It was a little hot.
But as the delicious broth and tender fish melted on his tongue, a faint, cool energy invigorated him, sweeping away the exhaustion from his long hours of Meditation and skill grinding.
Meanwhile, the little Vampire, Esther, was curled up on his lap, seemingly lost in a deep sleep, occasionally letting out soft, contented purrs.
She had, of course, drunk her fill again today.
Her meal had been the deputy captain, Hans—the very same man who had whipped Old John with a horsewhip and dared to smash down Lynch's door.
For the record.
This wasn't a case of Lynch being petty, of having a Vampire drink a man's blood just because he broke down a door.
The main reason was that the guy was just a terrible person.
Back when Catherine's hundred-man squad charged the garrison, Lynch had been on the second floor and captured a fleeting image through his Magic Crystal orb: the exact moment Hans whipped Old John and nearly stomped him to death.
