Vlad hums quietly, one finger laid across his lips.

'Stolen from your clan. Burdened with no heirs. Married to the law.'

He'd had men in his service of similar inclination, but they had their reasons. And the Janissaries. Radu. Just the memory makes his hand clench on the back of the chair. He exhales, dispelling the shadows of memory, bringing his focus back to the man before him.

He turns the chair, still across the room, so that he can sit and face the fire, but still watch Javert from the corner of his eye. He needs to let the man dress, eat, regain his dignity, but he only has one day left to him. And the sense of urgency is pressing. Time is not something he is used to being at odds with. This whole situation is rife with constraints he is not used to bearing, but he will bear them.

'How did you come to serve?'