Night Lily Manor.
The core territory of Vampire Duke Eleanor, surrounded by three cities, seventeen towns, and numerous villages distributed in all directions like stars surrounding the moon.
Eleanor’s domain bordered the northern edge of Duke Sigismund’s territory, though it was not located on the Empire’s frontier.
Within the territory, there were neither large dungeons nor special mineral deposits, and even the land was relatively barren, yet it remained an indispensable part of the Empire.
Because seventy percent of the entire Hermit Empire’s blood plasma was produced here.
Between the hundred-plus blood livestock ranches operating day and night stretched mourning lily plantations nourished by corpse fertilizer.
“Master, the twenty high-quality blood servants and four carts of blood plasma needed by the imperial capital have already departed at dusk.
Count Duke and Duke Barnabas are both pressing for this month’s blood plasma delivery, but only three thousand two hundred vials remain in storage.
Yesterday, Ranch No. 45 suffered an attack incident—two lower-ranking servants were killed and over sixty blood livestock escaped.
We suspect it was the work of two elves who have been committing crimes in the area recently. Viscount Arnold is currently leading people to handle this matter.
The two thousand slaves newly purchased from the archipelago have arrived at Eternal Wave Port—1,656 survived the journey.
Also…”
Milky white petals floated and bobbed in the thick blood plasma. The manor’s chief steward stood with bowed head beside the bathing pool, hands clasped at his abdomen, meticulously reporting on the territory’s recent affairs.
Eleanor reclined naked against the pool’s edge, rising blood mist condensing into dark red droplets at the hollow of her collarbone.
A male consort immersed waist-deep in the blood plasma carefully massaged his mistress’s ankles.
“Among the surviving slaves, how many are suitable seedlings for blood servant cultivation?” Eleanor asked softly with closed eyes.
“According to your newly issued selection standards, thirty-seven were initially screened as qualified, including five beastmen…”
Gray-blue fingernails suddenly gripped the pool’s edge, blood plasma trickling between her fingers as Eleanor raised herself halfway, looking at her subordinate with displeasure:
“Beastmen? A mouthful of fur when you bite them—what use are they? Send them all to the ranches.”
The steward hesitated for a moment, bowing even lower: “Master, Count Duke specifically requested beastmen blood servants.”
“Ah, that barbarian…”
Eleanor swept away the wet hair clinging to her chest, seeming to remember such a matter.
“Then keep them. Don’t ask me about such things anymore.
If blood plasma is insufficient, prioritize supplying Barnabas. Duke’s can wait a week—it doesn’t matter.
Then tell Arnold that if he can’t catch those little thieves, his defense chief badge should be replaced with iron shackles.”
As Eleanor spoke, she rose from the bath, fresh blood and petals sliding from her pale skin as she walked outside.
The male consort hurried after her with crimson velvet, draping it over her shoulders.
The steward also followed quickly: “Dinner has been prepared for you.”
In the side hall draped with dark red curtains stood a sixteen-year-old girl wearing a clean dress, with a rosy complexion and smooth, tender skin.
This was the so-called dinner.
Unlike the blood livestock in the ranches—creatures huddled beside rusted iron troughs, gnawing on paste mixed with blood supplements, exploited day and night with lifespans not exceeding three years—this one was different.
The girl before them had been carefully trained since age ten, raised on daily balanced nutrition and appropriate exercise to become a high-grade blood servant.
The manor housed sixty such blood servants.
Besides their usual servant duties, they were required to provide the freshest blood for their mistress once monthly.
As always, the girl unbuttoned her collar and obediently approached her mistress.
Eleanor embraced her, canine teeth precisely piercing beside the scar from the previous feeding that had healed.
However, this time was different from before—the mistress did not release her at the appropriate moment.
The girl progressed from endurance to trembling to final pleas for mercy.
Throughout the entire process, Eleanor remained unmoved until she had drained the very last drop of fresh blood. Only then did she lick the corner of her mouth and casually push away the dried corpse in her arms.
The steward nearby kept his head lowered, seemingly having no objection to the loss of a high-grade blood servant.
“Hah—”
Eleanor exhaled lightly, her skin gradually changing from pale to rosy.
Even her height, build, and appearance transformed accordingly.
Finally, she had taken on the exact appearance of the girl who had just died on the floor.
“The summoning should begin soon. I’ll use this appearance to blend in for now.”
**[Substitute LV10]**
Unlike the simple appearance mimicry of **[Mimicry]**, **[Substitute]** was one of the rare talents of the blood clan that could not only steal the appearance of those it fed upon, but even obtain their recent memories.
Even **[Investigation Arts]** could not detect the deception.
Once Eleanor reached the United Kingdoms, she need only capture some isolated ritual participant to easily infiltrate their ranks.
This was precisely why the Emperor had dispatched her to assassinate the Hero.
“Any movement from Knoxfell’s side?”
“Lord Knoxfell left his residence the day before yesterday and has been whereabouts unknown since.”
Eleanor nodded upon hearing this.
Though the Hermit Empire was ruled by vampires, nearly half the dukes under the Emperor’s command were still of other races.
Knoxfell, who was to join her in dealing with the Hero, was a shadow demon—a type of elemental spirit aggregate that had escaped from chaos, lacking physical form and bound to this world only by restraining chains.
While the two were said to be executing the mission jointly, in reality they would each rely on their own abilities to infiltrate the scene before striking together.
As for communication and cooperation?
That didn’t exist.
At the summoning site, it would be considered remarkably coordinated if they didn’t sabotage each other while competing for the kill.
“Master, should we send people to create chaos and draw away some of the humans’ forces?” the steward offered his suggestion at an opportune moment.
Eleanor considered this and agreed.
“For personnel… use Lacus. He lost the Holy Scripture last time and embarrassed me so badly.
Tell him that if he does well this time, he’ll get a promotion upon return. If he fails, he dies there.”
“I only wonder whether they might be hindered when passing through Duke Sigismund’s territory?” the steward worried.
“He wouldn’t dare!” At the mention of Sigismund, Eleanor immediately became irritated.
It was this war-obsessed fool who had been extensively poisoning and slaughtering at the borders, causing her to lose a major source of blood livestock.
Otherwise, how could they be in a situation where deliveries had to be delayed to meet supply?
That idiot only knew how to kill all the humans, never considering that if humans died out completely, would he as a vampire really resort to drinking monster blood?
The two had not only passive-aggressively attacked each other at meetings but had also pulled numerous schemes in each other’s territories, making their relationship quite hostile.
“This is His Majesty’s mission. If he dares interfere, that would be perfect!”
With that, Eleanor turned her robes and transformed into a bat, flying directly out the manor window.
Only after Eleanor had flown far away did the steward straighten his back, glancing at the dried corpse at his feet.
“We’ll need to cultivate new ones again…”
