The messenger arrived precisely at midnight, when darkness was at its deepest. Elias had been awake for barely an hour, his mind still lingering on the unexpected blood connection from the previous night's ritual. Two quick raps at his chamber door announced the visitor before the night servant, Eduard, entered with a silver tray.

  "A sealed message for you, my lord," Eduard announced with a formal bow. "From Archduke Orlov's court. The messenger awaits your response."

  Elias felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. He'd been expecting this, of course—Orlov wouldn't send him to Maximilian's territory without demanding regur intelligence. But after the hunt, after experiencing the blood connection... the timing felt particurly cruel.

  "Thank you, Eduard. Please inform the messenger I'll have a response shortly."

  The servant bowed and withdrew. Elias waited until the door closed before breaking the ornate wax seal—bck with the Orlov family crest pressed into it, a reminder of the world he'd left behind.

  The letter was written in Archduke Orlov's distinctive hand, each letter perfectly formed with the excessive flourishes that characterized traditional vampire correspondence. Formal greetings and ptitudes occupied the first paragraph, followed by pointed inquiries about his "continued service to traditional values" and his "duty to report vulnerabilities in progressive territories."

  Then came the specific demands:

  Provide detailed accounting of preserved technological devices in Duke Maximilian's collection, with particur emphasis on communication and defensive capabilities.Identify the Duke's sources for continued acquisition of pre-evolution artifacts.Record the names and locations of human technical specialists maintained within the territory.Verify rumors of preserved information storage systems containing knowledge forbidden by traditional doctrine.The letter concluded with a thinly veiled threat regarding Elias's "continued value to the Archduke" depending on the quality of information provided.

  Elias pced the letter carefully on his desk, his expression neutral despite being alone. Years in Orlov's court had taught him that even private reactions might be observed. He walked to the window, gazing out at Maximilian's carefully maintained estate grounds illuminated by moonlight.

  His mission had seemed straightforward when he was briefed before leaving Orlov's territory. Observe, gather intelligence, report back. His first real assignment after spending his young life as nothing more than decorative court furniture. Orlov had made it abundantly clear that this task was Elias's one chance to prove he had some value beyond his pretty face—a face that hadn't been enough to keep him from being deemed expendable and sent away as a political consort at the age of 21.

  But Maximilian was different from what he'd been led to expect. He didn't treat Elias as decorative furniture or a convenient political token. He shared his knowledge freely, showed genuine interest in Elias's thoughts, and most unbelievably, seemed to enjoy his company. Last night in the forest, hiding from wolves beneath that fallen tree, had been more honest connection than Elias had experienced in his years of court life.

  And then there was the blood exchange—that shocking moment of connection that had revealed Maximilian's genuine respect for him. A respect Elias hadn't earned honestly.

  "Complications," he murmured to himself, turning from the window. "Always complications."

  He sat at his writing desk and drew out a fresh sheet of paper. His response to Orlov would need to satisfy the Archduke's demands for information while protecting Maximilian. Though he'd been raised in Orlov's deliberately archaic court, where even basic technology was forbidden, Elias wasn't stupid. He'd spent enough time with Maximilian to understand that these devices weren't magical but technological—even if he didn't understand how they worked.

  The answer seemed obvious—he would respond with descriptions so outndishly supernatural that Orlov would dismiss them as harmless curiosities rather than strategic assets. Maximilian had expined enough that Elias knew the difference between a microwave and sorcery, between a smartphone and telepathy—but Orlov wouldn't know that Elias knew. He would exploit the Archduke's perception of him as naive and uneducated.

  With a small, satisfied smile, Elias dipped his pen and began composing deliberately misleading intelligence.

  Most esteemed Archduke Orlov,

  I write with humble gratitude for your continued guidance in this delicate mission. Duke Maximilian's collection contains many ft shiny rectangles that light up when touched, which I believe are ancient magical tablets of knowledge. The Duke refers to them as "computational devices" but I suspect this is a code word for spell books, as they make strange noises when activated.

  The Duke possesses a particurly dangerous device called a "microwave" which creates heat without fire! I witnessed him pce a blood container inside, press mystical runes, and moments ter remove perfectly warmed blood. Such power over the elements must surely be of strategic interest.

  His transportation machines have gss eyes that shine brighter than torches in the darkness. I believe these "headlights" (as he calls them) may hypnotize enemies who look directly at them, though I have been careful to avert my gaze during night travels.

  The most concerning discovery is a small rectangur device the Duke carries that he speaks into regurly. He cims it connects him to distant territories without messengers! I have not determined if this involves demonic summoning or merely advanced telepathy.

  Elias continued, his pen flowing across the page as he described the wonders he'd witnessed with the genuine amazement of someone raised in a world of candles and parchment. His descriptions were deadly serious—these weren't exaggerations to him but earnest attempts to expin magical devices he had no context for understanding.

  The Duke possesses a "winter box" that creates cold without ice or snow! This "refrigerator" maintains freezing temperatures regardless of the season. I've observed him storing blood and food inside to prevent spoige for impossible lengths of time. Such preservation powers could extend our resources tremendously during shortages.

  The most challenging section concerned the rumored information storage systems. Elias had indeed glimpsed Maximilian's hidden library of preserved books and digital archives during his explorations of the estate. Having been raised where books were rare treasures hand-copied by scribes, what he saw seemed nothing short of miraculous.

  Regarding information repositories, the Duke maintains a room filled with small silver discs that reflect rainbows when held to light. He pces these in a rectangur box which then dispys moving images on a rger rectangle across the room! I believe these "movies" (his term) may contain military instructions or maps, though they often appear to show humans engaged in various activities while music pys. Most curious indeed.

  His "computer" (a strange word I've never encountered before) appears to be the central repository of forbidden knowledge. When activated, it dispys glowing text that changes at his command. The Duke can summon any information instantly by performing a ritual involving rapid finger movements on a ft surface with symbols. This may be the most powerful divination tool in his collection.

  Elias read over his report with satisfaction. In his mind, these weren't misunderstandings but accurate descriptions of technological wonders that seemed as magical to him as actual sorcery. Growing up in Orlov's deliberately archaic court, where even basic electricity was forbidden as "progressive corruption," everything in Maximilian's territory appeared miraculous. Would his report satisfy Orlov's demands? He wasn't certain, but he believed he had captured the extraordinary nature of what he'd observed.

  The letter still required a proper conclusion to seem credible. Elias stood from his desk and moved to the full-length mirror in the corner of his chamber. A habit developed from years of trying to teach himself court expressions and proper etiquette that no one had bothered to instruct him in at Orlov's court. As a "lesser vampire" who needed food besides blood, he'd been deemed unworthy of formal training, forcing him to observe and mimic from a distance.

  "I believe the Duke's most powerful possession is what he calls a 'camera,'" he began, watching his reflection for the proper serious expression. "This device captures perfect images of reality in an instant! Such power to freeze moments in time must surely have strategic applications. Perhaps it can trap souls or create duplicates of important documents."

  The first time Maximilian had pointed such a device at him, Elias had instinctively ducked behind a chair. The Duke had ughed gently and expined the concept of photography, but Elias remained convinced there was something supernatural about a machine that could capture a perfect likeness faster than any artist could sketch.

  His reflection showed a perfectly composed noble, violet eyes steady, expression appropriately earnest. Not a flicker of the genuine wonder and confusion that filled him whenever he encountered these technological marvels.

  "The lighting systems respond to simple hand movements without—"

  The door opened suddenly, and Eduard entered with fresh blood-wine for the evening service. Elias froze mid-sentence, caught in the embarrassing position of apparently talking to himself in the mirror.

  Eduard paused, clearly uncertain how to proceed upon discovering his lord engaged in conversation with his reflection. "I... apologize for the interruption, my lord."

  "No, no," Elias recovered smoothly, turning from the mirror with a self-deprecating smile. "You merely caught me at my poetry practice."

  "Poetry, my lord?" Eduard asked, setting down the blood-wine service.

  "Yes, indeed." Elias gestured dramatically, shifting seamlessly into performance mode. "I've been composing a ceremonial verse for the upcoming full moon celebration. Duke Maximilian mentioned his appreciation for traditional vampire poetry, and I thought to surprise him with an original composition."

  Eduard's expression showed polite skepticism, but his training prevented any direct questioning of nobility. "A thoughtful gesture, my lord."

  "Though I fear my talents lie more in recitation than composition," Elias continued, warming to his improvisation. "Perhaps you might offer an opinion? 'The preservation of ancient beauty, like moonlight on midnight roses...'" He trailed off, affecting embarrassment. "Well, it's very much a work in progress."

  "Indeed, my lord," Eduard replied diplomatically. "The Duke is known to appreciate... schorly pursuits."

  "Precisely why I'm making the effort," Elias said, moving casually to stand over his partially written letter, subtly shielding it from view. "Though I would appreciate your discretion regarding my attempt. I'd prefer it remain a surprise."

  "Of course, my lord." Eduard bowed formally. "Will you be requiring anything else this evening?"

  "No, thank you, Eduard. That will be all."

  Once alone again, Elias let out a soft ugh at the absurdity of the situation. Caught rehearsing his fabricated report about "magical technology" and ciming to be composing terrible poetry instead—which was, somehow, the more believable expnation. His life had certainly taken unexpected turns since arriving at Maximilian's estate.

  He returned to his letter, concluding with flowery assurances of his devotion to traditional values:

  In summary, esteemed Archduke, the Duke's collection of preserved technologies appears most formidable, though I continue to investigate their true capabilities. I remain your loyal servant in this strange territory, vigint against progressive influences while maintaining my cover as a proper consort.

  With deepest respect and unwavering loyalty, Lord Elias

  After sealing it with the personal signet Orlov had provided for secure correspondence, Elias summoned a servant to deliver it to the waiting messenger.

  With that duty discharged, Elias found himself restless. The weight of divided loyalties pressed uncomfortably on his mind. He had been sent here for a purpose, yet had deliberately sabotaged that purpose by sending what was essentially fictional nonsense. Though he didn't fully understand the technologies he described, he knew enough from Maximilian's patient expnations to know they weren't magical artifacts—just sophisticated tools from before the evolution.

  By pying into Orlov's expectations of his naivety, he'd crafted a report that would make the Archduke dismiss Maximilian's collection as harmless curiosities rather than strategic assets. But the deception left him uncertain about his own motivations.

  Was he protecting Maximilian out of genuine affection? Political calcution? Self-preservation? All of the above?

  A soft knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter," he called, expecting Eduard returning on some errand.

  Instead, Maximilian himself stood in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. "I hope I'm not disturbing you," the Duke said, adjusting his gsses in that endearing schorly way that had become familiar. "I thought perhaps we might continue our discussion of the hunting experience, as we mentioned before rest."

  For a moment, the conflict in Elias's mind crystallized into perfect crity. On one side stood Orlov's court with its rigid traditions, political manipution, and the only world he had known for his young life. On the other stood Maximilian with his genuine passion for knowledge, his awkward sincerity, and possibilities Elias had never considered before.

  "Not disturbing me at all," Elias replied with a genuine smile, making his choice for tonight at least. "I was just finishing some correspondence. Would you prefer to talk here, or perhaps in the library?"

  "The library, I think," Maximilian suggested, returning the smile with his reserved but warm expression. "I've been meaning to show you a particurly interesting volume on traditional hunting rituals. The historical accounts differ quite significantly from current practice."

  "I'd like that," Elias said, following Maximilian into the corridor and away from the letter to Orlov, its whimsical falsehoods now winging their way back to his former court.

  The loyalty conflict remained unresolved, but for tonight, his choice was clear. Whatever consequences might come, they could wait until tomorrow's nightfall. Tonight belonged to conversations in the library, to genuine connection, to the quiet pleasure of Maximilian's company.

  And perhaps to working on an actual poem, just in case Eduard mentioned his "poetry practice" to the Duke.