Prologue...

The night was cold and quiet.. too quiet. The air around me felt heavy and almost irradiated a miasma of blood, smelling rotten like a lingering disease. I had a bad feeling, and also a bad day, yet my decision was adamant. Nothing would make me turn back on what I had decided, as i walked out of the gates of the proud gothic castle with no regrets, but one... Nothing would change, and I couldn't do anything about that. Yet I no longer cared. Arriving on the massive stone bridge, I took another look back as i walked towards the black carriage that would deliver me to my self-imposed exile...

The view was intoxicating, and inspired greatness with every nook and cranny. The sharp edges, the sea of statues, and especially the black brick walls that made up the impressive, humungous structure, would all become a simple memory soon, along with the sea of intricate, masterfully molded statues that decorated the gardens and the halls. I would miss the life, and the view, and especially the princess, but my decision was set in stone. I've had enough of this mockery... this affront to existence... this travesty. Tonight, in this cold wind, I would let it all go... with their battles, their hunts for innocents for a purpose lacking necessity or logic. One step in that carriage and it would all be washed away... or so I thought.

I still wonder how this had happened... and I remember the scene perfectly, in vivid detail. The morning was cold, as cold as the day... I was on duty at the walls, sent to intercept a group of attackers which had been previously spotted by our scouts in the vicinity of the castle walls... Silently, together with another three knights, I led a slow, steady charge across the long, massive stone bridge towards the piece of land which revealed, through the fog, figure after figure. They were all dressed in blue, long robes with intricate designs, you could almost see them as noble... But then, right there, the helmets shone in the foggy light... faceless, inhumane, the golden bell-like structures would haunt the nobles that dared set foot outside and met their end at the mercy of one of these... savages. Then there were the instruments of their wrath... the wheels. One would not meet a proud end at their hands... no... those caught were destined to suffer the fate of traitors and heretics, bludgeoned to a literal bloody pulp by massive wheels charged with arcane energy, empowering their wrath... those were our enemies, our invaders. The Executioners of the Church, and their master, Logarius. The group was small, so we prepared, drawing long, sharp blades to face the challenge.

There were no words, no fierce cries of war or grunts of a glorious battle. There was simply blood, to blacken the bridge further as it aged from crimson, withered by time. Silently, step by step, we met the enemy. I ran ahead and dodged beneath the first strike, blade drawn. Time seemed to freeze. The blades were sharp... Slide then cut, cut another, then another. The repetitive, macabre dance of death, was silent. each to spray blood on the stone tiles, each a memory of atrocity, until no golden light shone from the helmets, and no wheel was left to bludgeon. The return to the castle was uneventful. No ambushes, no pride, no joy, but the same silence as before, as I entered the elevator to the omnious halls. The queen, and her little princess, now grown more mature, waited in the library as I proceeded, the other knights posting themselves as stone statues outside the arched door leading to the elevator.

The halls were beautiful, decorated in velvety crimson. I could sense the scent of old paper and blood, from the smears on my clothes. I walked amongst noble ladies and servants, through great halls with huge shelves full of books from a forgotten age. The atmosphere, glowing in the light of candles, inspired reverence and royalty, as it should, as I arrived in front of the queen Victoria, and her daughter, princess Annalise, who was sitting silently in a chair 3 feet away from her mother. The queen wore a velvety dress of purple, and looked at me with a stone face and a gaze that could kill the most horrendous beast.

I kneeled and removed my helmet, as was my duty, awaiting silently for questions, as I had no right, by my rank, to speak without being asked to. Eyeing me with disdain, the queen would ask:

"Have the attackers been dealt with?"

"Yes, my queen..."

"Good. These attacks are becoming more and more of a nuisance as of late, but no matter, they serve their purpose. Have you collected the dregs from the fallen?"

I stopped. That was the turning point. The queen's master plan. She was already old, yet she was of the old-fashioned nobles. The pride of the Cainhurst lineage, the classes, all were respected by the queen's desire. And she had a plan, one that would lead to the unbeatable rise to power in the blood domain. The Cainhursts' power would soar with the sacrifice of life, along with the freedom of one person: the little princess, groomed by her alone to be the recipient of her grand design. Dregs after dregs were carried by the knights to feed the princess in order to bring forth the "glorious age of prosperity". The blood changed her, with each dose of the red substance she was made to ingest in silence. All to reach the conclusion of the plan, bearing a child of blood, having changed enough and gained enough insight to be chosen to bear an eldritch being into her womb. The princess wore the contract ring all the time. Not to be married or touched by anyone. A contract of blood, marking her womb as belonging to beings above. Or, so was her vision, her master plan.

I didn't know what brought a change of heart upon me that day, but after the attackers were felled, I couldn't bring myself to fuel the madness further. I refused to bring the precious dregs and hoped that I could avoid the topic, that was obviously unavoidable. Yet I had made up my mind. Despite being part of the castle and sworn to serve its queen, I couldn't bring myself to further fuel the mutilation of a child. It was the one glimmer of humanity I had left, after being marked as a Vileblood, a vampire of sorts. I could not bring myself to do it.

That day, after the battle, ten dregs were to be collected, and , having people, other knights, with me, I had no choice but to comply. However, I did not want to bring them forth... That time, I forced the down my throat myself, as they started walking back to the castle... And there I stood, in front of the queen, for the first time, empty-handed. And so my answer was sincere... and as sharp as a blade.

"No."

"WHAT? Without the dregs our princess will not be able to bear us into a golden age for our lineage. Their collection is mandatory, as is your duty. Do you seek to betray us, Commander?"

The queen pierced me with her eyes, almost sentencing me to death by gaze itself. I found myself ignoring her, while turning my gaze to the princess. She stood there watching, like a doll, expressionless and with a face cold as the stone tiles in the walls. I found myself looking into her eyes with a question as if tatooed on my gaze... the question was..."Do you really want this...?"... Her gaze was sad... my answer cut worse than blade or bullet... I stood up, and looked the queen straight in the eyes.

"I seek not to betray, but I shall not indulge this plan any longer. I apologise, but my decision is final. Fare thee well."

I turned to leave, to be met by a dozen guards pulling out swords. The queen was outraged. Yet I would still defend myself. As I was ready to draw, the queen spoke like thunder.

"Let him go. Vincent Corvus, you are hereby relieved of your position as Knight Commander of Cainhurst Castle. For your act of betrayal, you would deserve execution, but your actions in the service of the royal family had earned you a different punishment. You are hereby forever exiled from Castle Cainhurst. You have until dusk to gather your belongings and leave the castle premises, never to return."

I didn't look back. I went to my quarters, packed my bags, carefully depositing the armor and my signature weapon in my luggage, put on a tattered cape and a top hat and marched off in silence. As i looked one last time towards one of the mirrors decorating the halls, I noticed the now soft red glow of my eyes... No matter.

That day, I stepped in the carriage and left Castle Cainhurst behind, not once looking back since...