The vampires straightened to their full height before Elias and Elena, revealing aristocratic features marked by exhaustion but radiating an unmistakable air of superiority. Even in their gratitude, they carried themselves like nobility addressing commoners.
"We... acknowledge your role in purging Count Daven and his family," declared the first vampire, a woman with silver hair, her tone suggesting the words tasted bitter in her mouth. "And we... regret the misunderstanding that led to our earlier confrontation. We acted without full knowledge of the situation."
Elias smirked slightly. (It wasn't intentional, but it's better if they misunderstand our motivations.)
Elena crossed her arms, her piercing gaze fixed on the two vampires. "We don't mind. What we would like to ask is about the experiments that were taking place in the count's basement."
The silver-haired vampire lifted her chin arrogantly clearly wrestling with indecision. Her companion, a man with angular features and dark eyes, looked even more reluctant.
"The experiments you speak of..." She paused, as if sharing such information was below her rank.
"Margaret, you forget yourself!" Thierry interjected with disdain. "These mortals, helpful though they may have been, are not of our kind"
Margaret turned to him, her eyes flashing with the authority of ancient nobility. "Thierry, our pride has already cost us too many of our kin. Perhaps it is time to set aside centuries of tradition for survival."
Thierry's jaw clenched, his pride warring with pragmatism. After a long moment, he inclined his head with barely concealed reluctance. "Very well, Margaret. But know that this goes against every instinct of our bloodline."
Margaret turned to Elias and Elena, her voice trembling slightly. "The experiments... they were performed on vampires. Our kin. The count sought to study our characteristics."
"Before your arrival," Thierry continued bitterly, "we planned to finish off that monster after successfully and discreetly evacuating our brothers and sisters. But you beat us to it."
Margaret stepped closer, her eyes searching their faces intently. "We're telling you this because... well, perhaps our intentions don't align perfectly, but we might share the same goals. We could use allies in these dark times."
Elena frowned. "But why target vampires specifically? And how many of your people did he capture?"
Margaret's expression grew cold. "You must understand—we are not mere 'demi-humans' as you so crudely categorize us. We are vampires, children of the night, inheritors of ancient power. Yet since the death of the King of Umbrasia, even we have not been spared this systematic persecution. It's not just us, the dwarves, elves and beastmen, we're all getting hunted."
Elena's eyes widened with recognition. "I found it strange that I hadn't seen any demi-humans lately. I suspected they had become hostile to Umbrasia or fled the war, but this..."
Margaret's composure cracked slightly, revealing genuine pain beneath her aristocratic mask. "We weren't hostile. We were... prey."
"Hostile?" Thierry's eyes blazed. "How dare they hunt us—superior beings—like mere animals! We showed no hostility… but we will now."
Thierry stepped forward. "It pains us to ask this of mortals, but if you encounter any of our bloodline in your travels, aid them if you can. We are a proud race, but pride means nothing if we face extinction."
Elias nodded. "We'll do what we can."
"Your assistance would be... appreciated," Margaret said stiffly, clearly struggling with having to request help from humans.
"Do you have any idea who's responsible for this systematic disappearance?" Elena asked.
Margaret and Thierry exchanged another glance before Margaret spoke. "All evidence points to the First Prince—Prince Amenios being behind it all."
At the mention of that name, Elena's composure shattered. Her face contorted with rage, her hands trembling with barely contained fury.
"Alice," Elias said calmly, placing a restraining hand on her shoulder. She took several deep breaths, gradually regaining her composure.
"I'm Owen," Elias said, giving false names to the vampires. "And this is Alice."
He reached into his coat and withdrew a small vial filled with dark red liquid, tossing it to Thierry. "Consider this a gift."
Thierry caught the vial, examining it suspiciously. The liquid seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. "What is this?"
"Something that might prove useful," Elias replied cryptically.
Thierry found Elias strange but accepted the gift nonetheless.
"An alliance sounds mutually beneficial," Elias said with what appeared to be genuine interest. "I would gladly work with your people against common enemies."
(How amusing,) he thought, his internal voice dripping with dark satisfaction. (I guess I don't have to search too far. Don't worry, I'll resolve your grudges myself, my future subordinates.)
The two vampires bowed once before melting back into the shadows, leaving Elias and Elena alone on the darkened road.
They continued their journey toward the mines in silence, Elena still visibly shaken by the mention of Prince Amenios.
Upon reaching the polycristal mines, they immediately headed for the only mine still illuminated by flickering torchlight. The entrance yawned before them like a gaping maw, and they descended into its depths without hesitation.
As they ventured deeper into the tunnels, Elena suddenly raised her hand in warning. "Traps," she whispered, her keen senses detecting the subtle signs of danger.
Elias shrugged dismissively. "I'm not afraid of traps."
[ Another Proxy detected in the vicinity]
"What the hell ?!" Elias shouted at the sudden window that popped up in front of him, blinding his vision.
Suddenly, as if triggered by his words, the torches lining the walls extinguished simultaneously, plunging them into complete darkness. The ground beneath their feet groaned ominously before giving way entirely.
Elena and Elias fell into a huge chasm, the wind whipping around them as they plunged into the abyss.
Meanwhile, somewhere deep within the labyrinthine ancient ruins at the bottom of the chasm, Méline, her brother Sagan, and Andreas were bound hand and foot. Andreas had regained consciousness and was in a state of absolute fury.
"Release me this instant!" he roared, struggling against his bonds. "How dare you treat a swordmaster and knight of the Kingdom of Umbrasia in this manner!"
Unfortunately for Andreas, he was powerless. The light-based spell binding his limbs seemed incredibly potent, far beyond what should be possible to restrain someone of his caliber. Despite being a swordmaster, he couldn't break free.
The priests and a priestess of the Mortalis cult listened to Andreas's protests with visible frustration etched on their faces.
Finally, Andreas shouted his name with desperate hope. "I am Andreas Drakemoor! Surely you recognize that name!"
All eyes suddenly pierced him with unmistakable contempt and disgust.
Méline was the first to speak, her voice dripping with venom. "Are you truly Andreas Drakemoor ? The traitor who deserted the fortress of Eisenwall, allowed Aurianis to invade Umbrasia, and caused the war currently ravaging our lands?"
Andreas couldn't believe his ears. Denial washed over him like a tidal wave. "No... that's impossible. I would never..."
His internal monologue began to race as fragmented memories of the attack on Eisenwall surfaced. He remembered fleeing for his life, then two shadows approaching him, and then... nothing until he awakened here.
The priestess of Mortalis stepped forward, her expression softening with genuine pity as she looked at Andreas. "Andreas Drakemoor, it is indeed him," she said gently, her voice filled with compassion. "You are wanted for high treason throughout the kingdom. Your knighthood has been stripped, and..." she paused, "your entire family has been hanged for your crimes."
The words hit Andreas like physical blows. At first, he simply stared at her in stunned silence, his mind refusing to process what he'd heard. Then, slowly, the reality began to seep in like poison through his veins.
(My family... dead?) The thought crept through his consciousness like a slow-moving plague. (Mother... Father... Eleonore…)
"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "That can't be true. I would never... I'm loyal to the crown. I serve Prince—"
"The Second Prince?" the priestess asked softly. "Andreas, you abandoned your post. The fortress fell because of your desertion."
The memories came flooding back in fragments—the overwhelming terror, the impossible odds, his legs carrying him away from the battle. Away from his duty.
(I ran,) he realized with growing horror. (But it was a trap, I was framed, did the Prince really abandon me…?)
Despair began to settle over him like a heavy shroud, each breath becoming more labored as the full weight of his actions crystallized in his mind.
One of the priests cleared his throat. "Priestess, we should continue. We've been lost in this labyrinth of ancient ruins for the past week. If we're to complete our investigation, we must press on."
"You're right," she nodded. "Let's keep going. We need to understand what lies deeper in these ruins."
As the priests began preparing to move their captives, Méline finally exploded with frustration.
"This is ridiculous!" she shrieked, struggling against her bonds. "We just came here for polycristals! We have nothing to do with this traitor or your stupid religious nonsense!"
"Méline's right!" Sagan whined, his voice cracking with panic. "We're just miners! We don't care about your investigation or this war criminal! Just let us go and we'll leave you alone!"
"Please!" Méline continued, pleading earnestly. "We were just trying to make some money! We didn't know he was wanted! We don't know anything about Mortalis or ancient ruins or any of this!"
The priestess looked at them with a mixture of sympathy and resolve. "I'm sorry, but you're involved now. You'll come with us until we can be certain of your innocence."
The group began to move deeper into the ruins, dragging their unwilling captives behind them. Andreas's occasional sobs and the siblings' continued protests echoed through the ancient corridors.
From somewhere in the darkness above,
two figures moved silently through the shadows, following the sounds of anguish and complaint that drifted up from the depths below.