Chương 19: Purchased Attention

One of the greatest benefits of reaching S-rank within the Mercenary Guild was access. Not respect, necessarily. That was unreliable and often vanished the moment someone believed they possessed an advantage. Fear was far more dependable. It opened doors faster, kept fools silent longer, and encouraged people to consider their lies carefully before speaking them in my presence. Access, however, remained useful.

As an S-rank mercenary, I could request a meeting with nearly anyone in the kingdom, and they were more or less required to humor me. Nobles, guildmasters, military officers, royal officials, wealthy merchants, and even members of the king's court fell within reach. They could delay, complain, pretend to be occupied, or send some sweating clerk to ask why I wished to meet, but eventually they all arrived at the same conclusion. One did not ignore House Vaust. That was another thing that had changed over the years.

The name still sounded strange on occasion, although considerably less so than it once had. At first, it had been nothing more than a tool, a legal convenience placed upon contracts and property records because Celeste insisted that three suspiciously ageless people without a proper lineage made accountants nervous. Now the name carried real weight. Officially, House Vaust held a position roughly equal to that of a count's family, placing us among the middle ranks of nobility.

We stood high enough to receive invitations, low enough for older houses to pretend they were above us, and dangerous enough that most kept those opinions carefully unspoken. I rarely flaunted the title. Courtly posturing held little appeal for me. Nobles could drown themselves in rank, ribbons, and arguments over seating arrangements if they wished. The only territory I wanted was the land surrounding my casino, and even that desire had less to do with ruling peasants than it did with future planning.

Yes, future planning. There is no need to look so surprised. I possessed vision. Vaust Casino was grand by the standards of the age, but my ambitions had already stretched far beyond it. One day, I imagined building something enormous, a tower of light and luxury rising above a casino vast enough to swallow entire streets. A hotel would stand above it, filled with rooms for guests from every kingdom, guild, and hidden species that crawled through the world wearing human skin.

There would be restaurants, theaters, private lounges, ballrooms, music halls, and perhaps even a nightclub once civilization developed enough taste and noise to deserve one. The entire glorious beast would become a city within a city, built as a palace of vice, pleasure, sanctuary, and temptation priced with meticulous care. Unfortunately, the world had not yet advanced far enough to appreciate my genius. Technology remained painfully primitive.

There were no slot machines, electric lights, elevators, proper sound systems, or polished glass towers glowing against the night like monuments to greed. It was tragic, really. For the moment, I endured stone, wood, silk, candlelight, enchantments, and human weakness. Following my conversation with Princess Vera and her foolish little Malcolm, I set Adrian to work. Adrian required no guidance from me.

While Celeste and I handled the casino's public image, finances, guests, and endless social maneuvering, he had quietly transformed our security operation into something far more valuable than a collection of guards. He had built an information network. Adrian preferred to call it security. I considered it spying with better manners, and either description suited me perfectly. The network began with our own staff.

Dealers overheard drunken confessions, servants discovered letters carelessly abandoned on desks, and musicians were ignored by nobles who assumed anyone holding an instrument was too poor to matter. Guards caught threats, stable boys learned names, and courtesans collected secrets. Debtors talked too much, winners bragged, and losers begged. Everyone left something behind if one knew how to collect it. Over time, the network spread beyond the casino.

Dockworkers, guild clerks, innkeepers, coachmen, tailors, undertakers, priests burdened by gambling debts, and a royal kitchen maid whose brother worked in our stables all found their way into his web. He had even recruited a retired assassin who now sold flowers and apparently knew every detail in Stonehaven worth using for blackmail. He sounded like a useful man. Adrian paid generously, threatened rarely, and remembered everything.

Sometimes, I forgot how busy he had been while Celeste and I were enjoying ourselves. That was Adrian's nature. Quiet, disciplined, and tireless, he ensured Celeste had everything she could possibly need. If doing so required weaving a network of informants beneath an entire kingdom, he would apparently manage it between dinner and his final inspection of the locks. Now that I was legally his "mother," I suspected that same terrifying loyalty had extended to me. I approved.

Of all Adrian's habits, loyalty was among the least irritating. The first collection of reports concerning Duke Edmund Vale arrived in my office three days later. I found that impressive. Celeste carried the documents herself, and the unusual coldness in her expression told me a great deal before she spoke a single word. Warmth came naturally to Celeste. She was graceful, talkative, and far too fond of arranging flowers, furniture, and other people's emotions.

When something truly disgusted her, however, that warmth didn't disappear. It sharpened. She entered my office without knocking, a privilege she had claimed long ago. Adrian followed behind her with a sealed black folder in one hand and the expression of a man who had already decided someone deserved to die. That was promising. I sat behind my desk in the chair Celeste had commissioned for me. Afternoon light poured through the violet curtains, staining the room in shades of bruised wine.

It was a pleasant atmosphere for discussing murder, politics, or investments. Celeste placed the folder on my desk.

"Duke Edmund Vale."

"No greeting?" Without missing a beat, Celeste replied, "Good afternoon, Mother. I hope your day has been pleasant. The man intending to marry Vera is filth wearing a title." A smile touched my lips.

"Much better." Adrian closed the door behind him and settled beside Celeste. His hand rested lightly against the small of her back for a heartbeat before falling away. She appeared not to notice. It was just something natural between them. I opened the folder. The first page contained Duke Edmund Vale's formal record as Lord of Westmere. He controlled three fortified towns, seven mining villages, two river ports, and enough farmland to make lesser nobles resentful.

Nearing fifty, he had already buried two wives, although his portraits appeared to have removed a decade and several sins. He also served as a close adviser to the king, financed border campaigns, and held a considerable portion of the crown's debt. I turned the page, and the respectable facade ended with it.

"How dreadful," I murmured. Celeste folded her arms.

"Keep reading." Duke Vale was more than merely unpleasant or ambitious. Those qualities could be tolerated and even useful when properly managed. What lay beneath his polished title, however, was something far worse. The first report detailed his involvement in slave trading. Stonehaven had outlawed slavery twelve years earlier following a series of border revolts and a royal decree celebrated far more enthusiastically than it was enforced. Officially, every forced-labor network had been dismantled.

In practice, Vale had simply buried the same cruelty beneath cleaner language: indenture contracts, war debt service, prison labor transfers, protective custody, and temporary bonded relocation. Humans possessed a remarkable talent for making chains sound administrative. According to Adrian's sources, Vale's men had spent years transporting prisoners, debtors, captured villagers, and orphaned children through Westmere's mines and private roads. Some were sold across the border.

Others vanished into workshops, farms, brothels, and private estates. The reports contained names, dates, routes, payments, and three coded ledgers recovered from one of Vale's associates. I looked toward Adrian.

"How did you obtain these?"

"One of Vale's transport captains gambled here two months ago," Adrian replied.

"He lost heavily and attempted to sell information to cover his debt."

"And?"

"He sold too little." Celeste's mouth tightened.

"Adrian had him followed."

"Efficient."

"There is more," Adrian warned. I turned the page. The next section detailed the embezzlement of royal funds. Relief funds meant to feed villages devastated by flooding had been diverted into merchant houses controlled by Vale. Money allocated for road repairs disappeared beneath the label of "security expenses," while coin intended for border defenses equipped private soldiers loyal to Westmere rather than the crown. Even a grant meant to restore a temple had somehow been converted into weapons.

I tapped that final entry.

"Creative."

"Criminal," Celeste corrected.

"Many creative acts are." She gave me a patient look, and I returned to the report. The reports continued with witness intimidation, bribed magistrates, vanished political rivals, and land seized from widows without male heirs. Villagers who failed to pay inflated taxes were forced into service, while monster parts, curse reagents, and forbidden spell components moved through Vale's private routes. He even paid bandit groups to disrupt roads controlled by rival houses.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Then I reached the section concerning his wives, and my pace slowed. Vale's first wife, Lady Marienne, died from a sudden fever at twenty-two. Her personal maid disappeared two days later. Vale's second wife, Lady Corra, died at nineteen after falling from a balcony. Three servants reported hearing an argument shortly before her death, but the incident was nevertheless declared an accident.

Each witness later recanted under suspicious circumstances: one drowned, another vanished while supposedly traveling to a monastery, and the third was found hanging in a barn outside Westmere. Celeste's voice lowered.

"He buried two young wives before either of them reached twenty-five." I studied the page. Copies of their portraits had been included, likely obtained from some noble archive. Both women appeared delicate and beautiful, posed in gowns selected by someone else. Their eyes carried the peculiar emptiness created when painters were paid to flatter rather than tell the truth. I disliked looking at the portraits, so I turned the page and found rumors of a coup. That was far more interesting.

Vale apparently had little faith in the royal family's future, and I could not entirely blame him. King Aldren had produced five sons and somehow failed to divide enough sense among them. The crown prince was arrogant; the second drank too much, the third hid corruption behind piety, and the fourth preferred hunting peasants to boars. The fifth was still young enough for people to pretend he might turn out better. That seemed unlikely.

According to Celeste, Vera was the only competent child in a nest of decorative snakes. Naturally, they intended to sell her. Competence in a daughter was valuable only when traded to the correct man. Vale believed the princes were unfit to inherit. The reports indicated that he had been gathering military support, courting border commanders, purchasing loyalty from unpaid officers, and spreading claims that Stonehaven would require "strong stewardship" once the old king died. Strong stewardship...

A respectable phrase designed to make theft sound like responsible governance.

"He intends to use Vera," Celeste observed. I looked up from the page. Her hands had tightened at her sides.

"If he marries her, he gains royal blood and a claim close enough to dress in legitimacy. He also gains leverage over the king while the succession weakens." Adrian nodded.

"The marriage would grant him access to palace schedules, household movements, royal correspondence, and the princess's attendants." I leaned back in my chair.

"What happens if the king dies shortly afterward?"

"Vale presents himself as a stabilizing force," Adrian answered.

"Perhaps as regent, protector of the crown, or something worse." A faint smile touched my lips.

"The kingdom's oldest song. A crown changes hands, everyone calls it destiny, and the bodies beneath the floor disagree." Celeste's expression darkened further.

"What?"

"She isn't a tool," Celeste declared.

"Vera isn't a gate to the throne, a claim, or a womb for his legitimacy." Anger sharpened the final word. Celeste had no children and could never have them in the ordinary mortal way. Vampirism had changed many things about us. It granted strength, longevity, healing, beauty, hunger, and a thousand other gifts wrapped in teeth. Life no longer came from our bodies in the mortal sense. For vampires, it came through blood, choice, and the one who granted that second life.

Perhaps that was why Celeste reacted so fiercely whenever women were reduced to bloodlines and heirs. Then again, perhaps she was simply being Celeste, which was often explanation enough. I placed the pages upon the desk.

"Well, Duke Vale certainly keeps himself occupied." Celeste stared at me.

"Occupied?"

"Slave trading, embezzlement, murder, treason, forced marriage, and the probable disposal of inconvenient wives. He maintains a full schedule."

"Mother."

"What? I didn't compliment him." Adrian's mouth twitched. Celeste looked as though she couldn't decide whether to throw the reports at me or continue making her case.

"He's despicable."

"Yes." I gave a nod.

"He is dangerous."

"Clearly."

"He has killed women before."

"Most likely."

"He will hurt Vera."

"Probably." Celeste planted both hands upon my desk.

"Then we cannot allow this marriage to happen." I looked up at her and finally recognized the point she had been steering me toward from the moment she entered the room. Celeste had not brought the reports merely because I requested them. She had presented them as evidence before a judge, or perhaps as a weapon laid before a reluctant executioner.

"How noble of us."

"This isn't about nobility." She exclaimed.

"No?" Her voice softened, although only slightly.

"She's my friend." Friend… A dangerous word. I had warned her about those.

"You understand what happens when we grow close to mortals."

"I do."

"They age while we remain unchanged."

"I know."

"They die, Celeste." Her expression softened, but she didn't look away.

"That doesn't mean their lives matter less while they're here."

"They become liabilities, memories, or graves." Celeste met my gaze without hesitation.

"Sometimes, before any of that happens, they're worth knowing." I looked away first, feeling her passion gave me a great sense of pride and the willingness to follow through with her words. Adrian remained silent. He was wise enough to recognize that this particular battle belonged to Celeste and me.

"She's a princess. Whatever disorder exists within her family should remain royal business."

"Should it?" Celeste's question struck more deeply than I cared to admit. My expression remained unchanged, but some of the certainty behind my words had already begun to weaken.

"Her father is selling her," Celeste added gently. I stared at her.

"Don't use my past against me."

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Mother. I'm asking you not to ignore what you already see." For a moment, I had no answer. Celeste waited nearly two seconds before continuing. Then, because Celeste had never valued survival as highly as she should have, she tried again.

"Vera is being handed to a disgusting older man in exchange for money, soldiers, and political convenience. Everyone expects her to smile while they call it duty. You understand exactly what that is." The office fell silent. Adrian lowered his gaze slightly, and the fire cracked inside the hearth. I stared at Celeste. Most creatures would've stepped backward. She did not. That was the trouble with creating kin from people willing to die for one another.

They entered eternity already burdened with inconvenient courage.

"I'm aware of what it is." My voice remained calm. Celeste's eyes glimmered, but she held her ground.

"Then help her."

"I've already spared Malcolm."

"You did more than spare him. You requested information."

"I was curious."

"You're always curious immediately before involving yourself."

"That's slander."

"That's eighty years of observation." Adrian finally joined her.

"It's accurate." I turned toward him.

"You as well?" He inclined his head.

"Always, Mother." I hated when they joined forces against me. Not truly, of course. Their united persistence was simply irritating, especially when I had already decided to help and was only taking the scenic route toward admitting it. A dramatic sigh escaped me as I lifted the report on Lady Marienne and studied her portrait again. She had been young, gentle, likely sold into the marriage, and certainly buried because of it. Lady Corra followed. Then Vera…

A line of women passed from hand to hand beneath words such as alliance, duty, stability, and honor. Pretty language concealed rotten meaning. My father had lacked the education for such grand terminology. His greed had arrived plainly dressed in gold, debt, Elias's wedding, Elias's house, and Helena's sacrifice. The shape remained the same. A daughter possessed value only when exchanged. My fingers tightened around the paper. Smoke began curling from its edges. Celeste noticed but wisely remained silent.

I released the page before it turned to ash.

"You understand that interfering with Duke Vale could anger the king."

"The king already tolerates us because he must," Celeste replied.

"It may also anger Vale's allies."

"When have you ever cared about angering someone?" She made a great point.

"It could disrupt the succession."

"Wonderful."

"It could begin a war." Celeste hesitated. Adrian did not.

"If Vale is already preparing for a coup, war may be coming regardless. It would be better to choose the battlefield before he does." I smiled toward him.

"Look at you, being useful." He appeared unimpressed.

"I try occasionally." Celeste kept her attention fixed upon me.

"You once told me that protection has value."

"Yes."

"Then name the price." I arched one eyebrow.

"For saving a princess from a murderous duke?"

"For ensuring my friend doesn't end up buried beside his other wives." The quiet tremble in Celeste's voice made the plea far harder to resist. Arguments, tears, and moral speeches were easy enough to endure, but Celeste rarely asked for anything on her behalf. Celeste's loyalty carried a kind of danger. Once someone entered the small circle of people she cared for, she defended them with the same unwavering devotion Adrian brought to a blade.

Vera had entered that circle, which was unfortunate for everyone involved. Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes.

"This entire situation is irritating."

"I know," Celeste replied.

"Royal affairs, forced marriages, and Duke Vale's face all irritate me, despite the fact that I've never even seen him."

"That seems reasonable."

"Malcolm also cheated inside my casino and somehow turned his romantic incompetence into my responsibility."

"Also reasonable," Adrian agreed. My eyes opened.

"Most irritating of all, you're asking me to care." Celeste met my gaze without flinching.

"I'm not asking you to care. I'm asking you to act." She was absolutely asking me to care. Worse, she knew that I already did. I rose from the chair. Celeste straightened, and Adrian's hand shifted instinctively toward her. I walked around the desk and stopped before her. She looked up at me, stubborn, hopeful, and far too pleased with herself for someone standing so near a monster.

"Fine." Her eyes brightened. I pointed toward her.

"Don't smile." She smiled.

"I said fine. I didn't announce that I was adopting every unfortunate couple who wandered into my casino."

"Of course."

"This has nothing to do with her being your friend."

"Naturally."

"Nor does her situation remind me of anything."

"Never."

"I'm intervening because Duke Vale is a slaver, thief, murderer, traitor, and potential threat to my interests." Celeste's smile widened.

"And because no one turns my casino into the stage for a desperate commoner's disastrous attempt to become worthy of a princess without answering for it." Adrian nodded gravely.

"A serious offense."

"Exactly." Celeste lunged. There was no more accurate description. One moment she stood in front of me, smiling as though victory had personally kissed her forehead. Next, her arms closed around me. She hugged me inside my own office, directly in front of Adrian, with all the restraint of a lunatic.

"I love you," she murmured against my shoulder. Every muscle in my body became rigid. Adrian looked away, although not quickly enough to hide the faint amusement crossing his face. Bastard… Celeste refused to release me. I stared over her shoulder toward the wall. There were several ways I might have responded.

I could've pushed her away, scolded her, threatened to throw her through a window, or reminded her that I was a primordial vampire, founder of House Vaust, and owner of the most dangerous casino in Stonehaven, not some affectionate matron to be squeezed whenever Celeste got her way. Instead, I did nothing. The tension slowly eased from my shoulders. I did not return the embrace, because there was no reason for both of us to become ridiculous, but neither did I push her away. Celeste noticed, naturally.

Her arms tightened for a single heartbeat before she released me and stepped backward.

"There," she murmured.

"Was that truly so terrible?"

"Yes." I retorted instantly. It was more of a natural reaction to her show of affection. Adrian's mouth twitched again. I pointed at him.

"Don't."

"I said nothing."

"You thought loudly." Celeste laughed. I returned to my chair with as much dignity as remained available after being assaulted by affection.

"Now, if we intend to dismantle a duke, we will do it properly." Celeste's expression sharpened with immediate interest.

"What do you want first?"

"Keep him under constant watch. I want every change in his schedule, every unexpected visitor, and every message entering or leaving Westmere. If Vale alters so much as his breakfast order, I want to know why." Adrian nodded once.

"I will assign additional eyes."

"Perfect." Celeste returned to her place, still glowing from her victory.

"What about Vera?"

"She will continue meeting with you quietly. Learn everything she knows about the arrangement, the contract, and her father's intentions." Celeste nodded.

"As for Malcolm, he remains under your supervision. If he was desperate enough to cheat for Vera, find out whether that desperation can be shaped into something useful." Adrian's gaze sharpened.

"I will test him."

"Thoroughly." Celeste sighed.

"Try not to terrify him beyond reason."

"No promises," Adrian replied.

"Break whatever requires breaking," I said.

"Just make certain the pieces still serve House Vaust afterward." Celeste looked between us.

"The two of you are impossible."

"And yet beloved," I replied dryly. Her smile softened. My attention returned to the list of Duke Vale's crimes. He was a slave trader, an embezzler, a murderer, a traitor, and a man who treated women as possessions to be bought and buried. The part of me that had long since accepted what I was felt nothing at the thought of killing him. No guilt weighed upon me, no hesitation stayed my hand, and no moral unease disturbed the decision already forming. I wasn't a hero, and I had never pretended to be one.

Heroes wore bright colors, delivered speeches, and frequently died before collecting payment. I preferred dark clothing, brief conversations, and interest added to every debt. When someone deserved retribution, however, I delivered it thoroughly. I smiled down at the report.

"Arrange a meeting." Celeste tilted her head.

"With Duke Vale?"

"Yes." Adrian's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Public or private?"

"Public enough that he cannot refuse. Private enough that he believes he can lie." Celeste's smile turned dangerous, my sweet and soft-hearted daughter already preparing the knife.

"What will you tell him?" I closed the folder.

"Nothing too severe at first. I merely wish to see what kind of man looks upon a cage and calls it marriage." Adrian opened the door and immediately began moving into action. Celeste lingered for a moment.

"Thank you." I refused to look at her.

"I'm protecting my interests."

"Of course, Mother."

"And punishing a criminal."

"Certainly."

"And preventing future instability near my casino."

"Very practical."

"If you hug me again today, I will bite you." She smiled.

"You already did that once. It made me immortal." I stared at her. Adrian coughed into his fist. Celeste escaped through the door before I could construct a sufficiently threatening response. Alone in my office, I sat amid violet light, polished wood, and the dry scent of old paper. After a moment, my attention returned to Duke Vale's name, and a mocking laugh escaped me. The poor man believed he was purchasing a princess. He had no idea that, in doing so, he had purchased something far more dangerous.

He had found my undivided attention.