling for the time being. An idea formed in her mind, a rather devious one, but equally beneficial for both parties involved. He couldn't read that terrible tome if he was busy with something else, somepony else. If he couldn't ask her, then she would ask him.

“So, Reman, feel like fooling around?”

Summer Glade, one; creepy book, zero.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

Renoir held back Fluttershy's mane as she vomited into what she had called a toilet, which was some sort of indoor outhouse, complete with a connection to the sewers beneath Canterlot. He hardly had time to ponder the fortune he could make selling the idea to the Empire; the yellow pony he held took priority. She kept apologizing between bouts of nausea, somehow still filling the bowl with more of her stomach's previous cargo, even though she had been at this for a few minutes. That liquor had been a very special distillation, one Reman had helped concoct. It was potent enough to completely bypass vampiric poison resistance, but was rather difficult to make.

It was fortunate Fluttershy's body turned it back when it did; what little she must have absorbed would be enough to keep her plastered the entire night, and leave one wicked hangover in the morning. “I just wanted to he-” She began, but was cut off by another lurch, though no sound followed. She dry heaved for a few seconds, before her body started calming down. Fluttershy coughed for a bit, then started panting to catch her breath. “It's just, you said I was too nervous, so I tried to calm down.”

“Fluttershy, if you hadn't thrown up, that would have almost certainly killed you.” Renoir's words made her shrink back, or at least attempt to. He still kept her hovering above the toilet, just in case she had another attack. “While I appreciate the gesture, quenching a thirst that never goes away isn't worth risking your life over.”

“What was that,” She lurched once more, but settled without notice, “stuff, anyway?”

“Reman and I call it Angelus Sanguinum, if you feel like using fancy Cyrodiilic.” Renoir knew precisely why the liquor, which was more of a poison than anything else, was called such an odd name. Elf blood, and it didn't matter which elf one used, was added and refined during the distillation process; that particular batch used Flamer blood, the very same Falmer that interrupted the first meal Renoir shared with the ponies. “By the way, you probably absorbed some into your bloodstream, so it should hit you in a little bit.”

“Then how am I supposed to get to Twilight's room?”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

Princess Celestia walked through the halls of Castle Canterlot, in good spirits for the first time in a month. To be honest, there was one thing still nagging at the corner of her mind, something she felt needed to be cleared up, other than Hircine being frozen in stone for some reason. She hadn't had a chance to speak with Reman and Glade about whatever they needed to tell her; they seemed too tired from the journey to do anything other than reach their room. Those two seemed to have gotten closer in their time together, a thought that brought a smile to Celestia's face.

Twilight was in Canterlot, and her family, Shining Armor and Cadence included, would be there in the morning, shortly after breakfast. She wouldn't see them all at once; too much happiness might cause her some guilt over cutting somepony's life short. But at least Fluttershy would be staying in Canterlot for a while as well, so she had a friend around. The Element of Kindness also seemed to be friends, or at least friendly, with Renoir, the suicidal vampire. Celestia sighed and shook her head.

“Come on; tell me where Twilight is,” Renoir's voice came from up the corridor. He came into view, back turned to Celestia. Fluttershy's pink mane and tail were visible as he stood in the hall; he must have been carrying her. She resisted the urge to call to him and ask his business, deciding instead to see what they were up to.

“She's in the castle, silly!” Fluttershy sounded... off, somehow, a little too jovial. Her voice was slurred and she seemed serious when saying something so obvious. The princess's face went flat as she realized her little pony was drunk off her ass.

“I knew that much, but where in the castle is she?”

“In her room; where else would she be at bedtime?” Celestia resisted the urge to laugh, and instead started walking towards the two. Renoir turned and looked at her like a defeated parent, holding Fluttershy out to her like she was there to relieve him. She'd inquire why she was drunk after she was dropped of with Twilight, but for now there were more pressing matters.