_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5">Chapter 7: Spy GamesSunlight streamed through the tall windows of Duke Maximilian's estate, painting golden rectangles across the polished floors. The mansion had settled into the peculiar stillness of vampire daytime hours—servants moving with deliberate quietness, voices hushed, activities minimized out of deference to their resting master.

  Elias stood in the corridor outside Maximilian's study, listening. The estate's human staff maintained a skeleton crew during daylight hours, primarily focused on security, cleaning, and preparation for the evening activities when their vampire lord would awaken. This created a perfect opportunity—one Elias had been waiting for since his arrival three weeks ago.

  Unlike every other vampire in existence, Elias had another "fw" beyond his need for food—one he had kept carefully hidden his entire life. Sunlight, that most reliable vampire weakness, had no effect on him whatsoever. At Orlov's court, this aberration would have been even more damning than his dietary requirements. He could imagine the horror on their faces: not only did he require human sustenance, but he didn't even have the decency to be properly vulnerable to daylight. They would have staked him immediately, or worse, made him a boratory specimen.

  "Perfect," Elias whispered to himself as he tested the study door. Unlocked. The night before, he had carefully loosened the tch during an evening meeting, ensuring it wouldn't properly catch. Another advantage of being ornamental furniture—no one suspected decorative objects of sabotage.

  He slipped inside and closed the door behind him with practiced silence. Maximilian's study looked different in daylight—less mysterious, more practical. Books lined nearly every wall, interspersed with dispy cases containing smaller artifacts. His desk dominated the center of the room, meticulous stacks of papers arranged in what appeared to be specific patterns rather than simple piles.

  Elias moved with careful precision, making certain to note the exact position of each item before moving it. Orlov might consider him decorative, but years of being invisible had taught him how to observe and remember details.

  He began with the desk drawers, finding them full of precisely organized research notes, most concerning the artifact collection. Fascinating but not particurly useful for his mission. The second drawer contained several fountain pens, ink bottles, and a small book bound in dark leather that looked more personal than schorly.

  Elias hesitated. Personal diaries were exactly what Orlov wanted—evidence of inappropriate attitudes or dangerous ideas. His fingers hovered over the book for a moment before he carefully lifted it, a small twist of guilt in his stomach quickly suppressed by years of survival instinct.

  The first pages contained exactly what he expected—meticulous observations about artifact preservation methods with numerous references to ancient curatorial practices. There were several detailed sketches of hieroglyphic sequences with transtion notes, alongside commentary comparing burial customs across dynasties. But approximately thirty pages in, the writing shifted to a more personal tone:

  "Lord Elias asked unexpected questions about the hieroglyphic chronology today. His insightful observations contradict his cims of limited education at Orlov's court. Either he is being modest about his knowledge, or he possesses remarkable natural intelligence despite ck of formal instruction. His interest in the artifacts appears genuine rather than performative. Unusual for someone from Orlov's traditionalist background."

  Elias blinked in surprise. Maximilian had been analyzing him? He flipped forward several pages:

  "Finding appropriate distance continues to present difficulties. Standing three feet away proves insufficient when conversing with Lord Elias. His unusual violet eyes, reminiscent of certain royal Egyptian portraiture, create a most distracting effect. Perhaps the ancient texts on proper audience distance with pharaohs might provide insights? Will consult the Amenhotep scrolls. For tomorrow evening, shall attempt three and a half feet spacing instead."

  A startled ugh nearly escaped Elias before he caught himself. The Duke had been calcuting the exact distance he needed to stand away to maintain his composure? That expined the peculiar sidesteps in hallways.

  The most recent entry made his breath catch:

  "My conversations with Lord Elias following the vault incident proved most illuminating. Dialogue flowed with remarkable ease despite our close quarters—a welcome reprieve from customary social difficulties. His questions about hieroglyphic symbolism revealed a keen intellect that belies his cims of limited education. Most fascinating is his dual nature—requiring both blood and mortal food sustains him, not unlike certain ancient Egyptian deities who partook of both divine ambrosia and earthly sustenance. Historical precedents suggest such dual-natured beings often served as bridges between worlds. Must consult the Mesopotamian texts for simir accounts. Our continued discourse promises valuable insights into both ancient knowledge and present circumstances."

  Elias stared at the words, reading them twice to ensure he hadn't misunderstood. Maximilian thought his condition was a fascinating historical anomaly rather than a defect? And he had noted Elias's intelligence rather than dismissing it, even comparing him to Egyptian pharaohs?

  The sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway snapped him back to attention. He quickly returned the journal to its exact position and silently closed the drawer. The footsteps stopped outside the study door, followed by the sound of a key in the lock.

  Elias looked around frantically—there was nowhere obvious to hide. The footsteps had come too suddenly for him to reach the door. With no better option, he dove behind one of the rge armchairs just as the door swung open.

  "Just performing the daily security check, Mrs. Winters," came a male voice—one of the day staff. "Duke's orders to ensure all rooms are inspected once while he rests."

  "Very good, Thomas," replied an older female voice from the hallway. "His Grace insists on thoroughness. Be sure to check for any signs of disturbance."

  Thomas moved efficiently around the room, checking each window. From his hiding position, Elias could see polished shoes moving methodically from window to window. The man was approaching the window nearest to Elias's chair.

  With silent, careful movements, Elias inched completely under the chair as Thomas moved closer. The space was absurdly small for his frame, requiring him to contort into a position that would have been comical if not for the danger of discovery.

  One of the chairs's decorative tassels dangled directly in front of his face. Elias held his breath as Thomas adjusted the bckout curtain directly above him, praying the human wouldn't look down.

  "All secure in the study, Mrs. Winters," Thomas called, turning to leave. "Moving on to the library next."

  "Excellent. And be sure to—wait, did you hear something?" Mrs. Winters asked.

  Elias froze. Had he made a sound? He couldn't recall moving.

  Thomas paused. "I don't think so, ma'am."

  "Hmm. Check behind the desk as well. Sometimes His Grace's cats find their way in during the day."

  Thomas sighed but dutifully walked to the desk, bending to look underneath. "No signs of disturbance here, ma'am."

  "What about the artifacts? His Grace would be most displeased if anything were out of pce."

  Elias silently cursed all felines as Thomas began a more thorough search of the room, checking behind furniture. He was now methodically making his way around the perimeter, approaching Elias's hiding spot.

  In desperation, Elias spotted a heavy curtain against the wall to his right. With Thomas's back momentarily turned, he silently rolled from beneath the chair and behind the thick fabric, pressing himself ft against the wall and nearly knocking into what felt like an ancient stone tablet mounted for dispy. The movement caused the tassel to swing slightly.

  Thomas turned at the movement. "I think I saw something by that chair, Mrs. Winters."

  Elias held his breath as Thomas approached and looked under the chair he had just vacated. Finding nothing, Thomas straightened and scratched his head.

  "Everything appears to be in order, ma'am."

  "Check all the dispys as well. His Grace notices even the slightest thing out of pce."

  Elias looked frantically for another hiding spot as Thomas began checking each curtained window. He was three windows away and approaching steadily.

  With silent, vampire-quick movements, Elias slipped from behind the curtain and into a dispy case whose door he had noticed was slightly ajar. It was filled with delicate Egyptian artifacts, leaving barely enough space for him to squeeze his body inside. A golden funerary mask stared at him accusingly as he contorted to fit in the confined space, closing the gss door behind him with millimeters to spare.

  Thomas reached the curtain Elias had just vacated, pushing it aside to check behind. Finding nothing, he shrugged. "All artifacts secure and in pce, Mrs. Winters. Study appears undisturbed."

  "Very good. Well, carry on then. The library next, and then check the corridor leading to His Grace's resting chambers."

  The door closed behind them with a soft click. Elias waited a full minute before extracting himself from the dispy case with extreme care, making sure not to disturb any of the precious artifacts. He straightened his clothing, which had become hopelessly wrinkled during his series of desperate hiding maneuvers.

  He took a moment to ensure everything in the study was exactly as he had found it, then slipped out into the corridor, listening carefully for any sign of staff. Hearing nothing, he made his way back to his own chambers, mind whirling with what he had discovered.

  The Duke's private observations were far more interesting than any intelligence about preserved artifacts. Maximilian had actually noticed him—not as an ornament or a fwed specimen, but as a person with intelligence and observational skills. After decades of being treated as decorative furniture with an unfortunate dietary defect, the experience was entirely novel.

  As Elias reached his chambers, he realized he was smiling. This complicated his mission considerably. How could he report on someone who saw him as fascinating rather than defective? Who noted his intelligence rather than dismissing it?

  He closed his door and leaned against it, considering his position. There was much more to Duke Maximilian than Orlov's court had led him to believe. And there was something genuinely compelling about a vampire who meticulously recorded the exact distance needed to maintain composure around his consort.

  Elias would need to be very selective about what he reported back to Orlov. The confirmation of a hidden artifact vault was unavoidable—that much would have to be included in his next report. But Maximilian's private thoughts? Those, Elias decided, would remain between the Duke and his journal.

  After all, if Maximilian found his "defects" fascinating rather than disgusting, perhaps there was more to gain by staying in this strange, advanced territory than by faithfully serving as Orlov's expendable spy.

  When evening fell and Maximilian emerged from his daytime rest, Elias greeted him with perfect court etiquette, giving no indication of his daylight activities. But he did notice, with private amusement, that the Duke seemed to have adjusted his standing distance to precisely three and a half feet—and had a volume of Amenhotep scrolls tucked under his arm.