If you ask who knows the most about the ecology of ants, without pointing to a specific individual, the most common answer would likely be “entomologists.”
But in reality, the ones who know the most about ant ecology are, of course, the ants themselves. After all, they’re the ones living it, so who knows better than them?
By the same logic, it’s the vampires who know the most about their own ecology.
However, there’s a crucial difference between ants and vampires: ants can’t talk, but vampires can.
Wow, Eureka! What a startling revelation!
In that sense, the idea of finding out how to pretend to be a typical vampire from an actual vampire might be truly revolutionary.
“That’s not really special.”
“…True.”
It turned out to be such an innovative and ahead-of-its-time idea that it was ultimately deemed useless.
In the Mist Labyrinth, the habitats of the vampires stretched as far as the eye could see.
After walking for a while, all I could see was tents, tents, and more tents.
From small camping tents suitable for travelers to larger ones that gave off the vibe of a traveling circus, they all varied, but ultimately, it began and ended with tents.
Did I overestimate what I would find in this Duchy?
I knew it wasn’t a proper city or even a town, but still, being a place where a good number of vampires gathered, I expected at least something—no grand castle or vast underground facility like a Duchy, but something!
Yet the reality was nothing but tents. If they had at least dug a hole and buried a coffin, it would have been interesting. But in reality, there was no dream, no hope, no romance.
“Is it really okay?”
Vampires essentially lose their power under the sun. Their strength and regeneration, even their affinity for dark spirits drop, putting them in a weak state akin to a regular human.
Moreover, this applies mainly to particularly strong vampires. Most vampires not only can’t utilize their powers but are also teetering on the brink of life and death.
Truly weak vampires could easily burn themselves up without any interference from others. Hence, when a vampire hides in a human village and is spotted wandering around during the day, they are immediately excluded from the ranks of the living.
Of course, a vampire like Martini might be able to walk around pretending to be human during the day without engaging in any conflict, but if that’s the case, then the Grand Duke would be just an ordinary idiot. If anyone could do it, the whole world would already be in the palm of vampires.
In that sense, the sight of flimsy tents lined up was unsettling indeed.
What confidence are they relying on? If beastmen invade during the day and topple the tents, or if one of them suddenly goes berserk, wouldn’t it be a perfect setup for everyone to die together?
As I lingered nearby, hoping to find the source of the incomprehensible confidence of the soon-to-be neighbors, a vampire emerged from a tent and locked eyes with me.
It’s said that even a flutter of clothing can create a connection. In that sense, I thought about asking something since we made eye contact, but I just let it go.
Why would I act friendly upon first meeting? After all, everyone was just here to observe, planning to mimic whatever lifestyles they had.
Contrary to my expectation that he wouldn’t care much about me, he approached me directly.
He didn’t look particularly strong. I wasn’t planning to let my guard down, but I also had no intention of fleeing just because we made eye contact, so I stood still watching the approaching vampire.
“Are you from outside?”
…What? He didn’t seem like he was going to be territorial. His surprisingly friendly demeanor made me nod lightly, and then his eyes shifted toward Eleonora.
In that instant, his eyebrows twitched.
Ah, he’s noticed that Eleonora isn’t a vampire. I didn’t miss the mix of caution and curiosity in his fleeting gaze toward her.
“She’s my simple meal. Touch her, and you’ll die.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. But I recommend not leaving her alone. There are many vampires here.”
Even though I made a light threat, he remained polite. One might think he was a remarkably courteous vampire, but to me, it felt different.
When you trace back to manners, they stem from self-respect rather than altruism. It’s a form of communication: “I’ll respect you first, so please respect me in return.”
I believe that’s why it’s often seen that those in power can be quite rude. They find themselves in a position of unilateral superiority without needing to bow down to earn respect.
Conversely, the more extraordinarily polite someone is without reason, the more likely they are in a vulnerable position. Especially in a world where muscles hold more sway than laws.
I looked at the man once more.
His ragged appearance and lack of confidence stood in stark contrast to the demeanor and presence of the strong.
His politeness seemed more like a coping mechanism typical of someone weaker. Considering that if someone powerful were to get annoyed and unleash, then managing one’s anger is indeed the most effective means of survival—it was a remarkably exemplary attitude.
In that sense, he was more comfortable for me to deal with. So long as he didn’t take my warning lightly, I’d refrain from causing him harm.
“Have you chosen a place to stay? If not, there’s an empty tent available.”
“…Is it okay to just give it away?”
“Since there are casualties, we give the tents of the owners who pass away to newly arriving vampires. I also received my current place in that manner.”
There’s no way such peaceful cooperation is possible.
While we could cooperate as kin, I could understand returning an unoccupied tent to a newcomer.
But suggesting it first without being asked? What kind of benefit would make someone walk up like that? I couldn’t help but be suspicious.
“Oh, it’s not a scheme or anything. But you should know there are rules to follow here.”
Was he sensing my suspicion, or was he just very perceptive? He quickly added. “First, fighting is prohibited within the Mist Labyrinth. This applies to vampires as well as beastmen.”
“Do those rules hold merely in talk? What if we break them?”
“You’ll lose your way in the mist, similar to humans. One could say it’s a favor from the elves. In the past, there were conflicts with beastmen, and vampires even fought amongst themselves over prey. Every time that happened, those who caused trouble found themselves expelled from the forest, creating these rules. So, the beastmen won’t disturb us either—at least, not inside the Mist Labyrinth.”
Ah, I see. Now I understand why he went through the trouble to explain all this.
It’s a restriction set by the elves, the owners of the forest. If a vampire from outside stirs chaos without knowing the rules, it could make life difficult for the locals.
If one is struck first, they can’t just retali; if they do, that might be categorized as combat, leading to a ban from the forest.
The vampires who gather in the Mist Labyrinth are typically drifters without a place to go. While there’s a wide variance in the strength of vampires as a race, I’ve heard there are plenty of weaklings who lack the Duchy’s protection.
They wouldn’t want to lose the hidden refuge they just secured from human reach by acting out recklessly. Thus, it seems customary for locals to toss an empty tent their way and inform them of the rules before a newcomer can stir up trouble.
Still, the elves are impressive. I assumed this mist filter would be applied to their race as a whole, but it seems it’s on an individual basis. Or perhaps, there’s a way to distinguish when it comes to combat?
Even with magic, it’s realms far beyond my understanding.
Well, that’s why Albresia remains an impregnable territory. Its secrets are ones that legions of magic experts have struggled to unravel.
“So, fighting is off the table. Got it.”
I nodded once more to signify I understood, and the man’s expression brightened a little. He looked somewhat fatigued, like a salesperson who had wrapped up their duties and was taking a break.
For some reason, I felt a pang of sympathy and didn’t want to torment him any further, but I had to get clarification on certain matters.
If I misinterpret the rules and get expelled, that would be problematic for me. My safety is far more important than the weariness of a poor salesman.
“What exactly are the criteria for being expelled from the forest? Does bloodsucking count as combative? Is there any means to stop someone who covets another’s meal?”
I was directing the question with Eleonora in mind. What constitutes “combat actions” in terms of that prohibition? Is it the same as attacking someone?
If that were the case, what would happen if I drank Eleonora’s blood?
Strictly speaking, bloodsucking would indeed put Eleonora at risk. I certainly had no intention of killing her, but I wondered if the elves’ barriers could gauge that.
And even if bloodsucking were deemed permissible, would there be a way to resist if I were robbed of prey or items?
“The exact criteria…I’m not too sure. The elves don’t explain this to us, and we only reference cases of those who were expelled in the past. But it seems they primarily look at whether physical harm is inflicted on others. Humans are an exception, though; some take humans home for meals.”
So humans alone are an exception. The elves’ malicious intent is certainly palpable in their design.
In any case, it would be wise to refrain from drinking Eleonora’s blood while in the forest.
A bit disappointing, but if needed, I could drink it outside the forest and then come in. On the bright side, I felt relieved that the fear of someone else snatching Eleonora away had diminished.
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