Count Dominic Ashcroft's private study was illuminated solely by antique mps casting amber light across meticulously organized shelves of leather-bound records. The hour approached midnight, yet he remained at his mahogany desk, a crystal gss of blood at his elbow as he reviewed territory production reports with increasing irritation.

  Seven weeks had passed since implementing the reduced extraction schedule for E-4172, and while her condition had stabilized, the quality of her blood had pteaued well below its initial excellence. The unique fvor profile that had made her exceptional had partially returned, but cked the complexity and richness he had first experienced. This persistent mediocrity was becoming an obsession.

  "Utterly unacceptable," he muttered, setting aside another disappointing quarterly report.

  The production metrics before him painted a clear pattern—resources throughout his territories followed simir deterioration trajectories regardless of their initial quality cssification. His extraction methodologies, which he had personally developed and refined over fifteen years, were scientifically optimized for maximum efficiency. The system was fwless; the resources were simply inadequate.

  Dominic pressed a discreet button beneath his desk, summoning Administrator Wilson. The human appeared promptly, standing at attention just inside the doorway at the precise distance Dominic preferred.

  "My lord?"

  "Access the adjacent territories' production records. I require comparative efficiency metrics dating back three years." Dominic did not look up from the reports before him, his aristocratic bearing making it clear that immediate compliance was expected.

  "Yes, my lord. Any specific territories of interest?"

  Dominic's fingers drummed briefly on the polished surface—a rare dispy of frustration he quickly suppressed. "All of them. I want comprehensive data on resource longevity and quality sustainability."

  Administrator Wilson returned thirty minutes ter, digital tablet in hand. "I've compiled the requested data, my lord. Would you prefer the summary or complete analysis?"

  "Summary first." Dominic extended his hand for the tablet, his movements deliberately unhurried despite his growing impatience.

  Wilson cleared his throat nervously. "You may find the Northern Territory reports of particur interest, my lord. Baron Cassian Bckwood's domains show anomalous resource sustainability metrics."

  Dominic's expression remained impassive as he scrolled through the data, though his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at certain figures. The Northern Territory reports showed significantly extended resource viability periods—nearly double the industry standard—with notably higher quality retention over time.

  "This is clearly an error in data collection," Dominic stated ftly. "These figures are impusible."

  "The data has been independently verified, my lord," Wilson ventured cautiously. "Baron Bckwood's resource management protocols differ significantly from standard practices."

  "Expin." The single word carried the force of command.

  Wilson tapped the tablet, bringing up detailed operational protocols. "Baron Bckwood implements what he terms 'sustainable extraction methodologies.' The approach includes reduced extraction volumes, enhanced nutrition formutions, limited physical activity allowances, and—" he hesitated briefly, "—basic entertainment provisions."

  Dominic's expression shifted from skepticism to disdain. "Entertainment? For resources?"

  "Yes, my lord. The Baron permits access to reading materials, music, and limited social interaction during designated periods."

  Silence filled the study as Dominic absorbed this information, his aristocratic features settling into a mask of contempt. "Baron Cassian has always been peculiar. His military background clearly failed to instill proper aristocratic sensibilities."

  Wilson remained silent, knowing better than to offer opinions.

  Dominic continued, his tone dismissive. "These 'humane' methods, as he dubiously bels them, represent nothing more than psychological weakness unbecoming of vampire nobility."

  He stood, moving to the window with deliberate grace. Beyond the gss y his meticulously managed blood farm complex—orderly, efficient, and scientifically optimized. The contrast with Cassian's described approaches could not be more pronounced.

  "Baron Cassian pys farmer with his livestock," Dominic decred, the mockery evident in his cultured voice. "He coddles resources like pets while deluding himself that sentimentality constitutes innovation."

  Administrator Wilson shifted uncomfortably but maintained his professional demeanor. "The production metrics do suggest improved resource longevity, my lord."

  Dominic turned sharply, his movement too fast to be human. "These reports are clearly exaggerated. Baron Cassian has always been soft. These 'humane' methods are just his pathetic attempt to justify his sentimentality. No resource requires comfort to produce quality blood—this is scientific fact."

  His voice had taken on the quality that staff recognized as dangerous—perfectly controlled yet threaded with cold intensity. Wilson instinctively lowered his gaze, a submissive gesture born from years of service to vampire nobility.

  "The Northern Territories have always exaggerated their achievements," Dominic continued, returning to his desk with measured steps. "Baron Cassian's military elevation rather than proper bloodline advancement has always made him... insecure. These reports merely reflect his desperate attempt to validate his unorthodox approach."

  Wilson nodded agreement, regardless of his actual thoughts on the matter. "What course of action would you prefer, my lord?"

  Dominic contempted the question, elegant fingers tapping a deliberate rhythm on the desk's polished surface. "Remove these reports from the permanent record. They contribute nothing of value to our operational knowledge."

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Additionally, consult with Dr. Harlow regarding pharmaceutical alternatives for accelerating blood regeneration in premium resources. There must be a scientific solution that doesn't involve..." his lip curled slightly, "...entertaining the livestock."

  "Immediately, my lord."

  "That will be all."

  After Wilson's departure, Dominic returned to the window, his reflection superimposed over the nighttime view of his domain. The very notion that Cassian's methods might be superior to his own was incomprehensible. Aristocratic pride, cultivated over decades since his transformation, rejected any possibility that his scientifically optimized approach could be improved upon—especially not through something as pedestrian as humane treatment.

  "Absurd," he murmured to his reflection.

  The idea that resources functioned better when treated as anything other than biological production units contradicted everything he understood about efficient management. His methods were based on irrefutable science, not sentimental weakness. If E-4172's blood quality had pteaued below optimal levels, the fault y with the resource itself, not his extraction protocols.

  Dominic returned to his desk, dismissing Baron Cassian's approaches from further consideration. The comparative data had been a waste of time. He would maintain his reduced extraction schedule for E-4172 while pursuing pharmaceutical enhancements to improve regeneration rates. The solution would be found through proper scientific advancement, not regressive coddling of resources.

  As dawn approached, Dominic closed the production records with finality. The matter was settled in his mind—Baron Cassian's methods were a curiosity born of weakness, nothing more. His own approach remained superior by virtue of its aristocratic refinement and scientific basis.

  The fact that E-4172's blood still failed to match its initial quality was merely an anomaly to be solved through proper vampire ingenuity, not a systemic failure requiring fundamental reassessment. To consider otherwise would be to question fifteen years of carefully constructed operational protocols—an impossibility for a vampire of his standing.

  Dominic summoned a servant to prepare his chambers for daytime rest, his expression betraying no hint of the frustration that had driven his te-night research. Whatever the solution to E-4172's quality pteau might be, it would not involve emuting Baron Cassian's peculiar methodologies.

  Some principles were simply beyond question, regardless of evidence to the contrary.