Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: It's Just a Trivial Threat
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Gold. It incites human desire.
A massive amount of gold bewitches the mind and draws people in. Whether Duke Vlad Shumira intended it or not, her lord's castle was surrounded entirely by gold—nothing but gold.
"The walls are gold, and the floors are pure gold, yes. The duke's family has always loved that sort of thing."
Viscount Leighton whispered this as he guided us to the reception room.
"Isn't this taking extravagance too far?"
Unlike Roca, who had no interest in gold you couldn't even eat, the princess furrowed her brow.
It wasn't anger so much as the look of someone beholding something incomprehensible.
"It's not meant to insult you all, but was Duke Shumira truly wealthy enough to make even the walls out of gold? I've never heard that this territory is particularly prosperous."
"We don't get paid for our work. Where do you think all that money went?"
"Ah."
The princess's face lit up with instant understanding.
But if you're working without pay, doesn't that make you basically slaves?
"I can see it to some extent. The Vlad family is now the last pureblood lineage left on the continent. Outsiders might see her as just the lord of a small territory, but the duke herself probably thinks of herself as the clan's leader and supreme ruler. Still, they should at least pay salaries."
Viscount Leighton forced a smile, but it was bitterly strained.
The castle was excessively large compared to the territory, and it took passing through several rooms and corridors before we reached our quarters. We couldn't meet Duke Shumira right away.
"I'll report to her for now, so please rest well today."
It was because of all the pressing matters, but it was the dead of night now. Night must be a lively time for vampires, whose days and nights were reversed, but for us humans, it was bedtime.
Staying up all night didn't scare me, and the princess could handle a day or two without issue. But it was different for Roca.
Her tail fur already looked a bit dry and frizzy. Her eyes were half-lidded, as if drooping with sleepiness.
I could use mana to ward off sleep and keep my body active, or borrow the Lord's divinity to banish drowsiness,
but unless it was unavoidable, it was better to sleep when you could, all things considered.
"It's only natural since we came unannounced. So, when can we meet Duke Shumira?"
"The queen should have time tomorrow evening. Until then, I'll order the maids to attend to you."
We all nodded.
Shortly after, women who introduced themselves as the duke's maids came to us. They offered to show each of us to our own rooms, but Roca shook her head, and the princess voiced her refusal.
"No need. This priest will share a room with me."
"Oh my... Ah, understood. We'll prepare it that way. Shall we guide you to the largest guest room with the biggest bed?"
"See to it."
Once the blushing maid withdrew, the princess finally explained her true intentions.
I had trusted there was a reason for her actions.
"Saint. You need to be more careful with your behavior. They saw you heal the vampires and took note. Do you know what that means to them?"
"I do."
"Yes, they might covet your holy power, kidnap you, lock you away in some remote place, and use you as a tool to extract it. You have no combat ability... You know this?"
Of course. I wouldn't dare call myself clever, but I do know that to some, the Lord's power is more precious than gold.
I know some might try to intimidate or persuade me to achieve their goals. But if I start fearing that, I won't be able to do anything.
"I don't fear those who covet the Lord's divinity and come after me. That's just an external danger, a trivial threat. What’s truly dangerous is letting that fear breed prejudice and wicked thoughts. Others might not know better, but I must not."
The real danger isn't out there—it's inside me. I should only worry about threats to my soul. Others may guard against me, but I must not do the same.
Yes, a priest must never regard their neighbor with suspicion.
The Lord watches my back. That's the great privilege I have as a priest.
If I accept that help yet claim fear and refuse to face even the slightest threat for my own safety, the Lord will withdraw His hand from me.
"Saint..."
The princess's face grew complicated, as if she wanted to say something.
She swallowed her words with visible effort before speaking again.
"Still, please be a little more cautious. You have far greater value than you realize."
While the princess and I talked, Roca mumbled something about washing up and shuffled off.
I took out a single candle, lit it, and quietly placed it on the table. No candlestick was a shame, but it didn't matter. The candle wouldn't melt, wouldn't shorten, and would burn steadily.
"Do you always light that candle?"
"It's a habit of sorts. No harm in it, so I always do."
It was a habit formed traveling with the Yurinel party.
That little flame had been enough to light our way, all four of us. Now it was just a past tale, a memory.
"Could you tell me a bit about your adventures, Saint? I'm curious about the hero party."
"Of course. Yurinel and I were childhood friends from our hometown. Then one day, the church..."
As I recounted my adventures at length, it suddenly hit me.
Was Roca still washing up?
*****
Anyone who can absolutely dominate themselves is bound to inspire fear, no matter who they are.
That was why Viscount Leighton's steps toward Duke Shumira felt like trudging through a thorn-infested path. To be honest, she was a superior whose personality clashed terribly with his.
‘What nitpick will the queen have for me today...'
Anyone working in the territory for even a day could grasp her temperament.
She demanded absolute obedience from her subordinates. No, she took it for granted. Since she saw even the slightest objection as unthinkable, it had given Leighton, the practical administrator, splitting headaches more than once.
'Hah.'
She wasn't even doing it to weed out disloyal underlings. Duke Shumira was the type who truly believed her own opinions were the only truth.
So immersed in her role as the clan's queen that she'd even ordered him to execute utterly absurd plans. With the empire in decline, she wanted the vampires to carve out the southeast, declare independence, and found a kingdom.
Vampires didn't even number enough to fill a small city like Larphentia.
And those few would drop like mayflies before sunlight, their lives spent.
Found a nation with that population? Was she joking?
Even if they broke from the empire, it'd doom the country from the start. Better to remain as part of the empire.
If she'd given a brilliant plan or strategy—or even a decent budget—he'd have racked his brains to make it work. But no, just orders.
It was the downside of vampires ruling lesser kin through the 'power of domination' instead of salaries. She didn't grasp that everything required a budget. She could dominate fellow vampires without pay, but humans? Even if possible, then what?
Would the temples sit idly by?
What about the empire? It was tilting, but its foundations held firm.
Leighton had desperately persuaded her otherwise, but from that day, he'd noticed her gaze toward him had changed. Only then did he realize that in the blind kingdom, the sighted were the cripples.
'This is what we don't know.'
To vampires, humans were pathetic, bumbling creatures.
Incomparable to themselves, who carried out orders seamlessly, good or bad. But as the public face of the Vlad Dukedom, interacting with humans, Leighton knew better.
That from their discord, diverse opinions emerged, were proposed, and propelled them toward better paths.
Moving as one heart and mind was terrifying in its way,
but such unity lacked complexity. Limbs simply followed the head.
Humans, meanwhile, teemed with headless factions. Even the emperor represented them, not dominated them absolutely.
Yet that autonomy kept birthing novelty, elevating humans as the continent's dominant race.
If one bungled, another could replace them. But vampires?
If the queen faltered, the whole species did. One person's fate bound the race.
No reverse revolutions, no replacements.
That's how they'd evolved.
Even bees replace a queen who can't lay eggs, but vampires couldn't. In a way, they were inferior to bees.
When intelligent beings first sprouted intellect, inventing tools, it was a huge advantage.
But as civilizations flourished and clashed—civilization against civilization, race against race—it no longer was. The power of domination was an outdated trait.
"Your Grace. It's Leighton. May I report before the throne?"
Realizing it changed nothing.
Leighton entered the throne room and prostrated himself. He kept thoughts like "This queen play is getting hard to stomach" in his head—never let it show.
As he knelt and glanced up, Duke Shumira sat stroking her golden throne, gazing at him silently.
"So, it seems certain that woman is the princess. You're not sure about the priest being an Ancient God's priest?"
"With my limited insight, I couldn't confirm. But it's certain he can heal us vampires. I felt his holy power myself."
When Kyle had briefly infused holy power to interpret the sun's curse, Leighton had felt an unprecedented exhilaration. Fatigue vanished, his mind cleared, vitality surged.
At least, his divinity clearly benefited vampires.
"Yes, good work."
After hearing the full report, Duke Shumira finally nodded.
She seemed in a good mood today. As Leighton sighed inwardly in relief and moved to withdraw, his head suddenly rang, and his steps faltered.
Agony like his guts being torn struck his abdomen. A seductive laugh echoed through the hall.
"You've worked hard all this time."
Thin as a human arm stretched long, grotesquely elongated and dark red spear.
No one held or thrust it—yet it pierced Leighton's back on its own, bursting out the front. The tip split like a bird's beak, chewing and swallowing his innards.
"Why...?"
The eerie sensation of all his blood being sucked out chilled him. Every ounce of strength drained away—the phenomenon alone told him what this spear was.
The pureblood spear handed down in the Vlad clan. The blood-drinking, flesh-devouring demon spear.
An ancient vampire relic, the Blood Devouring Demon Spear, had impaled him, driving him to death. But why?
By any account, he didn't deserve execution.
He'd committed no such crime.
"Leighton. What I hate most is those who pretend to obey me but harbor other thoughts behind my back."
But whether he did or not wasn't for him to decide.
Duke Shumira didn't think so.
"You have a son, don't you? A freak unfit for the bloodline, no less."
His gutted chest sank like lead,
fear wrapping his entire body. He wasn't afraid of dying.
Losing something more precious than life terrified him. Stammering, he continued.
"For all my service... at least... spare my... family..."
"I told you to kill that crippled brat. Your wife, I've remarried to another."
In that moment, even bodily pain felt trivial.
Mind-shattering agony crashed in. The wound of the heart overwhelmed the flesh; he could only gape, speechless.
"If she bears another freak from another's seed, dispose of her then too."
He'd been wrong. No matter his great deeds for the clan, to Duke Shumira, it was just "what you're supposed to do" as a vampire.
Before her, he wasn't a subordinate or vassal—just a tool.
A tool she could discard anytime. But was he the only one?
All vampires must look the same to her. Born with power over life and death, she probably didn't even see them as kin.
Thud!
Resentment and regret flickered in his bloodless face, then faded.
Sated on a lord's blood and life, the Blood Devouring Demon Spear withdrew contentedly into the duke's hand. She'd nourished the neglected spear through this.
Thanks to it, the spear had drunk its fill, its power at peak. Good.
Crack!
The tip sealed to a point, bloodlight rippling. Using the disposable tool as a whetstone to refine her spear, Duke Shumira smiled in satisfaction.
Passing the as-good-as-dead Leighton, she left the throne room for the corridors. Her goal wasn't to kill the princess but capture her, hence drawing the spear.
'Ardein von Illumia. I'll toy with her a bit, then use her as a surrender token.'
The princess's last known level: peak Expert. Not Master.
She could subdue that easily. In this sunless night, no variables could reverse the gap. Vlad Shumira trusted her own power.
Better to pull the iron horns while hot. Ardein was utterly defenseless now.
Capturing the empire's princess—no, the first princess—and offering her to the Mage Empress would make Shumira a key figure overnight. Why couldn't she found a kingdom then?
Expectations swelling, her steps quickened. Her dreamed future was at hand.
Vampire resurgence would come by her hand alone. The task her ancestors craved would become reality through her.
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