Chapter 8: The Vampire Generals

Sypha bolted awake.

Taking a deep breath, she forced the nightmare from her mind and looked around. The rest of her fellow Speakers were curled up, spending their last night in Gresit before they moved on. They'd found the Sleeping Soldier and now it was up to the three of them to complete the next part of the prophecy.

Sypha turned her head, though, when she heard something out of place. She was surprised to see Trevor sitting against a far wall, writing something. Curious, she got up and moved over to him. 'What are you doing?'

Trevor glanced up. 'Writing a letter.'

'To whom?' Sypha sat down next to him.

Trevor looked over at her speculatively. 'How much do you know about the Slayer?'

Sypha nodded. She knew the words by heart, and had often wondered at the implications. 'Into every generation, a Chosen One is born. She alone will fight the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.'

'Know anything more?' Trevor asked.

'Only the basics. She's generally called at the age of fifteen, give or take a few years, and she's mystically empowered. The Watchers monopolise the information about the Slayer. There've been a few Speaker Slayers, so we know she gets prophetic dreams and there's something in her blood that's alluring to vampires and demons.'

'It's more potent,' Trevor said, continuing his letter. 'And it also serves as something of an aphrodisiac.'

Sypha looked at him. 'How do you know that?'

'Because a Slayer was called from my family in 1103. Her seven-year tenure was...extensively documented, by her, her father, and her brother.'

Sypha was surprised, but then she couldn't think why. They were proficient and skilled. They held a duty to fight demons. It would be more surprising if a Slayer had never come out of their household. Then she realised exactly what had surprised her.

'Seven years?' Sypha asked. 'Ours only lasted two years at the very most.'

'With Watchers, no doubt,' Trevor said. 'Those bastards like having control of the Slayer. They generally try to isolate them and put a lot of stress on them.'

Sypha frowned as she thought about that. Now that she thought about it, she remembered quite a few of the stories entailed how the Watcher would constantly have the Speaker Slayer training or studying when they weren't sending them out to fights. Watchers were not liked in Speaker communities – and it seemed they weren't liked by the Belmonts either.

'I guess you read the records of her time,' Sypha said.

'I didn't need to.' Trevor put his pen down and looked over the letter. 'You know what happens to Slayers who hit the seven-year mark? They're rendered immortal.'

Now Sypha was really surprised. 'She's still alive?' At his nod, she realised. 'That's who you're writing to?'

'Well, I figure if we're going to be fighting Dracula, we need someone who's been there and done that. Yvette's the one who gave me the description of Dracula.'

That...actually made a lot of sense. 'I was wondering about that. You said Dracula hadn't been seen for centuries, but you knew exactly what he looks like.'

Trevor smirked.

Castle Dracula, Unknown Location

The Vampire King walked into the throne room, where waited for him his vampire generals and army, including two human forgemasters.

'My generals,' he said, 'we prosecute a good war. In killing my wife, humanity has proven to me that they don't deserve Wallachia. Wallachia will now become our seat.' He walked across to his throne. 'We will scour them off the land! We will continue to use the Night Hoards. All the creatures of terror that humanity,' and especially the now-extinct Belmonts, 'once drove away. Afterwards, I think I will give Wallachia to them. Perhaps that will be better.'

He was silent for a moment.

'Hector. Isaac.' He called the two humans. 'Present me with plans for our next steps today.' He turned to leave the throne room and returned to his study.

Godbrand spoke up, the old Viking outraged. 'The only two humans in your inner court, and they are the ones who will plan our next attack?'

Dracula stopped. 'The only two generals in my court,' he turned back to push the point home, 'who are not driven by thirst. The only two who are bound by loyalty and intellect. True. They are not vampires like you and I, Godbrand, and that is why I trust them. For we are about the business of wiping humanity from the Earth, and they still stand with me.'

He turned once more and left, but he still heard them behind him.

'What the hell was that? He summons us from all over the world, tell us it's war; we finally are putting the scour to the livestock and taking over! And now this? Turning the whole thing over to a couple of humans?! What is this shit?! Hey! Where are you two going?'

'We're going to talk to him,' Hector said.

'Why would he want to talk to you rather than me?' Godbrand demanded. 'Perhaps he wants to meet with his own kind.'

'Godbrand,' Hector responded, 'you've never met anything you didn't immediately kill, fuck, or make a boat out of.'

'I don't understand why our Lord doesn't tie you up outside with the rest of the animals,' Isaac remarked.

And that, Dracula mused as he listened to Godbrand go off about the boat comment, was why he'd rather talk to the humans.

When they arrived in his study, though, Dracula was standing behind his seat, head bowed.

'Master,' Hector said, and Dracula looked back at them.

'Hector. Isaac. You may approach.'

Isaac did first, lifting a hand to his chest respectfully. 'We are honoured by your faith in us. But, to serve you correctly, we have to ask.'

'Yes,' Hector said.

Dracula looked mournfully at the flames. 'Did you hear Godbrand out there? "Livestock", he said. So many of my kindred are the same. They can no longer conceive of humans as thinking beings. Just livestock.'

Isaac walked over and stood by Dracula's side first.

'It's the privilege of our condition, I suppose,' Dracula mused. 'You can't hate livestock. They are simply what they are: grazing animals to be slaughtered.'

Hector moved forward to stand by Dracula's other side.

Dracula lifted his head. 'But you two are different. You are human. You are not looking at the scouring of humanity from the earth as an opportunity to get the livestock under control, and to fill stables and abattoirs and pantries. You hate your species. You hate humans. You have a focus of clarity that the others lack. You understand that humans think and scheme and betray. You understand why they all must die.'

Isaac lifted his chin. 'Yes. This is the world we were born for. Thank you.'

'Yes,' Hector said. 'Thank you for clarifying, master. We will try to direct the war accordingly. I only hope your generals will...listen to us.'

'They will have no choice,' Dracula assured him. 'They obey me. You are my chosen authors of the war, and so they will obey you. The matter is closed.'

Hector looked back into the flames. 'Of course.'

Inside his head, the words of his mother rang in his mind; the memory clear as day. I never wanted you, Hector! You sicken me. Do you understand? The moment you came out of me, I knew you were wrong!

His father's voice joined hers. Alchemy is for money and power, boy. Money and power and buying our safety are all that matters. Stop whining about cruelty. This is the world. This is the way things are. Get away at once.

Yes.

Hector? Hector, unlock this door at once! Are you burning something out there?! Their joined screams were music to his ears.

'I understand completely.' People like them deserved to die.

Isaac put a hand on Dracula's shoulder. 'It's going to be all right. We're going to kill them all for you. They will suffer.'

Dracula lowered his eyes. 'The suffering doesn't really matter to be anymore, Isaac.' His eyes narrowed. 'Only the death. Only the death matters now.'

Gresit

Alucard sat halfway in direct sunlight in the ruined hut where the Speakers had set up camp for their stay in the city. Belmont and Sypha were seeing the caravan off at present. As for Alucard, he himself drew in the sand with a stick. The faces of his parents appeared in the sand as he did so.

'Alucard, they called me. The opposite of you. Mother never liked that. Did you know that? She hated the idea that I might define myself by you; would be in opposition to you. She loved us both. Enough that she wanted us to be our own people, living our own lives...making our own choices. And so here I am: choosing to honour my mother by killing my father.' He dug the stick into the side of his father's face, and then slashed across, destroying the image. 'No longer Adrian Tepes. Choosing to be Alucard of Wallachia, the name of my mother's people.' A single tear escaped him. It fell and his mother's image was damaged. 'I'm sorry, mother.'

The sound of footfalls caught his attention and he turned his head.

Alucard dashed his stick through his mother's image. 'And so we begin again.'