I'm updating again because …. well because I feel like it! This little chapter is just so you don't forget about Standislav and his lovely, leading lady: Radka. To the people who reviewed, thank you, and here are somemore personal responses.

Princess Airiana: You are right, she's accepted it, but she's not that crazy about it. She's holding a serious grudge against her sister for being such a bitch. I'm glad you think Mayvn's mean. It's what I was going for. Right now, she's a cold, heartless bitch. She'll get nicer though.

Just To Be: Hooray for you! Glad you understood it! You win … something good.

Chapter 9: A Plan for Freedom

As the bright light of morning made its way into Lucinda's room, her ocean blue orbs snapped open as she heaved a sigh of relief. It had all been a dream. What terrified her more about that dream was not Mayvn's anger and wrath, but what had come over her afterwards. While it happened it felt as if her soul was being pushed out of her body to make way for something else, and it was horribly painful. She saw everything that happened, but was helpless to stop herself.

Dragging her exhausted form down to the kitchen, she was met by her family, all sitting rather quietly at the table. She quickly joined them before asking, "What is it?"

"Darling, Ira Grossinov was murdered last night. Remember the screams?" Mirella asked. For a moment, Lucinda was completely lost in what was real and what had been a dream. Nodding her head, she remembered what Mayvn had said, and things began to make more sense.

"How does that concern us?" she asked.

"Apparently most of the town knows about mom and dad trying to sell Mayvn to him," Standislav said in an accusing tone directed at his parents as well as Lucinda.

"And?" she asked, not being extremely quick witted like her siblings.

"And they know about the gold pieces, therefore we're the first people they suspect," her father explained.

"Damn," Lucinda muttered under her breath. From what Mayvn had said, Lucinda had a hunch as to who had murdered Ira. However she had a reputation to uphold and therefore accusing a dead person of murder was not a wise idea.

"Well this comes just in time for me to get a job," Standislav sighed.

"Oh, dear you're getting a job?" Mirella asked, slightly more alert.

"Good, a fine idea," Viktor said.

"Why the sudden need to work?" his mother asked. For a moment, Standislav contemplated telling the truth. However, he realized that his parents probably would not approve of him leaving to get an education, let alone saving up so he could support himself and Radka.

"I just thought some responsibility could be good for me," he said, taking another huge bite of bread to avoid further questioning.

"Well that's nice son," Viktor commented.

"Thank you father," Standislav managed with a very full mouth.

"And I'll be happy to set you up in Mr. Nevalainen's butcher shop," Viktor continued. Standislav froze for a moment, almost ready to go running out of his house, screaming. He managed to remain composed and slowly nodded his head. He had been hoping that he could get a job copying letters. He was one of the few people in the town who could write and so he thought he could put his rare skills to use. However, he thought, perhaps he could make more money working for a butcher. After all, the need for meat in Bucovina was greater than the need for literature.

Later that same day Viktor took Standislav over to see the town butcher. The shop was mostly wood, however there was some metal tables in the back room for preparing the meat, as well as a metal door for the meat locker. But the structure was still mostly wood, like the living quarters on the second floor. Standislav quietly stood to the side while his father negotiated thing with Boris Nevalainen. The two were chatting back and forth in a most guttural sounding rendition of Romanian. Standislav's Romanian was limited since his parents had wanted him to be fluent in English. However he could converse somewhat and did understand a lot of what they were saying.

"You do understand, Viktor, this is quite the favor. Rumors are flying left and right about your family since last night," Boris said, in English.

"I know, but come on old friend, you know better than to believe it. Have him work in the back if you're afraid about losing customers," Viktor urged. Boris thought for a moment. He was getting on in years and managing the whole shop single handedly was becoming more difficult. A smile spread across Boris's old, grungey face as he said, "All right."

Viktor briskly left and Boris turned his attention to Standislav. He motioned for him to follow and lead him into the back room. It was noticeably colder and all sorts of carnage and meat hung from hooks that lined the wall. It was a rather disgusting site. Before he could even react, Boris had thrown a white apron at him and Standislav barely caught it.

Within the next few hours, Boris taught Standislav a great many things that could be done with meat. Most of those things, Standislav would have liked to forget. However that was not an option if he wanted to keep the job. As he started to empty the inside portion of a cow so that he could then extract the meat he heard footsteps outside. Without bothering to take his bloody apron off, he quietly stepped out the back door. He rubbed his hands on the apron to get some of the blood off.

Casually he looked up for a second, and the moment he did his whole face lit up. Standing there, seeming pretty confused, was Radka. Immediately he regretted not taking his apron off. He blushed fiercely as Radka tried to form the sentence through her confusion.

"I thought I told you to get out of here," she said, folding her arms.

"I spoke to the man yesterday. He's preparing a test I'll need to take, then if I pass I'll be in," he said.

"Then why are you working at the butcher's shop?" she asked, slightly repulsed by the blood.

"Well," he started, "I've been thinking about what you said. You're right, once I get out of a place like this, I can't turn back. That made me think, if I'm going to be leaving, I'd better make sure I'm not leaving anything behind."

"What do you mean?" she asked, wrapping her shawl tighter.

"Once I get there I'll need food, housing, supplies. I'm not leaving without you Radka, and I'm saving up money so that the both of us can get out of here," he said.

Radka's soft, green eyes studied him for a moment. More than anything she wanted to tell him no, and that he should either be studying, or be saving the money for himself. But she could see the determination in his eyes. Suddenly her mind began to race with the exciting possibility that she could be leaving. "You ... you want me with you?" she asking, smiling weakly. He nodded. "Okay," she paused, "but I'm going to get a job too now, and we'll combine our income."

"Great, just, I don't recommend the butcher," he said. She laughed slightly before stepping closer and wrapping her arms around him. "I love you," he whispered into her auburn hair.

"I love you too," she smiled. As she went to embrace him she noticed the copious amount of blood on his apron and pulled back slightly.

"Sorry," she laughed a bit.

"It's okay," he smiled, quickly kissing her lips, "I'd better get back to work, but I'll see you later. Do yourself a favor, and get a job less dirty than this."

After several more hours of grueling meat processing, Standislav was allowed to go home. He briskly walked down the darkened streets. Though he didn't fear Mayvn, he was unsure if there were any other vampires nearby or if her master would not be pleased with his communication with Mayvn. His thick, leather boots softly touched the cobble stone streets, as he turned each corner, almost terrified of what might await him on the other side. Shutting the door to his house behind him, he heaved a big sigh of relief. He was finally saving up money, things were right between he and Radka again, and perhaps, he thought, Bucovina might again have peace.

Tralalalala, reviews make me happy, tralalalalala