POV: Haruki
I entered the carriage and sat there. It was a luxurious one, its cushions deep, the crest engraved in subtle gold on the inner panel, and the scent of old leather mingling with faint traces of incense that clung to the wood. After me entered Selvara and Vaelith, settling opposite of me. They bowed, as expected, before doing so. A reflex drilled into them for centuries; automatic, perfect, without hesitation.
I observed them in silence. They were the picture of what female nobility in the Tepes faction was expected to be: beautiful, obedient, and submissive. Centuries of conditioning carved into bone and blood.
I remembered the night five days ago, when they came to my chambers "to congratulate me on my success." Innocuous enough on the surface, yet it had been anything but. A dangerous thing in truth.
When they offered themselves to please me, I discovered something rather more complicated at play. At first, I felt as though refusal were impossible. My mind whispered insistently to ravish them. It was not mind control exactly, I had suitable defenses for such things, but something more subtle, likely desire manipulation. My rationality was dulled, pressed down under a wave of raw need that seemed natural, and I was nearly swept along. Likely a manipulation of desire.
Normally I would not have touched them, not after witnessing firsthand how terrified they were of Dorian. But the pull was strong enough that it took me a humiliatingly long five minutes to notice the manipulation and tear free from it.
And when I broke out, I did not allow them to notice. I kept playing along, letting the performance unfold, observing carefully. It was then that I saw the truth of their scheme.
Vaelith possessed the ability to see memories, likely through blood. She had cut her wrist, fed me her blood at the beginning, and only after did I sense the intrusion. She must use her own blood to forge a tether, and through it she sees what the other has lived. I had not expected that. There had been no trace of such a power in Dorian's memories. Which meant either Le Fay's spell was imperfect, or that the sisters had kept this ability hidden from him deliberately.
Selvara's gift, on the other hand, was more subtle. Desire manipulation. She could heighten impulses, drag hidden cravings to the surface, press them against the mind until reason faltered. Still, its limits were obvious: it could not override true will. A sufficient force of mind would resist it, as I did.
Together, they were far more dangerous than Dorian's recollections had ever suggested. In his memories they had been weak-willed, cowed creatures. In truth, they were far more cunning, their obedience a survival mask. I had, of course, placed a subtle monitoring charm on them afterward, ensuring they had found nothing in my memories. They were convinced I was Dorian. Perfect. Still, it was a sobering experience. They were far more competent. Dangerous, even.
It proved I could not afford to treat them with kindness without consequence. I had thought to act more lenient, more human, than Dorian. A mistake. The smallest shift, even in tone, raised suspicion. This world is steeped in possession and soul-binding. They have every reason to be wary. Any sudden change in behavior is grounds for doubt.
So, I must stay in character. Dorian's face has friends in high places, allies just as cruel and dangerous as he was. If I slip, it will not be the sisters I must fear, but them.
I wondered, not for the first time, how much of my humanity I would be forced to sacrifice to see my goal through. I wondered, and I did not like the answer.
I turned my gaze to the passing scenery. The forest blurred past the window when I felt a hand brush the zipper of my trousers.
I glanced down. Vaelith was smiling, lips curved in practiced seduction.
"My lord, may I please lighten your mood?" she asked softly, unfastening my clothing.
Selvara smiled faintly where she sat, offering no comment.
I grinned at Vaelith, and she lowered her head, taking me into her mouth with obedient eagerness. She moved slowly at first, then with more rhythm, her tongue tracing deliberate patterns. I hated that I enjoyed it, but she was skilled.
Things had changed between us since that night. After confirming to themselves that I was not an imposter, they had accepted my altered demeanor as genuine growth. Selvara had begun to step forward, offering opinions without being asked, organizing matters without my instruction with startling efficiency. Vaelith was more restrained, but even she seemed less fearful, more content.
And then there was this. Their sudden initiative in "pleasing" me, where once they had been too terrified to approach. They sought now to keep me in this state: calm, satisfied, not reverting into the sadism they had endured for centuries.
But I was not so blind as to believe they did this from affection. No, it was survival. They were ensuring their safety the only way they could. They sought to keep me in good humor, to prevent the return of the tyrant they knew. That was their life: to contort themselves into the shape most likely to stave off abuse. A miserable life, one defined by constant appeasement. To keep another in a good mood so as not to be mistreated, that was not living. It was existing at the mercy of another's temperament. A sad, degrading existence.
Selvara continued speaking, entirely unaffected by her sister's actions. "Lord Vladi is very obsessed with his house's image and pride. He is quick to respond to any perceived insult or mockery of his family name. Especially after the incident with his dhampir son, who was born with a Sacred Gear…"
Her tone remained calm, dutiful, while her sister's muffled sounds filled the carriage.
I let her words wash over me. Half-vampires born with sacred gears were yet another symptom of Heaven's system collapse. Vampires, in their arrogance, treated it as a humiliation – that one of their blood could be born with a gift from their supposed eternal enemy. They hid such children, punished them, and often killed them. Proof, once more, of their stupidity. But it was a weakness to exploit.
I smiled faintly at Selvara, placed my hand on Vaelith's head, and pressed her deeper until I released. She swallowed obediently and shifted to sit primly beside her sister, her lips glistening but her expression composed.
Selvara did not falter. She resumed her briefing as though nothing had occurred.
The carriage slowed. I could feel the change in air, the faint hum of enchantments that surrounded the city.
We had arrived at the capital.
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The celebration was grand and extremely obscene, and in my opinion, grotesquely disturbing. The hall swarmed with lords of both sovereigns, basking in their own decadence. There were dances and songs, though no joy in them; merely orchestrated spectacle, designed to flaunt excess. Pure-blooded vampires did not drink wine, nor did they touch food. Instead, they paraded their wealth through rarer indulgences: dragon blood, devil blood, angelic blood – symbols of status more than sustenance.
Humans were scattered across the hall like ornaments. Beautiful men and women, bred specifically for this, displayed like animals in a market. They showed no resistance as vampires sank their fangs into them. Their minds were dulled, conditioned to endure. I could even see some vampires fucking humans, multiple of them, almost like an orgy. Pure-blooded vampires generally don't tend to fuck other pure-blooded vampires in public settings such as this, but humans aren't even considered sentient by them. As such, they can do whatever they want to them.
It made my blood boil as I saw one vampire simply rip a hand from a human woman. As the human started to scream, he snapped her neck, killing her. The others were laughing as he joked and called for stricter training of the "livestock." The cruelty was so unnecessary and disgusting.
I wondered how many of them I could kill before I am subdued. With my holy powers probably forty percent or so. Vampires become more powerful as they age, and most of the pure-blooded here are centuries, millennia old, so they are mostly high-class or a bit higher than that. If it was one-on-one, I am pretty confident I could take most of them out.
I circulated holy power around my mind to calm myself. They will be free, I told myself. There are hundreds of thousands of humans enslaved here by the vampires, kept as nothing more than cattle. There were even a lot of human farms around, so killing a couple of vampires here and freeing the humans would hardly solve the issue. No, in order to do that, I need to succeed in my goal and destroy whatever is separating this dimension from the rest of the world. I could set the humans free then.
At first, I merely wished to gain the artifact in order to blackmail Le Fay to help me save my sister. I did not trust le fay, so i was going to demand my sister back for the artifact. But now it has become personal, after seeing the state of humans here.
I walked out of the celebration to the high balcony of the royal castle to get fresh air. I stood there and observed the capital from above and the crimson moon in the sky.
"Duke Dorian," Lady Liliane spoke behind me. "The hall is much enlivened by your success. My husband speaks of it with… remarkable pride."
I smiled faintly and turned towards her. "Lord Severin is generous in his praise. One might think I conquered kingdoms, not merely secured an accord with the yōkai. I wouldn't praise myself for such things like men who believe themselves kings."
Severin is likely trying to flatter me and draw me in to his circles.
"Ah," she replied, a delicate pause. "Men do have that tendency. To measure themselves in lofty titles." Her fan stirred the air, hiding the smallest curve of her lips. "Some wear crowns, some rely only on… memory."
I tilted my head, studying her with quiet amusement. "And yet you sound as though you do not entirely dismiss them."
Dorian had known Liliane. They had met a couple of times in the last century during gatherings and such, though they weren't that close. Yet she seemed to like Dorian, likely because he was courteous towards her, unlike to his sisters.
"I dismiss nothing, my lord," she answered smoothly. "Observation is safer than judgment. Especially in such a company." Her gaze flicked across the hall where Severin stood, basking in his retinue's attention. "One learns to be… discreet."
Oh? It seems her marriage is not all rainbows and flowers.
"A virtue," I murmured. "Though I wonder, Lady Liliane, if you also find it a burden."
Her lashes lowered, a gesture that masked far more than it revealed. "We all bear burdens, Duke Dorian. Some heavier, some merely louder."
I allowed the silence to linger, before offering, as if in passing: "Humans bear theirs differently. They create and change. Constantly learning and improving and perfecting things. Their laws, their machines, their endless striving to govern themselves. They advance as though tomorrow were promised, and act as though failure were a brief inconvenience. Curious creatures."
That has always been our strength, our curse and our gift. We were fragile, short-lived, but we never stopped clawing forward. In decades we could remake ourselves, shed traditions that had chained others for centuries. Give us magic, and we would have reshaped the world a hundred times over. Built wonders these stagnant immortals could scarcely imagine.
The supernatural? They hardly move at all. Vampires and devils still prattle about bloodlines and noble houses. Some still sneer at women as though the centuries hadn't passed. The long-lived cling to their customs, mummified by their own comfort. They can afford stagnation. We never could. And that desperation to keep moving, that hunger, is what makes us greater than we seem.
Her composure thinned just enough for interest to surface. "And you found… merit in their striving?"
"Merit," I repeated, tasting the word. "Perhaps only fascination. They are so fragile, yet convinced of their importance. In that, they remind me of us."
"Fragile," she echoed, almost wistfully. "Yes… yet I cannot help but find their determination admirable. To create meaning in the span of a breath, does it not shame those of us who squander centuries?"
She is the romantic sort, it seems.
My eyes lingered on her a moment longer than courtesy demanded. "An unusual thought, Lady Liliane."
Humans are considered nothing more than animals here, so it is scandalous to hear the daughter of king tepes say such things.
She inclined her head again, closing the mask with practiced grace. "Then perhaps I should not have spoken it."
"On the contrary," I said softly. "It is well that you did. Some confidences deserve an audience."
A shadow of silence fell between us as music from the far side of the hall shifted to a livelier cadence. Severin laughed – too loudly, too easily – as though the applause of his circle were the same as loyalty. Liliane's fan fluttered once, twice, before stilling.
"My lord husband," she said at length, her tone carved from courtesy, "has always delighted in the applause of others. To him, it is proof of power."
Indeed, it seems Lord Severin is a bit of a narcissist. He had mentioned to several houses the ties of my house and his. How he raised my father and his friendship with grandfather. To tell others that I am under his camp, likely.
"And to you?" I asked, voice quiet enough to veil the weight behind the question.
She hesitated, long enough that her restraint itself became an answer. "To me, applause is fleeting. Power, if it is to endure, must rest on stronger foundations."
The faint smile touched my lips again, but my eyes sharpened. "And what foundations would you suggest?"
Her glance strayed once more to Severin, still encircled by flatterers. "Loyalty. Fear. Memory. Choose whichever endures longest. I cannot say which my husband values most."
"Ambition, perhaps," I offered, my tone silk threaded with iron.
Liliane's lips curved, though not in mirth. "Ambition devours as quickly as it builds. I wonder if he has considered that."
I had noticed it earlier this evening, but she seems to be embarrassed every time Severin praises himself. She looks away or looks at her nails everytime he does that.
I studied her carefully, the measure of her poise, the way her words edged toward candor only when framed as idle musings. "You speak as one accustomed to watching the fire grow higher, yet unable to move the wood."
The fan snapped shut in her hand. "You are perceptive, my Duke. Too perceptive."
"And you, Lady Liliane, are more candid than you intend. Does it trouble you?"
Her gaze steadied on mine, colder now, sharper. "Trouble me? No. What troubles me is the thought that candor may one day be mistaken for disloyalty. My lord husband is… sensitive to shadows."
"Ambitious men often are," I said. "They see phantoms where there are none, and overlook the knife poised behind them."
The remark drew the faintest intake of breath from her, so subtle it might have been imagined. "You speak as though you know where such knives are kept."
"I have seen many halls like this one," I answered evenly. "And in each, ambition breeds not unity but envy. It would be… unsurprising if your lord husband's rise inspired more than applause."
Liliane's expression remained serene, but her grip on the fan whitened. "Then may his pride guard him."
"Pride is a poor shield," I murmured. "It blinds the bearer to the arrow's flight."
For a long moment she did not answer, her eyes fixed upon Severin, who now accepted a jeweled goblet with the flourish of one already imagining himself greater than he was. Finally, she said, "If such arrows should fall, one hopes they strike cleanly. Half-measures leave too much suffering in their wake."
I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging the boldness of her remark. "A merciful sentiment. Though not one I expected."
"I am not cruel, my lord," she replied softly. "Discontent is not the same as hatred. But…" Her voice trailed, and then she added with a steadiness that carried more weight than her volume, "…a wife sees clearly what courtiers choose to ignore."
I regarded her in silence, the hall's brightness blurring into a distant haze as though the two of us stood apart from it. At last I said, "And what do you see, Lady Liliane?"
She hesitated, fan poised but unmoving. "A man who builds a tower without checking the stone beneath. A man who mistakes reflection for depth. And a man… who would rather be adored than remembered."
I smiled genuinely at that. "Your vision is clear indeed."
The music swelled again, dancers spinning into the center of the floor. Severin's voice carried above it, summoning more drink, more praise, more of everything. Liliane exhaled slowly, the fan finally stirring the air once more.
"Tell me, Duke Dorian," she said lightly, "why do you humor me with such talk? You are not a man to waste words."
I leaned closer, my tone dropping to an intimate register that did not quite break propriety but threatened to. "Because sometimes the truth speaks only in whispers, and those who dare to hear it are rare."
Her gaze flickered, measuring me, weighing meaning against motive. "Then I shall take care, my lord. For whispers may be remembered long after the music ends."
"Indeed," I said. "And sometimes, they shape the music yet to be played."
AN: I know, I know. another build-up chapter. I get it, you guys aren't big fans of those. This is the last one, I promise. The next chapter is all about Haruki's schemes. Everything before was mostly worldbuilding, character introductions, and setting things up. I'll do my best to make the pacing faster in future arcs.