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The benefits of being human was that he could do a lot of things which his master couldn’t. The example being, in this case, that he could go out in the daylight.
Myrnin was, to the best of his knowledge, twenty at this point. Completely unaware of the fate that awaited him just a few short years away … or at least he wished that was the case. The length of time stretched ahead of him after that. For now, he focused on the task set to him. Long ago, he had already learned it foolhardy to try and run from Gwion, no matter the season or height of the sun. He’d made it as far as the next town once, but no one would assist him. He was, by definition, a doomed man. And whether they knew his master’s nature or not, they knew well enough not to help him. Completing the task, possibly with the time to himself, was as much as he could take.
Sometimes he could meet Amelie. She was a couple years younger than him - maybe as much as three - but her father was a vampire of a few years and enough power to catch Gwion’s notice. Whether Gwion was the cause of “Bishop’s”, as he liked to call himself, change or not, Myrnin didn’t know. Hardly in her mid-teens teens, Amelie was intelligent and in much the same position as him. Both had a master - blood-father in whatever way that counted - that they wished to be shed of. Sometimes they could excuse themselves for long enough to meet, making useless plots which they knew would get nowhere.
For lack of a better term, they were friends. If only because they had a common cause and no other allies that they could trust.
At least in this case, he could see her. Vent about the latest hard winter. It had been almost two years since they’d had a chance to meet and he was glad the sun was still high overhead. He wanted to avoid any chance that Bishop would be along for the ride. The town he had traveled to, by horse and boat, was larger than the one near his Master’s. Large enough that he hoped it would discourage Gwion from trying to track him if he was late to return by a week or so.
Amelie found him, her cloak pulled tight around her neck, but head free, allowing her white-blond hair to fall around her shoulders. Other men may have found her pretty, in a Greek statue sort of way, but Myrnin couldn’t see her that way. She looked grim, but greeted him in his familiar language. It was harsher in her tongue than his was to French, but he made no protest. “I may only stay a day to talk, Myrnin.”
They both pushed their way along, working on Myrnin’s line of errands, and though they talked they kept their voices hushed. It was neither Gwion’s or Bishop’s territory, but they didn’t risk that there were other ears trained on them. Amelie allowed Myrnin to talk first, as she always did. For the most extents, he complained. But finally, he expressed his concern of the next coming winter. The sun was already beginning to sink too soon below the horizon. It would be getting colder before he knew. He and Gwion had almost been snowed in this winter. He worried for his safety and life, though whether he concerned himself for the winter or his master he knew not.
It was here that Amelie finally admitted why she had looked tenser and more resigned than usual.
“You are aware I have an older sister,” she said to Myrnin, blunt and bitter. Myrnin had heard of Naomi, four years senior to Amelie and unmarried. He nodded his head.
“My father has ordained it best to change her now she is deemed mature enough.”
Her words were clipped, uncaring to any who didn’t know her. “Apparently he believes children younger than that are less likely to survive the change. Though I do not know how he knows this.”
Myrnin sensed the worry there as well.
“And how did she fair?” he asked, wary. The knowledge of how a human became a night-creature was known to them both. It wasn’t a well-kept secret. They two would be the ones to make it such, but that was far in their future.
Amelie shrugged, the only sign she had heard.
“As well as father,” she answered, a good five minutes later.
“And do you worry for yourself?” questioned Myrnin finally.
There was another long wait before Amelie shook her head. “I do not fear. I know he will change me. Soon. There is nothing to be done of that. What of you, Myrnin?” She looked at the fading daylight above the buildings. “These are the last years of daylight for both of us, are they not?”
Myrnin stuffed what Gwion had requested into his satchel. His lips were a thin line. He knew Amelie was right. He turned his head upward, looking at the scattering of clouds. The warmth of the sun against his face, then he looked down again. He didn’t reassure Amelie. There was nothing to reassure her for. But he nodded. He, unlike her, might simply be facing an open grave. But he accepted that he at least had the little princess on his side. “I understand,” he said with a sigh.