Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 173: A Warrior’s Last Breath

Chapter 173: A Warrior’s Last Breath

Lady Maris had once commanded considerable support, especially from noblewomen. These women returned home to persuade their husbands to rally behind King Valentin.

However, most of their husbands hesitated to make an immediate commitment. Only a handful pledged their loyalty to the king without reservation.

But when news broke that Emperor Kaan had declined to assist Elder Alfred, more neutral nobles finally began to choose sides.

Reviewing the list of supporters she had amassed, Lady Maris felt confident she could outmaneuver Elder Alfred’s schemes, but she had not anticipated an attack on the palace, as such a bold move seemed outside his character.

In her view, Elder Alfred would likely prefer a less confrontational approach. Yet it appeared desperation had overtaken him, forcing his hand after Emperor Kaan’s blatant refusal to back him.

Lady Maris understood that pledges of allegiance could take many forms. While she hadn’t explicitly outlined the kind of support she expected from the nobles, she had hoped they would come to her aid when the time called for it.

Yet, among the twenty letters she had dispatched, only four had elicited positive responses.

Fury coursed through her veins as she vowed that those cowards would pay for their indecisiveness. When the moment of crisis arrived, they had remained unmoved.

Silence, when wielded at the wrong time, could cost lives, and for Lady Maris, the silence she had received felt like an act of treachery.

However, the nobles who failed to respond to Lady Maris’s plea for help were not simply idling in their homes. In truth, eleven noble houses had chosen to answer a different call—Lady Tanith’s.

While Lady Maris urged them to align with the winning side, Lady Tanith took her negotiations a step further.

She offered tangible incentives for those who pledged allegiance to Elder Alfred: lands, wealth, lucrative business opportunities, investments, and even votes that could elevate them to higher noble titles.

These nobles were not swayed by abstract notions of loyalty; they were motivated by self-interest, eager to know exactly what they would gain in return for their support. In the world of nobility, loyalty often took a backseat to personal benefit.

As Margrave Nicholas and the four noble houses charged forward, the eleven houses supporting Elder Alfred revealed themselves from the shadows, as if they had been lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Margrave Nicholas clicked his tongue in frustration. It was no wonder the enemy hadn’t budged when he had escaped the western wing with his troops to circle back to the west gate—this had been their plan all along.

They were surrounded, trapped, and under siege from all sides. The battle was slipping through their fingers.

Margrave Nicholas did his best to fend off the enemies, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming. Though the enemy’s new allies lacked individual strength, their relentless waves crushed any hope of holding ground.

More allies fell with each passing moment, and panic began to grip the nobles. "Where is the king?" one of them shouted, fear creeping into their voice. Without the king’s support, survival seemed impossible.

Margrave Nicholas, barely holding the line himself, knew he had to keep their morale from shattering.

"He’s inside the palace, fighting. Once he finishes there, he’ll come to our aid," he assured them, his tone resolute.

In truth, while he believed King Valentin would never abandon them, uncertainty gnawed at him. The elders had gathered inside to confront the king, and the outcome of that battle was anything but certain.

Dodging a volley of strikes, Margrave Nicholas pressed forward, but an enemy knight blindsided him. A barrage of energy spears surged toward him, too fast to counter. He turned, but it was too late—the spears were mere inches from his face.

Then, in an instant, they froze midair and dropped harmlessly to the ground.

"Your Highness!" Nicholas gasped, looking up to see Princess Lisbeth standing on a nearby tree branch, her chest rising and falling heavily.

Her armor was in tatters, leaving her without any protection. Despite her exposed vulnerability, her eyes blazed with determination.

"I’m the princess of Eira! I won’t let pompous fools destroy my home!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "We fight! Resist with all your strength!"

Margrave Nicholas, however, saw only the young girl who had been his daughter’s friend. "You shouldn’t be here! It’s too dangerous."

Lisbeth’s lips curled into a defiant smirk. "Danger is everywhere, Margrave. Here or elsewhere, it makes no difference. This is my home. What kind of ruler abandons their home and their people?"

Even as the defiant words left her lips, Lisbeth couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in her chest. She had seen too much carnage on the battlefield to hold onto hope. Victory felt like a distant, fading dream.

Before she could gather herself, a flash of energy hurtled toward her. Caught in the open, Lisbeth had no time to react. The blast struck her, and she plummeted from the tree, disappearing from sight.

"Your Highness!" Margrave Nicholas shouted. He was too far away. Desperate, he cut through enemies, his arms swinging in wide arcs, deflecting attacks from all sides. He fought with renewed fury, pushing forward, his only focus to reach Lisbeth.

But in his haste, he left himself vulnerable.

A crushing blow struck him from behind. He gasped, feeling sharp pain radiate through his body as black blood spewed from his mouth. His vision blurred, but the margrave forced himself to turn, refusing to fall.

Crawling backward, he extended his trembling arms, sending out desperate, unfocused blasts of energy to keep the enemy at bay. Each movement sent waves of agony through him, but he couldn’t stop—not when the princess’s life was on the line.

Suddenly, everything seemed to slow down. The chaotic sounds of battle faded, replaced by the eerie hum of clashing energies.

Bolts of light streaked through the air like violent fireworks, exploding in brilliant bursts. Black blood sprayed upward, mixing with the light—an unsettling blend of beauty and horror as the bodies of fallen vampires hit the ground around him.

Margrave Nicholas blinked, struggling to keep his focus. He glanced up, searching for Lisbeth, but she was lost in the frenzy of vampires clashing, their forms blurring as they brawled around him.

His body felt heavy. The pull of unconsciousness was like an undertow, dragging him down into the abyss.

So this is what it feels like... to die.

In his fading awareness, a single thought pushed through the haze—Cielo. Is she alright?

His eyelids grew unbearably heavy, the world around him dimming as he fought to stay conscious. Darkness was closing in, unstoppable. But just as he was about to give in, something strange happened. The air shimmered, and everything began to disintegrate.

Dust—vampires dissolving into smoke.

What... was that?

Margrave Nicholas’s vision blurred, and then everything faded to black.

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