It Belongs to a Museum

"...and, it was at that very spot underneath the mast, that Harkon rammed a spear through that elven pirate-prince's throat, pushed him down against the swaying deck, and wrenched his head off!" Fjolnir, ancient vampire pirate and more importantly the Vampire Coast's best skald, dramatically flourished his hands at the Tilean merchants. They'd been nervous when they entered the museum, eyes constantly darting to his fangs like rabbits cowering before a wolf, but as his tour has continued they had become increasingly engrossed. Now, their shining eyes saw only the saga he wove, surely as if they'd been enchanted.

Fjolnir grinned. The sight was sweeter than any blood. "Blood poured down like the storming rain! Thunder cracked and the elves prayed that it was their gods come to smite Harkon for his blasphemy! But he only raised his conquest's head up high and cried out that he'd meet any who dared challenge him, the new rightful Prince of the coast, in glorious battle!"

The merchants stared, tense with anticipation. Fjolnir let the silence stretch out, out, until one of them finally raised his voice to ask - "and then what?"

Fjolnir clapped his hands together, too fast for human eyes to follow, like the thunder that day. "They bowed to their new prince. Two to one, a battle I feared was lost as I cut my own leg off to escape their sea beasts, and they yielded!" A moment to let it sink in. "For, they saw that the bloodthirst within Luthor Harkon was simply too great for them to battle!"

The merchants looked suitably impressed. It was a good tale. One of the very best Fjolnir had, and he didn't even need to exaggerate it all that much!

He took the opportunity to start showing them all the other brilliant features of the Dread Abyssal that were served it well in those exciting bloody early days of Harkon's conquest. The replica flag that he'd flown in his early days which was an honestly lazy alteration of his flagship's original flag, the spot on the deck where Black Jens had nearly died after taking a blow for Harkon, the planks in the hull which still showed the faint scars of being torn at by a gigantic squid…

Each and every detail was both part of an epic skald and of Fjolnir's own history that raised him up from a purposeless oarsman to a vampire warrior.

And now, the second curator of Harkon's new museum, alongside his immortal former mentor.

He couldn't suppress a happy smile as he showed the guests the exhibit that he and Pahtsekhen had designed together. He'd thought that things were going well for him before, but now, officially told that he was the one that the Pirate King Luthor Harkon was trusting to turn his tale into one that would awe the whole world?

There was nothing a skald could wish for more.

When his tour was done and the museum finally closed for the night, Fjolnir returned to the museum's private quarters with a satisfied slink. Oh, he expected that the merchants would look at all his stories with cynical doubt after a night's sleep. That was just the way of merchants. But their hearts, oh, their hearts would still remember the beauty of his tales.

The museum's curator, Pahtsekhen, was reading some book about Lizardmen artifacts in the break room, so absorbed he didn't even breathe. The priest was a fun sort of person, which was to say flighty and prone to chasing down whatever seemed interesting at the moment. He wasn't the best manager… but more importantly he had a talent for getting into new and exciting kinds of trouble.

"New Lustria exhibit coming up?"

"That's my plan."

"Then, are we heading in ourselves?" Fjolnir grinned. He'd been on his share of expeditions before. Nothing beat the boredom of immortality like plunging into that mysterious continent.

"Mayhaps," Pahtsekhen said. He closed the book. "But first, young Princess Aelsabrim finally accepted my invitation to visit the museum, so I mean to give her a personal tour."

Case in point.

"Well." Fjolnir grinned widely. "I'll have to bring out my very best outfits and songs, then!"

How exciting! How wonderful! Even after all his centuries of existence, Fjolnir had never had the pleasure of entertaining an elven princess before!

It would be a night to remember even for immortals.