“Who was that green-haired person just now?”
After the Damazesti left, Ermengarde showed a huge interest in them.
Judging by the conversation between the Damazesti and Lucifer, they seemed to be a member of the Sarkaz Royal Court, but Ermengarde couldn’t spot any distinct racial traits on them.
After all, even Liches and Sanguines possessed visible racial traits like horns, fangs, or pointed ears, but the Damazesti had none.
“The Damazesti Cluster.
According to the King of the Scavengers, they are the oldest Sarkaz alive today.
Unlike other Sarkaz clans that pass the torch through generations, they have lived in their original form from the very beginning.”
Lucifer hadn’t paid much attention to it at first, until the Scavenger King Necare’s statement was unanimously agreed upon by the Sanguinarch Duq’arael and Demon King Theresia.
Now, that was pretty terrifying.
Although Lucifer didn’t know the exact details, he at least knew that the history of the Sarkaz, or rather the Teekaz, spanned ten thousand years—and the Damazesti had remained unchanged through it all.
Still, after interacting with the Damazesti, Lucifer found that they weren’t actually that hard to get along with.
Ermengarde, however, was a different story, silently marveling at the sheer number of eccentric freaks in Kazdel.
She prayed she wouldn’t run into anyone even more high-profile.
But as she and Lucifer walked deeper into the palace, a thick scent of blood that couldn’t be masked filled her nose.
And this scent was all too familiar to Lucifer.
“Wow, another heavy hitter.
Ermangarde, you should buy a lottery ticket when you get back.
You might win the jackpot.”
“Huh?
Why’s that…?”
Before Ermangarde could finish her sentence, the owner of the blood found them first.
It was a Vampire male, roughly the same height as Lucifer, looking just as young and grim, but far more cruel and ruthless.
“Lucifer…
Hm?
A Lich?
Why is it just you?
Where is Fremont?”
The Sanguinarch frowned in displeasure.
In his memory, the Lich serving as the Court’s representative should have been Fremont, not some wet-behind-the-ears young girl.
The Sanguinarch’s gaze swept over Ermangarde.
At that moment, she truly felt the oppressive weight of a Royal Court veteran.
“Ah!
Teacher Fremont couldn’t make it due to personal reasons, so he sent me in his stead.
I have his token here…”
Under the dangerous pressure, Ermangarde hurriedly pulled the letter Fremont had written out of her pocket dimension.
The trace of Fremont’s magic on it couldn’t be faked, but this only made the Sanguinarch more annoyed.
Although his relationship with Fremont wasn’t great either, he was even less pleased with Fremont’s refusal to show up at the Royal Court meeting at all.
Observing the excessively young Lich girl before him, the Sanguinarch let out a disdainful snort.
“Hmph, whatever.
There’s no point in making things hard for you.
Lucifer, since you’re here, I have something to discuss with you.”
Shifting his attention away from Ermangarde, the Sanguinarch turned to look at Lucifer.
Lucifer blinked, pondered for a moment, and decided to pull a little stunt.
“Incorrect.
I’m a master of disguise, not…
actually, I’m a Shapeshifter.”
“…”
The entire corridor fell dead silent.
Both the Sanguinarch and Ermangarde were left in stunned silence.
Once she snapped out of it, Ermangarde, though shocked, couldn’t help but marvel at Lucifer.
He really was a prince, daring to backtalk the Sanguinarch so casually, easily doing something she could never dream of.
What a guy!
The Sanguinarch’s gaze grew colder, but he didn’t lose his temper over it.
“Did none of those Shapeshifters ever tell you that you have zero talent for disguise?
Their emotional fluctuations are never this wild.”
“Welp, I’m cooked.
Totally cooked.”
Having subconsciously overlooked this detail, Lucifer realized his little stunt had flopped hard.
The Sanguinarch ignored this minor episode and handed down a command that brooked no refusal.
“The Demon King seems to have a new plan and intends to convene a major meeting of the current Royal Courts.
Lucifer, you will attend with me.”
Normally, a prince has no right to attend Royal Court meetings, even just as an observer, and the Sanguinarch is not one to tolerate outsiders.
But perhaps the Sanguinarch was taking into account Lucifer’s reputation, which was quite different from his own and that of other Vampires.
He decided to bring him along to boost his own prestige, under the pretext of having him as a personal bodyguard.
“What about Ermangarde?”
“This young Lich?
That depends on whether she has the courage to attend a meeting of the Royal Courts.”
Since Fremont hadn’t come anyway, the Sanguinarch didn’t bother with other trivial matters.
Leaving these words behind, the Sanguinarch turned and departed, the thick scent of blood in the air dissipating with him.
“You call the shots.”
Lucifer shrugged helplessly, then looked at Ermangarde, who was standing there completely lost.
“Now it’s your turn to choose.
Do you want to witness this meeting in person, or do you want to hand the token to me and head back to Leithanien to buy that lottery ticket?”
“Uh…
maybe I should stay a bit longer?”
Ermangarde was a bit afraid that the moment she handed over the token, a squad of the Sanguinarch’s executioners would spawn out of nowhere and shred her to pieces.
Even if it was unlikely, to avoid ending up in that timeline, Ermangarde decided to stick with Lucifer.
At least it should be relatively safe around him…
right?
“Your choice.
There’s no time machine here for regrets.”
“…Besides, if I go back, I’ll just get lectured by my teacher.
At least there’s some new stuff here that I haven’t seen before.”
Ermangarde knew Fremont’s temper all too well.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have drafted seven versions of the letter, discarding the first six out of fear they wouldn’t pass the Demon King’s review.
Going back meant nothing but lecturing and work.
Since she could sightsee on a company expense account, why not?
And Ermangarde found Lucifer, this Vampire, rather interesting.
After passing through rounds of approvals, Lucifer finally brought Ermangarde to see Theresa, the extremely busy Demon King of the Sarkaz.
Her striking, silky pink hair, upward-pointing black horns, a black-and-white dress, and a smile that seemed warm enough to melt anyone’s heart.
“Hello, Lucifer.
It’s been a long time.”
Theresa was no stranger to Lucifer.
Whether during the war back then or the nation-building afterwards, the siblings Theresa and Theresis had both interacted with Lucifer.
“And I assume this must be the Lich envoy representing Mr.
Fremont.”
Theresa’s captivating gaze shifted toward Ermangarde.
Ermangarde, not feeling the crushing pressure she did when facing the Sanguinarch, looked back at Theresa for a moment, then let out a sigh of relief.
“Whew, thank goodness.
I didn’t expect the Demon King to be so much more approachable than those other Royal Court heads.”
“Ah…
is that so…?”
“…”
Lucifer’s expression was dead as ashes.
He thought to himself that Ermangarde was probably doomed to never get a break in life.