Even in the quietest of times, Cordova was a busy, thriving town. It should have been a pleasant thing, to wander through it's many markets and streets.
As of recent years though, this was no longer the case.
Dark rumors had reached the ears of the townsfolk. Stories of desecrated churches, missing villagers at nightfall, and attacks on caravans in the forest. These tales plagued Cordova with each new visitor... and word spreads quickly in small towns.
Here, fear of one's neighbors and kin was at an all time high. Glares of suspicion followed even the most casual of passerby. An undercurrent of constant anxiety ebbed and flowed through the town. It would take so little for it to be kindled into a persecution that would end many lives.
It was with this in mind, that a single witch wandered through Cordova.
She traveled alone, which was enough to have curious gazes set upon her. She did not linger anywhere she went, gathering the supplies she needed before setting on her way.
While she walked, she pondered on the state of the town.
How strange it was, that she should fear the people surrounding her, more so than the growing danger beyond them. And it was far worse in the regions she had traversed before. The Hunts had begun once more, and the death and dread it had left in it's path made it difficult for her to even pity these people.
She could see them now. The hired hands now common in many towns, the vampire hunters. Men from varied ethnicities and backgrounds. Some of noble nature, some not. Julia avoided each one she came across. Vampires were not known to be their only quarry.
Ordinarily, she would never have ventured here... were it not for a chance rumor. A strange one at that.
She was not the only witch in hiding. Nor the only one that was forced to wander to avoid discovery. Many women like her were uprooted from their sanctuaries, their homes. She would occasionally encounter these fellow witches. She would offer them what she could, and they often did the same.
Ye, they carried more than just supplies with them. They carried vital knowledge. Information on the towns she traveled, or the number of hunters lurking within each. Stories which were crucial to her survival.
It was a story that brought her here. A tale of man who wandered these streets and often at that. One that bore red hair known only to belong to beasts of ill will.
What made this of importance to Julia? Simply put, it was the resemblance this figure bore to one from her past. Someone she believed to be long departed from this world.
Thus, she spent her days there. Waiting and watching.
Time was against her in this regard. Two more days were all she could spare in staying here. But for this, she would take the risk.
In the likely event that she did not find him, she had alerted her various associates about him. They didn't know the details of her situation, and didn't ask.
Discretion was preferred by everyone.
If he was spotted, perhaps a message could be sent...
The witch's information was correct. The man in question had indeed visited the village before. Several times in the past few weeks, to be precise. This man, called Isaac by those who knew him, had a very particular reason to be there.
He stayed disguised in these parts, hooded and cloaked. Keeping himself from wary looks and judging minds.
In these days of growing suspicion, his appearance was not uncommon. Many travelers had been alerted to the fear driven glances now famous in this region. Hiding your face from that was the only form of privacy anymore. So he kept to himself, eventually assumed to be one of the many hunters that were so dearly needed.
Noticed by few, and approached by no one. He knew he could only be successful if he maintained that careful balance.
His routine did not change from day to day. He would wander the narrow back alleys and paths. While doing so, he would take note of every building, every pathway.
The population grew slowly here, as he had expected. What few new faces he saw, consisted of merchants selling their wares, or passerby on their way to their next destination. They left but days after they came, and were not to be counted among the main populace.
Thus, he spent his days there. Waiting and watching.
It was tiresome, really. Isaac yearned for this to be over, and wished for a return to his normal, more thrilling rituals. He did not want to be here, hadn't wanted to debase himself by approaching these cattle.
But, such were his orders. Until the job was done, here he would stay.
It was on one of these repetitive tours, that an event of seemingly little note occured.
Isaac was slumming in one of the many byways of the village. He only found more reasons the hate the little town. It's monotony, ugliness, and ignorant residents... They all added fuel to this fire.
What a decrepit little place, he thought as he walked down the alley.
Unknown to him, a small face was peering out at him from a window. This interloper left his hiding spot, following the man silently.
But, for all his stealth, the sound of gravel scraping along the ground was still audible.
Isaac, noting this, carried on as if he had heard nothing. He waited for the sound of that light treading to get closer.
Closer, closer... Then, turning quickly, Isaac snagged the encroacher by the throat. He then drove him into a worn stone wall. Fully meaning to intimidate this stranger, Isaac kept his face compacted into a scowl.
Yet, all that faces him is a boy. Thin and ragged, the whelp shakes in his grip. From his size alone, it is clear that he is far younger than himself. Pity. The idea of a true fight had been invigorating. Snapping this wretch's neck would offer no challenge.
"... And what, pray tell, were you trying to pull?" The forgemaster asked, eyes narrowed. Boredom was already seizing him again.
"T-This is for you." Isaac watched impassively as the brat pulled something from within his ragged coat. Impatient, Isaac snatched it from trembling fingers. An envelope. Pale white, it was easy to tell that the parchment was of fine make.
"Curious. And from whom, exactly, did you get this?"
"It was just from some lady, I dunno who... P-please..."
Isaac flicked to the letter, puzzled. The brat took the opportunity to squirm out and away from him. He ran down the path, back to whatever excuse for a home he had.
Isaac did not bother giving chase. Nor did he examine the letter. Disgust crossed his features, and he crushed the envelope in his hands. Stuffing it down the front of his shirt, he walked away.
Back to his mission, back to the routine and it's tedium.
It was well past nightfall when Isaac returned to the castle. His homecoming was heralded by the hundredfold of bats that erupted out the entrance as the drawbridge lowered. Their noise and flutter did not perturb the forgemaster. Indeed it was more like a welcoming choir in it's familiarity.
He would not need to make his report to his lord until the following night. For now, there were other tasks to be accomplished. For that, there was only one place to go.
The Alchemy Laboratory. Where the art of science and the arcane blended together in a flawless mesh. Where his training had begun and been completed.
Appreciation for his home filled the forgemaster at the familiar sight. Phials, glass flasks and varied instruments lined every shelf. In each lay the results of countless experiments. Some were dead, preserved and pickled in various chemicals. Whereas the other, living specimens twitched in their tiny containers. Each of them eager to break free and wreak their havoc.
It was here, that the full nature of their abilities were explored. Creating new forms of life in all their twisted glory. Contorting the matter of the natural world into a being of one's own design.
This was the true nature of Devil Forging. A nature that Isaac embraced with his entire being.
This was the power Dracula offered to his most loyal, his most worthy. He alone could deliver the means to diverge from the Creator and become a god in one's own right.
It was their lord's current wish that his two forgemasters go beyond their limits. To push the outer bounds of their abilities, and forge a new devil. One greater than all before.
The challenge had been set for them both, but Isaac would ensure that he would be the victor. For whoever succeeded at this venture, glory was certain to follow.
And it was for this purpose that he was here. Certain texts would be needed if he was to map out a path to his newest Devil.
How else was he to gain the upper hand in their little "contest"?
Skilled though his rival may be, there were certain lines Hector would not cross to refine his art. Isaac had no such compunctions. He would breach every barrier the world had to offer if needed.
Hector had natural talent at his side, possessed from birth. As for Isaac, his determination, his tenacity... With those at his side, Isaac planned to trancend Hector entirely.
For in the eyes of their lord Dracula, there could only be one favorite.
Rounding the corner, he was forced to stop at the sight before him. Unfortunately, it seems he was not alone. Standing before one of the many bookcases was his fellow forgemaster, Hector.
"What are you doing here?" Isaac asked wearily. Usually, Hector preferred to keep his trial and errors confined to his own quarters. When he did venture into the laboratory, rarely was it for anything other than supplies.
His fellow Forgemaster turned, casually noting Isaac's arrival. "Did we not both come here with the same intent? If my presence bothers you, I am sure there is information in the Library befitting for your studies."
"That is no longer an option for me."
Hector tilted his head, curious enough to want an explanation.
"Our Librarian has declared me banned." Isaac rolled his eyes. "Temporarily, of course. But, it leads me to the unnecessary chore of completing my research here."
This answer brought a wry grin from Hector. "Perhaps his animosity has something to do with the havoc your Crimson wreaked in his studies last time."
Isaac shrugged. "The poor creature wanted to stretch her wings. Who am I to deny her that? Besides, what fool doesn't keep his personal chambers under lock and key? The door was open. T'was his own fault."
Hector snorted."An interesting way to look at it. I doubt the old man sees it as such."
"Does it matter? It will not hinder me in the slightest." Already wishing to end this conversation, he kept his back to Hector. Isaac removed his coat, hanging it upon the back of a chair. He took his seat, selecting a scroll from it's surface.
Unbeknownst to him, the letter had slipped.
It fell to the floor, missed by Isaac, caught instead by Hector's keen gaze. Isaac turned to see his rival lifting the tattered envelope off the floor. He watched blankly, having already forgotten that it existed.
Hector eyed the envelope, smoothing it out carefully. "Such elegant handwriting." he commented. When he examined closer, he laughed. "It seems you've found yourself an admirer, Isaac! At long last!"
Isaac barely cast a look at him. "By all means, keep it if you wish. I have no desire to answer it, and you've no abundance of admirers yourself."
Hector threw up his hands, a comical look of hurt on his face. Then he just chuckled. "Perhaps you are right. Still, I won't take this from you." Waving it in Isaac's direction, Hector strode over to him. "After all, I wouldn't wish to break the good lady's heart." With a wink, he lightly dropped the letter atop the desk. "That's your responsibility."
Isaac didn't respond, prefering to concentrate on the task before him, rather than the fool behind him.
"In truth, I wonder where you got such a thing." Hector sat, reclining on the chair.
Finally, Isaac turned to face him. Irritation had hit it's mark within him, which he damn well knew was Hector's intent. Of course he wasn't about to be left in peace.
"Some hired twit in Cordova passed it on to me." Isaac replied. "At the very least, I hope the fool got his money's worth out of it." Isaac pushed the letter aside to the far left of the table. It would be disposed of later.
"Cordova? Not far at all then." Hector smirked. "I hadn't realized you'd taken to having trysts at the local hamlets."
Isaac put down the scroll he had been perusing and turned to glower at him. "T'was the will of our lord that bid me go there. Hardly what one calls a tryst."
"Is that so?" Hector only looked puzzled now. "Why?"
Startled, Isaac looked to him. "You don't know?"
This time it was Hector who shrugged. "You are not the only one who has appointments to keep. I have been busy as well."
"So I was entrusted with this task alone." Isaac mused, before smiling to himself. "As it should be." Turning his back to the man, he continued his work.
Hector stared, piqued at not getting the answer he wished.
"I suppose that this lady will be bereft of your company tonight, then? Immersed as you are in your work, I doubt you would have the time for her anyway." Hector frowned. Isaac was still paying him no heed. "Though perhaps she is better off for it." he remarked.
"You are wasting my time." Isaac coolly replied. He idly pushed his hair out of his eyes."Didn't you just say you had your own work to cope with?" Hector clearly was not going to leave of his own accord.
"How subtle. Very well, I will leave." Hector sighed, before stretching and rising to his feet. Never one to miss a parting shot, he called back as he ventured out of the room. "Just try to be kind to your dear "Julia" when you turn her down, won't you?"
At the mention of that name, Isaac's hand jarred and dropped the scroll.
It hit the ground, cracking one of the wooden rollers. The Librarian would be furious.
Isaac turned to the door Hector had exited, about to call him back. Thinking better of it, he paused. He looked to the letter on the desk and reached out to clutch it, an unfamiliar tremor in his hand. Only now did he deign to read the name written upon it.
Removing one of his gloves, he ran a thin fingernail under the wax seal. Taking out it's contents, he began to read...
...
Minutes passed before he finished. Reading each line, each word several times. It was unthinkable. He lowered the letter, where it fell from his quivering hands to the ground.
A meeting. She was claiming to want a meeting with him. A discreet one as well, at a local church. No masks, no pretense, only a safe place to "reconnect".
Isaac pulled aside a chair. He was shaking as he took a seat.
Reaching down, Isaac took the damaged scroll from the ground. All the while his thoughts ran incessantly, prying into every doubt he held. If it was true... Incomprehension struck him, dulling his thoughts to a stop.
He put the scroll back on the table. Who else could recognize him now? Who else but Lord Dracula knew of his past, and his parent's actions? Was it a ruse? Some brutal ploy to draw him out into the open? The timing of it was far too convenient.
As he contemplated, his gaze fell to a small stand resting on the table. It upheld a small dagger, often used in ceremonies.
In a single movement Isaac draws it out. He studies the blade, eyeing his reflection.
There was little choice. Either way, he had to return to Cordova.
The Forgemaster placed the knife back in it's sheath. He concealed it easily, strapped to his wrist and hidden by the sleeve. It would remain there until needed.
If what this woman claimed turned out to be true, then he had everything to gain.
If not... he would find compensation for his time, one way or another.
As dawn approached, a single rider could be seen riding from the gates of Dracula's castle. Isaac had ventured outward, back to the doomed village.
Early in the morning, a single woman could be seen making her way to the town's only church. Julia had heard word from her messenger, and went with the intent of fulfilling a promise.