The First Vampire

Chapter 251: 251 Winterfell City (Part 1)_1

Translator: 549690339

Clop, clop, clop…

A warhorse sped by, shaking off the dew that had accumulated on the roadside flowers and grass overnight.

The knight astride it wore an anxious expression, repeatedly whipping the horse beneath him, apparently unsatisfied with the pace at which they were progressing.

But soon, he had to slow down.

Because ahead appeared a team of scout cavalry, and judging by their armour and banners, they were unmistakably soldiers of the Uman Clan.

Dulululu

The warhorse slowed to a stop, and the Knight atop it called out to the encircling Uman Clan scouts, “I am the Deputy Legion Commander of the Golden Lion Legion – Knight Louis. Is Count Uman around?”

The scout cavalry captain leading the group gave Knight Louis a few scrutinizing glances, nodded and said, “Please follow me.”

A moment later, Knight Louis followed the scout cavalry to the Uman Clan’s camp.

Upon surveying the camp, Louis found that although there was some order, the faces of the soldiers still bore a hint of fear and confusion.

It was evident that after the turmoil of the previous night, Count Uman had barely managed to regroup his disbanded forces. However, the morale was weak, suggesting that they may not withstand a significant battle.

“Knight Louis, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Count Uman looked at Knight Louis with a cheerful expression, unperturbed by the previous night’s upheaval.

Knight Louis reciprocated the warm smile, stepping forward to say, “Count, I believe our destinations are aligned.”

“Oh?”, Count Uman’s eyes flashed, “And where do you think I am going?”

Knight Louis’s smile grew wider, he enunciated each word:

“Winterfell City!”

Count Uman’s pupils narrowed, but he managed to keep his composure, asking indifferently, “Why do you think I would head to Winterfell City?”

Knight Louis chuckled as he shook his head, “Count, surely, there’s no need to play coy at this point.”

Count Uman nodded in agreement, admitting, “Well, since we’re being honest, I have an old grudge with Viscount Angler, and you used to be Master Joyce’s riding teacher. Neither of us would want to see Miss Vera inherit the title of Northern Duke. Hence, an alliance seems to be the best choice.”

“Indeed!” Knight Louis exclaimed enthusiastically, extending his hand towards Count Uman.

Count Uman readily grasped the offered hand in a firm handshake.

And thus, an alliance was formed.

Knight Louis immediately suggested, “Count, our priority should be to take control of Winterfell City. We cannot let Vera return to the city with the Golden Lion Legion!”

Count Uman nodded in agreement, though his tone grew grave, “I had heard that the Golden Lion Legion was engaged in battle with the Dawson Family’s army. Has the fight ended?”

Knight Louis sighed, “It has, and the Dawson Family suffered a devastating defeat.”

Count Uman’s face paled and he spoke urgently, “Then we must hurry to Winterfell City! Do you know how many troops remain in the city?”

“There are only eight thousand City Defense Soldiers in Winterfell City, and their combat capabilities are not strong. How many troops does the Uman Clan have at their disposal?”

“Thirty thousand.”

“Well…that does pose a challenge…” said Knight Louis, frowning.

Upon entering the camp earlier, he had noticed that the Uman Clan’s army was in a poor state. Moreover, Winterfell City is the most fortified city in the North Territory. If it were attacked, thirty thousand men would not be sufficient to conquer it in a short time.

“Of course, we can’t force an attack!” Count Uman shook his head, “We should enter the city first, find Master Joyce, pledge our loyalty, and ask him to take overall charge, as the heir apparent to the Duke. Only then can we control Winterfell City and station our troops within it. ”

“Agreed! Let’s proceed as planned!”

With their plan in place, the two men quickly put it into action.

Count Uman left the command of the troops to a knight from his Clan, taking a unit of cavalry alongside Knight Louis, and sped toward Winterfell City.

At this time, a grim atmosphere loomed over Winterfell City.

The news of Duke St. Hilde’s death had been sent to Lion Roar Castle by Carrier Pigeon, but to avoid unnecessary panic, the news was kept within the nobility, the commoners remained oblivious.

Fortunately, ever since the rebellion had erupted at the start of the year, Winterfell City had been placed under martial law. Thus, although the city was on heightened alert, no further panic had ensued.

After nightfall, Winterfell City fell completely silent.

The City Defense Force had imposed a strict curfew, and the streets were eerily empty after eight p.m., save for the few patrol squads.

The heavy, formidable city gate had been firmly sealed, and the towering drawbridge was fully raised. The thick, child-arm-sized black iron chains appeared unusually chilling in the dim light.

The night duty soldiers of the City Defense Force, accustomed to the cold, quiet nights, were as yet unaware of Duke St. Hilde’s death, and showed no signs of panic.

Furthermore, the tall, stout walls of Winterfell City offered them a strong sense of security. In their view, even if they were besieged by a horde, it would still not be easy to capture the city.

Atop the city tower located by the South Gate, several military officers of the City Defense Force were quietly playing Gwent, while a few trusted subordinates stood watch nearby.

However, all of a sudden, the resounding warning bell sounded from the city walls, and the officers hurriedly packed up their cards, grabbed their weapons, and rushed out.

“What’s going on?” asked an officer, panting heavily.

A soldier pointed towards the city below, where the frantic beat of horse hooves could be heard. Shortly after, they spotted several shadowy figures of mounted riders holding torches and heading towards the city gate.

As the party of cavalry stood beneath the towering city walls, a familiar voice rang out,

“I am Sir Louis, the Vice-Commander of the Golden Lion Legion. Open the gate!”

The officer responsible for the night shift recognized the voice of Sir Louis and so shouted down to him,

“I’m sorry, Sir Louis! By command of the Duke, we are strictly forbidden to open the city gates of Winterfell City during the night, hence, I will just need to lower a basket to bring you up.”

“Two! Count Uman is with me!”

The officers of the City Defense Force no longer considered Count Uman a traitor, due to his previous surrender to the Golden Lion Legion, for which Knight Nelson had informed Winterfell City and sent the heads of Penny and Lawrence as a sign.

However, if Count Uman had come alone, the officers might have hesitated to let him in. Given his history of betrayal, they certainly would have needed to report to their superiors before making a decision.

But with Sir Louis at his side, there were no suspicions raised. The officers ordered two baskets to be dropped down, bringing Sir Louis and Count Uman up to the city walls.

After entering the city, they did not linger at the city tower but hastily proceeded to Lion Roar Castle.

Upon their arrival at the castle, they were informed that young Master Joyce had already gone to bed.

Sir Louis, growing impatient, asked the butler Derrington if they could wake up Master Joyce.

But the butler merely shook his head dispassionately, implying that they could discuss matters in the morning.

With no other choices, they were led to a guest room by a servant to rest.

The night deepened, and Sir Louis tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Frustrated, he got up to wander aimlessly. Noticing the lights still on in Count Uman’s room, he realized that the latter had not gone to sleep either.

Thereupon, Sir Louis knocked on the door of Count Uman’s room.

Count Uman welcomed him in and poured two glasses of water. Handing one to Sir Louis, he then asked, “Do you know who Derrington the butler supports?”

Sir Louis took a sip of water then hesitated before answering, “It should be Joyce, considering that Vera was sent to Yevir for arcane studies by Duke St. Hilde quite a while ago, so she couldn’t have had much contact with the butler.”

“Perhaps.” Count Uman seemed to calm down, and reflecting on their plan with Sir Louis, he suspected that it might be a little crude.

After pondering for a moment, Count Uman cautiously spoke up, “I think we don’t need to rush to see young Master Joyce tomorrow!”

“Why?” Sir Louis jumped to his feet, startled by the suggestion.

Assuming that Count Uman was having cold feet, he hurried to reassure him, “We’ve come this far, it’s too late for regrets!”

Count Uman signaled for Sir Louis to calm down and then said in a stern tone, “The butler’s lack of cooperation has led me to realize that our previous plan was somewhat too hasty, we need to get a better understanding of the situation inside the city.

For instance, who is currently dictating matters in Winterfell City? Who controls the City Defense Force? What is their stance on the matter?

In addition, there’s the Church… I remember that the diocese of the North Territory just appointed a new Archbishop, aren’t you acquainted with him?”

However, Sir Louis, growing irritated, shook his head and said, “If we had all the time in the world, of course, we could proceed like this. But don’t forget, the Golden Lion Legion is retreating. Should we fail to quickly seize control of Winterfell City, do you think that your army outside the city can truly halt the advance of the Golden Lion Legion?”

“You’ve misunderstood my intentions…” Count Uman started to explain but suddenly halted.

Before Sir Louis could express his confusion, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching from outside.

Knock, knock, knock!

The two men exchanged wary looks, after which Count Uman rose to open the door.

“Butler Derrington! What’s the matter so late at night?”

The venerable butler of the St. Hilde family stood emotionless in the doorway. Upon seeing Count Uman, he gave a thin smile and said, “You two haven’t slept yet? Just as well, there’s something I wanted to show you.”

“Oh?” An intrigued look flashed across Count Uman’s face, and he quickly invited him in. “Please, come in.”

Butler Derrington stepped inside and gave a nod to Sir Louis, smiling, “Sir Louis, you’re here too.”

He then reached into his pocket and retrieved a roll of parchment, stating nonchalantly,

“Duke St. Hilde once left behind a will. Gentlemen, would you care to take a look?”

“A will?!”

Count Uman and Sir Louis were unable to contain their cries of surprise, their eyes fixated on the sheepskin scroll in the aged butler’s hand, unable to look away.

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