April 19th.
Inside a majestic chamber, with pointed arches stretching across every direction and carved wooden ceiling panels depicting an angel and a man conversing beneath the shadow of a massive tree.
The silence within the hall brought serenity to the atmosphere — until suddenly, disorganized voices began echoing near the entrance.
At the center of the chamber stood a gold-plated wooden throne, upon which sat a broad man with blond hair and wrinkles already forming across his face.
Noticing the commotion, he waited for the door to open.
Contrary to his expectations, minute after minute passed. Different voices argued outside, yet the main doors of the royal chamber never opened.
"I was trying to be patient." The ruler rested his head against one hand. "Arioque, go see what's happening."
One of the guards beside the throne immediately stepped away and headed toward the door.
The moment the main doors opened, the arguing voices flooded into the royal chamber.
"I already told you, boy, the king must not be disturbed unless it's important."
"But it is important!"
"This letter doesn't even have a royal seal. How could it possibly be important?!" The guard stationed at the entrance slammed his spear against the floor and grabbed the boy's shoulder.
Seeing the argument escalating, Guard Arioque intervened.
"What is going on? His Highness is asking." His role was to convey the ruler's will.
"Arioque… this messenger claims he has an important message for the king. But the letter doesn't even carry a royal seal."
"It may not have a royal seal, but I guarantee it's of interest to the king," the messenger boy protested.
"I already told you— you're supposed to hand that letter to someone from the cabinet. They'll decide what to do with the message." Losing patience, the door guard argued back.
Separating the two physically, Arioque positioned himself between them.
This discussion was going nowhere.
"Fine. The message doesn't have a royal seal. Then who's the sender?"
It was tradition that letters carried a seal and were not to be opened except by the recipient or an authorized representative.
Still, it was standard practice for the sender's name — or organization — to be written beside the seal.
At Arioque's question, the boy opened the leather satchel hanging from his shoulder to his waist and removed a small rolled-up sheet sealed with a simple stamp.
"The sender, or rather, the sender's name, is Emily!"
The words echoed through the royal chamber.
And upon hearing them, the ruler immediately abandoned his throne and rushed toward the main doors.
Before Arioque and the other soldier could even react, the king had already crossed the room and reached them.
"Sir— I mean, Your Highness." The same soldier who had previously blocked the messenger was the first to place a hand over his chest and bow.
The messenger boy quickly did the same, while Arioque alone remained expressionless.
"The letter. Give it to me." The ruler extended his hand toward the messenger.
Without hesitation, the boy obeyed and handed him the rolled paper sealed with the simple stamp.
(…)
Breathing heavily, the young woman with long blond hair and vibrant blue eyes sat upright on her bed.
Looking toward the window, the sun had begun to rise, its first bright golden rays appearing along the horizon.
Sweat dripped down her forehead and hands, prompting her to wipe her face with the bedsheet.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Her heart hammered violently inside her chest, so intensely that even without touching her breast or wrist, she could clearly feel the pounding.
That… was…
She rapidly replayed the scenes she had just witnessed.
Everything had felt painfully real.
If she hadn't woken up, she would have believed it was real.
Was it a dream?
A warning?
What was that?
She clearly recognized the people present in that sequence of events.
After all, it had been her father and the guards of the royal chamber.
Emily was still regaining her bearings when the bedroom door opened.
"I was about to wake you up… but never mind. Good thing you're already awake." The one speaking was her watcher, bodyguard, and friend. "Just get ready and go eat afterward. We leave in forty minutes."
Recovering her composure, Emily nodded at Niora.
So my father really did receive the letter? No… he's still going to receive it?
…
Vampiric Kingdom of Molren
Inside a four-wheeled carriage.
Thanks to the cushioned seats, the two people inside sat in considerable comfort, one on each side.
"Are you nervous?"
"No. Just thinking."
The first one to ask was, of course, Malivor.
He and Tom had left early that morning for the mission assigned by Laylla.
As she had mentioned before, it was something simple: escorting the daughter of a vampire noble from a countryside city in the Kingdom of Molren back to Nikz, its capital.
"One thing I don't really get is: why doesn't she just turn into a bat and travel discreetly from one city to another?"
Tom had already wandered through Nikz several times before, and especially around sunset and during the night, it was more than common to see countless bats crossing the city sky with their black wings.
"Yeah, sure. It should be easy. But in practice, it's dangerous."
"What do you mean?" Tom asked, confused.
"Vampires have a few extra abilities compared to humans, but they also have a natural racial weakness."
"They die in sunlight?" the rookie immediately blurted out.
Malivor turned toward Tom with a look of disdain.
"Okay, that doesn't make sense. I've literally seen them flying while the sun was still out and they didn't die." Receiving Malivor's disapproving stare, Tom quickly corrected himself. "They die if you stab them through the heart?"
Hearing the second guess, Malivor completely lost it and started laughing.
"And who doesn't die with a stake through the heart?!"
"Alright, and can not be something religious…"
Obviously, Tom had been thinking about the generic weaknesses vampires almost always had in stories and TV shows back on Earth, but none of them matched reality.
His conclusion that vampires didn't have a weakness involving religion, crucifixes, or "holy symbols" came from the fact that he had personally witnessed vampires worshipping the Blind One inside His cathedral more than once. It made absolutely no sense to devote yourself to something that could supposedly kill you at any moment.
"So silver, fire, or needing to constantly drink blood?" Tom casually continued throwing guesses.
"Tsk. Goddammit, Tom, where the hell are you even getting these ideas from? No! It's nothing like that." The young man rolled his emerald eyes.
Realizing he wasn't going to guess correctly, Tom finally gave up and waited for the answer from someone who had been in this world longer than he had.
"When they transform into bats, that's when they become most vulnerable. I think even vampires from the Crimson Court die easily if they're attacked while transformed."
Tom already knew the term Crimson Court, since he had read it before while studying a bit about Yunoahr's geography.
Nikz didn't exactly have a king with absolute authority over Molren. Instead, a select group of vampire nobles made the kingdom's major decisions. That group was known as the Crimson Court, and at least theoretically, they were the strongest vampires alive.
"Inside the city it's usually fine, most of the time at least. You've definitely seen plenty of bats flying around at night," Malivor explained.
Tom nodded just as the carriage jolted violently.
"The problem is that outside the cities there are tons of animals in the forests, and also people capable of killing those bats. So the safest option is traveling by land using carriages." He finished his explanation.
Reasonably enough, Tom understood the core reason why they were even on this mission. He opened his mouth to ask something else, but Malivor spoke first.
"No, I have no clue why that noble hired mercenaries to escort his daughter. This mission is ridiculously stupid. You could've handled it alone, man. I don't know why Laylla sent me along too." He huffed.
Now that he wasn't near the captain, his tone had become noticeably less respectful.
"It's probably because of 'fatherly love.' As for why Laylla sent you…"
Tom didn't finish the sentence, but quickly connected the dots himself.
As soon as they left Moonlight's headquarters, Tom and Malivor had headed to the residence of a vampire noble in order to meet their employer and pick up the carriage, which had been provided by him. Because it was still early in the morning, the employer hadn't met them personally, but he had already prepared the carriage and driver for the trip.
Tom felt slightly frustrated that the mission would last the entire day, meaning he wouldn't get to see Father Abel. Still, since the priest hadn't specified an exact day — only that it should be in the morning —Tom intended to visit him another time as soon as possible to attempt contact with the divine.
And the reason the captain sent Malivor along was probably something like, "Malivor is already a recognized member of the squad." At least in theory.
In practice, she probably just wanted to mess with Malivor.
That was the conclusion Tom reached regarding the mission.
Still immersed in his thoughts, curiosity suddenly struck him.
Blinking twice in quick succession, the environment around him immediately transformed into a complex tangle of abstract, slightly twisted lines.
He had activated his hods vision.
Lifeless things like the carriage structure, the road outside, and the sky took on a dull bluish hue, while living beings such as the carriage driver, the horse pulling them, Tom himself, and Malivor all displayed detailed crystalline lines.
Malivor, in particular, also possessed a glowing mass inside his chest that resonated intensely with purple and red colors.
That was his Key.
"What?" Malivor noticed Tom staring.
"No, nothing. Just thinking," he brushed it off.
Aside from the obvious Key, one detail about Malivor caught Tom's attention: the absence of hod threads extending toward the sky.
He even glanced at himself to make sure he hadn't seen wrong.
From Tom's body projected crystalline threads as thin as strands of hair, stretching upward. During the first time he had used hods vision, he had confirmed that those threads thickened and strained whenever he spoke the VD Insurance phrase that brought him to the hall with the floating table, and that they thinned almost to invisibility the rest of the time.
If the threads pointing upward take me to the hall, and Malivor doesn't have them… then he doesn't have access to a hall… That was his conclusion.
In contrast to Tom's upward threads, countless others extended from every part of Malivor's body and appeared attached to objects around him — including Tom himself. There weren't many, but there were enough to notice.
Would that be his telekinesis? So he's actually ready to fight at any moment, just by focusing hods onto wherever he wants to pull from a distance. Interesting.
"Are you gonna say something or just keep staring at me?"
Tom simply looked away without responding, only for another detail to catch his attention.
Holy shit, this could be really useful.
He showed a trace of surprise upon noticing a tiny glowing eye floating far away in the air.
Even at that distance, he could still identify the direction where he had left a teleportation mark.
If he somehow got lost during the trip, he could theoretically find his way back to Nikz by following the teleportation mark he had left at the Cathedral of the Blind One, for example.
And, much to his displeasure, he noticed that the hod threads extending toward the mark were highly visible, glowing in a blend of green and cyan, clearly indicating that hods were actively flowing through them.
In other words, any teleportation mark he left behind continuously consumed his internal hods, even if only slightly.
Better not leave too many marks lying around.
After crossing his arms, Tom deactivated his hods vision with another double blink.
Between slopes, bumps, and constant shaking, the carriage continued its journey for a while longer until Malivor suddenly spoke again.
"This is boring as hell. Wanna make a bet with me?"
Tom tilted his head suspiciously.
Seriously? I barely have any money and you still wanna rob me?
After all his recent expenses, Tom currently possessed exactly twenty-eight zenns. or, converted, two kranns and eight zenns. In fact, his lack of money was one of the main reasons he had wanted a mission so badly.
"I don't want to. But go on."
"Oh, simple. If the client's daughter is pretty, I bet fifty zenns to you flirt with her. If she rejects you, whatever. But if she actually accepts, I'll pay you one obra. But if you take the bet and chicken out, you owe me fifty zenns."
That was definitely intentional. Malivor knew perfectly well that Tom didn't have much money available.
Especially not an obra.
"Dude…" Tom threw his head back and ran both hands through his hair.
Come on, man. That screws me over. Seriously. This is so you.
Despite his intimidating stature, the way Malivor behaved made Tom estimate he was somewhere around twenty-two or twenty-three years old.
The contrast was that Tom himself was already past twenty-five and considerably calmer about this kind of thing.
"So? You gonna accept, or run from the bet?" Malivor clearly provoked him.
"Go screw yourself, Malivor!" Tom gritted his teeth before finally saying, "Fine. I accept."
"HA!!"
Sitting across from him, Malivor burst into laughter.
Why are you like this, man?
Nothing had even happened yet, and Tom already wanted to bury his face somewhere out of sheer embarrassment.