Grandson Of The Holy Emperor Is A Necromancer Chapter 52

Chapter 52: 032. Imperial Prince is Attending a Banquet -3 (Part Two)

This guy’s nature was obviously clean and good, judging from the list Harman had compiled for me. Also, the way he spoke to me and also his reputation among the general populace implied that his traits should definitely align with all things related to kindness. I didn’t really need to use Mind’s Eye to know all that, but still, to be on the safe side…

[Name: Fomor Daia, count.

Age: ???

Traits: Blood sucking, dismemberment, black magic, currently in the ‘thirsty’ state.

Ah! Ah! I want so badly to behead every n.o.ble present in here and decorate them! Just how beautiful will the colour of blood be?]

Almost out of reflex, I injected divinity in my hand. But then…

“…??”

“What’s the matter, your highness?”

My widened eyes were now staring at Count Fomor. I then looked down at his hand with divinity still being injected inside.

There was no reaction at all. A hand of an undead that should’ve burnt away remained as it was.

“…Your highness, may I ask if something is troubling you?”

I raised my head and fixed my gaze behind Count Fomor, I then activated ‘Mind’s Eye’ once more.

I couldn’t get any reading on those buried deep among the crowd. It was the same story for those with their faces turned away from me. However, I could clearly see the information on those who were in a near-enough vicinity from me, as well as those who were facing towards me.

n.o.bles, servants, and maids…

The total number of attendees found on both of the banquet hall’s floors was about one hundred.

Out of those that I could see, the ones who possessed the trait [Blood Sucking] totalled five.

I returned my gaze back at Count Fomor. While smiling brightly, I let go of his hand. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Is that so, your highness?”

“Ah, wait. Count Fomor, I heard that you’ve been taking a good care of my dear older brother. As a token of my appreciation…”

I reached to my side and grabbed a bottle of wine, then poured the drink on a gla.s.s. I also didn’t forget to inject some divinity in it to create an impromptu holy water.

I poured two gla.s.ses of wine; one for Count Fomor, and the other one for myself.

“Why don’t we share this drink?”

“It’ll be my honour.”

The count received the wine gla.s.s from me. We clinked the gla.s.ses and then, he downed it.

I quietly observed him.

There was no disgusting stench coming from him. I also couldn’t pick up any demonic energy or the aura of death from him either.

However, [Mind’s Eye] was busy telling me that this dude was a bonafide vampire. A d.a.m.n bloodsucker. Also, I was getting this feeling that he was the culprit of the murder I witnessed back in the streets of Laurensis too.

For one thing, the red hair I saw among the market’s crowd matched this guy’s head.

Count Fomor drank the wine permeating with divinity. With a loud ‘glug, glug’ noise, he emptied the gla.s.s in one go, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing up and down.

He then s.h.i.+elded his forehead and shook his head as if a bout of dizziness was a.s.saulting him. “Ahaha, please forgive this rude servant, your highness. I’ve always been weak against alcohol…”

I wordlessly smashed the wine gla.s.s on the table next to me. And without a shred of hesitation, slashed the count’s exposed hand with the broken shard.

The skin on the back of his hand broke as blood trickled out. Count Fomor looked stunned for real this time, and while grabbing his bleeding hand, he quickly stepped back.

“Your highness?!”

Harman was about to jump in, but I raised my hand and signalled him to stop. Charlotte was shooting a wary and alert glare in Fomor’s direction. Since she was blessed with quick wits, she must’ve realised by now that I found something was seriously wrong with this Count what’s-his-face.

I s.h.i.+fted my gaze away from them and stared at the vampire’s hand. Fomor ever so sneakily lowered his hands. It was as if he wanted to show me that the cut wound on the back of his hand wasn’t healing.

I stared at that sight for a while, before smiling brightly. “Ah, I’m really sorry about that. My hand slipped just now, you see.”

“I beg your pardon? Ha, hahaha, no it’s… quite alright, your highness.”

Count Fomor replied with a bitter smile and began backing away from me.

This sudden event caused the surrounding aristocrats to murmur among themselves.

The count looked around before bowing his head before me. “It seems that… I’ve managed to ruin the banquet’s atmosphere. Allow me to excuse myself, your highness.”

“That’s fine, sure thing. As for that injured hand, make sure to get it treated properly.”

Count Fomor exited from the banquet hall as if he was retreating from the place. At a casual glance, he really looked like a loyal retainer taking responsibility for ruining the banquet by making himself scarce from my view.

So, I simply smiled and waved my hand at him.

**

(TL: in 3rd person POV.)

Count Fomor walked along the imperial palace’s corridors with a gentle smile on his face.

He shared quick greetings with the aristocrats who gathered here for the banquet, while also encouraging the servants and maids to do their best and serve them professionally.

His expression didn’t crumble during all these exchanges. But that didn’t last for long; his complexion gradually paled, and he couldn’t do anything about the cold sweat that trickled down his body.

His previously-leisurely steps slowly quickened.

He dashed into the bathroom connected to his private suite in the imperial palace. And then, he locked the door firmly behind him.

His expression instantly crumpled.

Cold sweat poured down as this sensation of flames scorching his entire body wrecked him. That pain was accompanied by blue flames erupting out of his mouth.

“Ah… Ah… Euh… Ah…”

Count Fomor roughly covered his own mouth.

He knew that he mustn’t.

No matter how good the soundproofing of this room was, he mustn’t forget that this was the imperial palace. Someone might somehow latch onto even the smallest noise or actions he made. He must not leave any ‘traces’ of himself anywhere.

He hurriedly tore off the clothes he had on.

By using his sharp claws, he quickly sliced open his currently-burning abdomen.

He proceeded to cut out the oesophagus stained by the wine. He then realised that the holy water had already gone past the oesophagus and permeated into his stomach.

At this rate, divinity would spread out to the rest of his body.

‘I’ll cut out all of my internal organs!’

He then used his claws to cut out every single internal organ out of his body.

He sliced, diced, and extracted everything.

Blood spluttered and splashed, dirtying the floor.

The extracted organs were discarded on the soiled bathroom floor.

The rotting organs wiggled as they burned away. The blue flames enveloped them before they all turned into piles of ashes.

“d.a.m.n it… d.a.m.n it…! That stinking trash of an imperial prince…!”

He hissed quietly through his clenched teeth.

By the time that disgusting, sickening aura dissipated from his body, the merciless pain had also subsided as well.

The destroyed organs began to regenerate a little by little.

Slowly, so very slowly, tentacle-like things enveloped the voids where the organs used to be.

Their speed was far too slow, however.

He didn’t have enough nutrients to accelerate his recovery. The fact that it was still daytime, with the blazing sun over his head, bugged him as well.

‘I-I need blood and meat.’

What he needed was a fresh living human.

Knock, knock…

Count Fomor flinched at the sounds of knocking, and opened the bathroom door. He could hear the voice of a maidservant coming from beyond the suite’s door itself.

“My lord, I noticed that your complexion was poor earlier. Are you feeling unwell, sir?”

Since Count Fomor was well-liked among the servants and maids, she must’ve come to speak to him due to her worries. Judging from how she spoke in a familiar tone of voice, this woman must’ve been one of the maids a.s.signed to serve him, so he thought.

Fomor quickly changed to a set of new clothes and opened the door.

The maidservant blushed a little when she saw him appear. “Are you feeling alright, sir? I hope that you didn’t push yourself too hard during the banquet…”

“Ah, I’m alright. Thank you. Please do come inside.”

He stepped aside, and when the maid entered the suite, he locked the door behind her.

“Should I bring you a gla.s.s of water? Or…”

While saying this, the maid tilted her head a little. She could see the bloodied formal clothing, plus the piles of ashes through the ajar bathroom door.

“Excuse me… My lord, what could those be…?”

The maid turned her head.

She saw Count Fomor’s mouth split open so wide that his cheeks had been torn apart, with both of his hands raised up high towards her.

Crunch!

**

(TL: back to 1st person POV.)

The n.o.bles were furrowing their brows.

They were busy spitting out various criticism-filled words aimed at me through hushed voices.

I utterly ignored them all and addressed Harman instead, “Hey, Harman.”

“Please speak, your highness.”

“Go and get me a pen and paper.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He seemed deeply confused by my request. He probably couldn’t figure out how the discourtesy I showed Count Fomor earlier was related to an order to acquire a pen and paper.

“Your highness, may I inquire as to what you wish to write on the paper?”

“It’s obvious, ain’t it?”

I scanned the banquet hall once more with ‘Mind’s Eye’ active.

The Theocratic Empire was supposed to be clean and virtuous. However, I was wrong.

This place was…

“It’s time to ferret out the vampires.”

…No different from a den of monsters.

< 032. Imperial Prince is Attending a Banquet -3 (Part One and Two) > Fin.