~ 0-1: Prelude
The night was a time that everyone feared. Shadows flickered between the trees as the fog crept over the frozen ground like an army of ants. A veil soon covered the countryside.
People would often say, they glimpsed at a pair of glowing eyes between the trees or in a dark corner. Nothing was quite as it used to be anymore. And with the days becoming shorter, no one was save anymore from what lurked in the shadows.
It was the year of Christ in 1476 for those who survived those years of peril. Fall came and the harvest was, yet again, terrible. War had torn the Kingdom of Wallachia apart. The rulers murdered each other for the throne while everyone around them was suffering in the fields which bore no fruit. With the water poisoned and the ground as dead as it could be, it all to became foul. People and children disappeared alike and the hunger drove them mad, robbery was one of the less brutal methods of getting by. The church was trying its best to soothe the suffering of the poor, but even they feared the mysterious powers from beyond the forests.
No one could comprehend what it was. The ones that dared to venture further were never to be seen again. A curse had befallen this country like an illness, a disease that threatened to spread all over if it wasn't to stopped. Bravery wasn't the most common trait found in people's hearts anymore. Yet, when it was shining from a single person alone, it was a warm light for many poor souls who have cowered in the gloom. In the end, they could only pray to not get dragged away by whatever demons lured from outside.
What motivated those rare few to step in when everyone else hid away?
For each of them, it was a different experience and sometimes, the fog blurred the reasons.
Father Cypher couldn't really say either. When the church sent the priest to travel through the countryside, he was sure that it was his compassion for the poor which had him get through all these trials.
But now, sitting in this inn between all those men and women, tending their wounds for hours and praying with them, he wondered whether God granted him enough strength to carry the hopes of all these villagers. His travels lead him far, going from town to town to approach the source of devilry. It was accurately named "Devil's Castle" by the common townsfolk. It would be a lie if he said that he hadn't noticed strange occurrences himself and those were unsettling. Material to haunt one's thoughts and dreams, but nothing more than shadows and a glimpse came across.
His tired eyes scanned the room. Few remained in the room, too scared to leave the light of the candle. Father Cypher clutched his silver rosary as he folded his hands in prayer and closed his eyes firmly.
Another few words in thoughts to God, thanking him for having lead him safely to this village which welcomed him with open arms. Mostly, that was. Naturally, there were enough people wary of anybody foreign and even of their own, but the priest has gotten used to those, too. Just offering to heal the injured ones was enough most of the time. They told him of his worries and woes and each of their tales was like a weight tied to his shoulders. He pitied them. He wished to take those fears away with a swipe of his hand. All he could do was use a few drops of holy water, draw crosses with his index finger on their foreheads and give advice.
Please God, I wish to be strong enough to protect those in need. Hold them between your hands and shield them from evil for I am only one and the needy are so many.
Father Cypher let out a rattling sigh and his fingers relaxed a bit when his sight wasn't shielded by his own eyelids anymore. The warm light calmed his restless soul. The plump inn lady, Arianne, approached him with a clay mug, pity shimmering in her dark eyes.
"Another mug of tea for you, father?", she asked and placed the mug on the table, one hand on his shoulder. The priest looked up at her, he hesitated for a moment, the steam and smell coming from the mug was tempting.
"I'm afraid that I have barely any coins left with me, milady. I won't be able to pay", he explained calmly and shoved the mug away with his fingertips.
The lady waved him off with a weak smile. "Don't worry about it. You have assisted us all with your kindness. I might as well give you another one." After all, Father Cypher was to leave the next morning, he would need all the help he could get, too. The playful wink brought a soft blush to his cheeks and he coughed to himself before he reached for the cup to hold it between his hands. The warmth sipping through his skin was pleasant and the herbal smell put rest to his troubled mind. A muttered "thank you" dropped from his lips and the smile on the lady's face only grew wider at that. She merely nodded at that reaction and went back to grab a cloth and clean the wooden tables while the priest sipped at his drink. The warm liquid poured down his throat and had him relax all over. Most villagers have fallen asleep on their chairs by now while others played cards against one another. The soft sound of snoozing filled the silence and Father Cypher found himself enjoying this peaceful moment, he allowed himself to smile and took in the warming atmosphere of a small building in the middle of the cursed land. His thoughts wandered off as he leaned back, holding the mug close to his chest.
When was the last time that the priest could feel peace in his chest ever since he travelled? In all honesty, he couldn't remember and in a way, he figured that there was always something that had him nervous. It had almost been an eternity since he had felt somewhat cozy somewhere. There was something akin to homesickness, his brothers far away behind thick walls hile he had wandered off. Further and further away from God and towards the devil's fortress in hopes that His light would guide him to safety.
The howling wolves in the distance pulled him out of his track of thoughts and his head jolted up, but there was no stirring in the inn. Father Cypher took another sip from the tea to calm his nerves. Animals, of course, there was quite a couple that were still awake at night. Nothing to be worried about. An extra sip, just to be sure that it worked. Perhaps going to bed should have been an option, he obviously needed to have a rest after all this walking. With a sigh, he placed the cup down, he had almost emptied it all, the rest of it too bitter for his tongue.
Just as Father Cypher got on his feet and to thank the kind lady for her service when suddenly another sound had his body freeze on the spot. It was a loud shriek, the priest immediately recognized it as a crying child. Soon enough, the sound was muffled and completely died away. All the warmth that the tea and the atmosphere had allowed to enter his body had just as quickly fled his limbs.
Arianne glanced up in fright, her hands gripped the cloth tighter as if she was about to strike someone with it. "Is this… What I think it is…?", she asked in such a low tone that the priest could barely hear her say it. The few others who had played cards stopped in their tracks, their gazes fixed on the dirty window, but the outside was pitch black. No one could tell anything apart from this distance. Seeing as no person was willing to move from their spots, Father Cypher moved to grab his equipment which he had kept by the bar. The leather bag filled with few supplies, some small weapons and two books, one of them being the Bible. He swung the bag over his shoulder and took hold of his staff. The inn lady watched him with shock and shook herself before she approached him. Her steps quiet as if she was afraid to wake up those who were fortunate enough to be asleep. "N-No, you mustn't go out now!", she whispered to him heatedly and looked around herself and Father Cypher felt like he was being watched, too. "Who knows what the demons might do to you!"
The priest raised his eyebrows in confusion and tilted his head. "Demons? Have you actually spotted them?" As much as he would have loved to pretend that these tales were just the imagination of the regular townsfolk, Father Cypher couldn't deny that more than animals roamed the empty countryside at night.
The lady pressed her lips together, she avoided his gaze and shifted in place. Her hands fiddled with her apron to calm herself. "A few weeks ago, there was a series of children that went missing…" It was hard for her to admit that these events actually happened. In fact, it wasn't a strange coincidence, the priest had heard of this before, sadly. "We haven't found them since. People think that they were taken to the forests, but no one went deep enough to find any clue. They are either in the darkest parts or taken somewhere else entirely…" A cold shiver ran down his spine, his frame tensed as he took a deep breath and his fingers held unto the staff tighter. However, the expression on his face had Arianne pale even further and she took him by both his shoulders. "Good father, please stay with us here until the morning! It's not safe you to go out!"
Father Cypher closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that she meant well and wanted him to be save, but the high-pitched sound from before still rang in his ears and had him left in terror.
With his free hand, he took one of hers and returned the glance with determination. "Do not worry for me, we are all under the protection of God, He will lead me back." His voice didn't even waver, he truly believed in his words. If the Lord would take him out of this world, it was for a reason. But until then, he would serve and care for the poor and broken. "These children are the most innocent of us and they are our future. Without them, we are doomed ourselves."
Arianne watched him with sorrow, but she remained silent and slowly edged back and took his hand between both her own. "You speak of wisdom, Father. But, do not get lost and if you can make it, with or without one child, not only I will feel relief to see you again." There was affection in her gaze, so much so that the priest felt somewhat embarrassed and a blush rose on his cheeks. If the situation wasn't as heavy as this, the woman would have smiled at him for this reaction. Men of God, always trying to be as far away from the opposite sex as possible, it was almost adorable.
"I am thankful that I have met you, milady." The priest bowed before her and squeezed her hand back before he turned to get his oil lamp. He threw one last glance to the lady and the rest of the villagers who were asleep or peeking up at him in both respect and fright. To leave this homely inn brought sadness to his heart. He took another deep breath and grabbed the cold doorknob, he needed another moment before he could conjure enough courage to step outside into the dark.
No one was out.
Most of the lights were turned off, only a few windows allowed the candle light to find their way out. Father Cypher turned to face the forests, their trees luring like shadows on the dark blue of the horizon. The moon hung between the clouds, only a light shimmer could be made out in the sky. When the priest passed one of the dead trees, his eyes hung with the crows sitting between the branches. Perhaps it was his fears or some form of paranoia, it was as if the animals were watching his every step. Though, Father Cypher didn't stop in his tracks and with his hood pulled up, he made his way out of the village. The darkness of the night surrounded him more and more. The cone of light around him was like a barrier from the demons, so it seemed, in full sight for everyone who looked in his direction. The silence was both calming and unnerving. He could hear everything stir around him, but his eyes spotted nothing coming closer.
Perhaps it was good. His body was tense, always ready to use his staff against any fiend that would jump in front of his feet. But they carried him to the edge of the forests, the gloom greeting him and the trees looming over him. That was the first time that Father Cypher had stopped. The cold breeze stroked his face as if determined to take off his hood to reveal the blond hair. It was kept in a ponytail, safely tugged away.
The Lord of Darkness was waiting for him and other challenges, that much was certain. He showed it to everyone who dared to come closer to his circle, it should scare away the weak and amuse him with the tries of those who wished to oppose him. The priest pressed his lips together and squared his shoulders again. Father Cypher was ready. Under the hand of God, he would strive forward and fight as much as he could. It would lead him to victory and for peace in this land which needed to be freed so much.
If it wasn't through him, his work should, at least, leave behind a trail for others to follow.
God's will was his way and Father Cypher would accept it no matter where it would take him.
~ 0-2
This was it. This was the last straw.
It was a miracle to see his father back with him, to see him of sound mind again. He had hoped that he came back to his senses and wished to embrace life again like he did before.
The young man had been foolish to believe in this. His father hadn't changed in this time. So much hatred had built up in his heart and poisoned him that he was unable to be cured. Humanity had to suffer for what it did to his wife. He himself felt terrible pain sting in his chest whenever he thought of his mother and her sweet laugh. Her presence was somehow around in this demonic castle.
Nothing was more frightening than the acts one would do out of love.
As twisted as it was now, his father had loved this woman without any hesitation. The result of those feelings being shattered lead him to this brutal mess of a plan.
Lord Dracula, as he would call himself, the Lord of Darkness, had embraced the powers Hell once again to rain revenge on humanity.
The aristocrat looked up and watched the clouds of the night float by. He wasn't going to be bound by his father anymore. His ways would oppose his father's, this was not what his mother wished for the world to become. She loved it in every way, was kind to everyone around her and even in her last moments when she was burned by those exact humans. There were no ill words dropping from her lips.
This night, he was planning to escape this Hell. Find himself a place to hide away and gather the strongest to form a rebellion against his father. He clenched his fists in growing anger.
Adrian had died a long time ago, he pondered in his thoughts bitterly. He had died along with you when you were first blinded by your hatred. This name now only a shell of his former self, it held no meaning to him anymore.
With that, he reached for a sword to tug it away on his belt, put on his cloak and hid daggers in it. The least Adrian would take with him, the less suspicion he would throw on himself when one of his father's minions was to find his chamber without him. However, he still needed to make sure that no one was to see him once he took his leave. Thus, he merely blew out his candle and let it rest on the table. His senses were enough to lead him through the corridors, though they were mostly lit by the patrolling demons anyway. Flying out of the window was out of the question, the bat would be seen. With careful steps, Adrian approached the heavy door, leaning in to listen in if someone was near.
Nothing. It was utterly silent.
Slowly but surely, Adrian opened the door to peek out and glance up and down the corridor. No one could be seen, not even one lamp from one of the guards. This could be it, he could make his escape. Without any hesitation, Adrian moved out of his chamber and gently closed the door behind him before he shuffled down the corridor.
Having made his way to the next door was almost too easy. He feared to open it in front of him and Adrian looked behind himself, the faint light of a lamp was seen at the other side. Panic burst from his chest, though none of it was seen in his expression. So he immediately reached for the doorknob, but his hand grabbed the air as the door swung open before him and he backed off in shock.
Before him stood a woman, her hands on her curvy hips and her light red eyes focused on him and an amused smile curled on her pouty lips. "Adrian! I was actually looking for you, dear!" Her voice was sickly sweet, though obviously faked as she entertained herself at the sight of him shifting on the spot nervously. She was not getting even the least bit intimidated by the glare that he directed towards her.
"I don't have time for any of your plans, Carmilla", Adrian growled back in irritation and tried to walk past her, though she blocked his way off with a wide grin. It showed off her fangs peeking over her lower lip. "Let me pass, we can discuss whatever you have to tell me later." As quickly as he was able to leave, the better and he couldn't waste any time playing around with her.
Carmilla leaned in with her grin never fading away, looking him over with a dry laugh. "Come now, you don't have to be in a hurry! Besides, it was Lord Dracula that had sent me to get you, he wanted to talk to his dearest son." Adrian paled in an instant at those words. More so than he usually was anyway. This wasn't a good sign and his heart sank into his stomach. There was a tight knot in his throat, he was unable to answer and the demon noticed his fright right away in joy. Her cold hand took hold of his arm and she leaned in, a threatening glint in her eyes. "You know just as much as I do that the Lord isn't exactly fond of waiting."
No, not at all. Since his mother had passed away, his father had been cold towards him, that being, colder than usual. Carmilla wasn't good news either, if he was to leave now, she would run to her master in less than a heartbeat. Not that she had any to begin with as a creature of the night.
"Very well." That was all that Adrian could press out, trying to sound as calm as he could despite the weight on his chest making it difficult for him to breathe. Carmilla seemed content with his surrender and finally made way for him to pass her, she wouldn't want to turn his back on him. This woman was too clever for her own good and cursed under his breath as he walked past. His feet carried him on their own up the long stairs and towards the throne room.
Adrian knew that he would never get used to the sight of his father sitting in that throne. Surrounded by his demonic minions while his shining eyes stared at the emptiness right in front of him. Now, more than ever, was it clear that he had casted God from his life and willingly became a creature of Hell.
As soon as the gates fell shut behind them, Carmilla joined her master's side in joy. He didn't her a glance and focused instead on his son before him.
"My son", he began in a cool tone, no change in his expressionless face, "I haven't seen you in a while. Have you been avoiding me?" His gaze was piercing right through him. His eyes looking him over like he let them crawl through his sockets into his mind. Adrian shivered lightly at the idea, instinctively wanting to hide away whatever thought came up.
"N-No, father, I merely thought you… Didn't need me." Still no change on his face was visible, Dracula stared him down mercilessly and Adrian had trouble keeping his eyes up to meet his. "You usually do f-fine on your own, I believe."
The only other reaction that he received was the squint of his eyes, clearly not convinced. Adrian was unable to defend himself any further and finally turned his gaze away in childish fright like he was about to be scolded. Instead, Dracula snipped with his fingers and leaned his head to the left without ever letting Adrian out of his sight. "Bring in the prisoner."
From the left side of the chamber, two werewolves shuffled in with a man dragged between them. His head hung low, blood dropped from his face and torso, a red bandana covering the brown hair. His ripped clothes were just as stained as his skin. Wounds were littered over his entire frame and Adrian wouldn't have been surprised if this man had died. Though his stertorous breath was a sign that he was somehow holding on to life for no sensible reason. The copper smell of his blood reached his nose. It clouded and spun his mind as his mouth watered. His tongue stroke his fangs as if making sure they were sharp enough to rip his throat open and feast on his blood sputtering from the open wound sporadically.
Adrian shook his head angrily at that, chasing away the thoughts. This castle had a terrifying influence on him and his demonic blood wasn't of any help. Needless to say, the werewolves were just as tempted to play around with this victim between them before. They would tear his limbs apart to feast on his warm flesh. He tore his eyes away from the prisoner which was much harder than he wished to admit. "What… Is the meaning of this, father?" His voice sounded far more strained than he wanted to show. For the first time, Dracula offered him another expression; a cold smirk stretching over his thin lips. Usually, his father didn't care for any humans and usually had them killed, they were of no worth to him. Just having one presented in front of them wasn't a good sign and Dracula was more than amused to show him this man.
"This foolish intruder managed to conquer our main clock tower. Quite impressive for a mere human being, I have to admit." As much as he sounded like he was praising the injured prisoner, it was a joke. He wasn't worth a single glance of his, only his open hand was directed towards him as if he was going to offer him as a meal. "He should be rewarded, don't you think?" Adrian knew that there was no point in answering. There was nothing kind within his father and the meaning behind his words was different than he made it sound. His smirk never faded from his lips and neither did his gesture while he spoke. "I want to keep this man as a guard for the clock tower, but you'll have to turn him for me."
"What?! You can't be serious! You can't expect me to…" Adrian snapped his gaze between them, his shock and disbelief ever so clear on his face. Neither startled his father.
"I can see the glint in your eyes, Adrian. You crave blood, don't you?" His voice lowered, almost resembling a growl. It was tempting, yes, the young man couldn't deny that. Adrian couldn't remember the last time he had fed from any living creature. He resented his own origin and refused to steal life from others to continue his own. Though, as he was confronted with the direct smell and sight of it, his animalistic desires were daring to get the better of him. "And if you are unwilling to turn him into a demon yourself, I will have to take matters into my own hands." There was no way that his father was bluffing. He was finding too much enjoyment in torturing the innocent. Dracula would do far worse than Adrian would ever allow himself to perform.
Was he giving up? Adrian couldn't tell. It was a fine line between surrendering and possibly giving this man a chance to avoid the most painful death. Either this act would have been merciful or needlessly cruel by cursing him for the rest of his life, as much as he was allowed to be alive, that was. There wasn't much time to ponder about the ethnical decision of life and death or Heaven and Hell. Adrian would need to get to it soon, otherwise he would be sent away before he could even answer.
Therefore, the son of Dracula turned to step towards the trio. Just hearing his shoes clack on the marble ground seemed to grip the prisoner's attention. He held enough strength to lift his head and look at the one who was supposed to turn him into a creature of the night. The sharp, grey eyes shone with such determination and will, it was almost startling to see this much of a rebellious nature in his wounded face. His lower lip had burst, one long cut was craved into his flesh from one cheek to the other and over his nose horizontally. The blood leaking downwards stained his face and a lot of the liquid tangled in the short, black beard. The man's body shook with the restraint, his arms tensing up to get ready to get up on his legs and escape from what was about to happen. As much as he was putting up a resistance against him in his mind, his body was clearly drained from being thrown into the cells. Most likely being tortured and beaten up by the monster that would need to take care of him.
Despite all, Adrian allowed pity to show. The prisoner had tried his best to reach this place for whatever reason and all his hopes were in vain now. The young man had to close his eyes, the smell of blood now fully pushed away everything else. His senses were entirely dulled and his needs roared even louder, his lungs filled with the smell alone. Without giving another comment, he went on his knees, the man following him with his gaze and hissed in disgust when he drew near. Adrian would have bitten his own thumb only to get his blood into his system, but he feared that none of his current wounds would serve the desired effect.
Instead, he let his long fangs show. One last bit of his humanity dared to bubble up on the surface as he managed to whisper to him shakily: "Please, forgive me."
It happened in a matter of moments. His last thoughts were pushed away by his hunger as one hand took hold of the man's head to forcefully lean it to the side to reveal his neck. His eyes immediately spotted his veins, how they pumped blood through his body to keep him alive. He plunged his fangs right into his flesh, piercing it without mercy, creating deep holes and his blood soon filled his mouth. Adrian barely even registered the strained cry coming from the other, the sound muffled in his ears as his head spun from the overwhelming taste on his tongue. His victim shifted back and forth in poor attempts to get away while his blood was forced to spurt out. Yet, his fangs were driven in too deep that no one could have dragged him away. It was an elixir that couldn't be matched by anything else, his body grew stronger just by drinking one sip from him already. A tingling sensation running along his skin while his veins were filled with life once again. Though if he was to let himself go like this, he would have killed this man in less than a minute. His sight became hazy with need and the taste was addicting. It was difficult to pry himself off of him while his frame craved for more and more, his hands trembling when they released the other. The bitten man slumped right after, the remaining energy from before had vanished. His head hung low between his shoulders and there was no more twitch coming from him. Once more, his rattled breath and groans were the only sign that he was surviving; at least, for now.
This wasn't refreshing enough, Adrian knew that he would have needed to drain him so far until the man was dead. The realization of this fact alone brought him back to his senses while the warm blood was around his quivering lips, dripping from the corners of his mouth down to his chin. His tongue tentatively licked off his own lips to savor the copper liquid before he lifted one hand to have one fang bite down on his thumb.
The wound around the victim's neck looked vicious: the skin around the two holes darkened, they would leave quite some mark. His thumb was shaking even more when he moved to press it gravely against the open wound on his neck. Then he smeared his blood over it to make sure it's covered. Adrian didn't know how he was able to get back up on his legs again despite his knees about to give in. When the werewolves let go off the prisoner, he fell to the marble floor like a sack and for a moment, nothing happened.
"Well done, my son. You still have it in you", declared Dracula in a booming voice and clapped heartlessly. It was Adrian this time who didn't look back at his father now. His face paled at the sight of his victim convulsing in front of him and letting out whimpers and sounds as if he was being strangled by an unseen force. "You have never bound a human to a curse before, have you? It's absolutely… Delightful to see how you finally got to do this."
With terror in his amber eyes, Adrian was finally able to turn himself away from the stranger. The man began shaking and stretching his limbs as if he wished to crawl away. "No! I am… I am not like you!", he spat back desperately, though his father was only amused by this reaction.
"I'm afraid that you've already proven yourself to be like me. Can't you feel the blood on your lips and tongue? You are a beast whether you can accept it or not."
His stomach twisted with deep disgust, the once tempting taste of blood was now causing him nausea and it was burning down his throat. Adrian swayed on his legs, about to tumble over his feet and his mix of emotions was turning him both confused and guilty. Instead of bombarding his father with insults and confidence, he turned on his heels and escaped the Throne Room without Dracula ordering anybody to follow him. With his hand lifted, he stopped Carmilla who had started to haste down the narrow steps.
After all, Adrian had never directly opposed him. The boy wasn't strong enough to do so anyway. He even obeyed him despite his inner fight and had almost killed this prisoner who was taken away to the catacombs. As stubborn as the boy was, he had always been a scared, shy child no matter how old he had grown.
"Don't waste your time with my son. He'll be back." Dracula waved him off. Carmilla turned to bow to him, a content smile on her lips. Anything he would want of her was her command. "Go down to the cells and experiment on the fool. We don't need a fully conscious creature of the night, but a vicious demon for our brainless armies. Do as you see fit with your… New pet."
When she allowed to look up at him again, a wide smirk covered her lips and her fangs showed. "Very well, Master. I won't disappoint you."
With that, Carmilla left the room and most demons made their way back to their former positions in the castle. Dracula remained in his throne and picked up his glass. The red liquid resembled wine, but he had lost his sense of taste centuries ago.
Only his dark chuckle filled the silence of the chamber, it increased, louder and louder until his voice resounded down the hall, in the entire castle and the candle flames shook.
~ 0-3
How long has it been since the young hunter had seen this path?
It was odd being here, so many years had passed and yet, he recognized a few marks here and there while he walked with the two monks that had picked him up. The sun had already set when the first town had appeared on the horizon after a whole day trip. He could see how the two men were relaxing a bit at the sight.
Only one dared to look back at him with caution. "Once we arrive, we will leave you there, young Belmont." There was no threat or fear when he spoke, however, he did sound desperate if not disgusted to even look at him. Indeed, they had been desperate to find him in the first place. So he wasn't exactly surprised to receive no glances from them as they lead him back towards Wallachia.
With a frown, the hunter pulled his cloak tighter around him and merely nodded at his words. When they had found him, he didn't think that they would accompany him further than necessary. They were both frightful men and irritated of his existence.
Trevor Belmont.
Last surviving member of his clan which had been chased away from Wallachia for their powers. Their blood was blessed, but people were scared of what they were capable of.
Not that there were many of them to begin with. His mother only had him and she had no siblings that shared the ability to wield their holy weapon, the Vampire Killer, forged by their ancestor to smite evil.
Even from banishment, the hunter noticed the changes that had been happening in the countryside. The Church and the Royal members of Wallachia tried their best to get rid of the curse that had befallen them. But they had failed horribly and thus, Trevor was their last chance for salvation.
Not that this prevented them from treating him like an animal. There was no respect and Trevor couldn't care less.
In a way, the only factor that had him accept their plea was what his mother had told him when he was young. That people were afraid, they didn't hate them and that there would be a day when he could return home. There were so many others out there that were good at heart and that those deserve to be protected.
Always remain courageous, she would say with a warm smile. It is what will get you through the darkest nights.
However, Trevor imagined his return to his home country somewhat different. Over the years, he figured that he probably wouldn't be able to predict how he was going to win back their trust towards his family name. It was like a marking to warn everyone around him. Yet, Trevor wasn't willing to change it up for he knew that there was nothing evil to them.
God has chosen them to be His warriors. Trevor chose to accept this destiny without any second thought.
As the monks promised, when they reached the first houses of the town, they stopped in their tracks. The guards by the gate examined the trio, but they figured that they were of no harm and kept patrolling the town's wall. Just from the looks of it, the demons hadn't arrived in this town, yet, the walls relatively stable looking.
"May God watch over you."
That was the only good praise Trevor received during their trip. The hunter walked ahead of them before he turned and glanced the servants of God over. He could feel a faint smile on his lips.
"Let us hope so, otherwise you will have to find someone else mad enough to face the Devil." There was almost something mocking in his words, but the other two glanced at him and shifted in place. They knew very well that this was quite the truth.
Without any further conversation, Trevor thanked them for having lead him to Wallachia nonetheless and wished them to return safely to their other brothers. Despite everything, this was the longest time he has had constant company as sad as it sounded. Those men were terrified and counted on him, they were at least kind enough to accompany him back. Though they might have only wanted to make sure that he actually arrived in Wallachia. His honesty in his words seemed to have surprised the monks, they couldn't reply for a moment. The monks looked at one another before they told the hunter that it was nothing and wished him good luck once more.
It could always be worse, Trevor pondered and made his way into the town. Since it was already at night, there were barely any people out.
The farmers were usually in bed around that time while one or two drunks would hang over the wooden fences while others wobbled their way back home. Guards even patrolled in the streets, their lamps usually a warning for anybody who was close to performing a criminal act. None of them minded Trevor and he doubted that they even noticed him. He wasn't causing any trouble. Some others were by the bars, either singing or glancing in the wide cleavages of the fancy women in their yellow dresses.
Trevor needed a place to rest, so the bars were out of the question, alcohol wasn't what he craved for at the moment. The situation wasn't grave enough for him to start drinking and hammer his brain out. The inns wouldn't be much quieter, but with the little money he had made outside of Wallachia. He could have gotten himself a bed for the night, at least.
As expected, when he came close to the inn, he could hear singing and music coming from the inside. The building was well light while some poor saps were sitting by the stairs and drinking from their mugs. They looked up at Trevor as he passed, but wouldn't comment on him. What they had in their mugs was apparently far more interesting than the stranger passing by.
The same welcome wasn't granted him when the two doors of the inn swung open. Anybody sitting by the tables near the door turned around to glance at him in high curiosity and paranoia. Trevor wasn't going to be scared off by that. As alienated as he felt, he moved through the building to get to the innkeeper by the bar. The hunter could feel the glances of the other townspeople on him as he passed by. It got a bit quieter and he heard mumbles all around while their glared at him. Even the old innkeeper squinted his eyes at him once he sat by the stool.
"Good evening, stranger", he grumbled through his fuzzy grey beard. Despite all the distrust, the owner didn't turn away from him. Perhaps hoping that he was bringing in money for his business. "What do you need?", he scoffed and polished the bar with a dirty cloth.
Trevor followed him with his eyes for a second before he dared to raise his voice, waiting if the elderly man was going to show him his cold shoulder. "Any spare room for me? A drink maybe? I have had a long journey today." He did have lunch with the monks on their way already and Trevor didn't try to be greedy. He was used to not getting a lot to eat despite his stomach protesting at the smell of heavy vegetable soup coming from the massive iron pot behind the bar.
The owner pursed his lips at the answer and gave a light shrug as a costumer shoved over an empty mug. He used the same old cloth to clean out the pottery. "And who are you? Haven't seen someone like you around and travelers are… Rare these days." Just the fact that a stranger had been able to get through by himself was somewhat suspicious. "Can't make it to the next place without being ripped apart by wild animals or crazed robbers."
Trevor shoved his cloak behind his shoulders like a cape, squared them as he lifted his head a bit in defiance. There was nothing special about the brown cloth tunic. There was a little assortment of daggers on his belt and some other leather bags hanging there along with the Vampire Killer tightly buckled to them. "The name's Trevor Belmont."
As soon as his name dropped from his lips, the innkeeper stopped every single movement and stared at him in disbelief. It was now pure confusion, not even a sign of threat showing anymore.
"Belmont? I have heard of them. Demon hunters, am I right?" The man sounded curious which was somewhat refreshing. The usual reaction was merely negative so far and those who sat close by who heard these words weren't pleased either. Trevor noticed more mumbling, but he chose to ignore it. The old man leaned in instead, eying his rough face. "That's not a good sign… The King and the Church must be getting desperate to search for a member of a clan that might not even exist." At least, that didn't sound like an insult towards him.
"The King is still alive? Which one? I would have expected that the Lord of Darkness took over them." Not that Trevor knew much about that before, but those years in exile didn't help his knowledge a lot either.
The innkeeper moved to get him a drink while he spoke. "Well, yes. The royal family is currently not in their main castle, they say, chased away by the demons that took hold of it. However, no one has seen the King, so everybody assumes that he's hiding somewhere." Since the harvest in itself was terrible for years, he could only offer his costumers watered down alcohol like everyone else. The people didn't seem to mind as long as their minds got clouded. He shoved one mug of beer towards him, not asking for a single coin, Trevor noticed, but he wasn't going to point that out. "Laiotă Basarab, he's the official ruler for now. Until they find his decapitated head, that is… Like Vlad, the dark Lord, did with his own brother Radu. Though he had it coming, this cock sucking whore of a Muslim…", he added with a frown and continued with cleaning another empty bowl. Trevor had to admit that he had no idea what was going on in the Royal family. Apparently there were two sides fighting for the throne for they had a shared ancestor.
His interest wasn't exactly the biggest either, but it was somewhat amusing to listen to the old man ramble. The costumers around them quieted their mumbling and continued to be as merry as before. So, Trevor took a sip from his beer in slight content. This was none of his business. His silence reminded the innkeeper that he had gotten off the actual topic and drew near again. "And they found you to track down and get rid of the demonic child of Hell? By yourself?"
Trevor couldn't keep from letting a weak smile on his lips. This man was a quirky fellow, but he appreciated his drive. "Seems like it. Unless you want to join me?"
At that, the innkeeper waved him off with his cloth and laughed brightly while the tips of his moustache bounced up and down. "You are far too relaxed about this, boy, joking like that!" Not that he was scolding him, he even seemed to be amused by it. Perhaps they were both somewhat insane, Trevor thought, for trying to find something amusing in times of terror and need. With a hum, the old man moved to grab a bowl and edge to the iron pot to fill it with soup, shoved it over to the hunter and showed him a toothless smile. Trevor was baffled by this gesture, lifted his hands and was about to tell him that it wouldn't be necessary. The other placed down an iron spoon and a pitiful, hard loaf of bread in front of him. "This one's on me. You're all right, boy. But I'm still getting my money for the bed, got it?" The young man shifted in his seat, he wanted to raise his voice to tell him otherwise. Though his stomach answered for him when the smell rose to his nose and he slumped on his stool in slight embarrassment. "The common folk would talk badly of your name usually, but I can't hate someone I don't know. Besides, since you are going to save the world, it would be foolish to cast you away. Now eat up! I have other people to serve!"
The old man didn't even wait for an answer. Trevor watched him walk off to the other side of the bar, taking the empty mugs and refilling them at the request of the group that was playing cards. With a resigned sigh, the hunter turned to the stew which was, honestly, not of the best color. His stomach was far too hungry to mind and he began to eat by breaking the bread and steered it in the soup to let it soak up the liquid and become softer. Finally, he could let his mind ponder about what or where he would be going after this evening while it was getting more and more quiet in the inn. Most costumers were heading back for their houses, they did need some rest after all and only few remained.
It was when one of those few townspeople opened the window to get some fresh air and leaned half of his body out, clearly somewhat intoxicated. The innkeeper was probably not fond of people puking in his building. This costumer only hung there for a mere minute before he was pulled out with a scream and everybody jumped in their seats in shock. The hunter was already on his feet, he had dropped the spoon in the half-finished stew and grabbed for his Vampire Killer. A furred beast jumped through the window instead, howling. The rest screamed along in terror. Some of them were paralyzed while others hid under the table in fright, including the innkeeper who cowered behind the bar.
Without hesitation, Trevor threw a dagger in its direction to drag its attention to him before it could get any craving for the other humans. The werewolf quickly dodged the blade, it only cut its arm and a scratch was left behind. However, that was enough to provoke the monster and it charged at him with all its fours. Its claws dug into the wooden floor, ripping out the material, pieces and shavings spreading everywhere as its massive body threw over tables and chairs. The hunter remained on his spot until he could practically smell its foul breath and dodged away. His whip cracked against its back and the beast howled in anger and pain. Fury covered its eyes and it grabbed unto one of the tables and swung it towards Trevor who jumped back, dodged once again as it flew his way. The piece of furniture crashed against the wall and broke apart. The ones near screamed in terror again and fled via the open window while the others feared to be spotted by the beast if they tried to run. Trevor cursed under his breath, he would need to get this over with quick before the werewolf would be aware of the more helpless victims around them. Only an aggressive strategy would work.
Trevor quickly whipped the beast once more and had his whip wrap around the muscly arms of the creature. He tugged with both hands to force it down to the ground, but the wolf was stubborn and pulled against it despite the weapon burning its skin. Those who didn't shield their eyes were watching in a mix of awe and disbelief. No human should have been able to stand if they were being pulled by a monster twice their size, but Trevor was only shuffling his feet. Though it was clearly difficult for him to remain on the spot, his arms trembling under the strength of it all. The hunter focused grinded his teeth and focused his own strength, tugging one time with all his might and it forced the werewolf to stagger forward. Before the monster could rip its mouth open fully to clench the hunter's head between its teeth with which he could easily crush him, Trevor smacked his boot across its face and caused the werewolf to stagger back. Another dagger flew from his hand, aimed at its chest and it found its mark.
The monster howled out in suffering and tried to back off as black blood spurted from it chest and mouth. Despite the sight, Trevor kept it in place with his whip like a dog on a leash. The hunter forced it to fall to the side, then finally released it from his hold and swung the Vampire Killer with purpose. The heavy tip cracked through the air as it snapped at the monster's neck with force. The impact was enough to rip its head right off and it rolled away a few steps, another immediate pool of blood spreading. Both the head and body changed color, turning grey, and crumbled to ashes while only the blood remained like a dark stain and his dagger buried in the pile.
It was becoming terrifyingly silent. None of the other townspeople dared to take a deep breath, only the wood creaked. When the hunter lifted his gaze to meet the others, he noticed how they hadn't crawled out of their hideouts. There was still something frightful and hatred in their eyes.
"You've brought the Curse into our town, filthy Belmont!", hissed one of them and slowly got back on his feet. It was as if these words brought energy to their bones and the others joined him.
One of the group had pulled out the other dagger from the wall and pointed it towards him. "How dare you show your face in Wallachia again?! Take yourself and your monsters out of this town and crawl back to your Lord!"
Trevor frowned at this threat, he was sure that he could have easily taken care of this man by himself and the rest of them, too. But it would have been pointless to argue or even fight with them, he wasn't going to prove his point either way. Trevor was unaccepted, a man of exile.
His eyes looked for the innkeeper, the old man peeked from the behind the bar, he was helpless and afraid. However, the hunter couldn't say anymore if it was because of the monster or himself. Trevor allowed some sorrow to show on his hardened features towards him before he tugged the Holy Whip away. With his back turned to the other townspeople, he went for the door.
"Take care."
That was all that Trevor said while he pulled his hood over his head to shield him from the cold and the eyes of the other townspeople as he stepped outside. Guards had heard of the mess and ran passed him inside the inn, but Trevor had interest in talking to them what happened. The hunter wouldn't talk to anybody anymore, realizing that he had no place here and not anywhere else.
Wallachia wasn't his home, it merely accepted him for the time being.
Trevor couldn't lie. He didn't except much else, but he was still somewhat saddened. It was all so familiar and yet, he was a wandering stranger. When the hunter reached for the gates, he glanced behind himself one last time before he made his way to the countryside.
There was only one other place Trevor could think of to return and as a warrior of God, he was convinced that He would show him the way.
Always remain courageous, Trevor. It is what will get you through the darkest nights.
The hunter closed his eyes and clutched his hand around his necklaces. One with the cross and the other a red gem, both objects he received from his mother.
In thoughts with his past, he listened to the quiet surroundings while his feet followed the path in front of him.
Hey there! I hope that you enjoyed reading! :) I have a bit more in stock, but I'll need to do some editing before posting it on here!
See you next time!