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Embracing Sin
Chapter 13 – Rules of Engagement
Târgoviște, Wallachia – January 20th, 1477, 1:17 p.m.
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Vlad waited in the palace courtyard for his challenger to arrive. His boots stood in a dusting of fresh snow and above him, the sky felt heavy with overcast like a cold sheet of steel. It was the middle of the day and people milled around conducting their usual palace duties. He heard the hammer of the blacksmith hard at work from the other side of the fortress and a cart-donkey braying.
Winter sucked the vibrancy out of everything it touched, but it did not slow down the people of Wallachia. And, it certainly did not slow down their prince, whose heart beat with new purpose.
This part of the courtyard, often used for training, was fitted with a couple of straw dummies and two well-used archery targets. Around Vlad, stood a handful of officers, men that managed his armies camped outside the eastside of the castle walls. Some of them were newly forged alliances with neighboring boyars, now in his favor all thanks to the wondrous survival of the thwarted Ottoman ambush.
Of course, they heard about Vlad's bold proclamation to face off with the beautiful fair-haired woman at last night's feast. They, too, were keen on watching this peculiar exchange of swords, curious to see this woman in action.
He was no fool, Vlad overheard people talk about Integra—the mysterious woman from faraway lands accompanied by an equally mysterious man, who just so happened to speak fluent Wallachian.
The warlord scoffed. Indeed, the mystery surrounding them was getting on his nerves.
Today, Vlad had sent Alucard—who bore such an odd name he thought—out on a scouting mission with his most trusted man, Grigore. It was time Alucard proved his worth, just as Vlad would prove Integra's here on the training ground all in one day. Vlad preferred it this way. It kept Alucard out of his hair while he sought the truth from his so-called wife.
Indeed, people talk and word already spread across the region that this woman was as great with a sword as he was, if not better, many having witnessed her deadly defeats on the battlefield during the ambush. Whispers spoke of her and her companion's possible connections to dark magic. Many believed they simply appeared on the battleground like apparitions, some kind of summoned spirits. Thus, several concluded that Vlad himself must have conspired with devils and black magic to win over the land from those that dare try to take it from him.
God, do you listen at all? You make a mockery out of me.
At this point Vlad did not see how any of that mattered anymore. Each great action he took in the name of God lay upon deaf ears. He had few supporters left, most killed during his relentless sieges and many went turncoat. He was running out of farmers and the sons of farmers to fight in his armies—soon there would be none left and Wallachia would starve.
There was no time to waste. Vlad knew in his gut that the Sultan was coming for his head. It was just a matter of when.
He had sacrificed so much to Him Almighty, yet… he got nothing in return. At least, that is, until now.
Vlad grunted in softly to himself. So be it, if these mercenaries from faraway lands were truly a gift from God or otherwise, here to support him and rally his forces, then he was not about to ignore it. Instead, he would embrace what Integra and Alucard could teach them.
He needed warriors to fight, dammit, not abecedarian farm boys!
Perhaps it was a covetous, this sparring match, yet so little has provided him with such pleasure. His mind would not rest. A part of him knew he was looking for excuses to be close to this woman, a fleeting indulgence when the horrors of war were upon them like a greedy undertaker. How foolish was he? Believing his heart shrivelled and forsaken… but, it was not so.
This woman stoked his flame into a raging inferno.
He would see what she has to offer with her swordplay—train his men with a few new techniques in hopes to gain the upper hand. After all, he would do anything it takes to get the advantage against the Ottoman Empire, anything to keep this country from falling into their subjugated grip.
This was his land! And these were his people! Vlad's strong, callused fingers curled into knuckle-cracking fists at his sides.
Integra was unlike any woman he had ever met, unlike any woman he tried to lure into his bedchamber, for that matter. She flat out refused to be his mistress. He would go easy on the foreign woman mercenary, he decided. Downplay his strength so at least the men watching might learn the style of her swift sword.
Yes. A simple exchange of skill, he thought… nothing more than a friendly jest. Today, he would unveil her talents to the rest of his men.
A murmur rippled among the audience. Vlad's blue eyes focused on the cause of the disruption.
The she-devil finally arrived. She made her way to him through a parting crowd, fitted with a long-sleeved tunic underneath dark studded leather armour complete with breastplate, scalloped shoulder armour and leather tassets skirting out at the hips. Her adornments, very similar to his, came from the armoury upon his command.
Such contrast from the beautiful gown she wore last night at the festivities.
His gaze travelled over her knee high boots and fitted trousers, noting one thick belt used to house a long sword and another belt to hold the armour snug to her body. Like him, she forwent a helmet. Over his large, lofty frame, he wore armour adequate for sparring, a dark leather breastplate, a pair of rawhide gauntlets and sword belt.
She walked up to him with all the swagger of one of his cockiest fighters. The weight of her armour did not seem to encumber her thin frame at all, which was baffling. Integra's pale hair was loose and brilliant, ruffled gently from the cold breeze.
Vlad noticed—the lifeless winter could not stop the glow of her golden crown. As he watched her, it all began to make sense to the warlord. A woman such as this, one who saunters so fearlessly towards him with the intent for combat, could never be so easily convinced to share his bed.
This woman was a warrior. He had been so imprudent, thoughtless.
Vlad's eyes revealed none of his unbridled thoughts. Outside he remained detached, a well-practiced visage of ice and stone. How could this woman be something wrought by the devil? Surly the injudicious rumours were falsehoods.
She cocked her head at him in scrutiny. "I believe the cat has your tongue, my lord."
Oh? Her Romanian today was adequate. She has been practicing. Yet, her grin was crooked. Maybe it was blind confidence.
"There… there is something different about you today," he replied carefully. Vlad could not quite put his finger on it. Slight colour warmed her complexion where it did not yesterday and her blue eyes radiated with scheming purpose. She is a most baffling woman.
"The festivities of last night were a much needed treat." She could not exactly share the true reason—that the lifeblood of those currish guards in the graveyard last night flowed through her veins, giving her skin a temporary flush of colour. And thanks to their blood memories, the Wallachian language came with much more ease. "Thank you for hosting the affair, my lord. I have not felt this light of heart in the many days since my arrival."
His voice was deep and calculating. "Nothing pleases me more, Integra..."
Integra did not want to drag this out. Her right hand went to the hilt of her sword. "Good, now let's not delay. I am itching for a fight. Come at me. Show me what kind of warrior you really are, one-on-one."
Astonished chuckles came from the bystanders close enough to hear them.
"As the lady desires. You shall feel the full extent of my blade." His smirk now rivaled hers as he lewdly minced words. Vlad unsheathed the very sword that this woman tried to filch from him on the battlefield. He held it at the ready with two hands, right foot moving back a step in a stance of readiness.
Metal sang as Integra extracted her bastard sword bearing a cruciform hilt and held it out with a steady two-handed grip. Her stance mirrored that of Vlad's. "Do not go easy on me as I suspect you are thinking. You men tend to do that. I, for one, will not go easy on you, my dear Count."
Vlad raised his sword above his head and swung at her without clemency, a growl escaping his throat. Integra was quick to block his strike, igniting a hot spark as metal met metal with a resounding clang.
"Count…?" Vlad questioned his face inches away from hers, their blades still crossed between them.
Integra played it off as if it was nothing, but inside she silently cursed herself. "It's just some English slang, I assure you."
With a grunt, both pushed off from each other and braced for the next strike, their eyes burning with a passion born of something neither could truly identify.
"Where did you send my husband?" Integra demanded, watching Vlad closely, anticipating his next move.
She already knew of Alucard's whereabouts thanks to their telepathic connection, yet, she curiously desired to hear it from Vlad's mouth. Integra brought up Alucard, because sometimes the rules of engagement called for psychological warfare to scramble an opponent's focus, and by the nasty look Vlad gave her, it appeared to be working.
A sneer swept across Vlad's features at the mention of Alucard, teeth gnashed together. Without saying a word in response, he lunged at her again. This time she met his strike at the side and parried as he came at her with all force, hacking his sword through the air like a lumberjack's axe.
Integra and Vlad became but a blur of black and gold before the growing crowd that gathered to witness the most unusual tournament in the history of their city.
Above, turn, block! Integra's question came laced with charm. "Have I struck a nerve, my lord?"
Their swords came to an impasse before them, blades grinding together as both tried to gain the upper hand. Vlad half expected her to fall to the frozen ground by now ending this charade just after the first blow, but much to his surprise, she met every one of his strikes and held it.
Perhaps he was wrong to think he would go easy on her.
This time gasps of astonishment came from Vlad's men. Integra was holding her own against the ruthless leader of Wallachia. Vlad stood as a giant next to her.
"If your precious Alucard wants to serve me then he needs to prove useful. Trust must be earned. I have an obligation to see if he is anything more than a useless tit!" Vlad spat and heaved against her with all his might.
However, Integra was not even breaking a sweat holding Vlad back with her vampiric prowess.
Trying to repel this woman was like pushing against a massive wall of stone. Confusion and pure exasperation began to furrow Vlad's brow, his unyielding gaze never leaving hers.
"How are you this strong?" He wondered with breathless incredulity. "It is impossible."
Bollocks! At once, Integra feinted remembering her place and took several steps back, but it seems as if she was determined to go from one mistake to another. For next, she held the long double-edge sword out with one hand, something nearly impossible for a human woman her size to do, let alone a grown man.
Cursing herself again, Integra placed both hands on the hilt. She kept her cool.
"I have trained for a very long time," Integra told him, but even she knew that sounded like a pitiful reason. She was forgetting how important it was not to expose supernatural abilities to this god-fearing, superstitious bunch of the 15th century.
Vlad gave her no quarter and came at her once more. "Then, I will show you no mercy, woman!" he roared and swung at her.
"Excellent! I would hate to fight against a snivelling coward." Integra provoked and arched back quickly like that of a gymnast. Vlad's blade swooped over top of her, sailing inches above her chest, chin and nose.
Integra had a counter attack in mind.
As she swayed backwards to avoid Vlad's sword, she also swung her weapon clockwise above her head, which came back full circle. The tip met with Vlad's leather chest plate cutting a clean slice directly through the tough animal hide.
The people watching them struck a staggering silence.
Stunned, Vlad inspected his breastplate with his fingers. He discovered her blade did not pierce the thick cloth beneath or his flesh. Still, she came unnervingly close. He let out a pent up breath and regarded her with an unreadable gaze, lips parted. Clearly, this was no simple woman bragging falsely gifted with sword here to amuse him. It was clear that what some had witnessed on the battlefield was as true as the current damage inflicted upon him now.
Pure marvel warmed Vlad's face, his moustache twitched at the corners.
"Nearly gutted while sparring against a woman… most unexpected!" He awarded and laughed wickedly. "You have achieved what many could not."
Suddenly and without warning, he kicked her square in the plated chest with his heavy booted foot.
Integra flew backwards, air knocked out of her. She hit the frozen ground hard on her back, sending up plumes of snow billowing into the air. Such an attack could not slow down a vampire. Integra rolled to the side just as Vlad's mighty sword smashed into the ground next to her like a bolt of lightning.
Bits of dirt pelted off her face and armour.
"You'll dull your blade if you keep doing that," she taunted, somersaulting past him and whacking the back of his leg hard with the flat side of her sword.
Vlad growled in pain and buckled at the knee for just an instant before gathering his wits and his balance. He spun around and glared at her completely flummoxed.
"Your speed is something to behold," Vlad acknowledged as she won a second hit. He did not even see it. "Upon appearance one would think you too fair to carry the weight of such heavy sword and armour. Yet, you wield it with such grace and speed. Perhaps you have been gifted by impious means."
With grace, Integra launched herself back to her feet.
They began to circle one another like caged animals.
"I am using it to my advantage that you are a lumbering oaf, my lord." She was not blind to the juxtaposition of their bodies. "The size of one's opponent does not matter as long as you have skill. Please, do not invent dishonourable reasons," she said.
Integra was indeed lying through her teeth. Of course, if it were not for her supernatural strength Vlad would have crushed her to death by now.
"Resorting to petty insults… many are not awarded the privilege lest they wish to keep their heads." Vlad took a moment to catch his breath. "I admit, I doubted your swordsmanship."
Integra kept her cool composure. "And you forget the rules. Always watch your flank lest someone removes one of your legs."
"Ha! Duly noted," Vlad replied affably. "Now you, sell-sword, come at me. Show me what else you can do, she-devil."
The brow above Integra's right eye lifted with bafflement. "Oh, now look who is the one doing the insulting. What exactly do you mean by she-devil?"
"Exactly as I said," Vlad retort.
Why did he sound so smug about it?
Her senses were ten-fold that of Vlad's. She saw his movements in almost slow motion and was able to react with plenty of forethought, except for that kick to the chest. That move took her by surprise, which worked in her favour. She could not win all the battles if she wanted everyone to believe her to be an ordinary human.
"I feared you would hold out on me, Vlad, but I am pleased that I was mistaken. You kick as hard as an ornery mule." This time she swung her sword at him, dancing around his form in a flurry of well-timed strikes practiced for decades with her fencing sword.
He noticed right away that she spoke his name instead of using respectful titles. He would not fall for anymore of her strategic devices. "You have proven it would be erroneous of me to underestimate you, it seems." Vlad blocked her sword at a speed that strained him focused lest she mock him again. "Your transition from one move to the next is rather… maddening."
The joust continued with neither landing a hit, putting on a grand display of nimble tricks and acrobatics only skilled swordsmen were capable of performing. Integra hit so hard for a featherweight warrior. Each time her blade connected with his, he felt the vibration rattle his jaw. The clanging song of swords echoed in his ears long after striking.
The spectacle had drawn in a few more people who were now cheering them on.
"Listen to that," Integra said strafing around him anticipating Vlad's oncoming manoeuvres. "We're giving them a mighty good show."
This time, Vlad fell for the ruse. The split second he turned his head to look at the crowd, she swept his legs out from under him and down he went, landing on his backside with a clatter of a felled tree.
A shadow overcame him. Integra stood over him like a curtain of gold, sword tip pressed to his throat, which pierced the skin to draw out a tiny bead of blood. For a moment, the vampire's eyes were transfixed on that delectable red droplet seeping out of Vlad's body.
The voivode pawed at the dirt on his right aimlessly, looking for his sword that slipped inches from his grasp. He hissed as cold metal pierced him further the more he wriggled around. He stopped moving, ceasing further injury, eyes transfixed on the woman holding a blade to his throat.
The silence was deafening. The crowd was nervous. A few of Vlad's officers placed a hand on the hilts of their sword in response, unsure of Integra's true intentions.
"Do you yield?" Integra demanded with such authority, it made Vlad narrow his eyes.
"Yield…? I pray that you are jesting," Vlad mused, his chest rising and falling with exertion and oh-so sweet exhilaration. "You will have to kill me before making me a mockery in front of my people."
At this, Integra laughed deeply and removed the sword from this throat. "I expect nothing less. You are as stubborn as always, Prince of Wallachia." She spoke with a strange tone of endearment. It was difficult for her to separate this man from his future monster self sometimes.
For a moment, Integra entertained the idea of what it would have been like to know Vlad when she was human, if she were born in his time. Perhaps together they would have conquered the world, re-writing history. Their rule feared and admired by all, opposition bent at the knee in submission.
With a roguish smile, Integra leaned down a little closer to him, as if she were about to pick up a dime off the sidewalk.
Vlad held his breath as she moved down towards him, forgetting all about the spectators that watched them. He thought for a moment that she might straddle him and kiss his cheek. Before he could stop it, he felt his wretched cock twitch in response. Now was not a good time!
Yet all she did was come close enough to whisper, "I fear you reek of stale wine and beer. You, my lord, are in desperate need of a bath."
Huh? Vlad simply blinked at her dumbfounded. She straightened up and stood nearby wearing a slight twist to her nose indicating she smelled something horribly rotten. In a huff, he grabbed his sword irritably and got back to his feet.
"Vixen," he growled at her. "You use your wiles to shaken the ground upon which I stand."
Integra chuckled at his indignant mewling and said, "I'm not sure why you are so worked up about it."
Vlad said in his defence, "If it humours you, I bathe at least once a week."
"Oh. Is that all?" Integra did not hold back on the cynicism. Sure, his blood smelled as if it belonged on the top shelf with all the other fine and rare spirits, but it was rather difficult to enjoy its full aromatic potential when masked by last night's festivities.
But just as Vlad was about to launch his next assault, a few guards from the front gate came running into the courtyard shouting. "Our auxiliary forces have returned after clashing with an Ottoman scouting party."
Integra perked up, she could feel her soul mate's nearness.
"Any prisoners…?" Vlad was all business now, sword fight and its delightful banter forgotten.
"Only one, my lord," replied the sentry guard, "The leader of a group of janissaries."
At this information, Vlad grew sinister and menacing. Janissaries were often men not born of the Ottoman race. They, as Vlad liked to call it, were 'stolen' people taken from various countries and foreign armies and brainwashed or often raised from boyhood (the Devshirme) to become elite fighters for the Sultan's armies. These men, given the option to convert were admired for the various military skills they brought to the empire. Many obtained ranks and squadrons to lead themselves.
These janissary warriors were not simply cannon fodder and nor should they be loosely called slaves because they were proud to be so. They were dangerous and most regarded with prudence and respect.
Vlad understood what they represented better than most.
"Bring him here and let us see what he can tell us. He will spill his guts of all he knows or I will spill them for him," Vlad said.
The merriment felt in the courtyard from the amusing sparring match dissolved into staunch tension. For many this was a common scene and for others a form of entertainment. There was also the stigma that if an enemy were here inside the palace walls, than perhaps they brought along a bad omen—that an unwelcomed attack would soon follow.
A group of five riders appeared first and behind them trailed a dozen foot soldiers, all looking a little dishevelled from the recent skirmish. Tethered by rope behind Grigore's horse, a bloodied and weary prisoner stumbled along on foot, fitted with a burlap sack over his head. Shredded was the man's ankle boots, his bloody toes frostbitten and caked with dried blood and mud. His style of clothing was different from that of the Wallachian people, loose fitting pants tucked into his boots under a belted long green waistcoat fit for the winter climate.
The prisoner crumbled to his knees in exhaustion.
Grigore climbed down from his horse along with Alucard and the other riders. Both men wore warm riding garb of dark clothing, trousers with a heavy fur-lined cloak over top a padded doublet, swords at their hip.
Alucard made solemn eye contact with Integra as soon as his feet landed on solid ground, appearing even more like his medieval counterpart in his current attire. "I fear you are about to witness the true wrath of my former self and the ugly delight the common folk take in enemy punishments. It's not going to be pretty."
Integra was unruffled. "Are you warning me about human brutality after I ripped the limb off a man and drank his blood last night? Have you forgotten what kind of childhood I've had, Alucard?"
The nosferatu grumbled. "That's not the point."
Integra sighed. She knew what he was trying to say even if he could not exactly say it. Alucard disliked the kind of man he had become near the end of his human reign. Not necessarily because of the violent things he did to other people as a mortal, but what it all meant, what he did it for. His blind devotion to a cause that was so bitterly lost.
Her tone softened. "I'm glad to see you're alright."
"It's been a while since I rode on horseback, it's such a trivial way to travel," Alucard complained. He changed the subject. "I see you survived the sword match in one piece."
He sounded rather proud and could not wait to hear the details of it all later.
"The next time a medieval warlord invites me to a swordfight remind me to keep my big mouth shut," Integra reflected as she spoke to Alucard's conscience. "Feigning my supernatural power was becoming a problem."
The old vampire actually let out a heavy sigh. "I grow so weary of this era, Integra." Alucard confessed sullenly. "It never ceases to astound me, the nature of humans, of my former self…. It is all for nothing."
"Your former self did what he thought just. It is pointless to analyze it after so many centuries, Alucard. You know better than that." Integra sheathed her sword into the scabbard at her hip and looked at the prisoner who was about to become victim to torturous interrogation. "I wonder how long he'll hold out. Do you think he will even tell us anything? I get the impression he would rather perish than say anything."
"I will make him talk if I must," Alucard alleged. "My darling Integra, this could be our opportunity to get dear old Vlad back on the battlefield." Alucard paused for a weighted moment before speaking his unease. "Something tells me you and I… we do not have much time left. If we do not correct this variance, and soon, our souls will slip from existence."
The thought alone was a sour one. Integra could feel it too, the distance growing between then and now, their web was losing its strength. "I want to go home, Alucard."
"Home," he murmured after her. "It never sounded sweeter."
Everyone's attention turned to Vlad as he approached the prisoner, drawn sword held to his side. Grigore forced the hostage back to his feet to stand before the voivode, and then he yanked the sack off his head revealing a messy head of sandy coloured hair tied back in a low ponytail. The harsh weather and his scruffy yellow beard hardened the man's features.
Promptly the janissary spat venomously in Vlad's face.
Unrest grew amongst the crowd, many calling for the prisoner's head on a spike in a heated uproar.
Yet, Vlad simply held up a hand to quiet them and they fell silent at once. Then he calmly wiped the spittle from his face with the palm of his free hand.
"What is your name?" he asked the captive.
The prisoner's dark eyes glared hatefully at the Wallachian warlord, despite his harrowing journey on foot. He maintained an air of fortitude, but he muttered something in Turkish that had Vlad nodding an order at his second in command.
Grigore nodded back respectfully and then grabbed the prisoner's right arm, holding it up with some struggle.
"Remain obstinate and I will make the pain last longer." Vlad wasted no time snapping the man's index finger cleanly to the side with a loud crack.
The prisoner let out a wail.
"Speak now! And I promise your death will come swiftly, but falter… and I will be sure to see that you suffer an agonizing bereavement. Now, tell me your name. Tell me how many days march is your horde from my city? How many of you are there?"
The imprisoned man continued to moan without uttering a word.
"Vlad knows this man will not tell him anything yet. His only hope is that the captive will succumb when he cannot handle any more torture and loses his mind," Alucard told his beloved, who was watching the whole thing without emotion. It reminded him of their old Hellsing days. She was always his rock, after all.
"When will you intervene?" She wondered.
"When it feels right..." He explained, "Too soon and it will look suspicious."
Vlad appeared to be losing patience the longer the wordless mewling continued. "I know how you came to be for I was once a son given to the empire to fatten the sultan's legionaries. Do you not remember your purpose before they taught you the glory of their ways? Give me your allegiance and we can fight back together—this torment can end here and now."
It would seem soulless eyes levelled on the warlord and the prisoner muttered in Vlad's tongue, "You will not win your petty war, monster of Wallachia."
Vlad barked out some orders and two nearby soldiers grabbed the prisoner and dragged him to a nearby post, where they tied him up with the same rope used to drag him by behind the horse. Then they stripped the man naked from the waist up, leaving him shivering with cold, fear and nerves.
The dark prince stood a haunting vision before the hostage, a ruthless man rumoured to eat his victims for breakfast. A man rumoured to enjoy watching the slow lingering deaths of the people he killed and create forests of death that would make the most fearsome leaders shudder. For the prisoner these horrific tales tormented his mind as he waited for the horrors Vlad Dracula would unleash upon him.
And he did not have to wait long.
To the crowd's delight, Vlad thrust the sharp tip of his sword in the center of the man's chest, deep enough to puncture the skin but not deep enough to kill him. The prisoner cried out. A tear of crimson wept from the prisoner's wound cascading over his stomach and onto his trousers.
"Remember I gave you the chance to surrender," Vlad reminded the janissary and cut a straight line down the middle of the man's chest, right to his naval like he was cutting into butter.
Screams filled the courtyard as the prisoner's innards began to push out of the laceration. Overhead, the sun broke through the clouds, creating a surreal scene of torture and hope.
Blood poured freely, soaking the ground upon which the prisoner stood tied to a post.
"Heed this. I will never cease my fight against the threat trying to rule my country. I will have the sultan's head." The prince vowed. "Here you will stay fastened to this post, freezing to death, but not before the wolves, birds and rats come to feast on you first."
The prisoner whimpered and began to plea.
"Oh? Does that proposal loosen your tongue? You desire a quick death then. Speak! Tell me what I need to know!" Vlad was more than done messing around.
Again, the janissary would not budge.
"Alucard," Integra urged with impatience. "I think it's time you do something."
"Very well…"
Alucard got inside the prisoner's mind, urging him to look in his direction just above Vlad's left shoulder. With much effort, the prisoner raised his head, anguish painting his face. When their eyes met, Alucard whispered in a hypnotic voice, unheard by anyone around them. "You are no longer an Ottoman pet and will tell Vlad everything you know. You are one of us."
Vlad frowned and glanced over his shoulder when the prisoner directed his gaze behind him. For a brief moment, he stared at Alucard questionably. To his astonishment, the tall mercenary simply shrugged and began to sneer at him until Integra elbowed Alucard in the ribs.
"Cut it out," she warned aloud.
Nevertheless, when the prisoner started to speak, Vlad did not think twice about Alucard's insolence.
Much to everyone's surprise the prisoner broke. He told them more than Vlad could have ever imagined—numbers, locations and even how the fellow Romanian warlord, Basarab Laiotă, was leading an attack on Târgoviște in six days time.
With an angry flash of his sword, Vlad sliced the prisoner's throat and turned on his heel, marching off without another word heading towards the castle. Everyone returned their gaze to the prisoner choking on his own blood.
The vampires heard his heart stop.
"Ugh. I wonder how difficult it is to get a bath around here." The prisoner's arterial blood spattered all over Integra's hair, face and armour. "Talk about being in the wrong place."
"Or the right one… kind of makes me hungry," Alucard disclosed staring at the bloody Ottoman morsel tied on the post.
The Hellsing woman rolled her eyes, touching a sticky wet spot on her cheek. "Tch, everything makes you hungry."
Alucard was about to remind that she was no better than he was until Grigore approached them.
"If you two do not have anything pressing to do… I believe now would be a better time than ever to gather our officers for a round of training. You heard what that prisoner said: we have six days to ready ourselves. The sooner we prepare…"
"…the more men ripe for the slaughter," Alucard finished for the man in his deep tone.
Grigore was hesitant, but he nodded. "Indeed."
A wayward grin crept upon Alucard's face with the notion of slaughter, but he would settle for training for now. "I would enjoy nothing more. It is time to take measure of your men. Hmm, just when I thought it was starting to get terribly boring around here."
Integra sighed and gave Grigore an apologetic look. "Never mind him—I think you are correct, there is no better time to begin training for the battle to come."
A/N: Whoa an update! I won't lie I had a terrible case of writer's block. Nothing sounded right to me, but for the last few days I just said "fuck it!" and I wrote. This story will be finished if it's the last thing I do lol! I hope you enjoy the update.
So, here we have it. Integra has a tussle with Vlad and Vlad interrogates a prisoner. the war is approaching, time is running out. I encourage anyone interested to read up on the Ottoman Janissaries for it is such a fascinating and complex subject. But again, this is no historical rendition by any stretch just a fic to satisfy my baser desires lol! Yours, too, I hope lol!
Next - Chapter 14 - Wishful Thinking, Vlad - Integra gets a surprise visitor in the baths and Alucard helps Vlad's officers plot a battle.
Reviewers
Guest - Haha, I dunno who you are but thanks for clearing up that misunderstanding with the dates about Vlad's death. I wish people would do a little Google about things before going off about stuff. And teeee! I'm so happy you enjoy my portrayal of Vlad. I know I am having some fun with his character here interacting with our favourite Hellsing peeps Integra and Alucard... but that's where the fun is at! Thanks for enjoying it for what it is.
Nemoskull - I will not abandon you dear readers! I normally can write like a storm but for the past months everything just sort of froze up. I dunno why exactly XD! I hope you're still around.
Palomixta - Thanks so much for the review hun! I hope you enjoy the update. Haha, Integra did make him sweat a little, no?
Ruyt - I will try my hardest to stay 'back' and finish this in a timely manner. Thanks for the inspiration!
PhantomEtudes - Aww how cool was that.. posting on your birthday! I love it. Aww and thanks PhantomEtudes for letting me know you're still looking for updates. This is, by far, the longest I have ever taken to complete a story. Wish me luck! lol
Jaqueline - Thanks so much for the sweet comment! I hope you're still around to read the update XD!