Till the sun shines amidst the storm, darkness shall prevail.
--unknown
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Futile resistance.
Everyone in the treatment room of Kalisa Palace’s west wing knows that resisting is fruitless—the maidservant twins have no power to wield aside from their headstrong will to stay, the werewolves’ nobility has no authority over vampires, making them outcasts that can be forcibly removed through political pressure, and the vampire nobles are also in a weakened state that quantity will surely defeat the quality of their offense and defense in long term.
“Please lower your guards, young lord and ladies.” The captain of Gargon Palace’s first division, Sir Friedrich Samon, locked his cold gaze at them as he placed his sword in the middle, using it as a pillar to place his both hands, “King Fat
