_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5" style="border:0px solid">The formal dining hall of Baron Cassian's estate gleamed with carefully calcuted opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the long mahogany table, while decorative candebras flickered dramatically across the faces of the gathered nobility. Valentina sat with perfect posture, her aristocratic mask firmly in pce despite her inner thoughts.

  "Ridiculous formality," she thought while maintaining her pleasant expression. "As if trade agreements required crystal and candlelight."

  Her father, Archduke Orlov, was engaged in conversation with their host, Baron Cassian—a military commoner who had somehow earned a noble title through service rather than bloodline. Valentina had already decided she found Baron Cassian far more interesting than her father's ancient noble allies, though she'd sooner drink silver-ced blood than admit it aloud.

  "Your estate continues to... surprise, Baron Cassian," her father remarked as servers poured bloodwine into crystal goblets. "Quite unlike traditional territories."

  "We adapt to meet our needs, Archduke," Cassian replied with measured formality.

  "Transtion: we don't waste time on pointless vampire traditions," Valentina thought, suppressing the smirk that threatened to break her carefully neutral expression. She had grown weary of her father's obsession with aristocratic protocol years ago, though she pyed her role perfectly when required.

  She sipped her bloodwine, appreciating its quality despite her father's repeated assertions during their journey that Baron Cassian's territory would ck "proper refinement." Father was wrong again. She was compiling quite the mental list of her father's mistaken assumptions, though she'd never dare challenge him directly.

  She was contempting the bold art choices—so unlike the stifling cssical pieces that dominated her father's estate—when movement at the entry caught her attention. A woman approached carrying a polished wooden tray of leather-bound folios. Valentina immediately noted her unusual coloring—dark hair with striking silver streaks pulled back in a simple braid. The wereanimal markings were unmistakable.

  "The production reports you requested, Baron," the wereanimal said, setting the folios beside Baron Cassian with practiced efficiency.

  "Thank you, Nara," Cassian replied, gncing at the documents before returning his attention to the delegation.

  Valentina nearly choked on her wine. Thank you? To a wereanimal? Her father treated his prized collection of exotic pets like decorative possessions, beautiful but ultimately just animals trained to perform simple tasks. This seemed oddly... excessive.

  Her eyes widened further as the wereanimal circled the table, distributing folios to various members of Cassian's advisory team. When she reached one of the nobles—Count something-or-other whose name Valentina hadn't bothered to remember—he actually shifted his chair to make the wereanimal's task easier.

  "Scandalous," she thought with secret delight. Her etiquette tutor would have fainted dead away at the sight.

  "Your pet seems to perform administrative functions," her father observed, his voice carrying that particur tone Valentina recognized as his "politely disguising contempt" voice. "An unusual application of such exotic resources."

  "Nara manages several territory operations with exceptional efficiency," Cassian replied. "Each resource serves according to their capabilities."

  Valentina froze, the bloodwine gss halfway to her lips. Manages territory operations? Her mind struggled to process this statement. Managing operations would require decision-making, judgment, pnning—all qualities that, according to everything she had been taught, wereanimals simply did not possess. Her tutors had been explicit: wereanimals could be trained to perform specific tasks through repetition and reward, like any animal, but they cked the cognitive ability for actual management or independent thought.

  Yet Baron Cassian had just stated—in front of the entire delegation—that his wereanimal managed territory operations. Either he was grossly exaggerating a pet's simple trained behaviors... or everything Valentina had been taught about wereanimals was fundamentally wrong.

  The wereanimal took a position along the wall with other staff, and Valentina found herself stealing gnces throughout the dinner. Unlike her father's pets, who were trained to maintain perfect stillness and vacant expressions, this one seemed somehow more... present. Valentina had always found her father's collection slightly unsettling—beautiful creatures meticulously trained to respond only to specific commands, like eborate mechanical toys with fur and fangs. But this wereanimal moved differently, watching the room with unusual attentiveness.

  "I understand your territory has seen improved efficiency in recent quarters," said Duke Hargrove, one of her father's oldest allies. Valentina suppressed an eye roll. The Duke's monotone voice had put her to sleep during countless childhood visits.

  "Results speak for themselves," Cassian replied, gesturing to the leather folios. "Our food production facilities yield higher efficiency than traditional blood farms, and our resource sustainability has improved seventy percent over traditional methods."

  "Sustainability," her father echoed, swirling the bloodwine in his gss in that pretentious way Valentina had always secretly mocked. "A curious priority for a vampire territory. Some might consider it unnecessarily sentimental to concern oneself with resource comfort beyond basic functionality."

  "Pragmatism rather than sentiment, Archduke," Cassian countered. "Well-nourished humans provide higher quality blood and require less repcement, reducing acquisition costs and training investments. The surplus food production also creates valuable trade opportunities with neighboring territories."

  "Elegant checkmate," Valentina thought admiringly. Baron Cassian had just defended treating humans decently while using the cold efficiency argument her father valued above all else. Brilliant.

  She noticed something unexpected then—a slight change in the wereanimal's expression as Baron Cassian countered her father's argument. Not the bnk look or practiced expression of her father's pets, but what almost appeared to be a reaction to the conversation itself. Even more surprising was when Baron Cassian briefly gnced toward the wereanimal afterward.

  "Strange," Valentina thought, still reeling from the revetion that a wereanimal could manage territory operations. "Why would he seek approval from a pet?" It went against everything she had been taught about the proper retionship between vampires and their exotic possessions.

  The idea that a wereanimal could not only understand complex administrative tasks but actually manage them was still sending shockwaves through her understanding of the world. If they possessed such intelligence, how could vampire society justify treating them as mere decorative possessions? The implications were too enormous to fully comprehend in the moment.

  "The incident at your northern checkpoint st quarter suggests room for improvement," he said, clearly aiming to wound.

  Baron Cassian's expression hardened subtly. "The matter was addressed," he said, his voice cooling. "Your intelligence is incomplete, Archduke."

  Valentina's attention snapped fully back to the conversation. Her father rarely encountered direct contradiction, and she secretly relished seeing him challenged.

  Gncing toward the wereanimal, Valentina was shocked to see her staring directly at her father with unmistakable intensity. Years of aristocratic training had taught Valentina that pets never made eye contact with nobility, especially not with an Archduke! Several members of her father's delegation were exchanging scandalized looks.

  She fought to maintain her neutral expression while inwardly celebrating this small rebellion. "Father actually looks uncomfortable," she thought with secret delight.

  And then it happened. The wereanimal's eyes met Valentina's for just a fraction of a second. In that brief moment, Valentina saw something utterly unexpected—what appeared to be calcution and awareness in those amber eyes. Not the trained responses of a well-conditioned animal, but something that looked almost like... comprehension?

  The possibility struck her like a physical blow. Her tutors had always taught that wereanimals, while valuable and rare, were essentially sophisticated animals. Beautiful creatures who could be trained to perform specific tasks and behaviors but cked true intelligence. "Living art," her etiquette instructor had called them, "capable of following commands but little else."

  Yet what she had just glimpsed suggested something entirely different.

  Her father smoothly redirected the conversation to safer topics, but Valentina's mind raced with questions. Throughout the remainder of the dinner, she found herself watching the interactions between Baron Cassian and his wereanimal "pet" with newfound curiosity.

  There were countless small signals she began to notice—the way the wereanimal anticipated needs before they were stated, her subtle positioning during tense moments in the conversation, the way Baron Cassian occasionally gnced her way during key points. None of these actions matched what Valentina had been taught about wereanimals' capabilities.

  "Could they be more than just trained animals?" she wondered, the thought both thrilling and unsettling. "What if everything I've been taught about them is wrong?"

  "An enlightening evening," Duke Hargrove commented as they rose from the table to proceed to the reception hall. "Baron Cassian certainly maintains... unique territorial customs."

  "Indeed," Valentina replied with practiced neutrality, though inside she was thinking, "Unique and possibly better than anything at father's court."

  As she followed the formal procession toward the reception hall, her mind bubbled with questions she had never thought to ask before. If wereanimals were capable of understanding conversation—as this one seemed to be—what did that mean? How much else about them had her education misrepresented?

  Valentina straightened her posture and composed her features into the perfect aristocratic mask her tutors had spent years teaching her to maintain. Tonight she had glimpsed something that contradicted everything she'd been taught about the natural order of beings—and unlike many other teenage rebellions she had quietly harbored, this one felt profound and real.