Chapter 118 — In which attempts at sharing but not sharing information are made (2)
“I just hope that Young Master shares his plans and makes use of our help.”
“Didn’t I do exactly that?”
“Young Master knows better than me that’s not the case.”
Sangria, who led Vern through the corridor, stopped in his tracks and looked back.
His eyes were so sharp that their pupils seemed almost vertical.
He spoke up suddenly, out of nowhere, but his gaze was persistent.
Vern could roughly guess the meaning behind this gaze.
Young Vern didn’t have many interactions with other people due to the curse ravaging his body.
Because of that, it was easy for them to dismiss Vern’s vast knowledge and expertise in magic, or his ability to lead the conversation, one wouldn’t expect from an isolated child.
‘Perhaps he learned all that away from everyone’s eyes!’ they simply thought.
But two people were different.
Crimo and Sangria.
Crimo was someone who knew Vern’s hardships better than anyone else.
That said, he was also under the delusion of his younger brother’s superiority (something he developed since he was young) and his guilt over inability to help him to get rid of the curse.
Therefore, he was unable to judge Vern with a clear mind.
Not Sangria though.
He was an outsider, who entered under the wings of previous Archmage shortly before her death.
Due to his magical specialization, he was assigned to watch over Vern’s health.
He didn’t have a clear picture of Vern’s personality, as when he first met him, he was already weighed down by the curse, but he at least had an idea.
And after Vern got rid of the curse, he remained close, watching him with sharp eyes and picking up numerous inconsistencies in Vern’s behavior.
Even if Vern did his best to not reveal the two hundred years of memories in his head, he wouldn’t be able to hide it for long.
So it was no surprise that Sangria knew that Vern wasn’t telling everything about what he knew and what he was doing.
Rather, what Vern found surprising was that he found no doubts or suspicions in Sangria’s eyes.
Just worry.
He couldn’t decide if that made Sangria naive or overly kind.
“I’ll do my best to explain.”
“… I don’t think it means that Young Master will explain everything. Or that you will use us properly.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Sangria looked at him for a moment and sighed, turning his gaze away, as if ashamed of what he was about to say.
“I just hope that Young Master explains and uses us enough, so what almost happened yesterday won’t happen again.”
It seemed that Crimo’s almost successful assassination weighed heavily on Sangria’s mind.
Vern nodded, and the two men started to walk again, veiled by silence.
Which was soon ripped apart by a gloom of the man they found in front of Crimo’s office.
“Gradmaster Scarlen.”
Greeted, the man awoke from whatever thoughts he was lost in and weakly bowed to Vern.
“Lesser Lord Mage Vern, Master Sangria.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Vern quickly judged Scarlen’s expression.
The man looked gloomy, but not distressed, which meant that Crimo was probably okay.
“How is Our Lord?”
Sangria asked the question that was on Vern’s mind, and Scarlen let out a sigh.
“I put ointment on him as Young Master Vern instructed. But when I proposed to feed him, I was cruelly dismissed. Instead, I was to bring a pig and leave.”
Then he looked at Sangria, his eyes full of desperation.
“Master Sangria, am I worse than a pig?”
Sangria just stared at him dumbstruck.
“I’m sorry, what do you mean?”
“… Oh, right.”
Vern just remembered.
When they had a sudden realization that Crimo was a vampire yesterday, Sangria was in a different room, watching over the living gift Am brought them.
So he quickly spoke to prevent Sangria from trying to figure out if his lord had a cannibalism fetish.
“Turns out Crimo is a vampire.”
Sangria blinked, gears visibly turning in his head.
“Oh.”
And then it clicked.
“That makes a lot of sense, actually.”
He nodded to himself as all strange ailments Crimo fought with suddenly found their cause.
“I see. So Grandmaster Scarlen offered his blood to Our Lord, but Lord refused and instead requested a pig?”
Scarlen just gave him a dead stare of a man, who wondered why was he being asked for something obvious.
Sangria was not discouraged, as he instead carefully considered it and said:
“It appears that Our Lord was unaware that he is a vampire too, so that would be his first time feeding. As such, it would be a completely unfamiliar territory for him and many things could go wrong. So instead of risking Grandmaster Scarlen’s life, he must have opted for something he could sacrifice. In this sense, Grandmaster Scarlen is better than a pig.”
“… Huh.”
Light slowly returned to Scarlen’s black eyes.
It appeared that simple logic didn’t cross his mind before.
“I see… as expected of My Lord, he is very kind.”
He nodded to himself, a bit energized.
But soon a shadow fell over his face again.
He looked at Sangria.
“Master Sangria, according to my research, vampire characteristics tend to appear around age twenty-five. That would mean that My Lord was starving for around two years…”
Sangria bit his lip, understanding Scarlen’s worries.
“It may not be that bad…” He said after some deliberation. “Ability to digest non-blood food wouldn’t disappear instantly. Perhaps, if blood intake is insufficient, a young vampire can halt their transition and continue gain nutrients elsewhere. Of course, this is just a hypothesis. I never worked with a vamp… I never worked with the awareness I work with a vampire, so my knowledge is limited.”
Sangria hesitated for a second and then added, carefully choosing his words.
“I’m honestly unsure how much of what I heard about vampires are just fables and what is true. The thought of someone living on blood alone feels absurd by itself.”
Scarlen nodded, and then as if a curious thought struck him, he inquired with shining eyes.
“Master Sangria, is nutritious value of blood in any way sufficient to sustain an adult human body?”
“Certainly not. Blood alone is mostly just water. A being feeding on blood alone would have to be small and very inactive to conserve energy.”
“Then it must mean that the component that sustains a vampire is not biological, the blood consumption is simply a side effect of the easiest way of getting it.”
“That seems to be the case. I read some works of scholars, who theorized the existence of an invisible energy called ‘vitality’ that penetrates all things.”
“Looking at Master Sangria’s expression, you don’t seem to be too fond of this theory.”
Sangria’s expression indeed didn’t look very kind.
He crossed his arms in annoyance, as he explained:
“It doesn’t feel right. We already know that cells in our bodies produce electricity and sugars. Why wouldn’t they also be able to produce some energy to keep themselves alive? Why instead invent some metaphysical force that gives life to things? In the first place, if they’re looking for energy that penetrates everything, ambient mana is already there. No need to invent it twice.”
“… Mana, huh?”
Scarlen stroked his beard as he turned thoughtful.
“It’s possible, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean, Grandmaster Scarlen?”
“Isn’t it possible that vampires feed on mana?”
“… It’s an interesting thought. But if that was the case, shouldn’t Our Lord be able to sustain himself by circulating ambient mana alone? Also, I have trouble believing that someone would try to bite people just to find mana, which is abundant in the air.”
“That’s a good point. It has to be something sparser and more personal than mana.”
While each mage had their personal mana, it wasn’t that different from ambient mana.
If mana was water, then mage’s personal mana was just colorized water made to circulate in an unique contraption of tubes.
No matter how unique its color or the way it moved around, it was still in fact water.
But there was something more unique in most creatures’ bodies than mana.
Vern, who felt a powerful pang of nostalgia as he listened to this scientific discourse, decided to give them a hint.
“There are three layers to the world, though.”
If it was not blood and not mana, then there was one thing left.
Sangria and Scarlen’s eyes lit up as they caught the clue.
“… I admit I have little experience with souls.” Sangria said very carefully. “Grandmaster Scarlen, it falls within your expertise, doesn’t it?”
Scarlen was already stroking his beard in thought.
“A soul is difficult to divide when alive, and if harmed, could cause a victim to lose their memories. We can probably safely assume that vampires don’t feed on souls then. But there is an energy that souls possess, the so-called ‘spiritual energy’ that dictates flow and spin of movement in spirit layer… yes, indeed, it’s possible. How fascinating. I wonder, does fresh and old blood have different concentration of energy? Or would Crimo be able to tell apart species based on the differences of spiritual energy? How would they taste? I have to get Crimo to… Oh, hello My Lord.”
The door opened.
Crimo, who still looked utterly exhausted, but had a slight touch of rosy color to his cheeks, glared at Scarlen.
“What a wonder. When I stand before you, it’s My Lord. But when you’re thinking of me as a test rat, it’s Crimo.”
“My Lord, I would never treat you as a test rat. Even on the experiment table, you would be the most precious and one of a kind specimen.
“Oh, joy.”
Crimo rolled his eyes and opened the door a bit wider to let the three men in.
Glancing at Vern, the Archmage said:
“Seems like you have something important to discuss. Let’s have breakfast in my study.”
Vern nodded, as in his mind, he went through the script again.
His previous, slightly ambiguous plans now took firm shape.
To safely reunite with his siblings and protect the country he put his blood and tears into creating...
He will have to make good use of his tongue here.
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