Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Lyle was seriously annoyed, like, *really* annoyed.

The fiery sunset was slowly fading on the horizon, yet the two Crusader soldiers who had promised to make the splints still hadn't returned.

*...Time was almost up.*

That secret room showed just how cautious Barbavin was; even Tracy seemed unaware of what the bird calls outside the window that night had meant.

In other words, if she missed tonight, catching Barbavin's transaction with the werewolf would be nearly impossible.

Because Lyle couldn't possibly hide under a monk's bed every day, just happening to overhear the timing of their deal again.

Without knowing the exact time, how much time and sheer luck would she need to decipher Lady Swan's row of coded messages?

Shrouded in deepening shadows, the vampire turned to look at the chiming clock, setting a hard deadline for herself in her heart.

*Five more minutes.* If those two still hadn't returned by then, she absolutely had to find a way to leave.

She just needed to use these five minutes to come up with a lie that would hold up, a lie that could withstand scrutiny. If those two hot-blooded youths got carried away and camped outside her door all night, things would become very tricky.

However, just as Lyle was brainstorming the first batch of plausible alibis, a breathless voice suddenly came from outside the door.

"M-Mrs. Thomas! We're back!"

Bota and Bogey came running back, sweating buckets; even in the cool autumn air, their chainmail was soaked through.

"S-sorry, ma'am!" Bogey braced his hands on his knees, panting like an old ox. "We... we're late..."

Perhaps to save money, they hadn't chosen to take the public carriage.

They had run the entire way. Lyle could smell the metallic scent of their overworked muscles.

But due to her inner agitation, even this scent had lost some of its appeal. Her mind was filled only with the frustration of her hands being tied.

The Thomas family carriage was parked right outside; the gold coins in her pocket could even buy one on the spot.

Yet these two hadn't even thought to ask, choosing of their own accord the most time-wasting method.

But the vampire, relying on her strong mental fortitude, managed to put on a kind smile. Right now, scolding them was pointless and a waste of time.

"You're finally back," she immediately opened the door for them. "Please give me the splints."

Bota, his eyes shining, handed over the finished wooden boards.

They were six very finely crafted splints: two wider ones and four narrower ones, of moderate thickness and uniform size.

Not only that, the carpenter had oiled them and, with who knows how much effort, had already dried them.

"They're excellently made." Even though internally she was burning with impatience, on the surface, Lyle didn't forget to maintain her persona and offer praise.

"Then we can really relax!" Bogey wiped his sweat, leaning against the wall as he shuffled forward. "You have no idea how many places we ran to..."

Before he could finish, his older brother Bota immediately covered his mouth.

"Ma'am," Bota asked softly, "do you really think these are acceptable? If they're not suitable, please be sure to tell us; we can go adjust them."

"Of course they are, they're even very well made."

Lyle set the splints aside. At this hour, regardless of how well they were made, even if the two brothers had only brought back a bucket of wood shavings, she would have praised them and then slathered it all onto Arthur's leg.

Nothing could hinder her plan.

Ignoring Arthur's emotional thanks, she carefully touched the deformed leg bone, pressing her ear directly against it.

The smile on Arthur's face instantly froze. He instinctively tried to pull his leg away, but Bota, reacting swiftly, pressed it down firmly.

"Captain, have you forgotten what Mrs. Thomas said? You mustn't move!"

Arthur looked as if he were about to melt from the heat of a flame. His face flushed, and his eyes bulged from excessive tension.

"Mrs. T-T-T-T-T..."

"Please don't disturb me at a time like this." Lyle's voice seemed to carry the frigid winds of the far north. The three men immediately held their breath instinctively.

A faint sound of bone friction echoed in her ear. The vampire pushed her "keen senses" to the limit. After continuous probing, she finally confirmed the exact location of the fracture through the bone crepitus.

Arthur was fortunate; his bone wasn't shattered, only slightly fractured and displaced a bit.

Lyle placed her hands above and below the break, then simultaneously pulled gently in opposite directions. Next, she lifted and realigned the displaced lower fracture upward.

She only stopped when she felt the protruding bone become level again, instructing Bota to bring one of the larger splints.

"Help me by placing this board under his calf."

During this, she carefully avoided the avulsion injury area, preventing secondary damage. However, the vampire's strength was considerable, and the pain from the fracture reduction immediately made Arthur's veins bulge.

Soon, Bota found the right position and pressed the board against it.

The two larger splints were fixed to the upper and lower parts of the leg respectively, while the left and right sides used the narrower two.

Then, torn cotton strips were used to tightly wrap them around the leg.

The cotton strips couldn't be wrapped too tightly, as that would impede blood flow.

Nor could they be too loose, as that would defeat the purpose of immobilization.

This purely tested a doctor's proficiency, but Lyle had wrapped countless patients. She could feel the appropriate tightness by touch alone, even with her eyes closed.

The rigid support quickly gave Arthur stability. Looking at his oddly shaped leg, he felt an indescribable surge of emotion.

"Ma'am, if I rest well for a few Holy Days like this, can my leg really return to normal?"

"At least 6-8 Holy Weeks," Lyle said while tying the knots. "During that time, you must not get it wet, not use this leg, and reduce movement, but not remain completely still. For the first 2-3 Holy Weeks, you can occasionally slowly flex your toes, then relax."

"This is to prevent blood clots... to stop the evil miasma everywhere in the air from invading your leg and causing poor blood circulation. Also, this movement can effectively reduce swelling, which is very important for recovery. Absolutely no other major movements, unless you don't want this leg anymore. Is that clear?"

She spoke quickly, her explanation clear and logical. For a moment, it seemed she was back in that busy, noisy hospital.

But the Crusaders had never seen anything like this. They were stunned by the vampire's words, remaining dazed for a long while before remembering to jot down the instructions on their palms.

However, the two young men clearly hadn't received much formal education. What they frantically scribbled down was chaotic and disorganized. Fortunately, they noted the most important part: don't move.

At the far end of the crimson horizon, the slowly setting sun was now just a semicircular arc.

The golden dust scattered by the sunset seemed to set the earth ablaze. Watching the two youngsters diligently yet clumsily scribbling, Lyle suppressed her urge to bite someone and stepped back from the wooden bed. "But you don't need to worry. Mr. Arthur can stay here tonight. I can monitor Mr. Arthur's leg at any time, and it saves the trouble of coming and going for dressing changes."

"That's wonderful!" Blocking his captain who wanted to refuse, Bota immediately agreed. "With you here, we have absolutely no worries about our captain's leg!"

"Okay, just a moment. I'll fetch the medicine."

Lyle walked into the kitchen, mentally calculating the time until nightfall as she retrieved Harvey's leftover barley wine and poured it into a silver-plated cup.

Then, she took out the hidden Sleep Potion and poured in half a bottle.

Soon, the pale yellow potion dissolved into the swirling wine, its scent completely masked by the strong alcohol.

The vampire gently handed the cup to Arthur. "To enhance the medicine's effect, I've mixed in a bit of barley wine. This will not only improve the taste but also help you rest better. Only then will you recover more quickly."

Arthur's gaze was fixed tightly on the edge of his cup, his flushed face not daring to look up.

The memory of battling vampires in Raven Castle felt as vivid as if it were happening right before his eyes. Though Arthur never regretted the fight he chose, when the cruel and ruthless vampire nearly severed his leg, he couldn't control his fear.

Even though he managed to dodge with all his might, during his days in the infirmary, tormented by thoughts like "my leg might be amputated" and "death constantly hanging over my head," he also felt profound regret and endless hatred toward vampires.

He had thought his life would end right there, but Mrs. Thomas shone like a beam of light, illuminating his gradually despairing and desolate heart.

The lady was so wonderful, so kind.

If blood-sucking monsters were a curse from hell, then Mrs. Thomas was a blessing bestowed by angels.

The stern and rigid Crusader knight seemed as if he were trying to bore a hole through the bed with his stare. "...Madam, thank you. I don't know how to thank you... You truly are a very, very good person."

Then, after drinking the barley wine mixed with the potion, he quickly collapsed onto the bed.

Lyle sighed. "All these days, Mr. Arthur must have been terribly worried about his condition, suffering greatly. Look how soundly he sleeps now that he's finally at ease."

The brothers' shoulders, tense until now, finally relaxed at that moment.

"Sorry, Madam," Bota bowed to Lyle. "We've taken up too much of your time. Since the captain is already asleep, let's not wake him. Tomorrow, if we have time, we'll come to see him first thing."

He expressed his sincere gratitude. "We'll trouble you with the captain tonight, Madam."

The last trace of sunset was gradually swallowed by the encroaching darkness. The vast sky seemed painted with a thick, dark blue, as if the lurking shadows could no longer resist stretching out their all-encompassing tendrils.

The workshop hadn't yet been lit with candles. Mrs. Thomas melted into the falling shadows, and Bota couldn't see her expression, only hearing her gentle voice. "This is what I should do."

The brothers didn't delay any longer and left immediately.

Behind the closed door, the vampire took out a rope and securely tied the knight to the bedboard.

She then rushed back to the basement, pocketing several bottles of "snacks." Considering she would no longer be dealing with fragile humans tonight, she also brought along a sharp dagger and draped a black cloak over herself.

Afterward, she found a piece of parchment and wrote on it: "Patient inside requires quiet rest. Please do not knock. Door will open promptly at eight Holy Hours tomorrow morning."

Though she knew it was unlikely that "two Crusaders waiting at the door all night" would happen again, she still chose to take an extra precaution.

As the last bit of darkness completely invaded the mortal world, the vampire finally dashed out the back door, a black bird, its wings flapping, circled constantly above her head.

Just as her ghostly figure disappeared around the street corner, a grimy young girl slowly made her way toward Black Pigeon Street.

"I remember... it should be around here?" Lily held a basket of clothes, looking at each house as she passed. "Thomas Clinic..."

-

For some reason tonight, the streets were eerily quiet.

The patrols she usually encountered two streets over seemed to have vanished this evening. The vampire swiftly ran through the shadows between buildings, guessing this was likely because of Vig.

The Paladin Commander's determination to catch the murderer who killed his brother was truly remarkable. "He's pulled over half the Crusaders, and now even the patrols are affected."

Lyle stood in the courtyard of Barbavin's house, gazing at the windows reflecting candlelight, and felt she really ought to award the werewolf Dalton a "Helpful" medal.

Otherwise, Vig's determination might truly be hard enough to pierce through the earth's core and stab straight into her chest.

But now, everything was arranged for the best.

The vampire held her breath and focused, quietly pressing close to the villa's wall. Countless voices, footsteps, and the rustling of clothes flooded into her ears like a tide.

Inside the luxurious two-story villa, a familiar, round figure was silhouetted against the window.

It was Barbavin!

Lyle relaxed her mind. Her keen hearing, like a winding, transparent serpent, slithered through the gaps in the window into the room, clearly capturing every sound inside.

"Sir, are you sure you won't stay for dinner?" This was Tracy's voice. When speaking to Barbavin, her tone was soft and delicate, sounding as if one were walking on clouds just listening to it.

"I wish time could slow down too," Barbavin seemed to lean in and kiss her. The Angel Emblem on his robe clinked against the gems on Tracy's dress, making a "ding-ding" sound. "But tonight is very important, you know. A new batch of Holy Potion is arriving tonight, and I must be there to take inventory."

Tracy expressed great reluctance and offered thoughtful reminders. Then, the two of them, accompanied by a large entourage of servants, walked out of the villa.

A comfortable carriage was already waiting on the marble tiles engraved with prayers. After Barbavin and Tracy exchanged cheek kisses, the carriage door closed.

Under the starry sky, the carriage sped away, the dust it kicked up immediately trodden under black shoe soles.

The vampire followed the carriage at a leisurely pace. Two men walked arm-in-arm toward a small tavern by the roadside. She passed by them in a flash, her presence lighter than the wind, causing human perception to subconsciously ignore her.

Soon, the towering giant cross of the small monastery appeared in her sight.

The small monastery at night was tranquil and peaceful. The blindfolded goddess fountain continued to spill fine streams of water on its own. The lush olive grove behind the monastery blurred into a vibrant, deep green.

Similarly, the dense tree canopy blocked most of the view, preventing ordinary civilians from peeking at the monastery's secrets.

Lyle hid in the tallest olive tree, her red-glowing eyes constantly tracking the moving figure by the window.

Barbavin walked unhurriedly along the pristine white marble corridor. Tonight was his night watch. Aside from the Crusader guards who weren't allowed inside, the vast small monastery was empty except for him.

Mr. Dalton had said that Dawson and everything related to him had completely vanished from this world. Vig would never detect anything.

So he would remain as safe as before.

The round monk passed through the monastery's main building, the side wing, entered the small grove in the backyard, and walked over a ground littered with shattered starlight into an extremely inconspicuous tower.

This was originally the small monastery's watchtower, used to monitor Dark Creatures attacking from the sky.

Thus, it was dusty and coated with special paint, making it blend into the night once darkness fell.

But later, as the power of the Holy Court grew stronger and those astonishing "things" appeared, the watchtower completely changed its purpose.

The monk took the Angel Emblem from around his neck, gently pushed the angel wing at the very bottom, and a small key instantly popped out from the center of the emblem.

He used the key to open the watchtower's heavy, ancient door. Instantly, a stale, foul odor was carried away by the wind.

Lyle, not far away, sniffed and nearly fainted on the spot from the stench.

...Why on earth would Barbavin, with a lecherous look on his face, run into a tower full of excrement in the middle of the night?

Before she could drive that deadly smell out of her nostrils, a series of faint bell chimes suddenly rang out from inside the tower.

A few Holy Minutes later, two wobbling carts quietly approached along the path from outside the grove.

Unlike carriages, carts lack a canopy; they are simply flat wooden platforms for hauling goods, pulled by two horses.

However, these two carts were filthy, covered in dried, yellowish-green crust, with countless flies buzzing around them.

They wound their way through the olive grove and stopped right outside the tower door.

Lyle glanced out from the woods. Night had just fallen, and many people were still wandering the streets. The curfew hadn't even started yet.

Her eyes shifted back and saw that Barbavin had already opened the tower door.

The friar pinched his nose, waving his hand impatiently. "You're finally here! The big barrels are all full! Hurry up and clean them out!"

The carters hurried inside, and immediately, thumping sounds echoed from within the tower.

Soon, the two drivers emerged, each dragging a huge wooden barrel.

The barrels were tall and deep, emitting a strong stench. Though covered, the sharp-eyed vampire spotted overflowing waste.

"...So these two carts are here to clean out the monastery's giant latrine?"

The two drivers quickly loaded more than a dozen large barrels onto their respective carts. The wind lifted their flapping short cloaks, revealing bulging muscles underneath.

The barrels looked extremely heavy. Once all were loaded, even the front wheels of the carts lifted slightly.

"No wonder they're lavishly using two horses," Lyle thought, watching the carts slowly depart through gaps in the foliage. "One horse really... couldn't... pull... this...?"

Wait!

The vampire shot to her feet.

While people accustomed to heavy labor do become more muscular—she had seen many construction workers in her previous life, and their muscles were indeed very solid and prominent—this was a backward feudal era!

Muscle density doesn't just depend on how much physical labor one does; diet is even more crucial!

In this era, lower-class commoners were thin and small, like Meimei and her neighbors.

Let alone carters who handled waste disposal!

Could they really eat fish and meat every day to develop such robust physiques?

But night had just fallen, and the streets were full of people enjoying their rest after a day's work.

Would someone as timid and cautious as Barbavin choose such a conspicuous time to transport smuggled goods?

The dense leaves rustled loudly in the evening breeze.

In the deepening darkness, Barbavin had already locked the tower door and was walking back toward the monastery with his head down.

Chase, or not?

If she chose wrong, she might never track the smuggling route again!

At a crossroads, Lyle made her decision in less than a second.

She tossed her hat upward. "Come out."

In the next instant, feathers appeared, and a dark figure landed before her.

The Deceitful Crow crossed its wings over its chest. "My Lord."

"Keep watch here," Lyle said, directing the crow's gaze toward the friar in the distance. "Keep an eye on Barbavin. I'm going after those carts."

"My Lord!" the Deceitful Crow immediately ruffled its wings. "Please be sure to take one of my feathers. That way, I can find your trail again!"

Clutching the black feather in her palm, the vampire shot off like an arrow from a bow, vanishing into the dense woods.

Catching up to two heavily laden carts wasn't difficult, especially two reeking carts that everyone avoided like the plague.

"Oh, damn it..." Lyle heard sporadic curses from houses along the way. "Quick, shut the windows and doors! The small monastery is cleaning out their giant 'mountain of shit' again! Why can't the Holy Father bless these people's asses to have some sense?! Ugh—"

Even the patrols showed no intention of approaching. The Crusader soldiers tasked with checking IDs ran faster than the ordinary civilians.

So, the two carts slowly traversed the streets, gradually heading toward the town's outskirts.

Lyle recognized the direction: it led to the Ashfield.

The werewolves' stronghold.

The road beneath her feet grew narrower, and abandoned, dilapidated houses became more numerous. Signs of human activity and noise faded away, replaced by a dense, eerie darkness that fell like a curtain.

Lyle stopped before a corner, swiftly catching several panicked gray-backed mice fleeing from the shadows.

Her hands, strong as iron, snapped the mice's necks on the spot, but that wasn't enough.

More mice were pulled from their holes. Expressionlessly, Lyle tied the small creatures together with a strip of cloth, stringing them into a long "candy skewer" to carry, using them as a makeshift "scent mask."

Werewolves were keen creatures. In the bustling town center, with its rich and chaotic mix of smells, they'd have a hard time detecting anything.

But the upcoming path and the Ashfield she was about to enter were sparsely populated areas. She'd rather smell like a walking rodent-person than a vampire.

Soon, she caught up with the two transport carts again.

She followed with extreme caution, maintaining a slightly distant gap, tracking only by sound and scent, never risking a glance that might expose her.

The carts swayed along, and the drivers exchanged no words the entire way.

But just as they were still some distance from the Ashfield, the two carts suddenly turned into an alley leading in the exact opposite direction.

Lyle, hidden in the shadows, was taken aback.

Had she been wrong? Were these carts not connected to the werewolves at all?

Or... had she been discovered?

The area was so remote it seemed abandoned by the Holy Court. The alley was flanked by long-derelict houses, tilting toward the ground from disrepair like twisted, neck-craning tree trunks or eerie figures standing askew in the dark, blocking out the last slivers of bright moonlight.

Lyle stood not far away, watching the carts' shadows gradually disappear into the alley, listening as the sound of wheels grinding against the ground faded.

Suddenly, her eyes sharpened, and she abruptly crouched low.

The next second, a thick, gray-furred arm shot out from behind like a heavy, sharp longsword, sweeping with devastating force through the space where Lyle's chest had just been!

The arm carried immense power, the gust of wind it stirred even emitting a "whoosh"!

Already bent low, Lyle dodged the blow! Storm clouds churned in her crimson pupils.

Using her crouched posture, she pivoted on her knees, her whole body spinning backward like a top. Simultaneously, the short knife now gripped in her reverse hand slashed out with all her might!

Warm blood sprayed with more force than a bursting water balloon. Without even looking at the result of her strike, Lyle swiftly retreated even before her hand finished its motion.

She retreated to the pointed rooftop, the cold wind whipping her pitch-black cloak into a fierce flutter.

Blood dripped from the blade tip, splattering onto the ground and releasing the damp, woodsy smell of the forest.

"You really live up to your kind—the ones we hate most." The gray-furred arm slowly retracted, the shadows receding as the pale moonlight gradually illuminated a long, ferocious muzzle.

It was a werewolf over two meters tall, its lips pulled back to reveal a terrifying array of interlocking yellow-white fangs.

Its massive black claws, curved like scythes, effortlessly gripped its own left ankle, which was now gushing blood.

A deep gash split its left ankle, the grayish-white, hardened ankle bone clearly visible under the moonlight.

"Just one encounter, and you nearly severed one of my feet."

The werewolf's amber vertical pupils fixed unwaveringly on the figure atop the roof. "And to think we had already spotted you in the olive grove, Gluck—what a disgrace, for both of us."