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TWL Chapter 495: Red Wine, Redder Intentions
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 18:08:52 +0000 UTC“It’s all right, Regis,” Lann said gently. “This was my fault—I didn’t think it through. Next time, I’ll go with you to find the Unseen Elder. I’ll personally guarantee your safety.”
Regis nodded in guilt and let out a long sigh.
“Let’s leave the Elder aside for now,” Lann continued, picking up the thread of their conversation. “Were you able to reach any of the others? There should be quite a few in Toussaint, right?”
At this, Regis’s face lit up in surprise.
“You’re right. I don’t know where you got that information, but yes—there is one of my kind in Toussaint. Her name is Orianna. She runs an orphanage there and lives a peaceful life.”
“Then, using the intelligence you gave me, I also found another of our kin named Dettlaff. His past is… let’s say, complicated.” Regis wore a conflicted look, seeming unable to find the right word. “But when it comes to matters outside his personal history, he shows an astounding level of maturity. I like him very much.”
“Lann, how do you even know about them?”
Regis looked at him with curiosity. As a reclusive loner with little social contact among his own kind, he was amazed that Lann now seemed to know their whereabouts even better than he did.
But the next second, understanding dawned on his face. “I see… Elder Blood, right?”
Lann smiled without answering.
He was about to say something—when he noticed Regis’s expression carried a faint trace of smugness.
Something rare for someone as humble as Regis.
Unless...
“You mean you met other kin?”
Regis gave a reserved nod. “Yes. I had been gone for quite some time… If I wasn’t going to see the Elder of Shadows, I had to reach out to someone else, didn’t I?”
“It was Orianna who gave me the tip,” Regis continued, choosing his words carefully. “Toussaint is a vassal state of Nilfgaard. She once traveled to the Nilfgaardian capital and came across traces—subtle ones—of some of our kin.”
“I followed the trail she left me… and discovered an entire vampire family.”
Regis’s tone brimmed with awe. “They’ve been living disguised as humans in Nilfgaard—so well hidden, they even earned noble titles through military service! They're completely embedded in society…”
Lann nearly shot up from his seat. “How many of them are there?”
“Three,” Regis replied. “Two elders and one younger member. Together with Orianna in Toussaint and Dettlaff, who’s preparing to return there, that makes five.”
“But unfortunately, Lann… While Dettlaff and Orianna are relatively easy to persuade, those three nobles… well, you can imagine the comfort of the life they lead.” Regis let out a sigh. “I laid out the risks and benefits to them, but they insisted they wanted to see the Child of Elder Blood for themselves.”
Lann raised an eyebrow. “A reasonable request.”
“Originally, Dettlaff and Orianna were going to come to Cintra ahead of the others,” Regis added. “But after hearing about this, they decided to wait and travel together.”
Lann paused to think. “Where are they now?”
“They’re all waiting for you in Toussaint. I left behind an item marked with your power—whenever you're ready, we can go.”
...
The Nilfgaardian Empire was a state that upheld slavery.
Nobles, merchants, even the scholars in its academies—none of their daily lives functioned without the presence of these fellow humans stripped of their identity. It was said that in Gilded Tower, the very heart of Nilfgaard, “the nobles won’t even lift a finger without a slave to do it for them.”
Ever since Nilfgaard began launching constant wars of conquest, the number of slaves had only grown—most of them were prisoners from defeated nations. This was also why rebellion frequently erupted in the newly annexed provinces of the Black Sun Empire.
Yet even against this brutal backdrop, the Van Moorlehem family’s overwhelming reliance on slaves stood out among Nilfgaard’s noble class.
In the vast van Moorlehem estate, servants were rarely seen. The head of the house, Vincent van Moorlehem, lived there with his wife, Ophelie van Moorlehem, who regularly hosted banquets and masquerades.
But once a party ended, the entire estate was always mysteriously emptied of servants.
And if any unfortunate slaves happened to wander near the estate around that time, they would be taken into the woods by the family heir—Philippe van Moorlehem—and never seen again.
The people of Nilfgaard didn’t understand it. They simply thought the family was cruel—too cowardly to seek glory on the battlefield, and thus found release in a sick, murderous appetite.
They weren’t entirely wrong—
The van Moorlehem family did have a thirst for blood.
Literally. Because they were high vampires.
Philippe van Moorlehem gently swirled the glass of red wine in his hand. The rich crimson liquid caught the light and shimmered with a subtle glow.
Philippe had a prominent nose and a heavy jaw, with cruelty gleaming openly in his eyes. He took a dainty sip from his glass with elegant poise—then spat it out in one sharp motion.
“Damn it all!” Philippe roared.
Seated on either side of him were a man and a woman. The man had a refined demeanor and wore a thick, black moustache. The woman’s gaze constantly wandered, flirtatious and provocative, framed by cascading black curls draped over her shoulders.
Across from them sat another woman with burgundy hair. Her figure was tall and lithe, her skin pale, and her jewelry even more exquisite than the noble ornaments worn by the three guests from the capital.
“What a shame,” the red-haired woman remarked with a sigh. “That was an excellent bottle of Est Est wine. Outside of Toussaint, you’ll only find it in the king’s private cellar.”
“Screw your damned Est Est!” Philippe snapped. “I want blood! Orianna, is this how you treat your guests?”
“I’ve already served you a meal today,” Orianna replied with a smile, unshaken by her companion’s complaints. “Anything more, and the children might be in danger.”
“Human brats? Who cares about them?”
Philippe gave a cruel chuckle and eyed the man and woman across from him. “Orianna, have you always lived this half-starved life? Why not come join us in Gilded Tower? You could be our daughter for a while—and if that feels unfair, in a few decades we’ll be your children…”
He glanced to either side. “That’s how it’s always been for me, Vincent, and Ophelie.”
The man and woman beside him gave amused, knowing laughs at that.
Orianna’s expression remained unchanged. She simply lifted her hand with a slight wave to signal refusal.
Philippe wasn’t angered by the rejection—clearly, it wasn’t the first time over the past few days. He quickly turned to look the other way.
“What about you, Dettlaff?” he asked. “Care to join us? Honestly, you and Regis are the ones who surprise me most—one hiding in the woods healing humans, the other duped for years over some mortal woman…”
“Pfft.” Philippe couldn’t hold back a snort, but quickly added before Dettlaff’s gaze turned dangerous, “Come to Gilded Tower and you’ll never want for women. Even a princess like that one could be yours!”
“You haven’t killed her yet? If you can’t bring yourself to do it, I’ll gladly take care of it for you!”
Dettlaff had remained silent the entire time, seated in the shadows of the room. His mid-length black hair was slicked back neatly, his bearing calm and composed, exuding a maturity that far surpassed the other four vampires present.
But at this moment, a visible gloom hung around him like a shroud.
“Syanna... Even if she deceived me, she’s not yours to touch.” The muscles in Dettlaff’s face began to twitch, handsome features hardening into vicious lines. “Put away your teeth and claws. Or I’ll gladly fight the three of you right here in Toussaint—and then…”
His eyes gleamed coldly.
“...we’ll go see the Unseen Elder together.”
The moment those words—Unseen Elder—left his mouth, Philippe, who had been itching for a fight, instantly fell silent.
But that silence didn’t last more than five minutes before Philippe began swirling the wine in his glass again, clearly growing agitated.
“Didn’t Regis say he was bringing the Child of Elder Blood? By now, they should’ve reached Cintra, shouldn’t they?”
His pupils contracted, then widened. “When is he coming back? If they don’t show soon, I say we just head home!”
Before the words were fully out of his mouth, two glowing emerald lights suddenly flared before their eyes.
In an instant, the oppressive stench of blood and gloom that had lingered in the room was swept away.
Three breaths later, the golden-haired Lion in armor and the white-haired barber-surgeon appeared before the vampires.
