The Capture of Count Vayne

The day was calm, but Vergil's mind was anything but. The soft clatter of the horse-drawn carriage echoed as it rolled down the forest path. Inside, Vergil sat with his arms crossed, his gaze cold and calculating. Beside him, Freya sat silently, her golden eyes focused on the path ahead. Her wolf-like ears twitched at every sound, her instincts on high alert.

"The operation begins now," Vergil muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "No mistakes."

"Understood, Doctor," Freya replied. Her voice was calm, but her sharp gaze revealed her readiness for what lay ahead.

Vergil's mind replayed Captain Brentrand's final message before he left:

"Count Vayne is staying at an inn in Châteauclair. He's overseeing its operations himself. If your plan fails, he'll vanish before you get a second chance."

That information had shifted the strategy slightly, but Vergil adapted quickly. Plans were like threads in a web. If one strand was cut, another would catch the prey.