Chapter 424: Elder, Ancilla, Neonate and Human (7)

As the Progenitor’s consort, I was something of a celebrity.

Vampires recognized me without question, while even among the humans walking the streets, about a third would glance at my face and get as far as forming the word “consort” in their throats.

Half of those even came up to speak to me directly.

“Um, excuse me. Are you, by any chance—!”

Being the Progenitor’s consort wasn’t something I needed to hide, and frankly, it would be impossible to conceal it anyway—Tyrkanzyaka’s presence in the Duchy was far too immense.

Instead of denying it, I declared it proudly.

“Yes. The Progenitor’s consort. That’s me.”

At that, the people surrounding me let out exclamations.

“Ooh… I knew it!”

“He totally has the look of a consort!”

“I can’t believe it at first, but surely no one could be scamming the Progenitor!”

What’s with the “look of a consort”?

And what scamming?

Do I look like some scumbag who would drain his partner dry and toss her aside afterwards?

I’m not that bad-looking, am I?

“Forgive me, but may I ask how old you are?”

“Shh. That’s a secret. We shouldn’t count years in front of Tyr… Don’t ask why—it’s blasphemy.”

“Where did you first meet the Progenitor?”

“When I ventured deep into the endless dark Abyss, searching for treasure. That’s where I met her, purely by chance—or perhaps, fate? After all, Tyr is a treasure to me.”

“What’s the secret to capturing the Progenitor’s taste for blood?”

“That goes beyond privacy—it’s a state secret. I’d like to keep that one just for myself.”

Gradually, more and more people gathered around me.

Curiosity poured in from all sides.

I didn’t avoid their stares; I embraced them as I walked through the streets.

The crowd swelled, and even those who hadn’t paid much attention were now peeking over.

Before long, a procession had formed, enough to fill the entire street.

In the Duchy, where little ever changes, humans were starved for interesting news.

And the consort brought by the Progenitor herself made for the perfect topic to bite into.

After all, it was a romance between the sky-high Progenitor and a mere human.

“What’s the cutest thing about the Progenitor—?”

“That’s enough.”

– Step, step.

Amid the commotion of the street, a pair of footsteps rang unusually clear.

The humans, who had flocked like clouds, turned toward the voice in alarm.

Then they quickly bowed their heads, averting their gazes.

“L-Lady Erte!”

An Ancilla.

A vampire servant of an Elder, bestowed with their strength and authority.

Their age and power varied depending on how long ago they were turned, but one thing was certain: even the strongest of humans couldn’t hope to rival one.

“Foolish livestock. Do not obstruct the path of the Progenitor’s consort.”

Moreover… Ancillas were frequently culled and replaced.

Only the strongest survive, as dictated by the law of survival of the fittest.

Countess Erte was one such case.

Blood trickled across the ground and crawled up the ankles of the humans.

Crimson threads painted spiderwebs across their skin.

Moments later, those surrounding me were yanked away, as if pulled by strings.

It was a technique adapted from Kavila’s blood thread which was used to bind and move numerous humans at once.

It wasn’t overwhelmingly powerful, but the precision demonstrated mastery of Bloodcraft.

The humans, familiar with this sort of forced movement, only let out a few muted cries.

Still, discomfort lingered, and disgruntled mutterings floated in the air.

Regardless, Countess Erte—Valdamir’s loyal retainer and steward of Plenilune Castle—parted the crowd and approached me.

Dressed in an elegant suit and hat, the woman bowed her head.

“Consort, why are you wandering the streets without an escort?”

“Wait, is ‘consort’ my official title now? Why do you all keep calling me that?”

“Because you are the Progenitor’s consort, of course.”

“Then what does that make you, bowing your head to a consort?”

“As an Ancilla, I serve an Elder. Compared to you, the Progenitor’s consort, my rank is lower.”

To Countess Erte, this was simply common sense.

Never mind that ten of me wouldn’t be able to beat her—because I was Tyr’s consort, she addressed me with utmost respect.

“Where are you headed? I, Erte von Blood, loyal retainer of Lord Valdamir, shall escort you.”

“I was thinking of heading back to Plenilune Castle… but I also came out to look around the streets a bit.”

“Then allow me to escort you. Please enjoy your outing to your heart’s content.”

Tch. I’d wanted to take my time sightseeing alone, but these vampires just won’t leave me be. First Lunken, and now an Ancilla?

I bet it’d be the same with a Neonate.

Looks like I won’t be wandering freely in this land anytime soon.

“Do I really need an escort?”

“Having an escort does not necessarily imply you’re in danger. It is a gesture of respect from vampires to the Progenitor—and also a show of your authority.”

“But it does imply lurking danger, doesn’t it?”

“…I shall lead the way.”

Two Neonates appeared out of nowhere and began guiding the crowd away.

The throng that had gathered dispersed quickly, as if they’d seen it all before.

The streets emptied in an instant and I began my somewhat lonely sightseeing under Countess Erte’s watchful gaze.

As expected, being Tyr’s consort means I can’t even pretend to be ordinary.

With no one around and nothing to do, boredom began to set in.

I glanced behind me at Countess Erte, following a half step behind when it hit me.

Countess Erte?

That name sounded familiar.

Where had I—

Ah.

“Oh, right. There was that Neonate who fell into Tantalus… Finlay wasn’t it?”

Countess Erte halted mid-step.

Was she startled to hear her subordinate’s name?

No.

Vampires don’t form emotional attachments like that.

Rather, the moment I said Finlay’s name, she had likely reached an ominous conclusion.

Finlay had gone to Tantalus in search of the Progenitor.

Now he was gone.

Somewhere between Tantalus and the Duchy, something unexpected happened to him.

And that kind of incident could only have happened with the Progenitor’s silent consent—or her will.

Under the Progenitor’s authority, vampires are immortal, after all.

“I can’t begin to imagine what kind of disrespect my foolish Neonate might have caused.”

“Finlay seemed keen on starting a war. That’s why he was so desperate for the Progenitor to return to the Duchy, but… he ended up crossing a line.”

“Aah… that imbecile really went and did it…”

Countess Erte was humiliated—not because she feared the blame might reach her, but because she was genuinely furious that her own vassal, someone as good as an extension of her own body, had committed such insolence.

“May I dare ask… what exactly did he do?”

“While Tyr was experimenting with her heart, it seems she asked Finlay to try keeping it beating for her. So while Tyr entrusted her body and fell asleep for a moment…”

“He… what…!”

It was an act beyond outrageous—an offense that warranted the eradication of three generations.

It wasn’t just misunderstood loyalty; it was treason.

Countess Erte clutched her chest in agony.

“…That crime. I shall go and confess it myself, and take my own life in atonement.”

“Is there really any need to bring it up? Tyr’s buried the memory. Wouldn’t digging it up now only disturb her peace?”

“Then allow me to beg Lord Valdamir to take my life instead!”

“Why are you so extreme? Mr. Valdamir could just pretend nothing happened as long as his servant’s servant kept their mouth shut. Isn’t that best for both Tyr and him?”

I was suggesting, quite plainly, that we keep the truth hidden.

A deeply traitorous choice—but the one that would yield the best outcome.

Countess Erte, burning with shame, wavered slightly at my words.

Taking that opportunity, I asked something I’d been curious about.

“By the way, I’ve been wondering—do retainers ever act on their own, without their maker’s orders?”

“…There are times when they misinterpret commands and go out of control.”

She added this like an excuse.

“But as you said… Finlay’s will is effectively my own. He drank my blood, obeyed it, and resonated with it. His will and mine were one and the same.”

It’s hard to say that Neonates are truly different from Ancillas.

A Neonate who’s taken Ancilla’s blood will share in their rage, their sorrow.

The power and blood flowing in their body stir their emotions, and over time, their thoughts—and even personalities—align with their makers.

After all, emotions are nothing more than the body’s reactions.

That’s why vassals are sometimes described as “parts of the body.”

“Finlay wanted war. Which means…?”

“Struggling against the Sky God is the Duchy’s destiny.”

“And?”

“…But lately, the Duchy has been too peaceful. We’re overflowing with strength, yet unused power has no meaning. Meanwhile, the Sanctum has been weakened by one disaster after another. Their ambitious crusade to convert the savage lands failed, and their attempt to mediate between the Empire and the Mage Federation was rejected by both. If we’re to strike, now is the time.”

It really was a good time for war.

But that alone isn’t enough reason to start one.

Let’s take a peek at her thoughts.

｢Unused strength is meaningless. With an Elder dead, if the Duchy lags behind any further… we must wield this power.｣

Feeling pressured?

That’s unusual.

Everyone feels rushed under pressure, but for vampires, it’s a bit different.

Having lived for a thousand years, death is a distant thing for them.

They’re usually slow, patient, unhurried.

Countess Erte was an Ancilla—a vampire with a long life ahead.

So what pushed her to think this way?

I tested the waters.

“You said retainers acting without their maker’s command isn’t common, right?”

“Yes.”

“That applies to you too, doesn’t it? Not as a maker, but as a retainer yourself.”

The moment I said that—

Countess Erte straightened like she’d been struck by divine revelation.

With awe in her eyes, she stared into the air… then glanced briefly at me before stepping forward.

“Follow me.”

I silently followed Countess Erte.

The streets around Plenilune Castle—the Duchy’s capital—were cloaked in constant darkness, with shadowy corners even more numerous than in a normal city.

Countess Erte moved through them with perfect familiarity and brought me to a place meant only for vampires.

She passed through a curtain of shadow as if entranced, and we emerged in a small but efficient office.

And there—

“You’ve been busy, consort. Almost as much as I have.”

The Crimson Duke, Valdamir, was there, waiting for me despite his endless duties.