Prince Lucian's pale fingers traced trade routes and supply lines across the map, his sharp gaze narrowing behind thin-rimmed glasses. His long black hair, tied neatly into a ponytail, gave him a composed, almost scholarly air, more that of a tactician in a library than a prince in a war room.
"No matter how I see it, it looks like someone's scheme… What is their goal? If it's disrupting the kingdom, then the culprit may be Aurianis."
Lucian began to pace, hands clasped behind his back, speaking his deductions aloud as was his habit when unraveling tangled problems. His words were steady, logical, the cadence of a mind trained to dissect complexities without mercy. "Meterra provides the majority of our military resources—iron, coal, rare minerals, and finished weapons. These materials are essential for maintaining our armies: weapons, armor, artillery, fuel for forges, even basic camp equipment."
He paused at the window, gazing out at the capital's sprawling districts. "The eighty percent tax increase will drain our finances at a considerable rate. But we have alternatives—invoke martial law and simply requisition what we need by force."
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "But martial law destroys civilian morale and makes us look weak. Umbrasia has always prided itself on not needing such desperate measures during wartime."
He returned to his desk, drumming his fingers against the polished wood. "I could install a new lord in Meterra, someone more... compliant. But the Count's son and heir is still alive, participating in this tax scheme. As long as he breathes, he has a legal claim to the title."
His expression darkened as he considered other options. "With father dead and no official heir proclaimed, none of us have the absolute authority to simply strip noble titles without cause. The other lords would rebel at such precedent."
"A territorial war, perhaps?" he mused, studying the borders around Meterra. "Encourage neighboring lords to press claims, create chaos, let them regulate the taxes in exchange for my support. But that would take months to orchestrate, and we don't have months."
Suddenly, his lips curved into a cold smile. "Unless..." He moved to a locked drawer, withdrawing a thick folder marked with the Count's seal. "Count Daven's little indiscretions. His smuggling operations, illegal deals and tax evasion schemes."
He spread the documents across his desk, his expression remaining perfectly composed. "High treason. The perfect charge. And naturally, such corruption runs in families—his wife, his children, all complicit in his crimes against the crown."
Lucian's voice was measured, analytical as the plan crystallized. "Strip the entire family of titles and lands for treason. Execute them for good measure. With no lord appointed to Meterra, the territory reverts to direct royal administration—and royal tax rates."
He leaned back in his chair, a slight smile playing at his lips. "The mysterious puppetmaster forced my hand, but they've also given me the perfect excuse to seize direct control of our most valuable resource hub." His pale eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I do so enjoy having a worthy opponent again. Father's court had grown... predictable."
In Meterra.
Outside the Count's mansion, Elena applauded quietly as she watched chaos unfold in the streets below. "Magnificent," she murmured. "The palace has only two choices now—accept financial ruin or impose martial law and damage their legitimacy. Either way, whoever orders such measures loses ground in the succession war."
She observed the merchants and artisans who had no choice but to pay the inflated taxes, their wealth flowing into coffers now controlled by Elias through the blood-controlled members of the Count's household.
Elias joined her at the window, satisfaction evident in his posture. "This is only the beginning," he said. "Now we need to secure our most valuable piece before the other players realize what's happening."
"What are you talking about ?" Elena asked.
"You didn't notice yet ? I'm talking about Tristan." Elena gasped, she didn't think that far ahead.
Elias pursued his explanation. "As an ally of both the Merchant's Guild and the Adventurer's Guild, with control over the southwestern territories, he's uniquely positioned to stabilize the economic situation." Elias smiled coldly. "He's become the golden apple that every faction will want to bite. Which means we need to reach him first, before my dear siblings realize just how valuable he's become."
Elena nodded, already mentally preparing for the journey ahead. But before they could finalize their plans, a commotion in the streets below caught their attention.
Royal messengers had arrived in the town square, their voices carrying across the morning air.
A messenger, bearing official royal seals, proclaimed with clear authority: "By royal decree, Count Daven Iskarioth stands accused of high treason against the Crown of Umbrasia! His titles and lands are hereby seized by royal authority!"
But then a second messenger coming directly from the Count's house followed up with a devastating blow. His eyes held an odd, glassy quality as he spoke, his voice carrying a mechanical undertone that only the most observant would notice.
[Controlled Unit : Flanders]
[Status : Corrupted Majordome]
The Count's messenger spoke.
"The house of Count Daven Iskarioth has been found guilty of complicity in treason! The family has been executed and their holdings confiscated by agents of the royal court! Their mansion was raided in the night—all assets have been claimed by the Crown!"
The royal messenger turned to the Count's messenger with visible confusion. "What execution? I was only instructed to announce the seizure of—"
"Aaaaaahh !!!"
His words were drowned out by gasps of horror from the crowd. A cart had arrived, its contents covered by bloodstained cloth. When the coverings were pulled away, the mutilated remains of the Count's family were revealed—bodies bearing signs of torture, faces twisted in final agony.
"Merciful gods," whispered an elderly merchant, his face pale with shock.
"Isn't this too cruel?" a baker's wife murmured to her neighbor, her voice trembling.
"Look at what they did to Countess Greta," another citizen said, crossing himself. "No noble trial, no chance to speak in their defense. Just... butchery."
The crowd's murmurs grew darker, more suspicious. "If they can do this to a Count's family," someone said, "what's to stop them from coming for the rest of us?"
Count Daven's and his son Donovan's faces were the most prominent in the pile of corpses.
The royal messenger looked increasingly bewildered, trying to understand why his announcement of legal proceedings had been followed by evidence of a massacre that he knew nothing about.
Elena turned to Elias, her expression showing quiet understanding. "Brilliant. So that's why you decided to kill everyone last night."
Elias watched the crowd's growing unease with cold satisfaction. "Let my dear brother explain to the kingdom why the royal family needed to butcher a whole household in the dead of night," he said quietly. "Every noble house will remember this precedent. Every citizen will see the crown as nothing more than glorified bandits."
In war, the ultimate winner is always the one who sees the furthest ahead.
Elena studied Elias's face as the crowd below dispersed, still murmuring about the horrors they'd witnessed. "Was it really just for the plan?" she asked quietly. "Killing the whole family—"
Elias hesitated, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. For a moment, something flickered behind his cold mask—not regret, but something more complex.
The memory came unbidden: descending into the Count's basement after the assassins had fled, following a strange metallic smell that led them deeper underground. They had found the hidden chambers—rooms lined with steel tables stained dark with old blood, walls bearing scratches from desperate fingernails, and in the corner, a furnace still warm with ash that contained fragments too small and too white to be anything but bone.
And in the final room, cages—empty now, but bearing the unmistakable wear of prolonged use.
"Looks like this is where they conducted those experiments," Elena had whispered, understanding finally what the Count had tried to confess before the parasite killed him. The reason the half-blood assassins came for his life.
Elias blinked, returning to the present. "The Count's crimes went far deeper than tax fraud. Same with his subordinates and family." He said quietly.
Back then, he was the only one who knew, when taking control of the count's household with Absolute Dominion; the only one who could see the reality through the status window.
[Controlled units : 18]
[Name : Greta Iskarioth]
[Status : Specimen Collector]
[Name : Donovan Iskarioth]
[Status : Twisted Experimenter]
Elena nodded slowly, even though she didn't fully understand she knew from his gaze that this execution was a form of justice.
Elena shared another hypothesis.
"Maybe the disorganization of resources and minerals shipments and chaotic distribution lines were also hiding the flow of kidnapped guinea pigs and experiment results."
"We should account for that possibility," Elias answered. "It's either that or someone is raising an army behind the scenes."
"Shouldn't we further investigate this matter?" Elena asked.
"No, leave it. Knowing won't change anything at this point. Fortunately, with this we secured enough funds to build our own army." Elias concluded.
"Elena, confirm that our people have properly secured the profits from the Count's household and the tax increases. Then we head south to the polycristal mines."
Elena spent the next hour ensuring their blood-controlled servants had hidden away the substantial wealth flowing from the inflated taxes, converting it into portable assets and securing it in locations only they knew. By afternoon, they were ready to depart Meterra.
Before they could proceed to seek out Prince Tristan, a nagging concern kept creeping into Elias's mind.
"Andreas and Méline should have returned by now, it's been a week" he said, checking the position of the sun.
Elena nodded, her expression sharing his worry. "Andreas is a valuable piece. Losing him now would be... inconvenient."
"More than inconvenient." Elias began to pace, his strategic mind working through possibilities. "If someone stronger than Andreas has blocked their path, someone capable of defeating him..." He paused, the implications becoming clear. "If Andreas can't reach the blood vials, if he's prevented from drinking when the control begins to fade..."
"He'll regain his sanity," Elena finished.
"Maybe he already did." Elias added.
The thought of a fully conscious Andreas Drakemoor, Knight of the Second Prince and Swordmaster, was not one Elias wished to contemplate. Such a situation could turn a controlled asset into their most dangerous enemy.
The road south wound through increasingly rugged terrain as they left the mining town behind. Ancient forests gave way to rocky hills, and the air grew thin and sharp with the promise of mountain peaks beyond the horizon. They traveled in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts about what they might find at the mines.
As the last rays of sunlight painted the western sky in shades of gold and crimson, they turned a corner in the mountain path. That's when the shadows moved.
Two figures stepped out from behind the weathered stones that lined the road—the same black-clad assassins who had escaped from the Count's mansion. But now, in the dying light, they made no attempt at concealment.
"Wait, humans !" Shouted the one who had fought Elias, his voice carrying that same odd accent.
Elias and Elena drew their weapons, falling into defensive stances. But instead of attacking, the assassins reached up and pulled away their masks.
The pale skin Elena had glimpsed before was now fully visible, alabaster white and seeming to glow faintly in the twilight. Their features were sharp and aristocratic, beautiful in an inhuman way that spoke of predatory grace. But it was their eyes that marked them unmistakably—crimson orbs that reflected the dying sunlight like polished rubies.
And when they smiled, their elongated canines were fully visible, gleaming like ivory daggers in the dim light.
"Allow us to properly introduce ourselves," said the one who had fought Elena, her voice carrying a musical quality that seemed to resonate in their bones. "I am Margaret Cromwell."
Her companion inclined his head with aristocratic grace. "And I am Thierry Nightfall." His crimson eyes fixed on Elias with calculating interest.
"What do you want, vampires?" Elias finally asked, nonchalantly.