"Hey kid! You want a drink o' what!"
A young man snapped back to reality, drawing his coat closer to his body, and his hood further down. The bartender merely got a little more frustrated and banged his fist on the counter, in front of the man.
"You gonna get a drink, or not? I've got other customers to git to, and if you ain't buyin', git out!"
"I apoligize, sir. I'll just have an ale," the young man replied. The bartender sighed and as he turned to get one of the bottles from behind him, another drunk sat down next to the young man and patted him on the back, looking at the bartender.
"I'll buy for 'im. Make it a good 'ard rum, mate."
The bartender merely nodded a second time, only this time left the counter. Seemingly cold, the young man drew his coat even closer, and looked down, giving a slight cough. It was aparrent he was avoiding all eye contact with anyone. However, the drunk man who sat next to him pulled him up, surprising him greatly, and his hood slightly jumped up, revealing his bright red eyes in the firelight.
"Hey kid, y'alright?" the drunk man asked. The hooded man revealed a smile.
"Yes, I'm fine, just sleepy. Haven't had a good wink in a few weeks."
"You seem alright kid, this drink'll get you up'n'kicking. So tell me, what's yer name? Got a name kid?"
The hooded man drew back his covering, and let down his long, pure white hair. His skin was pale, and his eyes retained a look that belonged to one kind of human: a soldier.
"You may call me Falgor."
"F-Falgor?" the drunk stuttered. "Captain Falgor Kaisu of the 'Shattered Shield' platoon?"
The white-haired man, presumed to be this Captain Falgor, laughed and looked ahead. "Yes, that'd be me. Sorry if I don't look any meaner or older."
"Who cares! I'm meetin' with a legend! M'name's Lucas Baker, such as honor to meet you," he said, shaking Falgor's hand. "So tell me here cap'n, what brings you 'round these parts?"
"I'm merely on travels, and please, don't call me captain. I retired early, hoping to get away from anymore conflicts. I'm here because I'm seeking my fortunes, see what I can't invest in, then once I'm done, I plan on returning home and to my fiancé, Gabrielle."
"Beauty mate! It's good a fit young man such as yourself is getting married to a nice gal. Have you waited any longer, and you'd be in this pub, same as me, drinking and singing your worries and cares away!" Lucas told him. "I had me chance a few years back, the country tryin' to recover from the Dracula incidents-"
Falgor laughed at the name 'Dracula'. "Please, Dracula? The vampire? I hardly believed that crazed story. You ask someone like myself and you'll be garunteed they don't believe that nonsense."
"It's true mate, Dracula was terrorizin' the countryside with his minions of darkness, until Trevor Belmont and his comrades sealed that blood-suckin' beast away. The Belmonts have been fightin' him ever since."
"Belmont? Trevor Belmont? Now you tell me that man existed?"
"Why do you doubt it? It's clear something happened, and it wasn't an ordinary army gallavantin' around."
"Because, I was in this area two years ago during the last major conflict, and I've seen nothing out of the ordinary," Falgor refuted.
"Have you had stray men found mauled to death?"
"We assumed without a doubt it was enemy forces sneaking around, after all, we did find the enemy forces not too far off."
Lucas furrowed his eyebrows, and looked at Falgor gravely.
"What about flayed bodies? Bodies ripped to pieces by a viciously large animal? Men driven insane?"
"Once again, we assumed. I thought it was merely terror tactics."
"Be wary than," he warned, "because one o' these days you're not gonna be so lucky to believe your stories. You're gonna see the horrors Dracula once wrought upon these lands-"
The bartender returned with a latter, and a wooden club, which he proceeded to hit Lucas over the head with, and set the ladder up. He climbed up the ladder, grabbed a bottle made of dark glass; itcontained a blood red substance inside. Then, he proceeded to remove himself from the ladder, and poured Falgor's and Lucas's drinks.
"Quit tryin' to scare the kid. After all, nothing has happened around here anymore since Trevor beat 'im, might as well let 'im live in bliss."
Falgor was beginning to grow impatient with these people. He knew for a fact, that a small group lead by a man armed with naught but a whip, and other weapons of 'holy origin'that could possible never work, defeating a castle filled with animated skeletons, night-beasts that would only exist in myths such as succubuses, gorgons, and mer-men, then defeat something that can't be killed by normal, conventional methods. He knew that it as utter nonsense. As he was about to pick up his drink and down it, the bartender called his name.
"You Falgor? Tha's great, some guy was in town lookin' fer ya. Said he had a message for you."
"A message?"
"Yep, said it was real important. Somethin' about a kidnapping."
"Well, if you meet this man again, tell him I'll be in one of the rooms upstairs," he said to the bartender as he got up to leave. However, when he did try to take a step forward, he noticed a man dressed in a brown cloak, leather armor with a design of a falcon embroidered into it. The man had dark red hair, he too was pale, but from what Falgor saw, this man was panicked. He looked up, shakily, and made eye-contact with Falgor, and then, his skin regained color, as if he was relieved.
"Captain!" he cried as he ran inside the pub and embraced Falgor, who returned it, patting the man on the back.
"Miguel, it is wonderful to see you again! Tell me, how's the wife?"
Miguel backed away, and nodded his head. "Maribel is fine, thank you. Your brother is still a little frustrated at not having you in the military; you were such a good soldier." He suddenly went pale again, then grabbed Falgor's shoulders. "That's right, I shouldn't be rambling on about this. Falgor, have you heard anything from or about Gabrielle?"
He tilted his head, and looked at Miguel, puzzled. "No, not recently. Last messenger delivered a letter from her, and that was two months ago."
"She's been kidnapped."
"What?" Falgor whispered. "She's been kidnapped?"
"I'll explain up in your room, too many listening ears around..."
Falgor nodded in agreement, and took the key that was on the counter where he sat. The two of them went upstairs, and found the room. He looked at it for a moment, the wood making up the door was near gnawed apart by something, probably termites, and the brass plate that had the room number was rusted. However, the number was clearly visible: 3164. Miguel looked at his companion, and Falgor nodded his head, slipping the key into the lock, and the turned it until a sort of click noise was heard, and they pushed their way inside.
The room was rather dingy and sparsely furnished, just a musty old bed and an unkempt oil lamp hanging from the middle of the ceiling. A wind howled outside, furiously and unnaturally, as if signalling evil was afoot. Miguel nervously went over to the bed and sat on it, wringing his hands.He looked up at Falgor, who was closing the door, then leaned on the wall.
"So explain. How did it happen?"
"I'm not sure, I-"
"I thought I had ordered around the clock watches on the perimeter of the estate! Guards posted outside her room, and everywhere else there was valuables!" he shouted.
"Please, sir, let me explain! It didn't seem like there was a break-in. Her room was untouched, and strangely, there was a message on her wall, carved into it with some crude object."
Falgor's eyes reflected curiosity. "What did it say?" he asked. His friend merely sat up, and his voice quievered, as if fear itselfwas slowly creeping into his body, and strangling him.
"'The game begins, Falgor Kaisu.'"
He wasn't exactly sure what this meant, for him, and for Gabrielle. Normal kidnappers would merely leave a ransom note, or something of the sort, but this one didn't. No, this one seemed to think he, or she, was playing a game with him. Well, whomever it was, Falgor wanted to make sure he or she would taste the end of his steel edge.
"Miguel, I trust you arranged a search party?" Falgor asked.
"Yes sir, I did. They found nothing. Not a footstep, not anything out of place. It's as if the kidnapper could float!"
Falgor tried to laugh, but it came out awkward. "What, like a, phantom? A ghost? An otherworldly spirit! Miguel, don't try and scare me with this nonsense. I don't believe in such fairy tales," he declared.
"But sir-"
"No buts! You should arrange a bigger search party, and search the entire countryside if you need to, I want Gabrielle found! I'm going to return to the manor and make sure of it myself!"
Miguel stood up, as an act of defiance to the former military captain. "No. You should continue your travels. I swear upon my alliegence to thee, that she shall be found, and the kidnapper put to justice."
The messenger's eyes showed he was very serious indeed in carrying out his task. Falgor listened and watched in absolute surprise as Miguel ordered him to do something, instead of the other way around. He remembered it was always like this, since he was fifteen to the day of his retirement from the military. Now he thought this man was the most loyal soldier in all of Romania.
"Fine. I shall leave here tomorrow morn, and not return to the manor, but continue my travels.In doing so, I order you to continue the search for my beloved, however, keep the one responsible alive and behind bars, chained, until my return. When I do, I shall deliver justice in my own way," Falgor ordered Miguel.
The messenger nodded his head, and smiled with pride, then left the room, leaving Falgor all by himself. However, Falgor couldn't quite shake the feeling Miguel was hiding something the entire time. He had a sense about these kind of things. But, the way things stood, he had no choice but to leave it be. With that, he left the room himself, shutting the door behind him (though it fell down once he closed it)then made his way down the stairs. There, he saw Lucas sleeping on the pub counter, many bottles around his head. A bit of a pitiful sight, but nontheless, it was Lucas's fault for drinking himself to sleep, yet despite that, it was a little humorous.
Falgor continued his way outside, leaving several gold coins on the counter, and saw the wagon from the caravan. Oddly enough, there was nobody watching it, which he knew they always did, and even stranger was his sword was waiting for him, leaning against the side of the wagon. He went over to it, picked up the five foot bastard sword, then took the leather strap and clipped it diagonally across his chest. The weight was nothing, considering he had done this plenty of times, with armor on as well. However, the only bit of armor he ever wore anymore was a silver breastplate that ended at his waist. Seeing as he was done with getting what he needed, he took leave into the night, the wind howling and swirling leaves about, pattering trees against houses and scratching windows. Then, just then, as if the wind had a voice, someone, something spoke to him.
"The game begins, Falgor Kaisu. The game begins."