Long-Lived Races (Part 1)

Lobik sat stiffly in an antique armchair, his demeanor restrained, with none of the bearing or authority befitting a Head of Vigilant Hall.

His peripheral vision caught the Tricolor Iris emblem on one side of the study, along with a portrait of a kindly old man.

Lobik knew well that even a landed count with real power over a city or territory could not easily sit here and speak with the young noble across from him—a man both imposing and exquisitely graceful.

Let alone a mere Head of Vigilant Hall.

"Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to see me," Lobik said humbly, lowering his head and speaking softly.

"Please, don't say that! With your experience and standing, you'd be more than qualified to be my teacher—that was my father's own words." The young man with iron-gray curly hair, a round face, and thick lips smiled warmly, adding almost jokingly, "Though when it comes to taste in wine, he and I were irreconcilable enemies, on respect for you, Lord Dila, we were father and son in perfect accord."

A surge of warmth welled up in Lobik's chest. He quickly nodded. "The Old Duke was a man of great virtue, generosity, and kindness. In that regard, Your Grace is no less his equal."

The young man paused at this, his gaze drifting to the portrait in the study.

The Old Duke's smile remained as gentle and familiar as ever.

A few seconds passed before the young man recovered from his reverie.

"My apologies. Two years on, and I still—I hope I haven't let him down." The young man shook his head with a wry smile, then rose to his feet. A flicker of sorrow passed across his face before vanishing. He gazed into the distance, letting out a long, quiet sigh. "Sometimes I think, if Father were still here—"

"I'd rather he just scolded me a few more times."

Lobik felt a bit awkward. On one hand, he too missed the kind Old Duke; on the other, he felt that such a raw display of emotion from the Young Duke was deeply personal, and he shouldn't intrude.

Fortunately, the Young Duke turned around in time, setting aside his nostalgia and breaking the tension with a joke:

"—As long as he didn't bring up the wine."

At that, both Lobik and the young man laughed in easy accord.

As everyone knew, the Old Duke loved to guzzle Exeter's dark rye liquor, while the Young Duke preferred to savor Serra Duchy's fine vintage wines. Over this very matter, they had argued face-to-face beneath the Tricolor Iris crest more than once, even nearly drawing swords. Only the Old Duchess and the adorable Miss Hilaire could calm them down at the dinner table—one with a murderous glare, the other with a pleading pout.

In just a few words from the young man, the stiffness and awkwardness in the room had vanished entirely.

Amid the laughter, the young man set down his costly agarwood pipe, walked over to the wine cabinet, and picked up a bottle of wine with no label.

"My apologies, I'm not much of a smoker, but I'd just come from the stables, discussing matters with a few old-timers." The young man explained with a rueful smile. "So I thought holding a pipe might make me look more seasoned—they'd rather pay attention to a horse that stumbled than listen to some greenhorn pitch his bandit-suppression plan."

Lobik's sharp eyes noticed that among the array of fine wines on the cabinet, a bottle of dark rye liquor sat conspicuously. Though never opened, it was kept spotlessly clean.

Thinking of the late Old Duke, Lobik felt a touch of emotion.

This was the first time in the two years since the Old Duke Kevendell's death that he had met the new Duke in private. Yet in just a few short minutes, the approachable and impeccably mannered Young Duke had left a deep impression on the Head of Vigilant Hall.

No wonder the Six Great Houses had endured for a thousand years. No wonder the Tricolor Iris lived by the motto "Rather Die for Friends than Foes." No wonder he was the Old Duke's son. The Cavendish Family had a worthy successor.

The Head of Vigilant Hall gave a slight bow, then answered firmly, "Only those lacking ability make a fuss over seniority. I believe Your Grace's character and talent more than make up for it."

"I'm deeply grateful," the Young Duke said with a wry smile, raising two glasses of red wine and offering one to Lobik. "Hearing that from the youngest Head of Vigilant Hall puts my mind at ease—do you know how Duke Cullen tried to encourage me?"

Lobik accepted the wine with pleasure—his earlier stiffness had long since melted away—and watched with amused disbelief as the Young Duke mimicked the tone and posture of that portly Duke of the East Coast.

"Don't worry, little Jian! You know, your father and I were both spanked into shape by the Former King—" The Young Duke twisted his face, imitating Duke Cullen with a reddened face and a gruff voice. "—So if anyone questions our credentials, we'll just show them our backsides!"

Lobik and the Young Duke burst into laughter again, then cheerfully clinked glasses and drank it all down.

A high-ranking person's humility always wins the greatest goodwill from those beneath them.

After the warm and friendly pleasantries, they finally got down to business.

The Young Duke's brow finally furrowed.

"A large number of corpses? An Old Friend? A banquet?" The young Duke Kevendell asked in confusion. "That man really said that?"

Lobik nodded gravely. "He claimed it was on Your Grace's orders, but from what I know—"

"Even if I were utterly deranged, I would never give such an order!" Duke Kevendell set down his glass with a stern expression, cutting the air with a decisive wave.

Seeing the Young Duke's reaction, Lobik finally felt completely at ease.

"I'm just a novice unfamiliar with state affairs, and I haven't paid much attention to the Blood Bottle Gang's dealings in a long time—but you are an experienced and worldly Alert Officer. What do you make of this?" The Young Duke looked up, asking seriously.

The Young Duke's humility and deference pleased Lobik greatly, so he offered his full opinion:

"As far as I know, situations requiring corpses are rare. The mysterious mages died out long ago, sacrifices to evil gods or demons haven't been seen in ages, and the Blood Bottle Gang can't possibly be pursuing medical or therapeutic research—so what remains are races that subsist on corpses or blood essence." Lobik analyzed carefully.

Jian Cavendish nodded slowly, closing his eyes as if deep in thought.

A few seconds later, he snapped them open, turning to stare at Lobik in disbelief.

"Long-Lived Races?"

Lobik nodded affirmatively.

The Young Duke let out a long sigh.

The Head of Vigilant Hall said nothing more. He knew that now, he only needed to wait for this young, capable, and powerful noble to make his final decision.

"To bring the underground gangs into the kingdom's system and laws through gradual, orderly bribery and co-option—" The young Duke's expression darkened. He clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing slowly around the room, a gesture that reminded Lobik of the Old Duke. "—This was a policy my great-grandfather was ordered to implement during the reign of Kessel IV. For decades, the Blood Bottle Gang has been a prime example of its success."

"But now it seems that once they're caught in gang infighting, they can't help but reveal their lawless nature," the Young Duke said, frowning as he chose his words carefully. "While new gangs squeezing their territory is partly to blame, indulging them indefinitely is hardly a long-term solution."

"Setting an ambush in Red Quarter, recklessly endangering the lives and property of the kingdom's citizens, and even stirring up the Imperial Council to the point where His Majesty demands answers in anger—that is already egregious, outright villainy—"

The Young Duke's face was solemn and commanding, his words firm and biting, each one striking Lobik's heart with perfect precision, earning his deep respect.

"—And after failing in their internal struggle, instead of licking their wounds and reining themselves in, they want to lash out like cornered dogs, using outsiders and foreign races to turn the tide, even borrowing my name to threaten the kingdom's Vigilant Hall and demand the corpses of our people."

"Absolutely ridiculous!"

Lobik bowed his head, awaiting the final judgment of the Tricolor Iris.

"Ashford!" The Young Duke's voice rang out sharply. In response, a white-haired old butler in formal attire entered.

Lobik recognized him—Ashford, the most trusted butler of the late Old Duke—and quickly nodded in greeting.

The old butler returned the courtesy with meticulous precision, then listened to his young master's orders:

"Who's been handling the contact with the Blood Bottle Gang lately—never mind who, have them come to my study later to explain!"

"Send a team, bearing the Tricolor Iris banner, to ask those who speak for the Blood Bottle Gang—threatening my father's trusted officer, a Kingdom Alert Officer—they owe me an account for this!"

"Also dispatch a small squad, with an Extreme Realm Termination Knight, to dig out their new guests—those wolves or vampires defiling corpses and blood! If you find any violation of the Human Nations and Long-Lived Races Convention, no need to question—just bring their heads to me—no, too dirty—feed them to the dogs!"

"Prepare the carriage and attire; I'm moving up my schedule. I'll go to Revival Palace next week. Ah, after all, it's a matter of gangsters and commoners—I wonder if His Majesty will even want to hear me out—"

"Notify the Kingdom Secret Bureau—Lord Morat should turn his attention to Feast Territory and Wildmarsh Mountains! Long-lived races feasting on corpses in the capital? Hmph! When was the last time they gathered here? The Year of Blood? If I find out those vampires and wolves are meddling in internal affairs again, trying to topple the Star Kingdom—"

Lobik knew he could no longer listen. He quickly bowed, and under the duke's friendly, encouraging gaze, withdrew from the study.

Behind him, the Young Duke was still grumbling his instructions to the butler.

The Head of Vigilant Hall stepped out of the Cavendish Family estate and let out a relieved breath. Tonight, he had clarified the duke's intentions and would not suffer for his clash with the Blood Bottle Gang.

Most importantly, he had met Duke Jian Cavendish himself and sincerely felt—

This decaying, old kingdom still had hope.

Once he confirmed Lobik had left the estate, the butler Ashford silently closed the study door.

Duke Jenn closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and slumped into his chair.

"I really admire him—a man in his forties with so much fire still," Jenn said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, elegantly easing his fatigue, his face full of weariness. "As if he could actually change anything. Pity, though—caring for a subordinate's pride is a required course for those in power."

"The old master thought highly of his abilities—and perhaps, more than anything, he feared that friction with the Blood Bottle Gang might affect your opinion of him, my lord." Ashford calmly poured his master a glass of fine wine, then returned to the liquor cabinet, beginning to polish several bottles, especially the Rye Wine.

"Speaking of the Blood Bottle Gang." Jenn raised his glass, took a light sip, savoring the mellow flavor.

But he soon shook his head with a helpless expression. "Publicly going to the Vigilant Hall to demand corpses—it's laughable. Elementalists are all former magic apprentices; I thought they'd have more sense."

"Their leader, the Air Elementalist, went missing in last night's battle." Ashford quietly reminded his master. "And the Blood Bottle Gang's heavy defeat has left them stretched thin—likely unable even to gather enough blood fare for the Corleone family—hence this desperate move." Ashford didn't glance at Jenn, focusing instead on polishing the bottle of strong liquor the Old Duke had never brought himself to drink.

"Losing a battle that should have been a sure win—the cost is indeed steep." Jenn mused, gently swirling the goblet in his hand.

"But one's own mistakes must always be mended by oneself."

"The Exeter Delegation enters the kingdom next month. I'm afraid the personnel we planned to pull from the Blood Bottle Gang won't be available." Jenn looked down at the wine in his glass, his face troubled as he inhaled its aroma.

He closed his eyes, exhaled deeply, slowly loosened his collar, and took another light sip.

As the wine slid down his throat, Jenn looked up and saw his father's portrait.

That kind smile only deepened his burden.

"At least the Corleone family responded fastest to your invitation. Letters to the others have also been sent in secret. Given their ties to the Iris, I trust replies will come soon." Ashford said flatly.

"Hmph, the Corleone family—the head of the 'Lower Seven Branches' in the Night Kingdom—yet only three of them came, with some Blood Thralls." Jenn frowned, pouring out the dregs from his glass, closing his eyes, and gently massaging his temples. "That's hardly their usual style."

Ashford lowered his head, signaling he was listening.

"A centuries-old Blood Race noble house, teeming with Bloodline Dukes, yet when they demand blood, they're no better than beggars in the Lower City District. They could have absorbed the blood essence from corpses, but instead they can't wait to reach out for living blood—and they want Mortal Tier and Transcendent Rank experts at that." Jenn slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze grew darker and deeper. He took the refilled glass from Ashford and said in a low, ominous tone:

"What a pity."

"After all, you are the one who 'invited' them, the host providing 'room and board.'" Ashford subtly emphasized the words, reminding his master.

"They concealed the truth—the truth about the Corleone family's current state." Jenn's face was expressionless. He closed his eyes, exhaled to calm himself, and when he opened them, his gaze was icy and sharp. "And any unexpected event could ruin our plans."

He spoke heavily:

"Send Seychelles and Cassian, with four squads of knights, to Weed Manor."

"First, talk to Nekla—warn the Blood Bottle Gang. As long as they don't cause trouble, the Iris guarantees their survival."

"Since they're the losers, why are they still jumping around?"

"Then, those three vampires from the Eastern Continent."

Jenn Cavendish's tone was resolute and brooked no argument. The expression on his round face was calm, yet somehow terrifying.

"Find out the secrets they're hiding."

"If they don't cooperate—"

"Draft a formal letter to the Sunbreak Sanctuary. The Cavendish Family has always revered the Sunbreak Sovereign. Enclose the three vampires' heads with the letter and send greetings."

"Send word to the intelligence lines in the Eastern Continent—I want to know everything major happening in the Night Kingdom recently."

"These three Blood Race are no longer usable. We'll find someone else for that matter."

Duke Jenn gently set down his glass.

Compared to this, King Kessel would turn forty-eight next year—the age at which all previous kings had chosen their heirs (the time it took for Lor Star to cycle through the heavens four times). This was the critical moment for succession, and the tug-of-war and rivalry with the other five great houses were what truly mattered.

If the Brilliant Star is destined to have no heir...

Then let Lenster Cavendish, who has always fought at Tomond I's side, let his equally outstanding descendants, let his Tricolor Iris banner, take up the oath of the King of Revival.

That way, I would have enough power to...

At this thought, Jann felt his shoulders grow heavier, yet also stronger.

But the moment he recalled Duke Cullen, that fat man, a faint flicker passed through Jann's pupils. He let out a light laugh, though there was no warmth in his eyes.

Ashford set down the bottle in his hand, bowed a perfect bow with an unreadable expression, and departed to carry out the order.

"By the way, though it's a trivial matter, have Seychelles ask Nekla."

Jann looked up to see Duke Kevendell beneath the Tricolor Iris, his eyes deep as he added:

"How goes the probing of Mindis Hall?"