The memory ended, and moment of silence after the younger Vladstin's sincere confession under the tree.
The vampire lord Vladstin blinked emotionlessly. "So I may be an avatar of the Yellow God, huh?"
Leron's mind drifted a bit from seeing such a bittersweet and ironic scene, so it took him a while to respond. "Uh.... Y-yes, I believe so. Though not necessarily the Yellow God, you may just be blessed with his affiliation. You're most likely not an incarnation or the same being as him, I have a suspicion on who is currently the Zafaran of our time."
As well as Freudiel, it was really obvious and he hated himself for not realizing sooner that the wrestler and the god literally share the same name.
"Does that mean that all the vampire lords may have been avatars as well?" Vladstin concurred. "It doesn't fully explain the phenomena. Why would demigods turn into undead beings if they are divine and a creature of the Light?"
"I don't know either....." Leron blinked, then remembered, raising his head up. "But Sangfroid might! Yes, the Noble Huntsmen were thought by the Bishop all kinds of things about vampire lords from the book of Xendros. Xendros was the most successful vampire hunter and annihilated all the former vampire lords."
"Xendros...." Vladstin tested saying the name with his light Crescentian accent. The name seemed to stir something in him, but he can't quite grasp it so he let it be. "Does this Xendros know why vampire lords lose their emotions? And does he know how to bring it back?"
"Er, Xendros died years ago, 800 if I'm not mistaken. His book was in the underground archives of the Santimieda Chapel, and you can't really recover it because the pages are sensitive to even the slightest change in temperature and must be kept on certain conditions."
Vladstin sighed. "Unfortunately, even if I did try to recover it, the Santimieda Chapel was burned to the ground. There may be no more ways to enter without digging the archives up, and as you said, that will bring sunlight in and damage this Book of Xendros."
Leron set down his teacup and rubbed his chin. "Asver may know another passage, the archives function through fairy lights that don't bring any change in temperature. You may ask for his help as well."
Vladstin tilted his head. "Ask for help?"
"Yes. Ask him, Sangfroid and the Bishop to help us in these matters. I am not sure if the Bishop survived until now, however, he was already bed sick when we last saw him—"
"Ask for help?" Vladstin repeated, emphasizing the word 'help'. "Can't I just threaten them to give me what I want? Aren't I the villain here?"
Leron now fully understood this Vladstin's mentality. To him, the world is just a stage and he is an actor playing a role, with no emotions of his own and focuses only on sticking to that role. He, or more accurately, it, was like a marionette puppet that was controlled by the living Vladstin's motivations. Perceiving itself as a villain, and acting upon it like a demonized caricature of its human equivalent.
But Leron what's to breath life into this puppet once more and teach him how to be a human with his own will. He wanted to believe in this Vladstin as much as he would on the living one. So despite knowing it was an emotionless walking corpse, he would treat it like a confused man that antagonizes himself and doesn't know the right way to interact with others.
Leron stood up and took his hand. "You shouldn't threaten these people anymore if you want to enlist their assistance. Just ask politely and they will be willing to help you."
"Politely." Vladstin stared off to space. "That seems too out of character for me, they might find it strange."
He went to the edge of the rubbles and ruins and turned his head back. "But I will consider your words. Me, a vampire lord who preyed upon your people, will try to ask my victims for help 'politely'."
There's no sarcasm in his tone, but Leron still felt a little mocked. He smiled sheepishly and said. "Just try it and see how it works out. It would be beneficial for your plans too, right? There's no harm in being nice."
"You mean playing nice." Vladstin gave a fake smarmy smile. "Like you did to me. I shall copy your demeanor then."
He didn't have to go that hard. The vampire Vladstin really was an apathetic savage.
----------------
Sangfroid had just finished his meal and had started to stand up and walk a few steps on his own despite the warnings. The Huntsmen treated him like a baby, and he got frustrated by it, so once they left, he walked around his tent out of spite.
"Chief, do you want me to feed you? Say ahhh~"
"Chief, if you feel hot and sweaty, I can fan you! I have large leaves right here!"
"Chief, do you want a massage? I heard scurvy can make your limbs feel numb and weak—"
"Please leave, all of you. I want to rest." The tips of his ears went red and he felt like his head was going to ache more from this unwarranted attention.
The Huntsmen always listened to him when he asks them to leave, and they give one single glance of both worry and adoration because they always find it cute when the usually cold and intimidating-looking Sangfroid's ears turn red. That was the only way they can figure out if he was flustered or not, and their brotherly doting for him gets activated by that.
Sangfroid checked the Looking Glass but it wasn't working. The vampire blood that was used to control it may have run out of its powers. He wanted to see Leron's face so he could feel better, one look makes him feel like he can survive anything, even scurvy. He wanted Vladstin to come early so he could use the Looking Glass again—
And as if the heavens were listening to him, Vladstin appeared before him.
"Hello, Hunter. I just passed by your harem of servants when I came here, they said I should leave you alone because you wanted to rest." Vladstin grinned wily. "You don't look like you were resting at all. Should I tell them you're being a naughty patient and going out of bed so soon?"
"Vladstin," Sangfroid called out and showed him the now normal mirror shard. "Can you give me your blood—"
"I am serious, Sangfroid. Go back to bed." Vladstin ordered with his face turning grim.
"Not you too." Sangfroid grumbled. "I am alright, my fever has gone down and I don't feel so sick anymore—"
"In just as a span of less than 42 hours? I don't think so." Vladstin was quick to be by his side and pushed him to the mattress. "Do not be stubborn and bring more troublesome worry for yourself. You don't like being doted upon by anyone besides your sweetheart prince, don't you? So don't make them dote upon you."
Sangfroid blinked a few times. It's been a while since someone pushed him down that easily. He was also stunned by Vladstin's words. Base from the memories and the way Leron described him, the living Vladstin doesn't seem to be this perceptive. Perhaps it's part of his power of his blood.
But why does it seem like.... he himself also worries for him? It may be that he was just being factual and stating the obvious outcomes if the Huntsmen learned Sangfroid was not taking his health seriously, but it still made the hunter feel an illusion of compassion from this vampire. The thought made his ears turn pink.
"Give me the glass shard, the blood has dried out, right?" Vladstin kneeled beside him and took the glass shard from his hand. He slashed his palm with it a dripped the blood on the reflective surface. The wound healed as fast as it was made.
Sangfroid watched it in fascination that wasn't obvious to his blank face. Vladstin thought he was staring because he was impatient. "Here. You can see your dearly beloved now, such an obsessive simpleton."
"Thank you." Sangfroid took the mirror and felt warmth spread on his chest and cheeks when he saw Prince Leron being safe and eating delightfully.
Vladstin lifted an eyebrow at the hunter's not-so-obvious happy expression that he can only tell with his vampire powers. "The line in the parchment for today is 'I had lied to you about the circumstances of my birth, I was not an abandoned orphan; I was an exile and the former crown prince.' "
Samgfroid's eyes left the glass shard for a moment and widened for a bit. "The writer was a prince?"
"En." Vladstin nodded, then wondered: "Do you keep track of the lines that I give to you?"
"Yes. I write them down, but even without doing so, I can remember them clearly." Sangfroid recalled the previous two lines. "The receiver of the letter is Gaug'in. A king was about to exterminate his tribe. The writer is a former crown prince. I still can't see how this will be relevant to me."
"Do you want me to spoil you with the details?" Vladstin smiled like a cunning cat.
"You would do that?"
"No." Vladstin's smile widened. "I just wanted to see your reaction. I like playing with my prey, how can I just give the whole story to you without some excitement? I feel satisfied whenever I see people writhe and suffer."
"No, you don't." Sangfroid countered. "I've seen it from the shard. You cannot feel satisfied because you cannot feel anything."
Vladstin's smile immediately turned into a straight line. "And?"
"Why do you always feel the need to say things like that when you don't really mean them?" Sangfroid asked. "You're not having fun, nor could be naturally malicious either."
"Because this is how I should be. I should be as unlikable and loathsome as possible." Vladstin said with an indifferent expression, showing his true apathethism.
"Is that an inherent trait among vampire lords when they wake up? Do you feel the need to be evil once you were turned?" Sangfroid frowned.
"I thought you hunters know everything about vampires. Leron told me you have some book that is a guide to all things involving us unholy bloodsuckers. So why are you asking me this?"
"We don't know everything." Sangfroid said. "The Book of Xendros has many lost and damaged pages through time. And it was written on Old Ilvedian, so we need the Bishop to translate it for us. And Father told us that even Xendros may not be fully knowledgable about vampires and vampire lords, he is not a perfect being."
Vladstin considered this. "Then what does he know?"
"Xendros had compiled many information over 10 years, and some of these takes time to be put into paper because he had to make many observations to confirm it." Sangfroid said. "The ones that we learned are written in my diary"
"You have a diary? Are you some maiden that fancy herself writing it like a compilation of daily letters for her prince charming?" Vladstin said with that ridiculing tone again.
"Yes. I keep one so I could show it to Prince Leron one day." Sangfroid was not bothered by this. "It may seem silly, but it makes me feel less lonely without him by my side. I think about this as a way to compensate for the times we weren't able to spend together."
Vladstin couldn't comprehend this level of commitment. You would write every single day just for the person you like? Humans are strange indeed.
But that doesn't matter. He needs the information from that diary now. "Where is that diary?"
Sangfroid pointed. "On my desk over there. It has a lock."
Vladstin remembered what Leron told him. He bowed his head and asked. "The key. May I.... borrow it?"
"Huh?" Sangfroid tilted his head like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Let me borrow it..... please." Vladstin looked up and gave him the fakest polite smile in the whole world.
".....No."
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