The First Vampire

White Dew Fortress.

It was a quiet, late night.

In the early days of winter, the air has become chilly. The faint scent of night orchid wafted through the air, silently soothing the restless hearts within the castle.

“Lady Duke!”

“Has Vincent not woken up yet?”

“Not yet…”

The Marchioness looked sorrowful, biting her lip as though she wanted to say something, but upon seeing the stern expression on the Duchess’s face, she held her tongue.

“I am going to perform the healing magic on the Marquis. You all should leave the room for now.” The Duchess waved her hand.

The Marchioness and the maids quietly retreated, leaving only the Duchess and Marquis Vincent in the room.

The Duchess took a seat in a chair next to the sickbed and quietly observed her sleeping son.

Marquis Vincent lay on his back on the bed, covered by a pure white comforter. His face was as pale as paper, his breath weak – seemingly on the brink of death, yet stubbornly clinging onto his last breath.

“My child… why must you persist so painfully…” The Duchess gently caressed Marquis Vincent’s face, her eyes filled with heartache and incomprehension. However, these soft emotions were quickly replaced by determination and stoicism.

“Fear not, my son. Your mother will soon grant you respite… Do not blame me for my hard-heartedness, for this is a necessary sacrifice. Only through this can we regain the attention of our lord.”

Finishing her words, the Duchess clasped her hands together and silently said a prayer. Then, she extended her right hand, her index finger lightly touching Marquis Vincent’s forehead, the tip of his nose and his lips.

The faint holy light that emerged from her fingertip illuminated his pale face, lending it a sense of sacred purity.

If anyone familiar with the Church’s divine techniques were here, they would realize that the Duchess was not performing a healing spell, but rather a prayer of respite for the dead!

The holy light gradually dimmed, and the Duchess pulled out a small, exquisite bottle.

The bottle was meant for holy water, but as for what it contained, only the Duchess knew.

Just as she was about to feed the contents of the bottle to Marquis Vincent, the door was suddenly knocked.

The Duchess frowned, but continued to pour the liquid into Marquis Vincent’s mouth before getting up to open the door, saying:

“Didn’t I say not to disturb me at this time?”

The Butler was quick to apologize, but he still had to report, “Lady, Miss Beatrice has just arrived in the city!”

“Beatrice…” The Duchess’s face changed as if she had recalled some unpleasant memory. With a gloomy face, she walked outdoors.

As she descended the spiral staircase to the main hall on the first floor, the Duchess happened to encounter Beatrice, who was walking in.

“Kate!”

“Beatrice!”

When the two women met, it was as if sparks flew in the air.

A knight, originally standing behind the Duchess, instinctively stepped forward and rested his hand on the hilt of his waist sword, his eyes fixed warily on Beatrice.

It was unavoidable – this young lady had a formidable reputation.

Upon seeing this, Beatrice rolled her eyes disdainfully and said, “After so many years, you’re still a coward.”

“After all these years, you’re just as impolite as ever.” The Duchess retorted instantly.

Beatrice sneered, uninterested in furthering her friction with the Duchess. She turned to the Butler and asked, “Where’s my brother?”

The Butler gave a heavy sigh, his expression filled with sorrow as he said, “The Duke… I’m afraid he has met with misfortune…”

“What!” Beatrice’s eyes widened, she instantly stepped forward and grabbed the butler by the collar, demanding, “What exactly happened!”

The butler had no choice but to nervously recount the previous events of the Blood Knight Army breaking through White Dew City.

After listening to the butler, Beatrice stood as if she had lost her soul, standing in place without a word.

“Beatrice,” said the Duchess coldly, “now you know the seriousness of the situation, don’t you? Stay put and stop making trouble for me!”

With that, the Duchess strode out.

Beatrice, for once, offered no retort. She simply released the Butler’s collar and stood in silence, her expression fluctuating.

The Butler waited for a while, noticing that Beatrice had not moved and quietly suggested:

“Miss Beatrice, I have had your room prepared. You must be tired after your long journey, perhaps you should rest.”

Beatrice made no response.

Just when the Butler didn’t know what to do, she finally spoke:

“You said my brother had issued a conscription order to all the major Lords to the south of Mount Althus before his death. So why has the Fein family not received it?”

“That is impossible. I personally helped the Duke prepare the conscription orders, there was certainly one sent to Lark City!”

Beatrice narrowed her eyes, instantly realizing that the conscription order must have been hidden by her dear daughter-in-law.

And it wasn’t hard to guess the purpose of her doing so. She planned to ambush Colin and his party who came from Huorong City, and then lead Fein family’s private army to crush the Blood Knight Army passing by Lark City.

Pity she didn’t wait for her to lead the troops out of the city, before being decisively killed by Beatrice who had found out about the plot.

This stupid woman!

She deserved her death!

Fury surged in Beatrice’s heart.

Despite her many complaints about her brother, Duke St. Prowse, his death had dealt a major blow to Beatrice.

Thinking of her previous agreement with Colin Angler in Lark City, Beatrice began to waver.

Was she really going to work together with the enemy who had murdered her brother?

What made her more confused was the future of the Eastern Territory.

Even if Duke St. Prowse was mediocre, he could still handle the situations and prevent the Eastern Territory from becoming too chaotic.

But now, with the death of Duke St. Prowse, the issue of his successor immediately arose.

His eldest son Vincent, holding the position of Marquis of the Eastern Territory, should logically inherit the Duke’s position. But not long before, Duke St. Prowse, under the instigation of certain individuals, began to weaken Marquis Vincent’s support to promote Count Evan.

This had led to Count Evan, who originally had little hope of inheriting the Dukedom, now having the confidence to compete with Marquis Vincent.

What was more important was that the dispute over the inheritance was similar to a duel — once involved, one could not withdraw until life or death was determined.

Perhaps Marquis Vincent might originally have tolerated a brother who posed little threat, but now, once Evan expressed his intentions to compete for the Dukedom, it was clear that Marquis Vincent would no longer be so magnanimous. In the same way, Count Evan wouldn’t standby and watch his brother inherit the Dukedom, only to then face the inevitable suppression and exclusion.

Add to that the covetous North Territory and the Church harboring evil intentions… Beatrice was suddenly overwhelmed with turmoil.

“Miss Beatrice…” Seeing Beatrice’s prolonged silence, the Butler couldn’t help but remind her.

Beatrice came back to her senses and asked, “Did you say that Vincent was also seriously injured in that battle?”

“Yes.”

“Take me to him.”

“Yes.”

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