Pigtails and leveling

Days passed in the Crimson Vale.

Alice learned which streets made Kiki and Koko’s shoulders tense from too many hostile eyes. She learned which bakeries were willing to serve them without pretending the twins were invisible. She learned that Luna had a frightening amount of social power when she stood straight, spoke formally, and pretended the word centaur did not sting every time an elf said it like an insult.

Most importantly, Alice learned that the monsters here were not like Candara’s slimes or the low level animals they had hunted in the Warrens.

The Crimson Vale was beautiful, but it was not kind.

Kiki and Koko were strong. Far stronger than Alice. Kiki could catch a lunging beast on her gauntlets and shove it backward through a stone railing. Koko could paint a hex in the air with two fingers and make a monster’s legs forget how to move. But even they were being pushed hard here.

Without Luna, they would have been dead by now.

Alice hated how certain she was of that.

Luna was simply operating on another scale. Even holding back, even trying to keep pace with them, She could charge through monsters that made Kiki brace with both feet planted. She could call light down through her horn and burn corruption out of roots that Koko’s hexes could only slow. She could stand in front of the party, shield raised, and make Alice understand exactly what rank meant in a way numbers never had.

D rank was level 11 to 20.

C rank was level 21 to 30.

B rank was 31 to 40.

A rank was 41 to 50.

And Luna was absolutely somewhere in that terrifying space above them.

Alice had no idea if she was B rank or A rank, and honestly, she was afraid to ask.

Still, the work was paying off. Slowly, painfully, with bruises and mana crashes and Kiki laughing after every fight like near death was good exercise, their levels began to climb. Alice felt it in the way her healing came faster, cleaner, brighter. She felt it in the way Koko’s sigils held a second longer under strain. She felt it in the way Kiki’s gauntlets started to hum when she blocked something too big for her, storing the force and throwing it back like the world had made the mistake of hitting her first.

And she felt it in herself.

Alice stood before the polished reflection of a shop window one morning, staring at the girl looking back at her.

Red hair.

White healer robes.

Staff at her back.

And pigtails.

She had done it before she could talk herself out of it. Two high ties, one on either side, pulled tight enough to feel deliberate. A statement.

In this world, in this era, in the specific ugly overlap between adventurer fashion and dungeon culture, pigtails meant something. Not always, not universally, but often enough that everyone knew. Girls who wore them around orcs were making a claim. A signal. A confession. A fetish flag.

Alice knew that.

Everyone knew that.

That was why her hands had shaken while tying them.

And that was why she had not taken them down.

She stared at herself in the glass, cheeks burning so hot she could feel them under her own fingers.

(There. Happy now? Yes. These are the women I love. Yes, I know what it looks like. No, I am not pretending anymore.)

A pair of elves passed behind her, noticed the hair, noticed the twins, and immediately looked away with the strained politeness of people trying not to be caught judging.

Alice’s stomach twisted.

Then Kiki made a noise.

Not a laugh. Not a tease.

A soft, punched out sound.

Alice turned.

Kiki was staring at her like someone had struck her in the chest. Her amber eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, one hand frozen halfway toward Alice’s hair.

Koko was worse. Koko had gone completely still, gold eyes fixed on the pigtails with an expression so bright and vulnerable that Alice almost panicked.

“What?” Alice asked, voice too high. “Is it bad? I can take them out. I know it’s embarrassing. I just thought, maybe, since people already stare, I might as well be honest, but if you hate it I’ll stop.”

Kiki stepped forward and gently caught one of the pigtails between her fingers.

“Wife,” she said, very softly.

That was all.

Just wife.

But it landed so hard Alice had to swallow.

Koko touched the other tie with almost reverent care.

Alice looked down, face burning.

Kiki’s tusks showed in a slow smile, fierce and trembling. “Good.”

Koko leaned in and pressed her forehead to Alice’s temple. “Very good.”

Later, while Luna argued with a Cathedral clerk about whether an orc’s kill still counted for bounty credit, Alice sat on a low wall beneath a stained glass awning and pulled up her status panel.

The numbers hovered in front of her, quiet and accusing.

She had points to spend now. Not enough to become someone else, but enough to matter. Enough to change the shape of her future if she chose carefully.

Ten attribute points per level added up fast when you survived long enough to use them.

Her finger hovered over combat options.

Radiant Bolt.

Mana Needle.

Warded Step.

Battle Medic.

Alice frowned.

(I’m a healer.)

(I keep people alive. That’s my job. Kiki blocks. Koko binds. Luna destroys things with holy horse girl violence. I heal.)

But then she remembered the forest.

The eyes in the dark.

The werewolves closing in.

Her hands shaking while everyone around her bled.

She remembered not being able to do anything except beg her mana to move faster.

Her throat tightened.

(But what happens when there’s no one left standing between me and the thing trying to kill us?)

Across the courtyard, Kiki and Koko were speaking quietly with their heads close together. That had been happening more lately. They would check their panels, exchange a look, then close them when Alice got near.

They were saving points.

Alice knew it.

They had been leveling too, and neither of them had spent much.

They were waiting.

For what, Alice did not know.

But she knew them well enough by now to recognize the shape of a secret.

Kiki noticed Alice watching and immediately smiled too innocently.

Koko looked away.

Suspicious.

Very suspicious.

Alice narrowed her eyes.

(They’re planning something.)

That should have worried her.

Instead, it warmed her.

They had been different since the forest. Since Alice had told them she did not want suppression patches, did not want to dull her response to them, did not want to deny the part of them that had become part of her. The confession had changed something. Not the love, exactly. That had already been there. But the certainty.

Kiki and Koko carried themselves like wives whose vows had been renewed in blood, fire, and honesty.

And Alice, for all her confusion, for all her fear, could not pretend she was unhappy.

She was happier than she had ever been.

Which made the combat question harder.

Because happiness made her want to protect this.

Not just be protected by it.

Koko appeared beside her without warning and sat down, shoulder brushing Alice’s.

“Thinking too loud,” Koko said.

Alice sighed. “I’m thinking about spending points.”

Kiki sat on her other side a moment later, effectively trapping her between them. “On healing?”

“Maybe,” Alice said.

Koko studied her. “Or fighting.”

Alice looked at the glowing panel. “Maybe.”

Neither twin spoke for a moment.

That surprised her.

She had expected Kiki to say no. To insist Alice stay behind them. To call her small and soft and theirs to protect.

Instead, Kiki leaned back on her hands and stared across the courtyard.

“Wife wants claws?” she asked.

Alice blinked. “I don’t know.”

Koko’s voice softened. “Wife does not need to become warrior to be strong.”

“I know,” Alice said. “But I don’t want to freeze when things get bad. I don’t want to be useless if someone gets past you.”

Kiki’s jaw tightened, but not with anger.

With memory.

“Werewolves,” she said.

Alice nodded.

The three of them sat with that.

Then Kiki reached over and tapped Alice’s panel, not selecting anything, just making the light ripple.

“Do not buy fear,” she said.

Alice looked up.

Kiki’s expression was unusually serious. “If wife chooses combat because she wants it, good. If wife chooses because she thinks we failed, bad.”

Koko nodded. “Fear spends badly.”

Alice let out a small laugh despite herself. “That’s weirdly wise.”

Kiki shrugged. “I am wise sometimes.”

“Rare,” Koko said.

Kiki bumped her with one shoulder.

Alice looked back at the panel.

Healing.

Combat.

Survival.

Identity.

Everything felt tangled.

“I don’t know what I want yet,” she admitted.

Koko smiled faintly. “Then wait.”

Alice blinked. “Just… wait?”

“Yes,” Koko said. “Points do not rot.”

Kiki grinned. “Unless Dice makes them rot.”

A system window immediately flickered in Alice’s vision.

[System Notice]

Attribute Points do not rot.

(Dice: I heard that, greenie. Don’t give me ideas.)

Alice snorted.

Kiki looked deeply satisfied, despite not being able to see the message.

Luna finally returned from the clerk’s desk, looking both victorious and emotionally damaged.

“The bounty was accepted,” she said. “After three separate signatures, two witness confirmations, and one extremely unnecessary discussion about whether Kiki’s kill counted as excessive force.”

Kiki perked up. “Did it?”

“Yes,” Luna said.

Alice smiled despite herself, then glanced back toward the quest boards. “Okay. If the bounty was accepted, we should probably take another one before some clerk changes their mind and decides orc kills only count if they happen politely.”

Kiki perked up. “More hunt?”

“Maybe investigation first,” Alice said, stepping toward the board. “I’d like one job where we don’t immediately get mauled, poisoned, or yelled at by elves.”

Koko gave her a flat look.

Alice sighed. “Fine. I’d like one job where we only get two of those.”

Luna followed with the air of someone trying very hard not to smile. “This is the Cathedral registry. The requests are usually more structured than adventurer guild work. There are laws, witness requirements, rank advisories, and formal categories.”

“Paperwork with swords,” Alice said.

“That is not inaccurate.”

Kiki leaned over Alice’s shoulder as she scanned the postings. Koko stood on her other side, close enough that Alice could feel her warmth, while Luna read the notices with practiced speed.

Alice’s eyes caught on one near the center of the board.

Riverward Farmstead reports livestock found drained of blood. Night sightings along the north bank. Possible vampire presence. Investigation requested. Cathedral rating: C rank advisory.

Alice stopped.

Kiki read the translated words slowly. “Blood drinkers?”

Koko’s expression sharpened. “Vampires?”

Luna’s ears flicked. “Possibly. The farmstead is upriver, beyond the outer orchards. If livestock are being drained, the Cathedral will want confirmation before panic spreads.”

Alice stared at the word vampire longer than she meant to.

Kiki noticed immediately. “Wife knows vampires?”

Alice laughed once, dry and awkward. “My sister is a vampire.”

All three of them looked at her.

Koko blinked. “Your sister is blood drinker?”

“Vampire,” Alice corrected automatically. “And yes. Seraphina. Tall, terrifying, red hair, red eyes, probably thinks cruelty is a family hobby.”

Luna’s posture shifted. “A noble vampire?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Alice said. “Technically my older sister. Also technically one of the most awful people I know.”

Kiki frowned. “She hurt wife?”

Alice’s mouth opened.

Then closed.

She looked away for a second, fingers tightening around her staff. “A lot of people in my family hurt people.”

Koko’s expression went cold.

Alice quickly shook her head. “I’m not saying every vampire is like her. That’s kind of my point. Seraphina is a nightmare, but she’s still a person. A cruel person. A dangerous person. But not a monster because a quest board says vampire.”

Luna studied her carefully.

Alice tapped the notice. “That’s why I don’t like the wording. Possible vampire presence. Infestation. Like they’re rats in a cellar.”

Kiki nodded slowly. “Could be killers. Could be hungry people. Could be blamed people.”

“Exactly,” Alice said, relieved. “We investigate. We don’t just kick down doors and start staking people because the Cathedral used scary words.”

Luna’s expression softened, though she folded it back into professionalism almost immediately. “That is proper procedure. Confirm the nature of the threat. Determine whether the suspects are feral, criminal, cursed, sanctioned, or uninvolved.”

Alice stared at her. “Sanctioned?”

“There are lawful vampire courts in the Crimson Vale.”

“Of course there are,” Alice muttered. “Why would vampire politics be simple?”

Koko looked at the posting again. “Farm people need help either way.”

“Yeah,” Alice said. “They do.”

Kiki grinned faintly. “Then we take blood cow quest.”

“Please do not call it that at the desk,” Luna said.

Kiki’s grin widened. “Blood cow quest.”

Alice pressed her lips together very hard.

Luna closed her eyes for one full second, then took the posting from the board before anyone could say anything worse. “I will file it.”

The clerk looked unhappy to see them again, but Luna’s seal did most of the work. The job was assigned, stamped, and recorded after only two signatures and one long look at Kiki that Alice considered legally punchable.

They were on the northern road before midday.

The city gates passed behind them, and the road opened beside a wide silver river. Sunlight moved across the water in broken scales. Reeds swayed along the banks, and white bridges crossed smaller channels feeding orchards and farmlands beyond the walls. The further they walked from the city, the less polished everything became. The marble gave way to packed road. The stained glass became charm posts. The elegant city perfume thinned into wet grass, mud, sun warmed fruit, and animal pens.

Alice liked it better almost immediately.

Kiki walked at her left. Koko at her right. Luna led by a few paces, lance resting against her shoulder, armor gleaming whenever the sun broke through the trees.

Alice kept glancing at the river map the clerk had given them. “So this farmstead is a real settlement?”

Luna looked back. “Yes.”

“As in families, workers, kids, the whole thing?”

“Yes.”

Alice nodded to herself. “Dungeons are so weird.”

Kiki tilted her head. “Why?”

“Because people from Earth keep talking about them like they’re game levels,” Alice said. “Clear the dungeon. Farm mobs. Grind loot. But then you get here and there are roads, farms, cities, laws, awful clerks, bakeries that overcharge you.”

Koko snorted softly. “Dungeon people are people.”

“I know,” Alice said. “I wish everyone did.”

Luna’s ears turned slightly toward her.

Alice kept walking, warming into the subject now that she was talking instead of spiraling in her own head. “The System makes it worse. It gives levels and alerts and quest ratings, so people act like everything inside a dungeon is placed there for them. Like Dice made a little fake world for adventurers to kick over.”

Kiki’s expression went unreadable.

Koko’s hand brushed Alice’s.

Alice squeezed it.

“But that’s not what dungeons are,” Alice said. “They’re gates. Little bridges between Earth and other worlds. Fangspire connects to Morgraath, right?”

Kiki nodded. “Orc homeworld.”

“But you’ve never seen Morgraath.”

“No,” Kiki said.

Koko added, “Born in Fangspire. Raised in Fangspire. Exiled in Fangspire.”

Alice looked between them. “And some adventurers would still call you dungeon mobs.”

Kiki’s jaw tightened.

Koko’s golden eyes went flat.

Alice’s voice softened. “I don’t understand how they do that. Especially now. I look at you two and I can’t imagine seeing anything less than people. Annoying people. Loud people. Very pushy wives. But people.”

Kiki’s expression softened at once. “Wife insults sweet.”

“Very sweet,” Koko agreed.

Alice huffed. “I’m being serious.”

“We know,” Koko said.

Luna was quiet for a while. Then she said, “Many city elves think the same way. They do not call it that, but they do. Outsiders from beyond the dungeon are curiosities. Dungeon born are complications. People become less real when paperwork does not know where to put them.”

Alice grimaced. “That’s depressingly accurate.”

Kiki looked toward the orchards. “We make them know.”

“How?” Alice asked.

Kiki smiled, tusks showing. “By being too hard to ignore.”

Koko reached up and flicked one of Alice’s pigtails. “Wife already started.”

Alice went scarlet so fast Luna glanced back in alarm.

“I did not start a political movement with my hair.”

“Yes,” Koko said.

“No.”

Kiki nodded firmly. “Wife wears sign. World sees.”

Alice groaned. “It’s hair.”

“It is pigtails,” Kiki said, as if that explained everything.

“It does explain everything,” Koko added, because apparently Alice had said that part with her face.

Alice touched one of the ties, embarrassed all over again. “I was thinking maybe I should change it eventually. Not today. Just maybe later. If it gets annoying.”

Both twins stopped dead.

Alice took one more step, then slowly turned.

Kiki looked betrayed.

Koko looked offended on a spiritual level.

Luna immediately pretended to become fascinated by a roadside shrine.

Alice blinked. “What?”

Kiki pointed at the pigtails. “No cutting.”

“I didn’t say cutting.”

“No removing.”

“I didn’t say removing either!”

Koko stepped closer, very serious. “Wife made sign. We show wife to world.”

Alice’s face burned. “That sounds possessive.”

Kiki nodded. “Yes.”

“That wasn’t an invitation to agree!”

Koko reached out and touched the tie with careful fingers. “You chose us in front of everyone. We like seeing it.”

“Oh,” she said.

Kiki’s voice lowered. “If wife hates it, wife stops. If wife only scared because people look, then no. We stand beside wife and let them look.”

Alice swallowed.

Luna coughed quietly into one gauntleted hand. “For what little it is worth, it is a striking look.”

Alice stared at her. “You too?”

Luna looked away. “I said nothing improper.”

“You absolutely did.”

Kiki looked pleased. Koko looked victorious. Alice decided the safest option was to keep walking before they started discussing beads again.

The road curved along the river for another half hour. Farm wagons passed them twice, both drivers staring at Kiki and Koko but saying nothing once Luna’s armor came fully into view. A group of children watching sheep from a hillside whispered among themselves. One waved at Alice. Alice waved back. Kiki waved too, far too seriously, and the children scattered in delighted terror.

“Do not frighten children,” Luna said.

Kiki frowned. “I waved.”

“You waved like a warlord acknowledging tribute,” Alice said.

Koko nodded. “Good wave.”

Luna made another tiny noise that might have been laughter if anyone could prove it.

They were still arguing about the proper way to wave at children when Koko abruptly went silent.

The change ran through the group instantly.

Kiki shifted her stance. Luna lowered her lance. Alice stopped mid sentence, fingers tightening around her staff.

“What?” Alice whispered.

Koko’s eyes tracked the tall grass beside the road. “Movement.”

The riverbank narrowed here, pressing the road between reeds on one side and a low wooded rise on the other. Birds had gone quiet. The sheep on the distant hill had gathered together in a nervous cluster.

Then Alice heard it.

A growl.

Not the deep, intelligent horror of the werewolves from the forest. Not that moonlit nightmare with eyes that knew too much.

This was rougher. Animal. Hungry.

A wolf stepped out of the reeds.

Then another.

Then five more.

They were large, lean creatures with gray black coats and pale eyes, ribs faint beneath their fur. Ordinary wolves, or as ordinary as anything got in a dungeon.

Alice exhaled shakily. “Not werewolves.”

Kiki rolled her shoulders. “Still teeth.”

“Still claws,” Koko said.

Luna stepped forward, shield rising. “Pack behavior. They will test the weakest angle.”

Alice did not appreciate the way several wolves immediately looked at her.

“Rude,” she muttered.

The first wolf lunged.

Kiki met it with her gauntlet.

The impact cracked across the road. The wolf’s jaws snapped shut around metal instead of flesh, and Kiki drove her other fist into its side hard enough to send it skidding into the dirt. It scrambled up with a pained yelp, no longer confident.

Another darted for Koko’s legs.

Koko painted a quick sigil in the air. Black red light snapped around the wolf’s paws, and the animal tripped over nothing, tumbling snout first into the road.

Luna moved like polished sunlight. Her lance swept low, forcing three wolves back without killing them, the holy glow along its tip making them recoil.

“They are hungry,” Luna warned. “Not corrupted.”

“So don’t kill unless we have to,” Alice said.

Luna nodded once. “Correct.”

A wolf broke from the side.

Straight at Alice.

Her body remembered the forest before her mind did. Pale eyes. Teeth. Shadows closing in. Her hands shook around her staff.

Kiki was too far.

Koko was turning, but the wolf was already airborne.

Alice’s panel flickered at the edge of her vision.

Radiant Bolt.

Mana Needle.

Warded Step.

Battle Medic.

She did not choose.

Not yet.

But mana moved anyway.

Alice slammed the base of her staff into the road and pushed.

A rough ring of white blue force burst outward, ugly and uneven, more panic than spell. It hit the wolf mid leap and knocked it sideways just enough for Kiki to grab it by the scruff and fling it into the reeds.

The road went still for half a heartbeat.

Alice stared at the space where the wolf had been.

Kiki stared at Alice.

Koko smiled slowly.

Luna’s brows lifted. “That was a ward.”

“It was a mess,” Alice said, breathless.

“It worked,” Luna replied.

Kiki strode over, grabbed Alice under the arms, and lifted her like she weighed nothing.

Alice yelped. “Kiki!”

“Wife has claws!” Kiki announced, radiant with pride.

“Tiny claws,” Koko said, but her voice was warm.

Alice squirmed, red faced. “Put me down. We are in the middle of a wolf attack.”

Kiki set her down, still grinning.

The lead wolf stared at them from the edge of the road. Its ears flattened. It looked from Luna’s glowing lance to Kiki’s humming gauntlets, to Koko’s waiting sigils, to Alice’s staff.

Then it turned and vanished into the reeds.

The others followed, dragging the injured with them, until the grass stilled and the birds slowly began to call again.

Alice stood there with her heart pounding.

Luna lowered her shield. “You have good instincts.”

“I panicked.”

“Yes,” Luna said.

Kiki touched one of her pigtails again, gentler this time. “No cutting.”

Alice laughed, shaky but real. “We just got attacked by wolves and that is what you’re focused on?”

“Yes,” Kiki said.

“Important,” Koko added.

Luna looked toward the north road, where the river bent toward the farmstead. “We should continue. If the wolves are this bold near the main road, the farmstead may be under more pressure than the notice suggested.”

Alice nodded, tightened her grip on her staff, and started walking.

The road narrowed as they followed the river north, trading open farmland for a stretch of old willows whose long branches trailed in the water like pale fingers. The river itself grew quieter there, deep and dark beneath the shade, carrying fallen petals from somewhere upstream. Alice kept expecting the farmstead to appear as neat fields and fenced animals, something like the outer orchards they had passed earlier.

Instead, they found a village.

Not a large one. Maybe thirty houses, perhaps fewer, all built in a careful crescent around a central green and a stone well. The roofs were steep, the walls whitewashed, and little charm ribbons hung from doorways in shades of red and silver. Flower boxes sat beneath windows. Laundry stirred in the faint breeze. A few children vanished indoors the moment Luna’s armor caught the light.

Alice slowed.

“This is the farmstead?” she asked.

Luna checked the map, then nodded. “Riverward.”

Alice looked around again. “Where are the animals?”

Kiki sniffed the air. “No cows.”

Koko’s eyes moved over the houses, the paths, the empty pens that looked more decorative than functional. “No sheep. No pigs. No smell.”

Alice frowned. “There aren’t even dungeon equivalents. No moon goats, blood hens, glass eyed river oxen, whatever this place uses instead of normal livestock.”

Luna’s expression tightened slightly, like she had begun to understand before Alice did.

An elderly elf woman stood near the well, holding a basket of folded cloth. Her eyes went first to Luna, then to Alice, then to Kiki and Koko. The moment she saw the twins, she took half a step back.

Alice lifted both hands carefully. “Hi. We’re here from the Cathedral registry. About the livestock.”

The woman swallowed.

Behind one nearby window, a curtain shifted.

No one answered.

Kiki leaned down slightly, voice softer than usual. “We do not hunt villagers.”

That did not seem to help much.

Koko gave her sister a look. “Good try.”

“I thought clear words would help.”

Alice stepped forward instead, slow and nonthreatening. “We’re investigating. That’s all. The notice said animals were being drained. We wanted to ask what happened.”

The woman’s mouth pressed thin. “You should speak to the lord.”

Alice blinked. “The lord?”

A younger elf boy appeared in a doorway, pale and sharp faced, one hand resting against the frame like he might need it to stay upright. He wore simple work clothes, but there were two small puncture scars at the side of his throat, old and neatly healed.

“Lady Lunaneska,” he said, voice careful.

Luna inclined her head. “I did not know Riverward was under direct noble holding.”

The boy’s eyes flicked toward the darkening line of trees beyond the village. “It has always been his.”

Alice felt the words settle oddly in her stomach.

His.

Not the village’s.

Not the farmers’.

His.

She looked around again, and the pieces arranged themselves in a way she did not like. No livestock. No real fields beyond kitchen gardens. No barns large enough to justify the word farm. Pale villagers. Old scars. Red ribbons on doors. A notice that had used polite Cathedral phrasing because polite phrasing made ugly truths easier to file.

Her voice came out lower. “This isn’t a livestock farm.”

The woman looked away.

Koko’s hand found Alice’s shoulder.

Kiki’s jaw tightened.

Then the light changed.

It was not sunset. The sun still hung above the western trees. But darkness rolled across the village all the same, sudden and wrong, like someone had drawn a black veil over the sky. The air cooled. The ribbons stopped fluttering.

A sound like a thousand tiny wings filled the road.

Alice looked up.

A cloud of black bats poured over the rooftops, swirling above the village in a living spiral. The villagers lowered their eyes at once. Some bowed. Others clasped their hands in front of them, not quite prayer, not quite fear.

Kiki stepped in front of Alice.

Koko’s sigils sparked between her fingers.

Luna’s lance lowered with a soft chime of metal.

The bats collapsed inward.

Black wings became smoke. Smoke became silk. Silk became a man.

He landed lightly beside the well, one gloved hand resting over his heart, the other lifting a cane capped with a red crystal. He was an elf, or at least elf shaped, slim and elegant, almost painfully pretty in the sharp, polished way of noble portraits. Black hair, messy but deliberately slicked back. Blood red eyes. A refined black suit cut close to his frame, with a crimson waistcoat beneath and a short shoulder cape draped over one side.

For half a second, Alice’s brain produced the most useless thought imaginable.

(Did he and Dad shop at the same tailor?)

The vampire smiled.

It was not Seraphina’s smile.

That helped.

“Lady Lunaneska,” he said, bowing with courtly precision. “And guests from beyond the veil. How exciting. I had wondered when the Cathedral would send someone more interesting than another clerk with a fear of paperwork.”

Luna did not relax. “Name yourself.”

His brows lifted, amused. “Direct. How very paladin of you.”

“Name,” Luna repeated.

He sighed delicately. “Lord Veyr Alisandre, lawful holder of Riverward by blood right, charter, and Cathedral recognition. This village, these roads, and the surrounding fields are mine.”

Alice glanced at the villagers.

He noticed.

“Ah,” Lord Veyr said, smile thinning by a fraction. “You have realized the shape of the farm.”

Alice’s stomach turned. “It’s a blood farm.”

A murmur passed through the villagers. Not shock. Not denial. Just discomfort at hearing it said plainly.

Lord Veyr tapped his cane once against the stones. “A crude term, but not inaccurate.”

Kiki’s gauntlets creaked as her hands curled. “You feed on them.”

“Yes,” Veyr said calmly. “Under contract. With limits. With compensation. With medical care, housing, protection, education for their children, and legal recognition none of them possessed before my charter.”

Koko’s eyes narrowed. “You call them stock.”

Veyr looked at her for the first time fully. If the sight of an orc bothered him, he hid it better than the city elves. “No. Others call them that. Lesser vampires call them that. Bandits call them that. I call them citizens.”

Alice watched his face carefully.

He sounded sincere.

That made it worse, somehow.

Luna’s grip shifted on her lance. “The notice said livestock were found drained.”

“My citizens,” Veyr corrected, and this time his voice cooled. “Two of them were attacked outside agreed feeding schedule. One nearly died. Three more were approached in the orchards by strangers wearing false court marks. That is why I permitted the notice. Someone is feeding on what is mine.”

Alice winced at the phrasing.

Veyr caught it immediately and smiled, smaller now. “Yes, yes. Possessive language. Dreadful optics. But legal reality is often less romantic than bard songs.”

Alice folded her arms. “You understand how creepy that sounds, right?”

“Constantly.”

“And you’re still doing it.”

“I am a vampire lord, Miss…?”

“Alice.”

“Miss Alice,” he repeated. “I do not have the luxury of pretending my nature is prettier than it is. I feed. My people require protection. I provide it. They provide what I require to survive. The arrangement is old, legal, and far less bloody than whatever charming moral alternative you are currently imagining.”

Kiki looked at Alice. “Can we punch him?”

“Not yet,” Alice said.

Veyr placed a hand to his chest. “How merciful.”

Koko’s voice was flat. “You are less scary than wife’s sister.”

Alice froze.

Veyr’s red eyes slid to her.

Luna slowly turned her head.

Alice’s mouth moved before self preservation could stop it. “Honestly, yes. Seraphina is much more intimidating. You’re not even a dragon.”

The entire village went silent.

Even the river seemed to quiet down.

Veyr stared at her.

His courtly smile vanished for the first time.

“…Pardon?”

Alice’s soul tried to leave her body.

“I said that out loud.”

Veyr looked from Alice to the twins, then back to Alice. “Your sister is a vampire dragon?”

Alice rubbed her face with both hands. “Red vampire dragon. Probably. It’s complicated. She’s terrifying, cruel, noble, dramatic, and absolutely not the topic right now.”

Luna’s voice came out strangled. “Alice.”

“What?”

“You cannot simply say your sister is a red vampire dragon and then declare it not the topic.”

“I can if I’m embarrassed enough.”

Veyr continued to stare. Then, slowly, his smile returned, this time with something sharper and more genuine beneath it. “Well. That explains the lack of appropriate terror.”

Alice lowered her hands. “Don’t take it personally. I’m still concerned. Just not impressed.”

Kiki made a pleased sound.

Koko looked like she was filing that sentence away to repeat later.

Veyr’s lips twitched. “How refreshing. Usually adventurers either threaten to stake me or attempt to flirt their way into my coffin.”

Alice grimaced. “Gross.”

“Frequently.”

Luna stepped forward, trying to drag the conversation back onto rails by force of posture alone. “Lord Veyr, if other vampires are attacking villagers, we need names, locations, and any evidence you have recovered.”

“Of course,” he said. “The attackers strike after moonrise. They avoid my manor wards and target the river paths, likely hoping to provoke the Cathedral into blaming me. Bandits, perhaps. Lesser vampires without court sanction. Or someone making a very foolish political move.”

Alice glanced toward the hill beyond the village.

A manor stood there, half hidden behind black cypress trees and rose hedges, its windows dark despite the remaining daylight. It looked elegant, expensive, and exactly like the kind of place a vampire twink with a shoulder cape would live.

Veyr followed her gaze. “You will stay at my manor tonight.”

Alice looked back at him. “That sounded less like an invitation and more like a villain line.”

“It was meant as an invitation.”

“You need practice.”

“I have been told that too often.”

Kiki leaned close to Alice. “We stay?”