Charlot Mecklenburg smiled faintly and said, "I also hope my first act of deception in life would be for the sake of a beautiful senior..."
Julian Arsilo interjected, "Miss Menielman Soumet, perhaps?"
Charlot immediately spat out the sip of tea he had just taken. "Don't joke about such things!"
Julian laughed heartily, his demeanor reverting to that of a lively and innocent youth. Truth be told, he didn't harbor much hatred for Charlot's earlier schemes. Even though Charlot had nearly manipulated him and stolen the Arsilo family's secret scroll, Julian could tell that Charlot had never intended to betray him, which Julian found rather... "refreshing."
As a vampire, and a descendant of one of the Three Imperial Clans, Julian was well aware of how humans perceived his kind—with hatred, fear, and loathing. Yet given the chance, almost any human would choose to become a vampire, if only for the gift of eternal life.
Charlot, however, was unlike any human Julian had ever known.
Once Julian had discovered Charlot's true identity, he immediately deduced that Charlot was no vampire at all, but rather a human who had cultivated the forbidden technique known as Blood Glory.
Most vampires detested humans who practiced Blood Glory, as the art's creator, Protagoras, had been a human philosopher responsible for massacring countless vampires.
Julian, however, felt no deep-seated enmity toward Charlot.
"War between nations demands loyalty to one’s side," Julian reasoned, "but between individuals, hatred is not always necessary." This philosophy guided his actions.
Charlot couldn't help but ask, "You know Miss Menielman Soumet too?"
In a low voice, Julian replied, "The name of the First Rose of Fars is known to all, even me. I was fortunate enough to meet Miss Soumet once. At the time, I even entertained the idea of asking my father to seek her hand in marriage."
Charlot spread his hands and asked, "Why didn’t you? Did you lose to Zimourman Axel Robin?"
Shrugging, Julian gave an answer that left Charlot both amused and exasperated: "I was only five years old that year."
This time, it was Charlot’s turn to burst out laughing. He felt fortunate that he hadn’t been drinking tea just then, or he would have spat it out again!
Charlot thought back to when he was five years old and pondered which female celebrity he might have fancied at the time.
After some thought, he remembered that his childhood crush had been Optimus Prime, the Cybertronian robot who could transform into a flatbed truck. Within two months, however, his affections had shifted to Starscream, who could turn into an F-15 fighter jet. But when Starscream kept getting beaten up, Charlot moved on to admire Grimlock instead...
In short, at the age of five, he hadn't yet appreciated the beauty of fair ladies.
Julian shrugged again and said, "Though I still admire Miss Menielman Soumet, much time has passed since then." He raised his eyebrows at Charlot with a knowing look.
Charlot raised his left hand high and declared, "I have someone else I like."
Privately, Charlot was astonished by how much Julian had managed to uncover about him, including his identity and certain unreliable rumors. This young scion of the Arsilo family indeed had the makings of a first-rate spy.
The two wisely avoided discussing the ongoing war between Byron and Fars, maintaining the relaxed atmosphere. Suddenly, Julian said, "There’s a ball tonight hosted by the Victory Champagne Count. Care to join?"
Charlot hesitated slightly. "Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?"
Julian smiled faintly and replied, "The High Priest Auguslatin will also be attending."
Hearing this, Charlot immediately agreed. Since arriving in Britain, he hadn’t had the chance to meet High Priest Auguslatin, who led their mission. This would be an excellent opportunity to seek guidance on their next course of action.
Just after agreeing, Charlot suddenly recalled something. Puzzled, he asked, "Victory Champagne Count? Isn’t that one of our counts from Fars? Why is he in Britain?"
Julian smiled slightly and clarified, "Not Count Bedivere; this is Count Lamorak."
Charlot nodded in realization.
The Victory Champagne Count was Bedivere’s nickname, derived from the famous champagne vineyard located in his domain in Fars. Charlot had tried multiple times to acquire a bottle of champagne from Count Bedivere’s estate, but had always come up empty-handed.
Count Lamorak, on the other hand, was a noble of the Ingrima Empire. Renowned for his unparalleled martial prowess, he had reached the Saint rank in his youth and earned an undefeated reputation both in duels and on the battlefield. His exploits were so legendary that he was often mentioned alongside Zimourman Robin.
Realizing that this legendary figure was hosting the ball, Charlot felt a spark of anticipation. Offhandedly, he remarked, "A ball hosted by Count Lamorak? I doubt my rank is high enough to gain entry."
Julian clapped his hands, and someone quickly entered the room, placing a gilded invitation card in front of Charlot.
Despite Charlot’s rapid career advancements, moments like this reminded him of the vast gulf between himself and Julian’s standing. Yet, he wasn’t one to dwell on such trivialities. Accepting the invitation, he asked, "By the way, are you selling that short pistol?"
Julian replied, "Of course! Those items are weapons I recently retired. However, I can’t just give them away—I came to the Ingrima Empire through unconventional means, and I’m low on cash. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be selling them."
Charlot finally understood why the young shop assistant had mentioned that these vampiric weapons would’ve been gone had he come any earlier. Smiling, he said, "Well, as it happens, I’m not short on cash."
Julian grinned and explained, "This weapon, the Withering Rose, can fire both ordinary and blood energy bullets. Each time it hits an enemy, it absorbs their life force to form a new bullet, making it essentially a weapon with infinite ammunition."
"The reason I retired it," Julian added, "is that it’s only a low-rank extraordinary artifact. Each bullet is equivalent to a full-power strike from a fifth-rank extraordinary, which isn’t very useful to me now that I’ve advanced to mid-rank."
Charlot wasn’t concerned about the Withering Rose’s rank. He had been in need of a weapon lately, and this one was suitable for his immediate needs. Its near-infinite ammunition was particularly appealing.
After some deliberation, Julian said, "We’re friends, so how about two hundred gold écus?"
Without hesitation, Charlot pulled out his wallet and counted two hundred gold écus, placing them on the table. The windfall he’d gained in Cappadocia had come in handy once again.
Julian accepted the gold écus and instructed someone to bring in the Withering Rose.
Charlot toyed with the weapon for a while before feeling a faint heat in his left arm. The Withering Rose seemed to wither and bloom simultaneously, merging into the Blood Vortex within his arm.