"No, just sothing I picked up. It's a popular trick for playing dead," Max explained, reaching for a set of costic powders. He applied a few finishing touches to Sylas's face, bringing just enough color back to look natural under banquet lighting. A simple wipe of a cloth would return Sylas's complexion to its ghostly pallor.
"Is everything I requested ready?" Sylas asked.
"Yes, though it wasn't easy sneaking it in," Max replied, gesturing to Toby, who walked over with a large bucket sloshing with a dark liquid—fresh cow's blood.
Sylas scowled at the sll. "The stench is unavoidable."
"It's as fresh as it gets," Max assured him.
Sylas sighed, ntally preparing himself. Then, taking a bowl, he started drinking from the bucket. One bowl, then another, and another. Each sip deepened his grimace, as the tallic taste made him want to spit it out imdiately.
"Ugh, as bad as I expected."
"Surely that's enough?" Toby asked, looking concerned.
"Not yet. The more I drink, the stronger the effect will be later," Sylas replied, steeling himself as he drank half the bucket before finally stopping.
"Aah! Now I'm ready," Sylas said, wiping his mouth.
"Lord, the sll of blood is overwhelming," Max comnted.
"I was planning to rinse my mouth anyway," Sylas replied. Though he knew a faint scent might linger, he trusted it wouldn't be enough to raise suspicion. Just as they finished, a maid knocked on the door.
"Master Sylas, the banquet preparations are complete."
"Understood, I'll be right there," he responded, pressing his stomach. He felt a bit queasy from the blood he'd consud but could tolerate it for a while longer.
The banquet was lively yet informal, ant to celebrate victory and cast away sorrow. Formalities were kept to a minimum as guests filled the hall.
"We have triumphed! We have driven out the demon and fulfilled our duty! Knights, rejoice and enjoy this feast; this is our victory banquet!" the count declared briefly, prompting cheers from the knights. While losses had been incurred, their successful response to such an unprecedented disaster called for celebration. Enjoy new stories from My Virtual Library Empire
As the knights reveled, the count turned to his two sons. "Are you both well-rested?"
"Yes, we've recovered," Sylas replied.
"Good to hear. I wanted to sing your praises further, but—"
"We are fortunate to have returned safely, Father," Sylas replied modestly. "Let those who suffered losses receive the comfort they deserve."
"Thank you, Sylas," the count replied, smiling warmly. anwhile, Ulrich forced a smile but couldn't shake the growing unease he felt toward his younger brother.
'He's dangerous,' Ulrich thought, recognizing how naturally Sylas seed to earn loyalty. Determined to eliminate the threat, he signaled to one of his close aides, who soon returned with a tray holding two wine glasses. Ulrich picked up one and offered it to Sylas.
"Here, Sylas, take this."
"What's this for?"
"Now that you're of age, it's ti you drink. Traditionally, one's first drink is offered by family."
Sylas accepted the glass with mild surprise, catching the fine scent of high-quality wine.
"This is from Cormo in the South," Ulrich continued. "It's limited, and only a select few can get it. This one's just for you."
"Oh? I didn't expect you'd offer it to your brother before even Father," Sylas remarked.
"Apologies, Father, but the first drink should be special," Ulrich joked, winking at the count. Sylas looked at the wine, clearly impressed.
"I've heard of this wine's rarity—how did you get it?"
"I have a friend from that region who was kind enough to send it," Ulrich replied.
"Such a rare gift… Thank you, Brother."
Ulrich smiled, raising his glass. "To my younger brother's coming of age."
"And to my brother, for gifting such a fine drink."
The brothers exchanged toasts and drank, Ulrich watching Sylas carefully as he sipped. Once he finished his glass, Sylas exhaled and chuckled.
"My first drink—remarkably fragrant. Is it always this good?"
"Not at all! You're just lucky to have tasted the best right away," Ulrich laughed, feeling victorious. The binding elixir he'd laced in the wine would have already been absorbed, aning Sylas was now dependent on it to live.
'Finally… I can breathe easy,' Ulrich thought, envisioning a future where he'd reveal the truth to Sylas and keep him firmly under his control. Pouring himself a fresh glass without the elixir, Ulrich grinned. "Go on, have another. Now that you've started, you may as well enjoy it."
"Yes, I'd like to, but… my stomach feels… odd…?"
Just then, Sylas's expression twisted in pain, and he fell to his knees, coughing violently before vomiting onto the floor.
"Uurgh!"
"What's happening?"
"Sylas!"
"Lord!"
Blood poured from Sylas's mouth, sending the hall into a frenzy. Just as the count rushed toward him, Max and Toby intervened, blocking the view with Toby's large fra while Max leaned in, pretending to wipe Sylas's face.
The count, frantic, pushed closer, demanding, "Move! Let see Sylas!"
"Please, Your Grace! The young lord…!" Max replied, feigning panic as he discreetly wiped off the makeup, revealing Sylas's pallid complexion. Sylas, spitting blood and breathing raggedly, looked up at his father.
"Father…!"
"Sylas!" The count, distressed, took Sylas's hand. Seeing his father's worry, Sylas quickly signaled to Toby.
'Press my stomach—hard!'
'Yes, my lord!'
Toby applied pressure to Sylas's lower abdon, forcing the contents up. Sylas's stomach twisted, and he retched another stream of blood.
"Gaaah!"
"What…?"
The sight of more blood shocked everyone. It looked like he had consud a lethal poison. As the count, horrified, clutched his son's hand, Max inspected a wine glass lying nearby. Holding it up, he sniffed the rim, then gasped.
"Lord Ulrich! What's the aning of this!?"
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything!" Ulrich shot back, startled.
"Then why does this glass sll of the Black Moon's 'Invisible Elixir'?!" Max accused, his voice shaking as Ulrich's face went pale. How could Max have identified an odorless, tasteless poison?
Watching Ulrich's stunned reaction, Max thought to himself with satisfaction, 'In reality, there's no sll—but hey, when you're an assassin, you just know these things.'
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