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Dryadic Dragon: Chapter 54: Secrets Upon Secrets
🕑 Added 2025-10-27 09:29:35 +0000 UTCChapter 54: Secrets Upon Secrets
Italy, Undisclosed Location.
Standing on the balcony of an Art-Nouveau castle, with a glass of blood-red wine in his hands, was a tall, pale man with a skin complexion no different from one would expect of a vampire. His eyes bore the same, eerie shade of the alcohol he was sipping on, the pleasant sight of the residence’s parterre reflected in their cornea.
He had long, obsidian hair that framed both sides of his face, cascading over his shoulders and sprawling down all the way to his midsection. His ears were pointed like an elf, and he wore a simple, but finely tailored black suit and tie.
“How dull,” he murmured to himself. His gaze shifted upwards to the bright, cloud-filled sky looming above him. A view that most would struggle to find anything but peace in.
He was not most.
He couldn’t be further from it.
To him, that serene, tranquil sky was naught but a temporary, long-driven lie designed to mask the proper, rightful truth of the world.
War.
That was his peace.
Brutal, grimy, senseless, awful war. Whether it be between small packs of animals mindlessly chewing at one another, a human nation splitting in two and pointing its own blade at itself, entire contents breaking apart and drowning each other in oceans upon oceans of mankind’s blood, or when the higher powers most have yet to comprehend utilized their superior strength to bring about untold destruction.
He cherished it all the same.
War was beautiful to him. It gave him more than just peace, it gave him purpose as well. It added meaning to an existence that couldn’t help but feel bleak every waking moment it spent away from the thrill of the battle.
It had been 63 years since he last got to relish in that thrill. When he engaged in an epic clash with the wielder of one of the legendary Holy Swords, Durandal. The only time in history when he had been pushed back and defeated by a human.
“It’s a shame really,” he traced his hand down his torso, where a monumental, grotesque scar left behind by Durandal resided. “Even if he’s still alive to this day, he’s probably been reduced to a mere shadow of his former himself.” He groaned, finishing the last of his wine and tossing the glass right over the ledge of the balcony. “A true shame.”
In all honesty, it wasn’t the boredom that was truly eating away at him. 63 years was nothing to him, hardly even a speck in the wide-reaching river that was his lifespan.
The frustration on the other hand? Now that was something else entirely.
His frustration had been plaguing him for millennia. It all stemmed from the conclusion of the bloodiest war in supernatural history. The memory of when the man he believed to be both his friend and leader, gave the order to stand down. To simply put down their weapons, tuck their tails in between their legs, and walk away with their heads lowered.
That order turned him into a husk. It had slowly, excruciatingly drained every last drop of passion out of him. It had grabbed him by the head and forced him to watch as everything he believed in was crumpled up, thrown to the ground, stomped, and spit on.
But he endured. He endured for millennia. Doing everything in his power to try to make his friend see his point of view. To help him understand that their species were destined to rule above the rest, to dominate all that wasn’t them.
Only to be refused.
Every single time.
Time and time again, his friend would turn his head away from the battlefield and drown himself in pointless scientific endeavours to hide from all the horrors that had transpired during the conflict at his hands.
Constantly, he insisted that ‘peace’ and ‘advancement’ were all that mattered, and to add insult to injury, his friend had the audacity to suggest he do the same. That he lay down his pride and passion, and be content with their status as the weakest faction among the three main participants of the war.
How dare he?
After all that sacrifice? After all the comrades they lost? After all the atrocities they committed in the name of ensuring victory?
He was supposed to just lie down and accept defeat?
He was supposed to just forget all the undying hatred he felt towards their enemies? Pretend like it didn’t exist, and force a smile as he shook their hands?
Unacceptable.
He had endured his frustration for millennia.
But no more. He wouldn’t insult himself by playing the role of content anymore.
Someone needed to set the world back to a state of truth, someone needed to lift the false curtain of peace that was covering everyone’s eyes, unearth all the filth that had been swept under the rug, and force them to face it again.
The ‘ceasefire’ they had all agreed on was nothing but a barefaced lie. A half-measure to give them false hope that their world could exist without violence.
What a joke.
Hatred of that magnitude didn’t simply disappear on its own, you couldn’t just ‘forgive and forget’, and move on like nothing even happened in the first place.
Soon enough, I’ll make you all remember—
“Lord Kokabiel,” an aged, jovial voice interrupted his train of thought. Causing him to breathe a deep groan before turning to face the man who had approached him.
Standing behind Kokabiel with his hands folded behind his back was a short, bespectacled elderly man with grey hair, a mustache, and pitch-black eyes. He adorned a priest outfit and gave off an overall friendly and even-tempered impression.
Well, as long as you didn’t look into those soulless pits of his for too long.
“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” he noticed the look of irritation on Kokabiel’s face. “I could always come back later if you wish.”
The missing Cadre pinched his nose-bridge and sighed. “No, I trust you have the common sense not to show yourself before me without something of value to discuss. Valper.”
“Your confidence in me is deeply appreciated,” he chuckled lightly while adjusting his rounded glasses. “I’m just here to inform you of a complication of sorts. A minor one, I assure you. But one I think you should be aware of.”
“Go on then.” Kokabiel narrowed his sanguine eyes.
“As it would seem, Freed Sellzen has failed to check in with me at the allotted time.” Valper cleared his throat before beginning. “Which means he either decided to turn his back on us, which I highly doubt, considering his character. Or he’s been compromised in some manner.”
“Oh? Is that what you consider a ‘minor’ complication?” Kokabiel’s glare sharpened, sending a dread-ridden chill down Valper’s mortal spine. “Because from what I understood, he was the only person you had in mind capable of wielding the Excalibur fragments, was he not? And if he’s been compromised, then that more likely than not means Raynare’s experienced the same fate. If she’s been found out, and the devils have somehow not already declared war on Grigori, then that means Azazel’s already intervened.”
Valper slipped his finger in between his neck and collar, gulping as beads of sweat started to form on his back and stain the fabric of his attire.
But he needed to hold his ground and remain firm. If he appeared weak or even remotely incompetent in front of the Cadre, the ten-winged Fallen Angel wouldn’t hesitate to execute him on the spot.
“I assure you, Lord Kokabiel. I’ve already prepared a solution to Freed’s absence, regardless of whether he’s merely being foolish or has been incapacitated.” Kokabiel didn’t seem all too impressed, but still somewhat willing to let Valper say his piece before coming to a verdict. “As for the Governor’s intervention. Was it not inevitable? I wouldn’t dare presume to know him better than you do, but I imagine he began looking for you once you departed from Grigori.”
Kokabiel hummed, leaning against the balcony.
“Indeed, you do not know Azazel as well as I do. Hence why you can’t comprehend the difference between him wondering what I’m doing, and knowing what I’m doing makes in determining how much of an issue he’ll be to my plans.”
Azazel lacked decisiveness. The old him might have had it in spades, but that version of him was long gone.
There was a reason the Governor hadn’t managed to track him down yet, despite the sheer resources he had at his disposal.
Azazel wanted to believe. He wanted to disillusion himself into thinking Kokabiel, a man he deemed one of his closest friends, wouldn’t truly go against him, regardless of his outward opposition to the pro-peace policies he pushed forward. Or that even if he did, it’d be possible to reel him back into the fold.
How soft, Kokabiel sneered inwardly. Azazel just never seemed to get the message, no matter how clear-cut Kokabiel was with his dissatisfaction.
For better or for worse, Kokabiel decided to take his former friend’s lack of understanding into his own hands. Leaving behind a certain memento of the person he once was at the abandoned church where Raynare was operating.
Granted, he hadn’t planned for Azazel to discover said memento for at least another week, as that was when having an aggravated Governor-General would be most ideal for him.
Oh well, I haven’t even confirmed whether they’ve truly been compromised or not. I can cross that bridge when I get to it.
“Nonetheless, Fallen Angel matters are for me to handle, not you.” He straightened his posture, looking at Valper expectantly. “Instead, I’d like to hear more about this ‘solution’ of yours to our lack of a suitable Holy Sword vessel.”
“It’s quite simple, really,” a devilish smirk graced Valper’s mug. “If we’re lacking a Freed, then all we have to do is make another one.”
Kokabiel raised his brow. “You’re referring to the Sigurd Institution?”
“The very one,” Valper’s smile grew. “I wasn’t a part of it when they created their first and most successful creation, but I was there long enough when they conscripted me during the mass-production phase to know how to create something like Freed. Perhaps even with a few upgrades here and there, if you’re willing to lend a small helping hand, of course.”
“If by helping hand, you’re expecting me to waltz into the Vatican and take over the institution for you, I’m seriously going to throw you over this ledge.” He pointed over the balcony’s railing.
“Oh, please, I’d never be that shameless.” Valper was quick to deny. “As ideal as the Sigurd Institution would be, that facility was designed to simultaneously produce specimens in the dozens. It would be overkill. For what we have planned, a singular subject will suffice.”
“A singular successful subject, I believe you mean.” Though Kokabiel didn’t share Azazel’s passion for science. It was hard for him not to pick up a thing or two after spending both his lifespan as an Angel, and Fallen Angel in Grigori. He understood the scientific process better than most would imagine.
Valper sighed. “I understand why you might call my militaristic planning into question, but surely you have faith in my scientific prowess?” He coughed, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Lord Kokabiel, I know better than to make such a bold proposition without possessing the confidence in my ability to follow through.”
The man dubbed with the notorious moniker of the “Genocide Archbishop” was a shrewd character, there was no question about that.
Of course, Kokabiel had dealt with much worse through his exceptionally long life. When it came to such characters, the only thing you could count on was their obsessions. In this case, Valper’s was his research, and his desire to live to see the fruits of his research come to life.
Taking Valper’s current state of exile into account, there was literally no one else for him to rely on other than Kokabiel if he wanted any hope of still pursuing his obsessions.
“Very well,” Kokabiel hummed his reserved approval, ensuring that Valper understood his trust wasn’t to be taken lightly. “What is it you want?”
“Financing,” Valper stated clearly. “I still have the necessary underground connections and know-how to set up a miniature lab of my own, but the state of my personal wallet has seen far better days.”
Sure, Archbishops appointed for the Vatican were awarded an exceedingly generous stipend. However, Valper hadn’t really done a good job of stashing hidden funds before his excommunication.
Beyond his scientific ability, Valper’s talents were awfully ‘limited’, for lack of better words. Finance allocation hadn’t really been a strength of his. Officials from the Vatican’s treasury were forced to micromanage the funds at Valper's disposal when he spearheaded the Holy Sword Project.
“That can be arranged,” unlike Valper, Kokabiel had been a lot more proactive with his offshore dealings. For quite some time, he had been working hard on procuring investments outside of Grigori’s territory, the castle he was residing in at this very moment serving as a prime example.
It was all in preparation for the day he’d inevitably break away from Azazel’s side for good. Assuming he never managed to convince the Governor to agree with his perspective, he knew he’d have to take things into his own hands and would more likely than not need some resources to move whatever pieces needed moving.
A day that had finally come.
Now, Kokabiel had a considerable resource pool at his disposal, all of which he could utilize for the sole goal of bringing forward his warmongering ambitions. Funding a mere lab would hardly even put a dent in said pool.
“Your generosity is deeply appreciated, Lord Kokabiel.” Valper bowed in an attempt to flatter his newfound employer, but only received a blank look of indifference in return.
“Don’t thank me yet. I won’t be giving you so much as a single dime until I’ve thoroughly confirmed that the Stray and Raynare’s group has actually been compromised.” He cautioned. Just because he had a surplus of resources didn’t mean he needed to be wasteful with them. What use was there in making another Freed if the existing viable option?
In the first place, Kokabiel wasn’t counting on Freed for his combat prowess. He only wanted someone who could help him get the Holy Sword fragments involved in the war-starting incident he was cooking up.
“Of course,” Valper bowed once more before leaving him be.
===
After saying her goodbyes to Rias and Gasper last night, Venelana had returned to the Underworld.
I’m not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved about that. Part of me still had plenty of questions I wanted to ask her about Martha’s past, but the other part was worried that the longer she stayed, the higher the chance of her finding out what happened to Rias.
Although she seemed intent on fulfilling my request, there was still the possibility of her slipping up to take into consideration. Even the slightest twitch or misspeak could’ve alerted Venelana, that woman was frighteningly perspective after all.
Fortunately, my student managed to hold her ground, and the next morning came without a bloodthirsty Satan Lucifer appearing at my doorstep.
“Someone’s up early,” I quipped, yawning as I descended the staircase into the living room. Observing the sight of Rias assisting Thora in the kitchen as they prepared breakfast, or at least attempting to, I only needed a glance to tell that Thora had relegated all the ‘less consequential’ tasks to her.
She had done the exact same thing to me when I was younger. Years went by before I was allowed to touch anything that would even have a remote impact on the food’s actual flavour. Not that I blame her, it’s precisely because of her high standards that her dishes are as exquisitely delicious as they are.
“Oh, believe me, I was planning to sleep in after everything that happened yesterday.” Her eyes gravitated towards the sizzling pan of bacon in Thora’s hands. “But the smell basically slapped me right awake, and I mean that in a good way.”
“You needn’t praise me, Lady Rias, but your compliments are appreciated nonetheless,” Thora said with a well-restrained smirk. I’m seriously going to need to teach her how to take a compliment at some point, aren’t I? “Young Lord, would you mind setting the table in the meantime?”
“Sure.”
One by one, I started to get the plates, silverware, glasses, and napkins ready. Only to be interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on my door.
Three presences were waiting outside, all of which I was familiar with.
That was quick, I turned to Rias and gave her a questioning look.
She raised her brow. “What? You said I could use your house as my base of operations, didn’t you?”
“Oh, right.” I chuckled lightly. “Guess I should prepare a few extra plates then.” I opened the door to the sight of Isaiah, Shirone, and Akeno all standing outside. All with looks of mild befuddlement on their faces.
I think it’s safe to assume Rias hasn’t told them anything. Otherwise, they’d be in full panic mode right about now, and practically tearing at the seams to rip me a new one.
“Hey,” I greeted them casually, pretending not to notice a certain raven-haired Queen’s state of mind for the time being. “You’re all just in time for breakfast, come on in.” I stepped aside, welcoming them inside.
“Alduin, is Rias here?” Akeno was the first to speak, clearly forcing herself to appear composed as ever in front of her juniors. Or at least making an effort to.
“Mhm. Gasper’s here as well.”
“““Gasper?”””
They all went wide-eyed at that.
Huh, I guess Rias didn’t have a chance to tell them.
“You’ll all have a chance to catch up with him later. I’m still slowly trying to convert his schedule from a nocturnal to a diurnal one, so I won’t wake him up until noon.” I started walking towards the kitchen, motioning for them to follow. “For now, go ahead and grab yourself a chair. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to miss Thora’s bacon for the world. It’d be a dishonour to your tastebuds.”
“We appreciate the hospitality,” Isaiah replied. Clearly more interested in seeing Rias than talking to his amazing, talented, ultra-handsome, highly intelligent sensei.
Hmph! It’s not like I want my students’ attention or anything! Baka!
On a more serious note, I decided it was best to just stand back and allow Rias to come up with whatever explanation she deemed most fitting for their new, and hopefully brief arrangement at my residence.
I’m not worried about her telling them the truth, because like me, she understands that doing so would potentially only put them in more danger. I mean, if Martha’s willing to go after Lord Lucifer’s little sister. Who knows what she’d do to a group of Middle-Class Devils?
Explaining the danger that woman's pettiness poses wouldn’t amount to anything either. They’re an emotional bunch, to the point where disclosing the truth to them would only lead to either of two possibilities.
One, they recklessly try to go after the woman herself and get themselves severely hurt, or worse.
Two, they spill the beans to Lord Lucifer, or someone within his scope of influence, and Martha gets blasted into extinction.
Ideally, I’d prefer neither scenario happening.
===
Once breakfast had been prepared, Alduin decided to take his meal to his greenhouse alongside Thora to allow Rias and her peerage some privacy so they could converse with one another in complete comfort.
Everyone’s first instinct was to question Rias on why she had asked them to come to Alduin’s residence without explaining, as well as why she was here at such an early hour.
However, a formidable opponent had gotten in the way of that instinct.
The frighteningly pungent, mouthwatering, aromatic smell of sizzling bacon sat before them on their plates. A smell that sang to their very stomachs, beckoning them to cast aside all their worries and dig in with abandon.
“You guys can relax,” Rias breathed an amused chuckle upon noticing their hunger-driven conflict. Not that she could blame them, she was pretty much experiencing the same thing. She knew Thora had used some kind of special seasoning, but failed to pry the recipe for the blend out of the Dhampir. “I’m not going anywhere, you’ll have all the time in the world to ask me your questions after you’ve eaten.”
They each gulped down their rapidly building saliva, grabbed their forks, and prepared to dig in.
DELICIOUS!
Lightning surged through their tastebuds, awakening a primal hunger in them that caused them to frantically wolf down their food as if it was about to grow legs and run away.
Munch! Munch! Munch!
From their first bite, till their last, not a single word was spoken. Only the sound of furious chewing and the clattering cutlery remained, and in less than a minute, every plate in the room had been cleared spotless. Down to the very last crumb.
“…What just happened?” Kiba blinked, wondering how he had just gone from his usual knightly self to a gluttonous food vacuum in a split second.
“Quality dining, I believe, would be the most fitting term. You can thank Alduin’s maid for it when you get the opportunity.” Rias replied calmly, tapping her napkin against her mouth as if she wasn’t just as ravenous as her peerage, and plotting to steal Thora’s recipe for herself. “Now then, I believe I owe you all an explanation.”
They all leaned forward with piqued intrigue.
Rias straightened her posture. “First and foremost, we’ll temporarily be using Alduin’s home as our base of operations.” She narrowed her eyes, looking at Akeno in particular. “I was discussing our arrangements with him, if you’re wondering why I was here in advance.”
She couldn’t have her Queen getting any ideas.
“Is something wrong with the clubroom?” Akeno queried.
“No, the clubroom’s perfectly fine.” She reassured. “This arrangement’s more so a matter of convenience than it is necessity.”
When it came to planning her explanation, Rias originally intended to try to spin the story, telling them about the threat, but presenting Martha’s servant as someone associated with the rogue cell of Fallen Angels. Who had infiltrated her clubroom with the intent of going after her as a form of revenge, only to be stopped by Alduin’s intervention, but at the potential risk of making her a continued target. Leading her to remain in close proximity with her assigned Guardian until the situation was deemed fully resolved.
It didn’t take long for her to realize how problematic that explanation was after a bit of deliberation.
First of all, she hadn’t had a chance to disclose the Fallen Angel situation in advance. Which would open an entirely separate line of questioning, making incorporating it into the explanation twice as hard as the explanation itself already was.
Secondly, she had her suspicions about whether or not Alduin had told her everything. For a situation as serious as a faction that had signed the ceasefire, albeit a rather flimsy one, intruding on territory protected by both the Satan Leviathan and Lucifer to be resolved in such a short span of time… seemed just a little too convenient.
If she ended up going with that without knowing the full story, there was a pretty damn high chance of it coming back to bite her in the ass.
Alduin… just how many secrets are you hiding? Assuming you’ve got more going on than this mess involving your mother…
Granted, after experiencing the consequences of said ‘mess’ first hand… she was a lot less eager to go digging than before.
Last but not least, such a story demanded she reveal that she was threatened in the first place. A crucial factoid her peerage wasn’t yet aware of, and logically speaking, Rias knew it was best to keep it that way despite how much she hated lying to them.
It was for the sake of their own safety after all.
It wouldn’t matter how much she tried to convince them to drop the matter, there wasn’t an explanation on God’s green earth that could ever stop them, even remotely, from hunting down the person that had made Rias, the King they all looked up to and cherished like family, experience such a thing. And they’d do with every iota of strength they could muster.
Would it lead them to Alduin’s mother? Would it not? She didn’t know.
Nor did she want to know.
If that woman was willing to go after her, even after considering her status and relationships, then she couldn’t imagine what’d happen to her subordinates.
In all honesty, if Rias ever found herself in a predicament where her peerage had, in fact, entered the sights of House Buné’s Lady. She would tell her older brother everything if it meant keeping them safe.
It was a decision she didn’t want to make, but one she knew could end up proving itself necessary.
Her choice to oblige Alduin’s request, at least for now, wasn’t just a result of his lowering his head and pleading for her to do so. It was because she truly did value the work he was doing. He had only been in Kuoh for a short while, but Koneko, Kiba, and Gasper had all benefited immensely from it.
Akeno still appeared to be in a state of limbo, but taking his previous work into account, she imagined it was only a matter of time before she started to show results as well.
Alduin had shown them a path that could help them break the shackles they were burdened with. As ashamed as she was to admit it, Rias doubted she’d have achieved the same thing anytime soon, if at all. She didn’t really share his talent for emotional confrontation.
She didn’t want the growth her peerage was experiencing to be abruptly cut off, lest they return to stagnation once more. Especially with the threat of Riser still looming on the horizon.
And at the same time, she couldn’t help but… pity him a little. It was abundantly clear that Alduin understood his mother’s… less than favourable nature… far better than she ever could.
He acknowledged her actions as unjustifiable and wrong, straight to Rias’ face, making no excuses on her behalf, and telling her directly that his wish to protect her was both idiotic and selfish.
Yet, he wished it anyway, and she’d be lying if she said his upfront honesty didn’t earn a fair amount of her respect.
She couldn’t imagine herself in his position. If they had swapped mothers, she had no idea if she’d react the same way as him or not.
Venelana Gremory was the kindest, most supportive woman she knew. A true pillar of nobility with a well-deserved reputation as a role model for the youth and her peers alike to look up to.
Martha Sallos, on the other hand… was known only for her reputation of leaving her past spouses hollow shells of what they once were. Other than that, she knew absolutely nothing. And clearly, the woman wanted to keep it that way.
“As I believe Alduin just informed you all, Gasper’s staying here as well.” She continued.
Her peerage was only mildly taken aback by that. Koneko had already sensed the seal’s destruction only moments after Alduin had broken it, and picked up on his scent scattered all over the Dhampir’s old room. Rias’ words now only served as confirmation that he was here.
Ultimately, she decided to prepare an explanation that wouldn’t skim the notion of her having been threatened at all. If she wanted to honour Alduin’s request while keeping her peerage safe, the best thing she could do was keep them as far away from the incident as possible.
“And as you’re all aware, his power can be quite… sporadic at times. Hence why my brother was so strict on keeping his movements monitored.”
It hadn’t happened often, but they had experienced a handful of Forbidden Balor View misfires on the few occasions where Gasper was given more freedom to roam the Gremory Mansion.
Fortunately, Grayfia was there most of the time to defuse the situation. As formidable as Gasper’s Sacred Gear was, it had limits, and freezing a Satan-Class existence was one of them.
For now, at least.
None of them were the type to pin the blame on Gasper… however… the fact that he could freeze any one of them in time with a mere glance did warrant a certain level of apprehension from them.
“Buchou… are you sure it’s safe for Gasper to be out of his seal?” Koneko spoke up, expressing everyone’s concerns.
“At first? No, absolutely not. I had half a mind to storm in here and take him back with force.” She sighed, her eyes lingering around the staircase leading up to the second floor, where Gasper’s room was. “But… after understanding why Alduin had taken him, and what he had been doing with him… I realized it’d be foolish of me to separate them. Not if I truly cared about what was best for Gasper.”
Rias lowered her head. The guilt from Alduin’s speech about the unintentional neglect she and her family had shown Gasper by virtue of not confronting his Sacred Gear as they should have, still ate at her.
Akeno’s expression tightened. Her mind quickly dissected Rias’ words and connected the dots.
“Buchou, are you suggesting…?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “He and his maid appeared to have found a way to help Gasper control his Sacred Gear… It’s a temporary solution at the moment, but they believe it’ll turn into a permanent one with time and practice.”
Immediately, they all understood the possibility Alduin was trying to bring about.
One where Forbidden Balor View could be actively deployed in their upcoming Rating Game against Riser. A deciding factor, unlike anything else the peerage had at their disposal, which would practically trivialize their opponent’s ability to defend themselves. Regardless of what tactics they choose to employ.
“…How?” Akeno couldn’t help but ask.
“I’ll get to that later. For now, I’d like to get back to why we’re staying here.” She cleared her throat. “Since Gasper needs to be supervised and looked after by Alduin and his maid while he’s training… I thought an arrangement like this might be a good way to make up for the severe lack of interaction we’ve had with Gasper. His isolation hasn’t done his communication and social skills any good… so I think it’s about time we start working on that. Together. As a peerage.”
Her subordinates all exchanged deliberative glances with one another, taking a moment to mull over their King’s words.
She made a good point. Gasper hadn’t had many opportunities to really interact or get to know the members of the peerage aside from Rias herself.
Most of his time was spent silently forming contracts on his laptop, ones that made him the overall breadwinner of the peerage, mind you, and by a pretty sizable margin.
He never trained with them. He rarely ever ate with them. The number of times he wandered the Gremory Territory with them could be counted on one hand. And all those instances had to be cut short because of just how much the Dhampir struggled with being in public.
Perhaps this was a chance to make up for that lack of attention. A chance they’d be extremely foolish and irresponsible to let slip.
“Yes, I think you’re right,” Akeno spoke for everyone. “It would be nice to have an opportunity to socialize with Gasper some more… a lot more… preferably. But couldn’t this have been discussed with us beforehand?” She didn’t see the need to be secretive about something the peerage would inevitably agree on.
“I’m discussing it with you now, aren’t I?” She smirked. “Anyhow, now that our bellies are filled. I think it’s time for us to get back to work, wouldn’t you agree?”
There was training to be done, and a Phenex to swat.
