Chapter 169: Joint Mission.
Natasha was sitting alone in a side room of the barracks, with a blood bag between her fingers.
It was not an ordinary bag.
The container bore the seal of Serafall’s residence, three preservation locks, and a small inscription indicating that the contents were for restricted use. Natasha knew exactly what that meant. She also knew she should drink slowly, control her breathing, maintain her posture, and act like the disciplined officer she had always been.
She failed at all of those points.
The first sip already made her shoulders relax.
Victor’s blood went down warm through her throat, dense, clean, and absurdly addictive. It was not merely flavor. It was sensation. His blood had weight, scent, and a presence that seemed to fill every part of her body before it even reached her stomach. For ordinary vampires, strong blood was already a natural stimulant. Victor’s blood was something else. It was like drinking raw power mixed with some drug made to dismantle any self-control.
Natasha closed her eyes and squeezed the bag harder.
She hated admitting it, but she loved it.
His blood worked like an aphrodisiac for the vampiric instinct. Not in a vulgar or simple way, but directly enough to break through her coldness. Natasha, who usually spoke little, walked straight-backed, and stared at subordinates as if they were all potential disappointments, seemed like another person when she drank. Her face became flushed, her fingers trembled a little, and her rigid expression gave way to an almost childish satisfaction.
She drank more.
A sigh escaped before she could hold it back.
The door opened.
"Natasha, the horses are already—"
Alexa stopped mid-sentence.
Natasha slowly opened her eyes.
Alexa stood frozen in the doorway, looking at her with an expression that began in urgency, passed through confusion, and ended in suspicion.
"Why are you flushed while drinking blood?"
Natasha pulled the bag away from her mouth.
"Shut up."
Alexa entered the room, closing the door behind her.
"I asked a question."
"And I told you to shut up."
"You are holding that bag like it is a relic."
Natasha looked at the bag, then at Alexa.
Then, without saying anything else, she tipped the container back and drank everything at once.
The blood ran out far too quickly. Natasha squeezed the bag to the last drop, swallowed, tilted her head back slightly, and let out a low moan of satisfaction that made Alexa arch an eyebrow.
The silence became horrible for three seconds.
Alexa crossed her arms.
"How long has it been since you drank blood?"
Natasha wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, trying to recover her composure.
"Shut up again."
"That was almost indecent."
"Alexa."
"I am merely observing."
"Observe less."
Alexa looked at the empty bag.
"Whose blood was that?"
Natasha tossed the bag onto the table.
"Did you come here to discuss my diet, or did you have something important?"
Alexa smiled a little, but decided not to insist. Still, she carefully stored the information in her mind. Natasha flushed, disorganized, and satisfied because of a bag of blood was far too rare to be wasted.
"The vampire horses are ready," Alexa said. "The team is already gathering provisions and travel equipment."
Natasha straightened in the chair.
"To where?"
"Bramford."
Natasha frowned.
"Port city?"
"Southeast of the vampire continent. Small, discreet, heavily used by smaller merchants and by ships that dislike too much inspection."
"That already sounds irritating."
"It gets worse."
Alexa took a folded letter from inside her coat and handed it to Natasha. The paper bore the seal of the internal military authority and a second forwarding mark, more discreet, linked to Royal Intelligence.
Natasha broke the seal and began to read.
Alexa explained as Natasha’s eyes moved across the contents.
"We have received orders to work together with Squad Six."
Natasha lifted her eyes from the letter.
"Squad Six?"
"Yes."
"Since when do they mix our trackers with a disciplinary field unit without prior notice?"
"Since a Countess decided to put her name on the order."
Natasha returned to the letter.
The mission was direct enough to be official, but vague enough to be a problem. The two squads were to travel together to Bramford and investigate recent irregularities: missing cargo, altered port records, deaths without bodies, artifact smuggling, and possible movement of preserved blood without kingdom authorization. Royal Intelligence believed a wanted fugitive was manipulating events behind the city.
Natasha read the name and became serious.
"Ghideon DuskBlood."
Alexa nodded.
"The very one."
Natasha leaned back in the chair.
"This mission is not small."
"No."
"Who confirmed the information?"
"Royal Intelligence."
"Confirmed, or suspects?"
"Strong suspicion."
Natasha released an irritated sound.
"Of course."
Alexa rested a hand on the back of a chair.
"Ghideon is fifteen hundred years old. Current classification: Specialist."
Natasha looked at the letter again.
The classification mattered more than the age.
Among vampires, living a long time did not necessarily mean being dangerous. There were ancient nobles who spent centuries in salons, collecting titles, lovers, and debts without ever stepping onto a real battlefield. There were also young vampires who, after twenty years of war, were more lethal than thousand-year-old aristocrats. Because of that, the Vampire Kingdom used operational classifications for missions, hunts, and criminal records.
The base began with Recruit, used for newly trained vampires or minor threats. Then came Soldier, someone with common combat mastery and basic blood techniques. Above that was Veteran, a classification given to vampires who had survived real conflicts and were capable of leading or destroying smaller groups. Specialist was another level. It did not mean only strength. A Specialist possessed an area of mastery dangerous enough to change an entire mission: assassination, escape, poisons, illusions, barriers, blood necromancy, artifacts, infiltration, or any technique difficult to predict.
Above Specialist came Master and Predator, levels that required higher authorization for confrontation. After that, the records stopped pretending normality and used terms like Calamity, Hostile Elder, or Local Extinction Threat. Those names were not made to measure ego. They were warnings not to send soldiers to die needlessly.
A Specialist, in theory, could be faced by a well-prepared squad.
In practice, the phrase "well-prepared" did a great deal of work.
Natasha folded the letter.
"What is Ghideon’s specialty?"
Alexa answered without hesitation.
"Blood-shadow manipulation and identity forgery. He can assume documents, faces, and records with disgusting precision. There is also suspicion that he uses corpses as false signatures to simulate his own death."
Natasha closed her eyes for a second.
"Wonderful. An ancient fugitive, infiltrator, specialist in disappearing, inside a port city full of false records."
"Yes."
"And they want us to work with Squad Six."
"Yes."
Natasha opened her eyes.
"Who is in Squad Six now?"
Alexa made a small grimace.
"Captain Mirella Voss. Three field veterans, two auxiliary trackers, and... one new name."
Natasha noticed the tone.
"Who?"
Alexa smiled.
"Victor Valentine."
Natasha went still.
Her expression did not change much, but Alexa noticed her finger tapping once against the table.
"Victor?"
"He was assigned to Lavender. It seems Eleonora placed him on the mission."
Natasha looked at the empty bag on the table.
Alexa looked too.
Natasha noticed.
"Do not start."
"I did not say anything."
"Your face did."
"My face is very communicative."
"I am going to break your face."
"That would be abuse of authority."
Natasha stood, took the coat hanging near the chair, and put it on with movements faster than necessary.
"Which Countess requested this mission?"
Alexa became serious again.
"Rosalyne Lohefalter."
Natasha stopped with one hand still adjusting her sleeve.
"Rosalyne?"
"Yes."
Natasha released a long sigh.
"That woman only sends problematic missions to the Valentine Family."
"Perhaps she trusts our efficiency."
"She trusts our ability to clean up dirt no one wants to admit exists."
Alexa tilted her head.
"That is also a kind of trust."
"It is a kind of administrative abuse."
Natasha picked up the letter again and read the signature at the end. Rosalyne Lohefalter had handwriting far too elegant for such an inconvenient order. Every line seemed polite. Every word seemed correct. And yet Natasha could feel the political trap underneath.
"Bramford is not just a port," Natasha said. "If Ghideon is there, someone gave him cover. A Specialist does not hide in a port city without a network."
Alexa nodded.
"Merchants, local nobles, the harbor master, or someone from inspection."
"Perhaps all of them."
"That is the pessimistic version."
"It is the version that keeps people alive."
Natasha put the letter inside her coat.
"Who else received the order?"
"Squad Six will meet us at the Central’s western gate before nightfall. The vampire horses are prepared for fast travel. If we follow without long stops, we reach the area near Bramford in two days."
"And Victor has already been informed?"
"According to the order, Eleonora will handle that."
Natasha ran a hand over her face.
"So he will probably show up without reading half the report."
"But excited to hit someone."
"That does not reassure me."
"It should. Against a Specialist, maybe having a powerful idiot will be useful."
Natasha looked at her.
"Do not call Victor an idiot."
Alexa arched an eyebrow.
Natasha realized too late.
"He is an important Valentine," she corrected.
"Of course."
"And he just came out of the Ritual."
"Of course."
"And this mission may be politically sensitive."
"Of course."
Natasha narrowed her eyes.
"You are irritating me."
"I know."
Natasha walked to the door.
"Gather the rest. I want everyone ready before Squad Six arrives. No delays, no missing equipment, and no stupid questions in front of Captain Mirella."
Alexa followed.
"And about Victor?"
Natasha opened the door.
"What about him?"
"Do you want me to warn him to bring extra blood bags?"
Natasha went completely still.
Alexa smiled.
Natasha turned only her face.
"Alexa."
"Yes?"
"One more word and you will go to Bramford running behind the horses."
Alexa raised her hands.
"Understood."
Natasha walked out into the corridor with the letter in her pocket, her cold expression back in place and her disciplined posture once again perfect. But Alexa still saw the slight color in her face before it disappeared.
She looked at the empty bag on the table.
Then laughed softly.
"Interesting."
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