*Admiral Nugen*
"Like I was saying, for the last time, Mr. Brunce." Admiral Nugen had to reel in his tone, almost spitting out his name, but his annoyance slipped out by the end anyway. But he couldn't help it. Nugen was tired. Exhausted from sleepless nights of tossing and turning, unable to break free from worry and stress. Plagued by the drive to solve the mystery of the Bulgeons getting their hands on the Almonies' crossbrows. All the more because he was the only one who could.
With Alexander still gone, who else could help her?
No, Ana needed him more than ever. Until Alexander's return, the burden of her protection lay entirely on him, a load that pressed down more with every hour that passed.
Nugen clenched his jaw, and the muscles along his neck corded tight as the ship's rigging. A vein throbbed visibly at his temple, pulsing in time with the waves of pain that crashed against the inside of his skull. Each throb sent a flood of molten agony coursing up the side of his face, focusing with brutal precision on his scar.
Without thinking, he pushed back his sweat-dampened hair, the coarse wool of his sleeve catching against the inflamed tissue above his eye. The scrape sent white-hot sparks of pain through his vision, momentarily blinding him. The raw, chafed skin burned as if touched by a branding iron.
His stomach twisted into a hollow knot that growled its protest. When had he last eaten? Yesterday? The day before? Coffee—bitter and strong enough to strip varnish—was all he could remember. But the mere thought of pausing, of stepping away from this quest for answers, made bile rise in his throat.
I can't let her down. The words echoed in his mind with each heartbeat, keeping time with the throb of his scar.
What should have been a straightforward investigation had warped into an ordeal worthy of the nine hells. First, the impossible task of locating Brunce—the man had been everywhere except where his duties demanded. The armory? Empty. Training fields? Abandoned. Stables? Not a trace. When Nugen had finally cornered him, the vampire had the audacity to look inconvenienced.
It's like talking to a wall. No—walls at least had the decency to remain silent.
The cluster headache forming above his scarred brow sent tendrils of pain down to his teeth, making them ache as if being slowly extracted without brandy first. Soon, even the weak, dusty light filtering through the high windows would become unbearable, turning each ray into a dagger.
And he still hadn't gotten anywhere with the infuriating Mr. Brunce, which made the man feel that his pain was only promising to get worse. Nugen dared a glance from the book back at the vampire. Sizing him up.
Across from him stood the source of his mounting frustration. Mr. Brunce—a full foot shorter than Nugen—with his absurdly cheerful red hair retreating from a forehead that shone with the soft gleam of someone who had never known true exertion. And by the looks of his flashy arms and legs, Nugen could wager he did not take to the field much. In fact, the more he looked, the more Mr. Brunce seemed out of place for something as official as being in charge of Nocthen's weapons.
Mr. Brunce had soft hands when swords should have calloused them. His voice was wavery, where it should have been firm and commanding. The only thing that did seem to stand out was the arrogance, how Mr. Brunce could cast him a look of superiority that challenged Nugen's every question. Otherwise, the man didn't look like anything to have any backbone. He didn't even look like he knew how to draw a dagger.
And Nugen had yet to get started on his intelligence–or lack of it.
Who chose him as the Armory Supervisor? That's what Nugen wanted to know. This man couldn't possibly manage a collection of wooden toys, let alone Nocthen's arsenal.
Drawing a deep breath that tasted of metal and dust, Nugen tried to speak through the bone-deep throb in his skull. His finger jabbed at the ledger with enough force to leave an impression on the parchment. "There is stock missing, see?"
He held his breath, the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. For a moment—just one blessed moment—hope flickered like a fragile flame as the vampire leaned forward. Did he get it? Could they finally—
"Missing?" Mr. Brunce blinked with excruciating slowness, his red eyes vacant as a doll's. The vampire shook his head as if clearing water from his ears. "But the ledger says—"
Good god, man! Nugen's vision briefly edged with crimson. His fingers spasmed around the ledger, the leather binding creaking in protest. For one glorious second, he envisioned the satisfying thud it would make against Brunce's skull. How many times had they been over this already? It was like running in circles.
Patience. Nugen had to clench his teeth to hold back his murderous scheme. Though smacking sense into the vampire would bring momentary satisfaction, it would solve nothing. Worse, it might make him even stupider.
He needed to play the diplomat, however ill-suited the role felt against his soldier's instincts. For now. For Ana.
Forcing out a steady breath, Admiral Nugen tapped at the line. "No, see here? The sum is wrong. It's off by twenty boxes."
He paused, allowing the vampire to lean forward. Brunce's scent—a cloying mix of expensive cologne and the peculiar sweetness that clung to all vampires—made Nugen's empty stomach roll. The vampire's breath fogged the page as he peered at the numbers with theatrical intensity.
"See? We ordered 60. But 40 arrived."
"Really?" Brunce gasped, looking up at Nugen without the judgmental gaze for once. His red eyes widened with what appeared to be genuine surprise, the pupils dilating until they nearly eclipsed the crimson iris. "I didn't notice. But you're right."
Of course, I'm right. This is basic math, you sack of— "Yes," Nugen replied, the word tight and controlled. A flicker of triumph ignited in his chest—small and wavering, but present. Perhaps now they could make progress.
But just as quickly as understanding had dawned on Brunce's face, it vanished, replaced by a careless shrug that sent a fresh wave of rage crashing against Nugen's already fraying self-control.
"Ah, well," Brunce sighed, the words hanging in the stale air like an insult.
"Ah, well?" The words escaped Nugen's mouth before he could catch them, sharp with disbelief. Almost more flabbergasted at the vampire's staggering incompetence, but the horrifying implications behind it.
"So where did they go?"
Mr. Brunce's eyes widened with vacant confusion, his pupils contracting to pinpricks in the crimson irises. "Where did what go?"
"Where-" Nugen's scar erupted with fresh pain, a white-hot brand searing his skin. The throbbing outpaced even his headache now, as if his old wound sensed his rage and amplified it. His patience—that thin, frayed thread—finally snapped.
"The cases," he growled through clenched teeth, each word slow and deliberate. "I'm talking about the twenty cases missing. Where did they go if they weren't here?"
"How should I know?" Brunce lifted his hands." I'm new."
"You—" A whoosh of air escaped Nugen's lungs like a bellows, carrying with it what little restraint he had left. His hand twitched toward his sword, fingers dancing over the leather-wrapped hilt. The buckle of his scabbard clinked softly as his thumb brushed against the release.
One quick movement. That's all it would take.
But the temptation was stalled as the words circled back in his mind. He said he was new?
Nugen froze, his fury momentarily derailed by this unexpected revelation. No announcement had been made, and there was no official change in guard that he'd been informed of. Better, how new was he, exactly?
Was Brunce not here when they ordered the cases, then?
"You're new?" Nugen tested, his anger subsiding as the gears worked behind his brown eyes. "So, someone was working before you?"
Mr. Brunce nodded, his gold chain catching the light as it swung against his fleshy neck. The gaudy jewelry clinked softly, a discordant note in the tense atmosphere. "Yeah—I'm new and I didn't know anything about the cases so—"
Nugen cut him off, pressing for the better question."And where are they? The one before you?"
"I don't know." Brunce's boot scuffed against the stone floor, the sound grating like sand between teeth. "I just got here. Why?"
"You—" Fresh heat flashed through Nugen's body despite the clammy chill of the armory. The cold air seemed to mock his internal inferno, raising goosebumps on his skin even as sweat beaded along his hairline. He pushed back his hair, forgetting himself, and instantly regretted it as his coarse sleeve dragged against his scar again.
A jolt of raw pain shot through him, like lightning seeking the storm cloud of his headache. Bright spots danced before his eyes, and for a moment, he feared he might actually lose consciousness.
"I know you are new," he continued once the world stopped spinning, each word measured and tight. "But I want to talk to the person before you. I want to ask them about the ledger. They need to account for the twenty boxes."
"Why should they? They aren't in charge. I am." Brunce rose to his toes, his heels lifting from the ground in a pitiful attempt to match Nugen's height. The leather of his expensively tailored boots creaked with the effort.
"I'm in charge now." The vampire lifted his chin, exposing the pale column of his throat. "I should be the one to answer."
Nugen could feel something vital giving way inside him—that last internal barrier between civility and violence. It was like standing on ice, hearing the telltale cracks spreading underfoot. One wrong move…
"I know you are," he said, each word slow and deliberate, as if explaining to a child, "but you don't know where the boxes are."
"Well, yeah, because I'm new." Brunce puffed his chest like a preening bird, the fabric of his unnecessarily ornate uniform straining against the buttons.
"That's why—" Nugen's voice began to rise, and he forced it back down, his finger jabbing at the ledger so hard the page might tear. The circular conversation was maddening, like being caught in an eddy while drowning. "The number of boxes is wrong. That's twenty crates missing. Where are they then?"
"I don't know, I just got—" Brunce cocked his head, his expression shifting to one of condescension, as if Nugen were the simpleton in this exchange.
But Nugen had had enough.
Nugen moved with the fluid violence of a striking viper. His hand shot out faster than even vampire reflexes could track, bunching the expensive fabric of Brunce's collar in his fist. The sudden movement sent a rush of air between them, carrying the scent of fear as it suddenly bloomed from the vampire's pores.
"Say that again," Nugen hissed, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to chill the very air between them, "and I will pull ALL your teeth out." The threat emerged from some primal place within him, raw and honest. His eyes—normally warm brown—burned with such intensity that the vampire's ruddy complexion drained to a sickly green.
For the first time since their encounter began, understanding dawned on Brunce's face—pure, unalloyed comprehension. Survival instinct finally overcame arrogance as he nodded jerkily, Adam's apple bobbing against Nugen's knuckles.
Nugen released him gradually, his fingers uncurling one by one from the now-crumpled fabric. His glare remained fixed on the vampire, pinning him in place more effectively than physical restraint.
Mr. Brunce was precisely the kind of vampire in Nocthen that Nugen hated. Arrogant, stupid, self-important, without even earning a right. The kind that always seemed to be in positions of authority and power. Choking the system and sucking it dry.
And he was getting in the way. Nugen didn't have to think twice about that. Brunce was a dunce.
I am wasting my time talking to him. The thought came with crystal clarity as Nugen tucked the ledger against his side. The leather binding felt cool against his palm, a small anchor to his purpose. At least he had evidence of the discrepancy—something tangible to show Ana.
Yet even as he clutched the book, it felt insubstantial, as if he were trying to catch smoke. The concrete proof he'd sought only seemed to widen the chasm of uncertainty. Numbers that didn't add up. A new supervisor he'd never heard about. The pieces refused to form a coherent picture, instead creating new, darker questions with every answer.
Where were the boxes? That was the immediate concern, but it branched into other, more troubling paths. Who was the previous bookkeeper? And why were they no longer here?
Nugen's headache pulsed in time with these questions, each throb sending fresh waves of pain across his scarred brow. Rest would have to wait—again. He'd gone without sleep before, survived on nothing but determination and duty during countless campaigns. This was no different.
He fixed Brunce with a final, penetrating stare that made the vampire visibly straighten, fear flickering in those red eyes like a trapped flame. The sight almost pulled Nugen's lips into a smile.
Almost.
"I will find where these crates went." Nugen voiced firmly. "And if they went where I think they did-"
"Hey, don't look at me. I just got here." Brunce waved his hands.
"Don't remind me." Nugen didn't hide his eyeroll.
You are too stupid to count. But Nugen lost his thought as the smell came back to him. The hard, wet tang of sour iron and old leather. The old familiar smell of the armory. It was a smell Nugen would have usually welcomed as familiar and grounding.
It shouldn't smell so strong, though. Nugen finally allowed the invasive scent to permeate his mind, making him dare a look around the cave-like dwelling of grey stone.
He took in the all too familiar sights of the weapons hanging over the walls, the melee, the bows, the swords, and how the practice dummies and target boards huddled off in the corner. The work benches were covered with daggers in need of sharpening, crossbows to be restrung. And further in the back were the sectioned-off rooms, careful to be hidden out of the light, as the powders in the kegs were sensitive to heat and easily combustible.
But where Nugen would have taken the glance and left it at that, thinking it nothing more, his eyes focused on what shouldn't have been here. Splotches of the hungry corrosion formed on swords–rust. The leather straps were cracked and dry, with decay. And the arrows themselves were dull by neglect.
He wouldn't need to test a blade to know the truth—most were ancient, far older than regulations permitted. And not a single one had been properly maintained. In its current state, most of the armory was useless.
How did things get so bad? A metallic taste flooded his mouth—blood from where he'd bitten the inside of his cheek without realizing it. This went beyond negligence.
This was dangerous.
"Why haven't these swords been replaced with new stock?"Nugen asked, his voice hollow with shock as he surveyed the decay around him. The armory should have been bustling with workers, alive with the sounds of metal being worked, leather being treated. Instead, it stood as silent as a tomb.
It was just them right now. Where was everyone?
His gaze snapped back to Brunce, unease pooling in his gut like cold lead. "What's going on with the budget?"
"They cut it."
"They what?" This was news to Nugen. He never heard of such a thing. "They cut money from the armory?"
"Yeah, they've cut it for a while now." Brunce shrugged, unfazed. "I barely have enough to pay the servant in charge of cleaning the swords-"
"Servant?" Admiral Nugen gulped in shock. "You mean you just have one servant? For all of this?!" His arm swept wide, encompassing the vast room with its endless array of weapons and armor. The very notion was absurd—one person couldn't possibly maintain it all. For a human, a vampire, hell, even a giant couldn't do it all.
"Yeah, one servant."Another shrug, as if discussing nothing more consequential than a menu change. "But I heard from lord Charles that more cuts will be made soon."
"Lord Charles said this?" Nugen rocked back on his heels, the name striking him like a physical blow. His eyes widened with dawning comprehension, pupils dilating as pieces of the puzzle suddenly shifted into a new configuration. Lord Charles was the one making the cuts?
Did Ana know about this? Something about that pulled on the back of his mind. And where was that money going?
Nugen could feel a shadow crawl up his back. It seemed like he wasn't finding the answers he wanted, only more problems. Big ones.
It wasn't just the crates, but was money missing now?
"Do you know how long these cuts have been going on?" Nugen's voice emerged softer now, the initial fury giving way to something colder and more focused.
"No, I'm new, remember?" Brunce went again, unsprised, but Admiral Nugen didn't get so mad about it this time. His mind was already circling around yet another thing he'd need to solve, then bother with the vampire. He needed to figure this out. And all on his own. Until Alexander was back, the role was his to play protector.
Something is wrong on a much deeper level. The thought settled in his gut like a swallowed stone, cold and heavy. His intestines clenched with visceral apprehension, a soldier's instinct for danger that had saved his life countless times on the battlefield. But instinct alone wouldn't be enough. Not for this. Not for Ana.
He needed evidence—something tangible, irrefutable. Without it, his suspicions remained just that: shadows and whispers without substance. The ledger was a start, but merely one thread in what was clearly becoming a complex tapestry of deceit.
I need to find the last bookkeeper. Something was wrong, which may have been for much longer than he noticed. Or anyone else, for that matter. This reeked of deception.
The crates were just a small problem now.
Nugen's jaw tightened, the muscles along his cheek flexing beneath the skin. He had deeper villains to unmask now—and a growing suspicion about who might be revealed when the masks fell away. Still, without proof...
It was time to go.
"I'm taking this," Nugen declared, gesturing with the ledger. The leather binding felt unnaturally warm against his palm, as if the secrets within generated their own heat. "It will serve in the investigation. You will have it back when all is over."
"Oh, that's fine." Brunce nodded with unexpected equanimity, his earlier fear apparently forgotten. "I have my own."
"You do?" Genuine surprise momentarily displaced Nugen's brooding thoughts—the first intelligent thing to emerge from the vampire all day. "You mean you keep two books?"
"We are supposed to," Brunce replied, a smile of genuine confidence transforming his features. "One is the official book, and the other is a backup." He moved to his desk, the heels of his expensive boots clicking against the stone floor as he retrieved another volume.
The second ledger was nearly identical to the first—fine leather binding wrapped around expensive parchment, its materials worth more than Nugen's entire uniform. The Admiral's gaze darted between the book in his possession and its twin, his mind latching onto a particular phrase: supposed to.
"Every supervisor does?" Nugen asked with a slight lift in his tone as the idea took shape, now that he dared to ask. "Even the last one?"
The vampire scratched at the side of his face."Yes, he should have. Probably."
"Then," Admiral Nugen felt a spark light behind his eyes. "Do you have the other? The previous one's personal one?"
Brunce shook his head, the motion sending that gaudy gold chain swinging. "No, whoever it was took it with them. I only have that book."
"I see." Nugen nodded more slowly, but inside, he could feel a rush of excitement.
Two ledgers and one is miscalculated? What were the chances that the other would have the same missing twenty boxes? Or…maybe it didn't? Nugen had a notion that the other may be more truthful.
The realization sent a surge of satisfaction through him—not just because he'd found a lead, but because Brunce had inadvertently provided it. Perhaps the vampire wasn't quite the dunce he'd appeared.
A smile tugged at the corner of Nugen's mouth, genuine rather than mocking.
"Thank you, you've been surprisingly helpful."
"Really?" Brunce brightened, his eyes going wide like an eager puppy. This was likely because not many had ever given him such a compliment. But just as quickly, that smile turned arrogant, with his fangs out and his head tilted back.
"I mean, well, of course. I am the MASTER of the Armory after all. It's my job." His chest puffed out like a preening bird, satisfaction radiating from every pore.
Nugen scuffed. Leave it to a vampire to suck up at any compliment, of course.
With a sharp pivot, the Admiral turned to leave, his boot squeaking satisfyingly against the cement tile. The promise of escape from the oppressive smell of rotting leather and rusted iron beckoned, yet he had to be tempted to let his own amusement take him.
"Yes, actually," Admiral Nugen lingered at the threshold, meeting the man's gaze. He watched Brunce's face light up once more, like a child called upon by a favorite teacher, eager to prove his worth.
"Oh, then-"
"Bite off your tongue and bleed to death." The words emerged wrapped in a broad smile, laughter threading between Nugen's teeth as he strode into the hallway. Behind him, the sounds of the vampire sputtering in stunned offense only make Nugen feel all the better.
For the first time that day, Nugen's headache receded, like a curse lifted by the simple act of giving voice to his contempt.
It was good to know he could still ruffle their feathers even now.
Par would laugh if she heard me. Nugen's smile soften at the memory. Somewhere, he could swear he could hear her laugh.The soft and delicate sound lifting between the white walls as he stepped into the empty hallway.
It was a beautiful laugh. Not the one she used in court. It was the beautiful and pure laugh she only gave him when they were alone. A laugh that he could only dream about. The memory of her almost too real–
No, that wasn't a memory. Nugen's muscles tensed, his spine straightening like a drawn bow. He hadn't imagined anything. He'd heard it—a laugh. Not delicate and feminine, but high and clear like a child's.
Someone, somewhere nearby, was laughing.
Nugen pivoted sharply, the leather of his boots protesting the sudden movement. His gaze darted down the corridor just in time to catch a glimpse of a small head disappearing around the corner—a flash of movement so quick he might have doubted it if not for the sound still lingering in the air.
But he'd seen enough. His breath caught in his throat, lungs seizing with recognition. It was a child—child dressed in the unmistakable uniform of a palace servant.
"Bruno?" Nugen's brows furrowed deeply, the name emerging in a bewildered whisper.
What would he be doing down here?
Nugen stepped forward, the scuff of his boot against the stone floor loud in the heavy silence. It echoed back at him, a hollow sound in the empty corridor that seemed to mock his confusion.
The boy was gone, as if he had never been there at all.