After sending the driver away to the branch in the city, Bryent led Sylene through the bustling streets, pointing out places of interest. One of them was a modest shop that sold proper cloaks.
Now, holding the newly purchased cloak in his hands, Sylene felt an unexpected sense of security. It was warm, capable of adjusting to temperature, and unremarkable—perfect for blending in.
When he put it on, Bryent almost mistook him for a stranger. The price had been two silver coins, a reasonable sum, though it made him scowl in silent frustration. His old cloak had cost far more, and now, with a fresh sense of determination, he vowed that one day, he would find that greedy old merchant and stuff the overpriced fabric down his throat.
Even the annoying noble was missing somewhere in the woods. They had lost track of their mercenary group. Bryent was clearly skilled at his job, and it seemed their group was rather well-known in their line of work. Sylene hadn't expected they would reach Luen so soon.
From there, Bryent took him to a tavern where the rest of the mercenary group was feasting. However, instead of joining them, Bryent guided Sylene through a dimly lit corridor at the back of the tavern.
After walking through some maze-like direction, they entered a small, worn-down room furnished with nothing but a scratchy wooden table and mismatched chairs.
Smoke curled lazily in the warm, stagnant air, and the thick scent of tobacco clung to the walls. Sylene's instincts sharpened. The heat in the room felt suffocating, the atmosphere thick with something unspoken. He didn't like it.
A man sat at the table, an eyepatch obscuring one of his eyes. His remaining gaze swept over Sylene with cold calculation.
"A hybrid?" the man muttered, looking at Bryent with skepticism. "Really?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of Bryent's lips. "I can vouch for him. He's avian—with a little bit of bloodsucker in him." His tone was light, but his words carried weight. "I found him wandering cluelessly in Radscha."
At the mention of 'bloodsucker,' the man's remaining eye darkened. His stare, already unsettling, became downright piercing.
"Take off your cloak."
Sylene hesitated, his fingers tightening around the fabric. He glanced at Bryent, who gave a small nod of reassurance. With silent reluctance, he loosened the clasp and let the cloak slide from his shoulders.
The man studied him, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled sharply and shook his head.
"I can't do it," he said, leaning back in his chair. "His owner will come looking for him."
Sylene stiffened.
"Look at his face," the man continued, motioning toward him. "Hybrids who look this good are often doted on by nobles. If he's got vampire blood in him, then he's worth a fortune."
Bryent sighed, crossing his arms. "Well, he's got the money. What do you say?"
The man's gaze sharpened again. "You know how powerful the nobles who own vampire hybrids are."
Sylene gritted his teeth, unwilling to let them talk about him as if he weren't there. "How much?"
Inside his pouch rested over thirty gold coins from Sir Draven—a fortune by most standards. A pang of guilt flickered through him, but he knew he had no choice. Without an ID, he wouldn't be able to travel freely. Keeping a low profile was essential.
The man exhaled through his nose, seemingly weighing his options. "Five gold. That'll make you a true citizen in human territory."
The amount hurt his heart. With five gold, he really owed a lot to his favorite vampire, but he needed the ID. Sylene was about to reach for his pouch when Bryent stopped him with a firm hand.
"Come on, man. I've sent plenty of customers your way before. He's just a kid. Three gold."
The man's expression remained unmoved. "He's a vampire hybrid. Take it or leave it."
Bryent clicked his tongue. "Don't be like that. And it is Avian-vampire hybrid. If this is how it is, I might have to start recommending someone else in the future."
The man scoffed, his fingers drumming against the table. "Three gold? Maybe—if I write him down as an avian without mentioning his vampire blood."
Bryent frowned. "He's been through a rough time. Even his wings didn't develop properly."
The two men continued to haggle back and forth, their exchange reminding Sylene of Bryent's previous negotiations—with Miranda, with the carriage service owner. It seemed the mercenary had a knack for bargaining, a survival skill in a profession as unforgiving as theirs.
Eventually, the man relented, grumbling as he accepted three gold. He handed over the form with instructions on what the boy should write on his ID. He was an avian, he could use his name, and his date of birth was fake. But before handing over the final details, he gave Bryent a serious look.
"I need information," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "A vampire hybrid came to me years ago with a baby. If you hear anything about him, let me know."
"A vampire hybrid with a baby?" Bryent raised an eyebrow.
"That's...rare." Vampires—even vampire hybrids—always had difficulty conceiving due to their dominant genes, though hybrids had a slightly better success rate than purebloods.
"The baby should be around eleven or twelve by now—if he's still alive. The father had dark hair and peacock-green eyes. If you find anything, come to me directly."
"His owner, a vampire noble who came here specifically from the vampire capital, is looking for him. I'll give you back the three gold if you find him."
The words sent a shiver down Sylene's spine. A vampire noble from the vampire capital was searching for a hybrid? That meant he was from the castle Sylene had left just a few days ago. The Marchmare Castle.
His stomach twisted. Was it Rosencraft? The vampire army? But no—news wouldn't travel that fast, especially not into human territory. And besides, the man had mentioned a child.
The scientists had assured him his womb wouldn't be functional until a certain age, so it couldn't be him...Maybe he was just being paranoid.
Relief settled over him, but unease lingered. Was it another noble from vampire territory?
A vampire noble searching for a vampire hybrid all the way into human territory was strange. Vampire Nobles already had plenty of spares—lovers or secondary spouses—besides their main pureblood spouse. For one to chase after a mere vampire hybrid even in human lands could only mean two things: either the noble held a grudge against that hybrid, or they liked them so much they couldn't let go.
Still, it wouldn't be strange if the hybrid in question was one of Rosencraft's creations. He made them so beautiful that it wasn't surprising their owner would pursue them so obsessively, even across borders.
But if it really was one of Rosencraft's experiments… had another one actually managed to escape him in the past? That was impossible. If it had happened, why had he never heard about it in the lab?
There had been no notes left behind in the hidden places where his predecessors once stashed their records.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of doubt.