"We’re here," Lina announces, carrying Cedric in her arms while he sleeps with his head resting against her shoulder.

Before Levreeshka stretches a small settlement made up of around twenty wooden houses surrounded by a wooden palisade.

Almost immediately, two villagers guarding the entrance approach them, armed with torches and pitchforks.

Before Levreeshka even has the chance to step inside the village, the two men instantly jump to the wrong conclusion.

The scarlet glow of her eyes tells them at once that she is a vampire, and the moment they recognize the motionless body in her arms as that of their fellow villager Martin Spica, they immediately raise the alarm.

Another guard starts ringing a large bell, and within seconds dozens of men armed with pitchforks, shovels, axes, and various farming tools come rushing toward them.

"Is that... Martin Spica?!" one of the men whispers fearfully.

"You damned red-eyes, what did you do to him?!" another snarls, brandishing his pitchfork at Levreeshka.

"It’s not what it looks like! This woman saved us from an ambush!" Lina quickly intervenes.

"Don’t be fooled! That red-eyed monster must’ve brainwashed her with its infernal magic!" one of the villagers exclaims.

"Just for the record, we vampires are not demons, nor do we possess any sort of mind-control abilities," Levreeshka replies with absolute calm.

But of course, it is completely pointless.

"Shut up, monster! You hurt our friend — you’re going to pay for this!"

"Please, don’t hurt them. It’s fear making them speak like this — they’re not bad people, only frightened!" Lina pleads desperately with Levreeshka.

"I know. Don’t worry."

The enraged crowd cautiously closes in on Levreeshka when, all of a sudden, they stop and part to make way for a rather elderly man — the village chief.

"What’s going on here?" the elderly village chief asks.

"This vampire killed Martin Spica, took control of his wife and son, and now she’s here to kill the rest of us too!"

The old man’s gaze settles on Levreeshka, standing motionless and expressionless before them. He studies her carefully, waiting for an explanation.

"That story makes absolutely no sense. First of all, because I already explained to them that vampires do not possess mind-control abilities. And second, no offense, but if I had wanted to harm you, you’d all have been dead long ago by now. I’m only here to bring this man back to the village. Someone come take him, so I can be on my way and continue my journey."

After saying that, Levreeshka expects someone to step forward and take Martin’s body from her arms, but no one dares move. Only after several moments of hesitation does the village chief cautiously approach her himself. Despite his age, he is still strong enough to lift Martin’s heavy body, though not without effort.

It is only after the transfer happens without incident that two other villagers finally rush over to help the chief support Martin’s weight.

"Who did this to your husband?" the village chief asks Lina.

"I-It was Don Dargot’s men. They ambushed us while we were returning from the fields. They demanded ten gold Zirc as tribute, but we don’t have that kind of money. Things got worse when they demanded little Cedric as payment. One of them stabbed Martin, and if that vampire hadn’t happened to pass by, by now we’d..."

Lina breaks down crying again at the thought of the tragedy they narrowly escaped.

"...she saved us and treated Martin before it was too late. Please, village chief — I promised her that, as a sign of gratitude, I would let her spend the night in my home. Please allow me to keep my word."

"If that truly is the truth, then I have no reason to deny her permission to rest here. On the contrary, I can only be grateful for what she has done."

The elderly man then turns toward Levreeshka.

"It’s time for dinner. I insist that you join me at my table, so you can tell me in detail what happened and allow me to reward your courage with a warm meal."

"I gladly accept."

Beneath the still skeptical gazes of the villagers, Levreeshka follows the village chief into his humble home — a wooden hut slightly larger than the others.

Once seated at the table, she recounts everything that happened in detail while enjoying a simple dinner of meat, bread, and vegetables grown and raised by the villagers themselves.

"Unfortunately, it’s not much, but it’s all I can offer you," the village chief says apologetically after Levreeshka finishes the meal in just a few bites. "As you’ve probably already noticed, this is a very poor village — we survive on the little the land and our livestock provide us with. And ever since that Don Dargot you heard about started squeezing us harder and harder every year, things have only gotten worse..."

"Your ruler certainly chose some truly despicable tax collectors."

"Oh no, Don Dargot isn’t a royal tax collector — it’s been years since any official of the Crown set foot in these lands, let alone soldiers from the Royal Guard. This territory is so poor that, to them, governing it would cost more than it would ever bring in. Even House Azuralis stopped supporting us after its decline began ten years ago. That’s exactly why that scoundrel can do whatever he wants without consequence. Six years ago, he showed up claiming this village and the others nearby as his personal property, then imposed crushing taxes on all of us. At first we refused, but after he burned down two of our fields and seized part of our livestock by force, we had no choice but to give in to his extortion..."

"From what little I’ve seen, his men are nothing more than ordinary human bandits. It should be fairly easy for you and the other oppressed villages to unite and drive him out of these lands, shouldn’t it?"

"If they were truly all ordinary humans, we would’ve done so long ago. But Don Dargot has an incredibly powerful elemental mage on his side — Tristan Borrin, a former member of the Royal Guard who now works as a mercenary for that damned tyrant. Even if every village united against Don Dargot, Tristan would wipe us out in an instant with his devastating magic."

A grin spreads across Levreeshka’s face.

"I take it there’s a bounty on their heads, then?"

"That’s correct. Forty gold Zirc for Don Dargot’s head, and one hundred for Tristan Borrin’s."

"That’s quite a lot of money."

"Yes — enough to tempt many people, and every single one of them died by Tristan Borrin’s hand. If you value your life, vampire, I suggest you don’t get any foolish ideas."

"Wow, he must really be strong then," Levreeshka remarks, pretending to sound impressed. "So tell me, where exactly is this Don Dargot’s residence?"

"You can forget about me telling you that. You saved one of our villagers, and I intend to return the favor not telling you where it is. Stay away from that place — take it as advice from an old man who’s seen far too much."

"Kind of hard to stay away from something when I don’t even know where it is, don’t you think?"

"You only need to know that it’s nowhere near the road to Flumarx Town, so there’s no risk of you stumbling across it by accident."

"And what if I wanted to stumble across it by accident? Which road should I take then? It might not look like it, but... let’s just say I can handle myself in a fight."

"That’s exactly what every bounty hunter we hosted used to say. And not a single one of them ever returned."

Faced with Levreeshka’s persistence, the village chief lets out a long, weary sigh.

"Two hours north of here on foot. It’s a large white manor — you can’t miss it. It’s the only building in that entire area."

Levreeshka rises to her feet. She thanks him for the dinner and bids the village chief farewell. But just before she disappears into the darkness beyond the doorway, the old man asks one final question.

"What is your name, vampire? You’ve eaten at my table, yet never introduced yourself."

"Oh, you’re right. How careless of me. My name is Levreeshka."

"Levreeshka, of House...?"

"Just Levreeshka. No House for now."

"I see... Then good luck, Levreeshka. You’re going to need it."