Act XIII The Last Supper (Sixteen)

sixteen

"Can a woman be a knight?" Yubi stared at Margot, who was sweating profusely in the garden, with a mixture of curiosity and pity. "I've never seen a female knight."

“Knight is just a title; anyone can be one, it doesn’t mean much.” Anbichia lay comfortably half-reclined beside him, holding his hand and looking at his nails. “If you want, you can make her a knight right now.”

“…Then let’s forget about it.” Yubi lowered her head. “I’ll do it when she feels she’s truly worthy of being a knight.”

“Who knows how long that will take?” Anbichia laughed, unable to tell whether he was happy or angry. “Some powerful people, no matter how invincible they are, don’t think they are worthy; while some weak people are self-important and think that everything should belong to them.”

The two women, sheltered beneath the exquisite, shady octagonal pavilion, needed neither veils nor headscarves, freely enjoying the cool breeze caressing their faces. In the garden, Pascal was gently persuading the stubborn girl, recommending a gentler training method; but Margot wouldn't listen, stubbornly swinging the wooden block through gritted teeth. Her newly cut hair was soaked with sweat, the uneven ends clinging unsightly to the back of her neck.

Seymman was leading Ansopea by the hand. The snow-white girl was overjoyed at the sight. She held up her hand, adorned with a ruby ​​ring, and rushed into the sunlight, demanding the sword from Margot. The rigorous training was interrupted; a commotion arose from the flowerbeds. Yubi watched them, feeling a warm spring welling up in her heart, a mixture of regret and happiness.

“Ansopia is much happier than I was when I was a child,” he muttered. “She has so many friends with her, and she’s not locked up in a castle and not allowed to go anywhere.”

“I don’t think so.” Anbichia slowly straightened up and leaned back on the cushion. “Your mother doesn’t allow you to go out because she loves you. Do you think freedom is more important than love?”

When talking about his mother, Yubi felt as if an old wound deep inside him had been ripped open. "Freedom and love are not contradictory," he said. "Love has many ways of being expressed. I don't think locking myself in a castle is a good way."

“It’s strange,” Anbichia said, resting her face gently on her arm. “I always thought that all mothers loved their children.”

"...Aren't you one of them?"

“I don’t know.” Anbichia’s smile seemed to turn much more sinister, and her words more cruel. “I gave birth to Ansopia in search of this answer. Everyone says that blood ties are wondrous. A child is born with a natural connection to its mother—unfortunately, I don’t feel that in Ansopia. To me, she’s a bit like a painful outcome, a threatening challenge, a troublesome burden… I wouldn’t call it love, would I?”

Yubi opened his mouth in surprise. He realized that his expression of fear and disgust seemed rather impolite to his sister's frankness, so he turned his head away. "Ha, don't be so reserved." Ambikia affectionately pulled his hand back. "Maybe it's not that I don't love her, but that I love myself more than her."

“…And what about Mother?” Yubi lowered her eyes in grief and indignation. “Did Mother love me more than herself?”

“She definitely loves you more than she loves herself,” Ambicia replied immediately and firmly. “That’s undeniable.”

Why do you say that?

Ambikia leaned close to his face, studying his eyes. Suddenly, she burst into laughter. "It's a pity you're a man; you'll never have children." The vampire, now a mother, shook her head and sighed, "In that case, you'll never understand."

Yubi frowned, feeling completely bewildered. "...Even so, it can't be said that a mother loves her child less than herself, or that she lacks maternal love." He thought for a while, "I might prefer the kind of love that Ansopea received."

Anbicia was too lazy to argue with him anymore, and simply shifted her position to lie back down. "Isn't it a bit noisy?" she waved her hand. "Seleman, come here."

Her loyal blood slave immediately bypassed the fountain and canal, stopping under the dim eaves of the pavilion. "It's time. Take Ansopea away," the vampire commanded. "Don't let her make a scene here."

“Actually, I didn’t think it was that noisy…” Yubi said, trying to dissuade him.

“But I think it’s too noisy.” Ambicia glanced at him, her eyes darting around. “Take her away. It’s almost dinnertime, so she won’t get hungry.”

Yubi recalled how he used to crave food when he still had that ring and a sense of taste—freedom is often accompanied by temptations. Remembering the pain of vomiting that followed, he had to swallow back his remaining words of dissuasion and silently agree. Seilerman quickly took his poor little niece away from the sun, and the garden quieted down, but Yubi found it noisy—his keen ears seemed to hear a clamorous roar in the distance, rising and falling like waves. The crimson of dusk was casting its light through the courtyard, and a large flock of starlings screeched as they swept past in a dark mass.

Margot raised her sword again and continued her tedious and arduous training. She muttered numbers to herself, oblivious to Pascal's pleas and too preoccupied to even glance at the servants who brought her food. A gleaming, exquisitely carved silver pot and a set of cups were brought to the pavilion—Yubi turned to see Naya kneeling before him, presenting him with blood. "Master, I beg your forgiveness…" she pleaded, her head bowed in anguish, as if tormented by the mark, "I haven't served you in so long…"

“I ordered you to obey Eudosias, and you did nothing wrong.” Yubi simply took the glass. “I have nothing to forgive you for.”

His blood slave seemed to have been redeemed by his words, leaving with tears of gratitude. Yubi handed the wine glass to his sister—he suddenly noticed that Ambikia had a strange expression on her face as she looked at his female slave.

"Don't you think something's off about her?" A puzzled question escaped her small, bright red lips. "You didn't notice anything?"

“Nothing strange about it.” Yubi sipped the blood in his cup. “People always understand imprints, commands, and loyalty in all sorts of bizarre ways.”

Ambicea's smile deepened. She remained silent. Just then, Margot shouted joyfully from the garden behind them. "A thousand!" she cried, sprawling wearily on the ground, covered in sand but too lazy to care. "I can eat now, I've finished a thousand swings!"

“This barbaric knight who doesn’t understand the importance of gradual progress…” Pascal shook his head helplessly, “He’s really done you a disservice.”

The dirty girl rested for a while, then got up again, grabbed a whole piece of naan bread and stuffed it into her mouth, too lazy to even tear it. "I still have a thousand more to do tomorrow," she said, wolfing it down without any restraint. "Lord Yakov said he would bring me back an iron sword."

“Then both your palms will be completely worn out!” Pascal sighed sadly. “You won’t be able to hold a needle for a week or a month.”

“A needle is no match for a sword.” Margot rolled her eyes at him. “I’m never holding a needle again.”

Yubi shook his head, ignoring their argument. He thought he should advise Yakov on this matter when he returned. He wondered how he would explain it if Yakov really turned the Ibelin girl into a female knight. Hair can grow back, and cut hands can heal, but once the human heart is set free, it can never be caged again; it will willingly become a canary. It was getting dark when he heard a familiar, heavy footstep being led by Nuk from the doorway.

"Lord Yakov!" Margot put down her half-eaten pastry and ran towards the porch. "Did you bring me the iron sword?"

Koyakov ignored her words and asked impatiently, "Where is Seleman?"

“Don’t be so rude, Yakov!” Yubi couldn’t help but shout from the pavilion. “He’s in the room with Ansopaya.”

The knight turned and left upon hearing his reply, not lingering for a moment. Yubi put down his cup and followed his footsteps. But Nuuk blocked his way. "My lord..." the young slave said with a fawning smile, "Lord Yudosia refuses to come out of his room, and the food cannot be brought in. What should we do?"

No sooner had he finished speaking than Eudosia, her eyes swollen, opened the door and walked out of the room next to theirs. "Isn't this resolved?" Yubi asked, pushing his shoulder aside in surprise. "You had someone give it to her personally."

"My lord, my lord... I have something else to attend to." Nuk, however, smiled and squeezed back in front of him. "The slaves working in the bathhouse have recently complained about their treatment. Do you think we should replace them, or perhaps give them more money?"

"Why are you asking me about this?" Yubi frowned. "Don't you always make these decisions yourself?"

"My lord, I have another question..."

The vampire finally stopped. "Are you hiding something from me again?" he glared angrily into Nuk's eyes. "Now, not only Yakov, but you dare to hide things from me too?"

His little blood slave's smile vanished, and he knelt on the floor tiles, clutching the mark. "My lord... I... I did indeed hide it from you..." Nuk's lips turned purple with fear, his whole body trembling. "Lord Yakov summoned me..."

“No need to say anything, I’ll go ask him myself.” Yubi tossed him aside, “He’s corrupted all of you.”

The distinguished master walked briskly. The intricate and dense porcelain patterns in the corridor seemed to ripple with his steps, as if he were running through a bizarre and fantastical cave. Yakov's footsteps came and went, making it difficult for him to discern their location. One closed door after another was left behind, requiring careful observation to distinguish between them.

Yubi stopped in front of the room he had reserved for Ansopea, knocked on the door twice perfunctorily, and then pushed it with his palm—the door was locked.

"Seleman might be feeding Ansopea," Yubi thought. Vampire children are bloodthirsty creatures, and even wearing the ring cannot absolve them of this sin, a sin that must remain unknown. Pushing open the door, he might see Seleman's bare neck, a table strewn with pots and cups, knives or syringes, even a mess of red—it had been like that for him as a child. Before vampires were adept at using their teeth, the feeding room was often shockingly bloody.

“It’s me,” he reassured her. “Don’t worry.”

But no one opened the door for him. Then, the sounds of a fierce fight erupted from inside.

Yubi froze at the door. Without thinking, he instantly transformed into a wisp of smoke, his robes billowing as he passed through the crack in the door and headed straight for the source of the sound.

The red cross-patterned cloak was turned away from him. Yakov, wearing a turban and helmet, his rough, large hands wielding a bloodstained longsword, was fighting with Seilman. The room was too small, and the two couldn't move freely, so they kicked over a low table, smashing all the plates and cups onto the floor tiles, turning the exquisite snacks and drinks into garbage.

Yubi rolled his dry eyes—beside the two warriors, his niece lay convulsing in a pool of blood, unable to utter a sound: a horrific wound had been cut into Ansopia's neck, and blood was flowing incessantly like a garden ditch.

A wave of overwhelming shock and rage washed over him. The vampire knelt on the ground, pulling his niece into his arms—the child's body was limp, like a puddle of water. Red spread wildly across her white skin, like paint being poured onto a blank canvas—Yubiqiang calmed himself, searching for Ansopea's fingers, his touch landing on the ring. He thought of Brasov, of Christina. He had experienced this before, he thought, his innocent niece would be alright. Vampires were powerful creatures, never afraid of a sharp blade. As long as the will to live remained, death would never approach.

Yubi removed her ring and waited for a miracle to happen.

Things that can be broken and spilled cannot be restored to their original state.

Ansopea's eyes rolled vacantly in his arms. "Mama..." she called, tugging at Yubi's clothes with her little hands, but her grip was weak. Soon, her body heat drained away with her blood. Those wound-like red eyes didn't even have time to close before her vibrant life turned into a lifeless mass of flesh and blood.

Yubi couldn't accept it. He grabbed the corpse's hand and tried to put the ring on her finger again and again, but to no avail. He cried out in anguish and confusion, as if he had been deceived by the whole world, and that nothing and no one in the world was worth believing anymore—finally, he abandoned the vow he had made to Yakov and resolutely put the ring on his own finger.

But his blood didn't start flowing again, and his body didn't warm up again.

The vampire looked up blankly and stood up unsteadily. Yakov saw him put on the ring and charged at him with his sword—the vampire was caught up by Seyleman, and the saber pierced his body from behind—the turban and helmet used to cover his face finally fell off: his skin looked redder than usual, and his hair was more unkempt.

Yubi's cheek was still slashed by the longsword. In just a moment, the wound was completely healed.

“Yesau…” he murmured in a daze, “You want to kill me.”

“So this is the blood slave from the letter. Even I couldn’t tell the difference.” Seleman stepped on Yesau’s back and drew his knife. “You don’t need to worry, the ring is fake.”

Yubi opened his mouth, but couldn't speak. He looked at his niece's corpse, at the broken and filthy room, feeling that he was no longer capable of distinguishing between truth and falsehood. "...And Ansopea?" he asked.

Anbichia descended silently behind him and put her arm around his shoulder. "A little girl with albinism." She carefully kicked aside the girl's body, not wanting to soil her shoes—the collar of "Ansopia's" clothes was loosened by her kick, revealing an old, etched scar on the small body. "This lowly person is not your niece."

Yubi clenched his fist beneath his sleeve, his nails digging deep into his palm, crushing the fragile fake into pieces between his fingers. "What for?" he asked, staring at the engraving. "To deceive me?"

"On the contrary, I'm here to reveal the truth to you." Anbicia pinched his chin with her nails and shouted towards an unknown corner, "Inart, do you agree with this too?"

Yubi was dazed to find that the sky had darkened and the room was pitch black. Seleman skillfully took a rope from his body and tightly bound the heavily wounded Yesau—before he could finish doing so, the wound on the blood slave's back had already healed, as if he had been miraculously brought back to life.

"You will all disappear one day." The assassin, caught in the trap, warned the vampires with a face strikingly similar to Yakov's, "Demons, parasites, sinful children who depend on us for survival. You will be destroyed, while we will continue for generations."

Yubi couldn't refute the accusations made by that face. He remained silent.

“Inart betrayed us,” his sister whispered in his ear. “He wants to use the ring to get rid of us and become king by himself.”