Author's Note: Greetings everyone! Well, I decided to write a new Castlevania story. You may notice that the title to this one is the same as the one I wrote about a year ago, which I did not finish. I decided that I simply did not like it, but the title was a good title. This story is again outside the canon, but the ideas that I have flowing in my head, I think are going to make this story one of the best that I have written in a long time. As always, I ask you to please read and give critical reviews.

Down at the Olde Mill Inn,
we'll laugh, and dance, and sing.
We'll drink and play the hours away,
down at the Olde Mill Inn—

"Olde Mill Inn"—Blackmore's Night

Lost Story

Chapter I

Vasile's Inn was not only the local inn for the village of Warakiya, Romania. It was also the local tavern, and a common place for gossip. At five in the evening a familiar face returned to the bar—Adrian Tepes. Adrian had recently returned to Romania from Russia; and—as something of a local celebrity—Adrian was asked about his journey to 'the land of the Russ,' while he drank a glass of wine.

"So, Adrian," began Vasile Roman—the owner, "what's Russia like?"

Adrian chuckled. "That's not an easy question to answer, Vasile. The Russian Empire spans three continents. It's widely diverse in terms of race and religion." Adrian sipped his wine. "I only saw a tiny fraction of Russia."

"You were in Moscow, right?" asked one patron.

Adrian nodded. "Yes, and St. Petersburg."

"What can you say about Moscow?" asked another patron.

Adrian took another sip, and rapped his fingers. "A fascinating place. A city within the walls of a fortress."

"Did you see St. Basil's Cathedral?"

"I did indeed! An absolutely beautiful, beautiful, church! Its exterior is a multi-color of red, green, and white." Adrian took a final sip and gestured. "Let me put it this way. The Catholics talk about how beautiful St. Peter's Basilica is. Well, St. Peter's Basilica has nothing on St. Basil's Cathedral."

"Hear! Hear!" the Orthodox patrons said.

"Would you like some more wine?" asked Vasile.

Adrian smiled. "Certainly."

After Vasile handed Adrian his glass, he asked, "How would you describe St. Petersburg then?"

Adrian took a sip, and rapped his fingers. "It's a lot different than Moscow. St. Petersburg is more of a Western European city, with structures built in the style of Italy and France."

"Did you see the tsar while you were over there?" asked a patron.

Adrian chuckled. "Yes, the tsar saw me—along with my 1500 friends."

The patrons laughed.

"But," continued Adrian, "from what I understand, the tsar appears to be a good man."

"Maybe he'll give us our independence then," Vasile said, while he wiped spilled drinks from his bar.

Adrian laughed. "I seriously doubt that. But from what I understand, he does come across someone who could do that."

"What makes you think so?" asked a patron.

"He's pretty liberal minded. But even still, I doubt he'd surrender Romanian revenue."

Another patron gulped a beer. "Was there anything you did in Russia?"

Adrian took a sip. "Yes, I went shopping."

The patrons laughed.

"You? Shopping?!" Vasile began. "You sneak in here every time your wife goes shopping."

Adrian nodded. "That or I take my boys to the park."

"By the way, how old are those boys?"

"Lysander's four, and Alcander's two. Anyway, I went shopping—but unlike my wife, I didn't go up and down every isle in the store, or look at every item on the shelf. I just bought what I wanted and went home."

"What did you buy?"

"Some souvenirs: a dress for Maria, Russian colonel uniforms for the boys, some toy bears that represent the emperor, and some clothes for me." Adrian sipped his glass. "When I come home, I asked Maria to wear that dress—I hope I bought the right size, and I asked her to dress the boys in their colonel uniforms."

Everyone took a drink, until someone could think of a new topic.

"Well," began one patron, "since you've been gone for a while, you probably haven't heard about the case with Wadim Carol."

"No," Adrian began, while he finished his glass, "I haven't."

"Would you like another glass?" Vasile asked, while he pointed to Adrian's glass.

Adrian looked at the glass, and rapped his fingers. Another glass of wine would make him tipsy, but he would probably walk it off on his way home—and he wanted to hear the news on Wadim Carol. Adrian nodded. "One more."

Vasile served him.

Adrian took a sip. "What about him?"

"He's scheduled to be executed."

The word 'executed' surprised Adrian. "Really?"

The Wadim Carol that was now the subject of discussion at Vasile's Inn had grown up in the village. But unlike most of the men in Warakiya, Wadim was educated—and was particularly fond of Voltaire. In his mid-twenties, Wadim turned to revolution. Wadim's revolutionary ideas found some sympathy in Warakiya, but his rejection of the Christian faith did not. Not only did Wadim openly reject Christianity, some believed—even though it could not be proven—that he practiced sorcery.

The patron nodded. "Yes, he was found guilty of committing treason against the tsar."

"Really?"

Again, the patron nodded. "Apparently he said that what would be best for Romania was if Tsar Alexander was found hanging by a tree."

Adrian cringed. "Well, that's a good way to get yourself killed," he said, before taking another sip.

"He'll rot in Hell!" one patron said. "You reject Christ, and that's what happens to you!"

"Now wait a minute," Vasile began, while he gestured for the patron to relax, "you don't know that for certain. God will take anyone who calls upon Him."

"That's if he calls to Him," added the patron.

Vasile did not want a religious argument to take place in his bar, so he tried to change the subject a little bit. "Speaking of which, I understand that Father Belmont spoke with Wadim today."

"Really?" Adrian said.

Vasile nodded. "Yes, as a confessor."

"He'd better confess," the same patron added.

Adrian could tell where this discussion was going, and was happy to be on his final sip of wine. "Well, I guess I'll hear all about this from Richter. Take care," Adrian said, while he gestured goodbye, "I'll see all of you later."

Although it was approaching Easter, the Carpathian air was still chilly. But the master room, kitchen, and dining room of the Tepes household were bright and cheery—with embers cracking in the fireplace.

"I'm home," Adrian said, while he closed the front door.

"We're in the master room," Maria replied. "Sander, Cander, stand here for Daddy."

Adrian smiled, as he removed his coat.

When Adrian entered the master room, he discovered his wife standing over his two sons. Adrian smiled—the lavender dress fit perfectly on Maria. But it was not that Adrian had bought a proper dress alone that made him smile. Maria's dress illuminated her breasts, and strands of Maria's blonde hair that fell along her breasts only added to her beauty. "Those pretty duckies."

But while Adrian admired his wife's breasts, he also admired his children. Lysander and Alcander was an attractive pair in their red uniforms—two small colonels of the Russian Army. The four-year-old and two-year-old smiled at their father, and their smiles increased, when Maria ran her well-manicured fingers through their blonde hair. But while Alcander smiled, he placed his thumb in his mouth.

Adrian smiled, and shook his head. "Cander, I don't think colonels in the Russian Army suck on their thumbs."

Alcander grinned around his thumb.

And Maria giggled. "I'm pretty sure they probably don't wear diapers either." Maria kissed Alcander's cheek, and added one for Lysander.

The boys giggled, but left their parents for their toys.

Adrian slipped his hands into Maria's. "You look absolutely gorgeous in that dress."

Maria blushed. "Thank you."

Adrian placed his nose against Maria, and kissed her. But after a quick kiss, Adrian made an even quicker kiss to Maria's breasts.

Maria giggled, and ran her fingers through Adrian's blonde hair.