"You never told me how you became one of—them," Rachel said.
The rather flawless girl lifted her teacup and took a small sip; a fantastic brew of Earl Grey. Valkenhayn, her forever faithful butler stood silent across the table. The tower of a man was well over a century old but still stood tall and proud. He slowly looked up, watching the clouds dance on the moon and her stars. A part of him had dreaded this moment, he knew Clavis, Rachel's father, hadn't told her everything. He deeply disliked the idea of having to tell such a horrid and unfortunate story to his young master. "Well? Are you going to share?" Rachel added, taking another sip. Gii popped his head out from behind her, an equally curious expression on his face.
"Madam, it's a rather vicious tale—are you sure you wish to hear such a thing?" Valkenhayn replied, a small tint of melancholy written on his brow. "I have no other plans at the moment. Please, share," Rachel replied. There was a strong silence as a few bats surfed the skies above them. The moonlight dimly lit Valkenhayn's golden stopwatch as he pulled it out and glanced at the beautiful girl inside. She was one of the few he remembered from that time so long ago. He would never forget her though, nor the tragedy that consumed her, him, and everyone around them. "I suppose I will begin with the earliest moment I can recall surrounding that fateful night," Valkenhayn said, putting the watch away. Rachel leaned in, a curious look in her glowing crimson eyes. Nago and Gii both were too locked on Valkenhayn—after all not much was known about the man.
He looked up at the enormous moon; her aura had always captivated him.
"I was almost 23 years old I believe. I had gotten a job as an errand boy for a local bank teller," Valkenhayn said.
"A bank teller? Where was this?" Rachel asked, trying to piece together a place she may know.
"I assure you Madam it was somewhere deep in the countryside far far away from here. To be honest I don't recall the full name of the town, but I recall it started with Gvenrich. I had stumbled there after running away from home." Valkenhayn's face darkened in the already dim light, a pale blue glow was visible behind his eyes. "There was a war, it decimated my hometown in its wake. I lost my entire family; barely escaping I had ran across the countryside till I found Gvenrich," he said, closing his eyes.
"A war? Do you know what it was over. . .and. . .I apologize for your family, I'm sure that must've been wretched to endure," Rachel said. Valkenhayn searched his memory, yet to his frustration he couldn't remember. He had worked so hard over the years to forget all of the terrible things that happened back then.
"I believe, it was over political differences—a petty reason whatever it was. It killed an untold number of people, and to this day its scars sit firm in my memories. Alas, looking back I regret not seeing the signs and getting my mother and brothers out of the town before Death came and ravaged it," he added. He could feel old wounds slowly opening back up.
"Gvenrich was a nice place, far away from war. I was homeless for a while so I began to search for work. The name of my bloodline—of my father, Helsing—it was enough to strike fear into the hearts of whoever I told it to. I was so young I didn't know why though, after all father had disappeared a decade before. I never felt any different from other people, yet people's reactions to my lineage seemed to speak volumes that perhaps I was something. . .something else," Valkenhayn said.
"You weren't already a Lycan?" Rachel said; her eyes slightly widened.
Valkenhayn slightly chuckled, "That's a common misconception Madam. We Lycans aren't born werewolves. We are born with the ability to shapeshift—to become one. To actually gain this ability requires a ritual to be undergone, to accept the Lycan transformation magic into your receptive blood. Once it is done there is no undoing it, no cure at all. I learned that the hard way unfortunately. . ." he said, looking at his razor sharp nails.
"I had no idea, very fascinating. So why and when did you undergo the ritual?" Rachel said, taking a small piece of cake.
"It wasn't until I had almost died from exposure that I was noticed by the bank teller. His name was Gregory," Valkenhayn replied, inching towards the agonizing story once more.
"Gregory had seen me lying down in an alley, passed out from the cold. He had a servant pick me up and take me aboard his carriage. He was a very kind man you see, albeit naïve. He took me to his manor and had a few servants patch me up. His manor was enormous and old, I could see he put a lot of time into it. I battled with pneumonia for two weeks, on the brink of death left and right until finally I overcame it. I was soon introduced to him and his family. He had a young boy of 7 years old, Michael. His wife, Elizabeth, was simply stunning. Looking back now I can't seem to forget her golden locks—perhaps that is because of how well his daughter carried them. . ." Valkenhayn went silent. A terrible pain seemed to crawl across his face. Rachel sunk into Nago—her chair. He sighed, and continued, "His daughter was 18, her name was Lydia. She looked a lot like her mother: perfect complexion, a hypnotizing voice, beautiful and enthralling eyes, and golden curls that seemed to dance wherever she went. She was an angel to be blunt." Rachel frowned, she had never heard him grovel over a girl before, it was somewhat unsettling.
"To be honest I fell in love with her immediately. Of course I hid it well; as my health regained its balance Gregory asked me if I would like to stay at his manor and work for him as an errand boy. I couldn't be happier at such a marvelous opportunity and immediately accepted—although it was mostly to be near Lydia," Valkenhayn smiled, nostalgia pulled him elsewhere.
"What did Gregory think of his errand boy pursuing his daughter—as well as living with him? I suppose I can see the naiveté with that situation alone," Rachel chuckled, taking another bite of her cake.
"He was quick to catch on; after all I spent all my free-time with her roaming the town. We went everywhere and talked until the late hours of the night. I believe—and thank—Gregory for silently letting us do our time together. Lydia was a very sweet girl and I did everything I could to make her happy. I wanted her to be happy and secure—after all I wasn't looking after my younger brothers or my mother anymore. . ." Rachel sensed that old agony rise up in her servant again.
Valkenhayn's face darkened once more, this time an anger seemed to surge behind his blue eyes. "Alas one night, 5 robbers snuck into the manor. They must've encountered Lydia returning to her room after speaking to me that night," Valkenhayn said, staring down at the roses dancing in the breeze near his feet. Rachel swallowed, it was clear something terrible was going to happen. "They killed her and took off with an enormous amount of Gregory's possessions," he added, gritting his teeth, "They even defiled her beforehand." Rachel could see his fangs now; she couldn't help but be a bit unsettled. Valkenhayn had always had a temper but the anger he was emitting now was nothing short of an inferno. "I had always blamed myself for what happened to her, my love—and to the man who so kindly took care of me. After that day Gregory never looked the same, neither did Elizabeth—and to my horror, I could feel their gazes looking down on me as time passed. It was clear that even though they didn't really want to believe it, they still thought it was my fault in some way or another that Lyida had passed. They were right, if she hadn't been talking to me she would have been safe in her room. I still remember what Lydia said to me not one night before, she said, "We are destined." In the end, I lead her to her death, I brought the same specter to Gregory that had plagued me from my hometown. I can't describe the feeling Milady, it's, it's awful," Valkenhayn went silent for a moment. Rachel felt somewhat disgruntled for making him tell such a terrible story. She stared down at her cake—she had lost her appetite.
"And so began my descent into madness. I could no longer live with the family that I had destroyed—so I ran off one night. By then it was early spring and it was very mild outside. I wandered the forest near and around Gvenrich until I came upon a small group of people. I didn't know it at the time, but these were the men that would change my life," Valkenhayn said, looking up at the moon again. The wounds were torn open now, he was beginning to wonder if he could go on with the story. Rachel didn't know If she wanted to hear any more—it seemed to be torture to make him tell such a tale. "Almost done Miss, there's only a little bit left," he added, walking off to grab her another brew of tea.