Elvys paused and stood in front of the wall in his study, staring at the cross sword hanging on the wall. The sword hadn't been unsheathed for over two hundred years, and despite diligent cleaning by those who took care of it, they couldn't prevent its inevitable rusting.
That was the last time he used the sword and the last time Elvys set foot in the Night Tomb Castle. He walked into the castle adorned with pain and greed under the moonlight, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the expensive cashmere carpet.
From all around, several fanged and grim blood clan members pounced at him. Elvys's hand was on the hilt of the sword, but he showed no intention of drawing it. His pace was still unhurried, and the blood clan members who pounced on him exploded into a cloud of blood mist, to which Elvys didn't even give a glance.
Bloodline suppression, huh, this was the principle they regarded as their guideline: higher-ranked blood clans could arbitrarily deprive lower-ranked members of the same bloodline of everything.
This was also one of the methods they used to punish Elvys in the past, using the blood of lower-ranked blood servants to turn him into a vampire, making Elvys a silent cornerstone under this bloody pyramid. Anyone could determine his life or death, keeping him in constant fear for his own life.
But now it was different. He had replaced the old master, although this was not something to be happy about for him.
Elvys found the weak castle owner hiding in the coffin.
He rudely yanked the Duke of Night Tomb out: "You don't need a coffin, after all, dead vampires won't leave a body."
The Duke of Night Tomb's eyes were filled with deep hatred. "You base wretch, petty thief, it was you who stole everything from me!"
"Really?" Elvys carelessly cleaned the blade, "Now you are the wretch you speak of, has no one visited your bloodline for so long, found that the once Duke is now not even as good as a blood servant?"
"Oh," Elvys suddenly realized, "Have you been hiding in this basement for a full five years? Does that still count as a Duke? You're even worse than the rats in the basement. At least when they see their kind, they don't get nervous like you."
The Duke of Night Tomb's teeth chattered.
The sword glinted in the dim light of the basement.
Elvys walked towards the main gate. Behind him, the Duke of Night Tomb was nailed to the coffin with the cross sword. Fresh blood flowed from the corner of the Duke's mouth, his chest made a deathly "hee hee" sound, and he struggled to say: "I curse you, what you took from me, you will lose double.
The bloodline you stole from me will turn into magma, constantly burning your body!
My clansmen might temporarily obey you, but they will eventually harvest the poison of betrayal. You will become a tyrant, a madman, and a butcher, destroying everything you create with your own hands!"
After the Duke of Night Tomb finished speaking, his body stiffened and turned into a pile of ashes.
Someone later returned the cross sword to Elvys, along with the curse of the Duke of Night Tomb.
Elvys rolled up his sleeve, and under his pale skin, bluish-purple veins pulsed. His body was cold, but his blood was hot, hot like melting iron, boiling magma. He didn't care about the curse of the Duke of Night Tomb. He had always been good at patience, both in the past and now. The Night Tomb bloodline that would betray him according to the curse no longer existed. Elvys didn't need these greedy and hideous vassals, he coldly stripped them of their lives.
The only thing that gave Elvys some concern was the fear of becoming a monster known only for slaughter, with no one capable of stopping him. Now it seemed that there might be a solution to this.
If the problem can't be solved, then eliminate the person who could cause the problem.
If he were to ask, would she... fulfill this request of his? Since she indulged him in sharpening his claws on the table leg, taught the dragon-blooded sorcerer a lesson who trying to harm him, and remembered to prepare his favorite berry pie every night, she must have some special feelings for him, right?
The Knight Commander Asland appeared at the door, interrupting the Duke's daydreaming. He bent his knuckles and lightly knocked on the door, entering without waiting for Elvys to respond.
"I know Baron Jasper is detestable, but couldn't you wait for the arrival of the tribunal? Must you kill him immediately? A burst of anger is enough to ruin the magical stability you've achieved by turning into a cat for two months. You should be more aware of this than I am."
"I am sorry." Elvys expressed regret verbally, but his entire demeanor was full of self-justification.
"Is that alchemist still alive? I'd like to order some more transformation potion, the same kind as last time."
"Are you addicted to becoming a cat?" Asland said irritably. Due to the curse, Duke Elvys's magic was extremely unstable, and in recent years, it occasionally lost control due to emotional fluctuations. Coincidentally, they discovered a temporary way to calm these fluctuations: by drinking transformation potions, the species-altered Duke Elvys not only avoided outbursts but also remained stable for the following months while returning to human form.
However, the duke's magic would be restricted after drinking the transformation potion, and the possibility of being assassinated would sharply increase. Hence, Elvys would voluntarily suggest teleportation to a random location, even if he wasn't certain of the destination, as he knew he wouldn't starve.
Recently, the transformation potion of this particular alchemist has worked best, which is why the two of them knew he was secretly selling Elvys's teleportation locations to others but still didn't deal with him.
"I'll have him send it over." Asland calmed down somewhat and began discussing affairs of state.
"The Church intends to marry Princess Orlan to the crown prince of the Duchy of Gadaka." The Duchy of Gadaka is one of the states that split from the Cretan Empire. Although its area is still considered large among the duchies, a princess of the Empire marrying there is definitely a step-down, especially considering this princess is the second in line to the throne of the Empire.
Elvys was puzzled, "I remember that the King of Orlan only has a son and a daughter. His son is so ill that he probably won't outlive him. The Church should keep Princess Orlan as Queen. Why would they want to marry her to another country?"
"Gadaka is a follower of the Goddess of Harvest. After Princess Orlan is married there, she will be forced to renounce her right to the throne due to religious issues," Asland sneered, "The Church wouldn't want Princess Orlan to ascend to the throne, she has half foreign blood in her."
The Church executed the princess's mother, preferring the royal lineage to end rather than letting Princess Orlan take the reins and oppose the Church.
"If the Orlan royal lineage ends, the Church's power will probably increase." The relationship between the Church of Light and the Silver Empire has never been good, after all, few pure humans are sitting in the Senate. Elvys pondered, "Although I don't usually like to meddle in my neighbors' affairs, I can't stand to see the Church get everything it wants."
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Vilanthe sat at her dressing table, her lovely, rosy face reflected in the mirror. Unlike her father and brother, Vilanthe was born healthy and had never been sick in fifteen years.
Vilanthe could run and jump, while her illegitimate brother Joshua rarely left his bedroom and seldom saw the sun throughout the year.
This was abnormal, referring to Vilanthe. The Orlan royal family almost had no healthy heir, and Vilanthe had no uncles or aunts. She once had one, her father's brother, who passed away from illness before he could inherit the throne.
No one expected her brother Joshua to live to adulthood. Vilanthe's father, the current monarch of the Orlan Empire, hasn't left his bed in three years. The bishop from the Church of Light often visited her father's chamber, praying for him and bringing the most precious potions which to some extent extended his life, but the effect wasn't good.
Perhaps in a year or six months, either Vilanthe or Joshua would have to wear the crown.
Vilanthe stared at her own eyes in the mirror: She wants to be a Queen than marry some country. Isn't that only natural?
But she never believed her path to the throne would be smooth, as it is now. Even though Joshua and his father seem incapable of leaving an heir, any noble with royal blood might have to trace back five generations - the Kings of Orlan hadn't had brothers or sisters for a long time, and the Church wouldn't allow Vilanthe to touch any power, even if she were to be a puppet king like her father.
The maids brought lunch, two white bread rolls that were only slightly larger than a mouthful, three pieces of roasted fish, and a bowl of creamy soup with chunks of meat, greens, and top-grade ham.
Vilanthe sent the maids away. Her personal maid tried to reassure her, "Although Primus Guard was taken away, the Bishop will certainly not harm him. After the negotiations for your marriage with the Crown Prince of Gadaka are finished, Primus Guard might even accompany you to Gadaka."
Primus was Vilanthe's childhood sweetheart. The bishop took him away early to intimidate Vilanthe, to keep her in line. Vilanthe thought to herself that if they hadn't feigned imprisoning this spy who had been planted by her side, some things would not have been as easy for her to do.
She ordered the maids out with a cold face. A while later, she had them called in to clean up the meal. Seeing that most of the food had been eaten, her personal maid thought her words had worked and was secretly pleased.
Sure enough, Vilanthe's mood seemed much better. She ordered a carriage to be prepared to go to church for prayers. There was a small chapel in the palace, but Vilanthe never went there. Years ago, she had fought for the right to pray at the larger church outside, which was very important, especially today.
The maid hesitated, but Vilanthe was firm. She saw the maid go to consult someone and return, saying it had been arranged. Vilanthe never left with just her two personal maids. Especially in this delicate situation, at least a 16-person guard followed their carriage.
Stay calm, Vilanthe told herself, gripping her slightly trembling hand. She packed a simple bundle - very simple, it contained only three white bread rolls (which she had saved from her daily lunches), two simple silver necklaces (the pendants removed), an unknown material black tag, and a thin cloak (that could wrap her whole body since she couldn't really get commoner's clothes).
She hid the bundle under her skirt. The cumbersome skirt was finally of some use.
The two maids sat on either side of Vilanthe, their eyes unblinkingly focused on her.
"It's too stuffy." Vilanthe frowned, and a maid immediately opened the window halfway.
As the carriage turned a corner, the maids' panicked voices rang out, "Oh no, Princess Vilanthe jumped out of the carriage!"
The coachman immediately pulled the reins to stop the horses. There were several guards in front and behind the carriage, but the ones in the front were only responsible for clearing the way, and the ones behind were on another street and hadn't caught up. No one saw how the princess had jumped out of the carriage.
The scene was chaotic, with the neighing of horses echoing around. The carriage braked abruptly, and the guards behind also had to pull their reins to avoid a collision. No one expected such an accident to occur. The spot where Princess Vilanthe jumped out was a small residential garden, with lush decorative vines growing on the fence. The guards suspected that Princess Vilanthe had climbed over and hidden inside.
This was simply unthinkable. They could hardly imagine the pampered Princess Vilanthe having the ability to jump off a moving carriage and then climb over a nearly man-high fence. Moreover, her speed must have been very fast because even the guards closely following her did not see her figure.
No matter how surprised they were, they had certainly messed up a big deal. The captain of the guard immediately ordered the surrounding of this household, and guards were also deployed to the two adjacent streets.
An even stranger thing happened. Whether it was in the garden or every corner of this house, there was no trace of Princess Vilanthe. The captain of the guard was in a panic. Things had progressed to a point he couldn't rectify, and his plan to find Princess Vilanthe as soon as possible to make up for the mistake had failed.
In the garden, a small tree nestled next to a tall oak tree, with a small bundle hanging on a branch. After a long, long period of silence around, this small tree transformed into a squatting young girl.
Yes, Vilanthe could turn into a tree. This ability obviously came from her mother, the alien queen who was burned to death.
Vilanthe quickly took off the bothersome corset and petticoat, leaving only the thin cotton dress underneath. She put on the cloak from the bundle. This cloak was light grey; in the Orland Empire, wearing a black cloak would draw attention. Vilanthe tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it between her lips, the remaining bread, and the necklace were tucked into her bosom.
She climbed over the fence again. The guards were sure that she had already escaped from the garden, so there were no guards there, but there must be guards checking at the street corners and city gates.
Vilanthe did not put on the hood. Her hair was originally brilliant gold but had now turned to a dull yellow, with a hint of green upon closer inspection. Her complexion also changed from its original rosy color to a somewhat waxy yellow. This was the cost of turning into a small tree. She had never received any education related to using her own abilities, making each transformation extremely draining for her.
Carrying a basket she had swiped from the garden, she boldly walked onto the street. In the face of the questioning guards, she seemed somewhat trembling: "I need to buy some flour..."
Facing a young girl, the guard's alertness reached its highest. He examined her carefully: the color of her hair seemed off, and her looks weren't quite right. The guard had only seen Princess Vilanthe from a distance at a festival once. The impression she left him was of a serene demeanor and a beautiful face. The young girl in front of him, although delicate and roughly the same age as the princess, did not look healthy. She seemed pale, withered, and hunched, with a slightly protruding mouth.
The disguise had its limitations; a fat person could not suddenly turn skinny, and a noble lady could not hide her privileged upbringing even if she smeared ash on her face. The guard, after hesitating for a long time, decided to let her pass.
Even if he made a mistake, it wouldn't matter. It wasn't only his checkpoint that had guards; Princess Vilanthe would have to pass many more to escape the city.
Having been allowed to pass, Vilanthe let out a small sigh of relief, but she knew this wasn't the end. She still hadn't fully escaped the risk of discovery. She knew that not only would the entire capital be on high alert, but every household would also be watching for young girls her age begging or stealing food nearby - people need to eat to survive, and a full-grown person can't just disappear.
The major roads outside the city would also search passing pedestrians, especially towards Flemington, the domain of the current King of Orland before he ascended to the throne, which was the most likely place for the princess to go. Apart from that, where could a princess who had never left the capital go?
A sly light flashed in Vilanthe's eyes, no one would think that she would choose to stay in the city at this time. People will starve if they don't eat, but what about trees?