"They remain in a hovel on the first stratum. Not far from the main estate." The familiar butler stated when asked by his master.
The faint rumble of the Baron's steps, of my steps, echoed as we approached one of the countless bridges erected over the foaming Bloody Goblet.
This entire structure was huge.
The manor which I had become accustomed to; served at least two hundred people, possibly more if we included the servants. Now imagine a manor of that size, you would need at least a hundred times that square footage to cover this crater, to put a lid over the Goblet so to speak. That was only to cover a thin cross-section of this monstrous place.
The Goblet, this bloody well was much deeper. With the area and depth to which the blood filled, it wouldn't be wrong to call it an ocean of blood. One that had diminished as of recently...
Over the course of my stay here, I had been forced to recognise a few of its mechanisms.
For one...
This well of molten blood was separated in three main parts:
The Manor, that which housed every single practitioner and servant which we used for chores, household work and other menial tasks. This sat atop the crater looking down at the hovels and Goblet itself.
The stratums. These were designated levels with cordoned hovels. These hovels where... the meat... was to different specifications. The higher the stratum the more perfect the... cattle were. Each and every hovel on those levels would house a different family. Each and every one had been extensively researched by this place. They could trace back every single meal for several generations. In each of these stratums, apparently they were breeding them specifically... The different stratums, there were areas that focused on; tendons, blood, flesh, bone, so on and so on. They were selectively bred for that purpose. It was the single worst, most horrifying example of eugenics my mind could ever conjure. Truly it was sickening the efforts humans could go to, to make things even slightly more efficient. Those stratums cascaded down the ridiculously large well that was this Goblet. There were probably more than 100 levels from the top all the way to where the molten blood used to slosh around.
The final level, of course, was the actual Bloody Goblet. The namesake of this place. An incredibly deep hole that penetrated the centre of this crater and descended to an unspecified level. It must've been to an impressive degree, as the blood inside had turned molten and sloshed around.
Though, over the past few weeks, the amount in the well had diminished greatly. An effect of the blood washing the grounds outside.
Now that the tide had met those crimson waves, there was an ocean of red glass outside our doorstep. My only question was; how had they allowed the level of blood to lower so much? As the namesake of this place, I expected it to be always filled...
Perhaps they simply resupplied that deficiency...
...
I didn't even want to think about that.
It made me sick to my stomach. Seeing what was essentially the same as my kind, kept in holes like a ridiculously efficient rabbit farm. They were trapped in this system of burrows and told to make do. Picked for the slaughter at random occasions, soon enough they made their way onto a plate.
Half out of desperation to occupy myself with something else, and half from genuine interest, I turned to the silent old man once again.
"Why do you serve me?"
"Why, it's simple isn't it? You are the Baron, you are my lord. There is nothing but to serve when your lord appears before you, is there? Or perhaps you find my service to be abysmal?"
"No. Not so. You have done your part."
"I see. I am glad to be of use to Milord."
"Have you always served me?"
"Indeed."
"Hmm?"
"What is it Milord?"
"Always?"
"Yes, Milord. From the age I could distinguish right and left. By the time I could speak and walk, I have been your faithful servant."
...
What?
"There is no need for flattery. I expect a man to have other idols and passions when growing." I needled the older man.
"My only idol is the Bloody Baron, he who shall become the God of blood and flesh. I await the day you emerge from that cocoon and dye this world in red." For once a dangerous look developed in his eyes. A sinister glare that swept across the hovels, eventually resting upon the molten blood right below.
"That has been my path. I was raised in this very place for that very purpose. Just the same as any servant of the Baron and your Bloody Band. I take my loyalty and service to you very seriously, Milord." The same gentle face that was his defining feature returned.
Raised for that purpose...
My mind swelled and nausea grew, I could feel my breath heavy in my throat.
This place is completely maddening, the people as well. There's something just wrong about them.
My closest retainer. Was grown in one of these hovels himself...? He was probably close to fifty years old, when examining his sagely but haggard features. How many years had this man been trained as a retainer to a person that butchered the only people he knew? How long did he continue to serve whilst his family and friends were eaten in front of him?
At the end of all that... I was his idol?
It was insane, utterly unbelievable. The shock and anger must've warped his mind over the countless years he had been forced into this position. There's no other possible route.
He was a powerless single human with no position of authority or say in the matter. He rationalized that thought process so he could continue to survive, that's all it was. Nothing more. The same way that I'm rationalizing eating human flesh.
I need it to survive.
There's no point to starving myself, someone else will eat the meal if I disappear.
I can't cast power aside, the second strongest would kill me to claim their ruling.
When you were trapped in hell, there was no other option than to justify your inhumane actions so that you weren't the same as the demons that surrounded you.
But the truth is; we are all the same.
"We've arrived, Milord."
I would have to look upon those children's faces, after living with them for a time, and still commit to eating every last morsel.