When There's a Whip, There's a Way: Remastered

by GreaterAxelord

The Bloodline had been tainted, cursed. Redemption was assumed to be well beyond the means of Richter after the atrocities he had committed under the control of the Dark Magician Shaft. But Fate gave him one more chance, one final attempt to reconcile with the past. (This is the remastered and remade version of my old story posted here, progress is ported from my AO3 Account)

6. Chapter 5 - The Village Council

There was something almost therapeutic about soaking his face in the comfort of warm water early in the morning. Not only was it extremely effective in waking him up, but it also gave him a nice start to his day. As silly as it was, Richter found that such a small thing could set the tone for the rest of the day. If his morning thus far was anything to go off of, the meeting would go splendidly. That was, however, if he could figure out how the hell he could fit the entire Council in that small study of his. In the back of his head, he could hear a voice screaming at him to stop being such a dunce and that it would never work. Yet, though, he couldn't help but be optimistic. It reminded him of the toys in his youth, the "snakes" in a can that would jump out as soon as he would remove the lid. Maybe it would be the same situation here. Either way, he felt there was no point in worrying about it. The water following his jawline and dripping into the sink below reminded him to shut off the faucet and wipe his face down with the nearby hand towel. The luxuries of modern society astounded him and almost brought forth a sense of envy. Who knew bathrooms could be so lavish? If only he could have had such comforts in his youth. Or at all. Or at all. Or at all...he had it all though. Every whim was fulfilled and every desire was heeded. His own selfish needs were satisfied by the denizens of the damned at the cost of countless human lives. The raiding parties he had sent out in search of useless albeit flashy treasures just for the thrill of combat grew in volume in the back of his mind. The faces of the dead, each and every human life he personally brought to a gruesome end were watching him from the corner of his eye. He could see them in the reflection of the mirror. They were all facing him. His tears turned to blood as the sound of marching iron deafened his own thoughts. He couldn't yell, couldn't scream, couldn't shout as he all he could do is stand there watching more and more faces flank him. From ones to tens to dozens, to even hundreds. Disembodied voices could faintly be heard. One stood out though among the rest, becoming ever so distinct even when buried beneath the metal footsteps of a thousand knights. His beloved. Her face wasn't among those surrounding him but he could feel her gaze. Richter could almost visualize her caved in skull and bloodied lip after he had finally found her. She forgave him, even as she was facing the full wraith of the corrupted bloodline. She forgave him.

"Richter, are you in there?"

With a single blink, the faces faded away into the tacky bathroom wallpaper and the ear-splitting noise soon fell to the sounds of the room's vent. He needed to ground himself. Breathe in, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Rinse and repeat. The nightmarish illusions were gone. He had known they weren't truly there in the first place but the effect was just the same. He'd managed to suppress the feeling for so long now that their arrival caught him by surprise. They always seemed to follow him. Even his memories from when he was Shaft's Lord of the Castle were tainted by the hauntings. If they had been vengeful spirits back then, so be it, but he was a long ways away from home. All he could do now was ground himself. Breathe in, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Where was he, Richter asked himself. He knew the answer but focusing on his surroundings gave him plenty to occupy himself with. A quick glance around reconfirmed everything he already knew: He was in Toriel's home, her guest bathroom. Snail wallpaper adorned the walls with remarkably advanced instillations installed around him. He knew not if all toilets, sinks, and showers looked as these did but either way he was impressed. Several colored toothbrushes rested in a cup along with a massive purple brush absolutely overtaken by white hair. A smaller albeit green brush just as covered with white hair was tucked behind a mug showing what looked to be a plate of pasta. Odd choice. A large medicine cabinet with a mirror sat in front of him and above the sink. He dare not look inside, that was most certainly a violation of their privacy. With everything in the room tabulated, and his own breathing steadied, he finally felt himself calm down somewhat. He was missing something though. Wasn't he?

"Is everything okay?"

Oh yeah, that was it. A muffled voice called out to him a second time sounding worried. Thankfully it wasn't "Going to bust the door down" worried but he wasn't exactly keen on being the cause for alarm. While wiping away the water and tears from his flushed face, he tried to collect his voice. Richter wanted to sound confident, self-assured, but most importantly ok. What came out of his mouth however was as shallow as the sink in front of him. Bold of him to assume his voice wouldn't crack and crumble under circumstances.

"Oh yeah, I'm here! Sorry about that, was just admiring your bathroom. I'm a bit jealous to be frank."

The muffled sounds of Toriel laughing gave Richter a small glimmer of warmth. Like a blade of grass pushing up through a bloodied and war-torn battlefield, it was a start. Time healed all wounds was the saying and it was damn near time for his own pain to be addressed. Not now though.

"Haha, oh really dear? OH! Before I forget again, after the children's schooling today, I will be taking them to a conference tonight. You'll be alone for the night so do be safe! There is plenty of meals in the fridge if need be."

There she was again, offering Richter whatever she could in her home. Toriel was an amazing host and Richter wasn't just saying that because she saved his life (potentially twice). He hoped to one day repay the favor although he wished that the circumstances would never come to bear. His services were far more...violent than what a healer could accomplish. Wait, did she say that everyone would be gone? That could just perhaps give him the opening he had been needing. Why cram everyone and everything into a small study when he could have the entire abode for the meeting? He'd have to strive to avoid them breaking something though. He really didn't want another window situation. Speaking of which...

"I'll be safe, I don't plan on doing much anyway. Also, as late as this is, I'd just like to...apologize for smashing your window earlier. With everything that has been going on, I had almost forgotten about it-"

He hadn't.

"-and I was wondering if there was some way for me to help with fixing it."

She again just laughed, sounding almost surprised and shocked by the notion. What the hell? Was the idea of him fixing her window that strange?

"Oh no worries! My windows have been shattered and these walls have been knocked down more times than I can count. Undyne and her friends are a rambunctious bunch. It is nothing, dear, just promise me you won't be jumping through another window anytime soon. The cuts would be horrible to dress again."

Oh so it was common for people to just destroy her homestead? That made sense...

"No promises!"

Wait, no! It didn't make sense at all! But before Richter could even say anything, Toriel walked away with an amused sigh. He was again alone with his thoughts. If anything, he needed to put his plans into action before the past got the better of him again. His first target: finding a way to fit several eight foot tall suits of armor in a quaint albeit spacious family home. All things considered though, he could make it work! In the grand scheme of things, he managed to accomplish tasks far more outlandish in his time. He just needed to have the same vigor he had in his younger years. Hard for a man more scar tissue than skin but Richter wouldn't know what to do with himself if things were easy. So yeah, he could make it work.

He could make this work, Richter thought to himself as he looked at the barely spacious and rehauled living room that sat before him. He had managed to push, haul, or otherwise just shove most of the furniture away and into the kitchen. All that remained was a single coffee table which he planned on using for the map. It provided some space, all things considered. Richter felt a tad chuffed with himself at the progress he made. He wouldn't be fitting any Galamoths anytime soon (which was good because the Belmont hated the bastard) but it should be enough for the list. How many names had he slapped on that list anyway? He pulled out his satchel and began to dig around within its contents before finding a copy of the invitation list he had sent his companion off with. It was just a few, right? Opening the list up, he could feel the color drain from his face. Fourteen of the Fifteen prospective council members would be showing up. Of course he hadn't gone with generally smaller creatures either. Funnily enough, Richter would be one of the smallest figures attending. Thankfully the Librarian was a head shorter than he was. It wasn't their height that worried him so much. If worst came to worst, they would just have to sit on the floor. It was more so the sheer volume they would be taking up by simply existing. Many of them were clad in armor which was notoriously bulky (for good reason). It wasn't like they could take off their gear either. There was still a chance though, Richter thought to himself. Maybe, just maybe, he could get everyone inside and snug. The less time they spent out in the public eye the better. He gave one last good look at his surroundings before coming to his full height. As he kept telling himself, he could make it work.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Before he even heard the knocking, the Belmont was aware of who was there. It was the same experience from when he had been Shaft's Lord of the Castle, back when he led the full might of the Altar. He could best compare it to how an individual would be aware and conscious of where their limbs were at all times. It was a niggling feeling in his chest that told him that his guests had arrived. In mass, too. When it was just the Spear Guard earlier, it was a very subdued sensation. A single drop in a bucket. Now though, it was different. The sheer spiritual power that existed beyond that door was enough to bring the hair on his arms straight up. It was as if there was an electric current flowing through the space around him. He could see their presence without sight, he could touch their forms without any physicality. Their spirits truly were intertwined with his own. Once upon a time Richter would have sworn the feeling would never come across his mind, but now though their forms brought him much comfort. That along with worry because they were here early. Why did they have to get here early? He quickly jogged to the door, braced himself mentally, before swinging it inward. He was immediately hit with the sound of metal shifting and countless hushed conversations coming to a halt. Directly in front of him stood the Spear Guard at attention staring straight forward. He hadn't even flinched. Before Richter could offer him a greeting, a towering figure bent inward from outside the door frame and stuck his head and shoulders into view. The bright green armor, specifically the large Corinthian helmet lined in yellow highlights, stood out in comparison to the more modest violet colors of the Spear Guard. It was Hammer and he took no time to offer up a little enthusiastic wave. It was almost comical how hunched over the figure was. Richter's head came up to the knight's lower torso and stomach.

"Hey Boss! Bit of a walk, 'innit? Nice to see you again though!"

True, it probably was quite the walk. Richter prayed to his old gods that they weren't spotted or followed. A parade of completely foreign monsters would only bring forth the worst kind of attention. The armor's attitude was refreshing though. Hammer, to his knowledge, was still fairly young as spirits went. Definitely the youngest of the brothers. The Bestiary shelved off in one of the very corners of the Long Library offered him much insight on many of the creatures he had fought endlessly. He never really knew if it did him more good than harm though. While some of them were quite obviously encouraging (such as every demon ever), others tainted his will to rend the spirits apart limb from limb. Many were just tortured souls as it stood to begin with. In the end, Richter had seen it more so as a justice and a mercy to end their plight. He guessed it didn't matter much anymore though.

"Haha, no worries boss! We were sneaky-like for you just as your little messenger here asked of us. Right?"

Seemed that Hammer had no issues reading his thoughts like most of the Altar's inhabitants. Richter really needed to adjust to the notion that he wasn't really able to keep secrets from them. Hammer's large gauntlet rested on the Spear Guard's shoulder, whose rebuttal was shot down immediately by what seemed to be a very tight squeeze. The sound of metal being faintly crushed rang out before them. The spearman got the message, although what the message was Richter knew not, and just nodded frantically.

"Yes sir, I did! First thing I mentioned as soon as we left the Altar, sire. No monsters or humans of this plane took notice of us."

Well that was a comfort. Crisis averted. But that did bring Richter's attention to the next so-called "crisis" at hand. Peering out of the doorway and onto the lawn where most his soon-to-be council stood, he slowly realized that his "can-do" attitude will fail him if he tries to shove everyone into the house. Hell, half of them couldn't even get past the door frame. He wasn't exactly keen on busting down a wall as much as Toriel apparently brushed it off as a common occurrence. So he was out of luck. Unless, and he knew it would probably frustrate the group, they walked back to the Altar. The forest there offered up much room, protection from prying eyes, and a more "familiar" meeting spot. Richter would have to procure a table with whatever means necessary but that shouldn't be an issue with fourteen of the strongest creatures of the Altar joining him. Thirteen if he excluded the Librarian (as he doubted that the old man could pick up lumber let alone chop it down). As he formulated this plan, he could hear several groans and quiet complaints erupt from the group scattered about. Again, he really needed to remember that keeping secrets was a fool's errand. With a sigh, he readjusted his satchel, turned the living room lights off, and shut the door behind him. Here's hoping that Toriel's neighborhood wasn't exactly the nosy type. Not much he could do about the door being unlocked. The Spear Guard had stepped off the porch and patiently awaited his orders at the sound of everyone's frustration. Richter offered a nod to him before turning back to the crowd. Now or never.

"Well, as much as I hate to say this, we can't hold the meeting here. I just don't think I can cram all fourteen of you in that tiny house of hers. And no, Hammer, before you ask, smashing a hole through the wall would NOT make this easier for us. So! We'll have to move this council meeting down to the forest around the Altar. It would arguably be more comfortable for everyone anyway. So let's go!"

Hammer, still hunched over, had slowly stuck his hand up as if to ask a question during the little announcement. How Richter knew what he was going to ask though was just as baffling as the question itself. It was just a reflex for the hunter. Haha, maybe he could read their minds and intentions too after all. Or maybe Hammer, with his colossal weapon of war from which he got his namesake and tendency to destroy whatever he could, was just that predictable. Either way, score one for the Belmont. Strangely enough, after Richter had announced his decision, not a single complaint was aired. They all just nodded in agreement (with the only exception being Death who just floated towards the back of the roster judgingly). Richter didn't think he posed the announcement as an order. Thinking about it though, it was inevitable for it to be interpreted as such. He shrugged it off as they really needed to get going. Richter could only make a single limping step off the porch before the rushed sound of platemail shifting alerted him to something flanking him. All he was able to see was a brief glance of a muted gold suit of armor before he was scooped up bridal style and being carried off down the street. The laughter behind him irritated the Belmont as he focused on getting a good look at who just picked him up. It was the Guardian he had summoned to serve as a representative for the Armor Lords. Richter knew that objecting would get him nowhere (and he wasn't planning on issuing an order) as the Guardians prided themselves on their assigned roles as, well, Guardians. Twas a task they excelled at with flying colors much to his own frustration. Even before they were on his own side, they had been a royal pain in the ass to deal with. Their defensive capabilities were second to none and their overprotective nature made them wonderfully annoying warriors when agitated. So with a sigh, he decided to submit and wait out the slow walk to the forest and the altar hidden within.

The forest with its endless bounties proved to be an excellent spot for the meeting. Hell, for all intents and purposes Richter struck gold with landing there to begin with. He could not even imagine the chaos that would be brought forth if he had crashed somewhere more residential or populated. The neighboring trees were a useful supply of lumber, most of which he planned on using later down the line. For now though, all he had done was get Blade to chop down one of the taller ones. From there they made quick work of it. Cutting it in half longways turned it from a measly log into a jury-rigged table long enough for all of the attending spirits to have somewhere to sit. The grass beneath their feet served as their seats so it was still somewhat apparent that this was very much so ad-hoc. Richter had no issues with it. After all, the open space and forest setting made for not only a substantially better meeting location, but it also reminded him of his time spent exploring so long ago. The pleasant memories he had of his younger years were tainted by the looming shadow his future presented. His time now though seemed to be following a completely different path. He was able to, for quite literally the first time in his life, stand and simply enjoy the gifts of nature. The idle chatter of the creatures sitting at the table droned quietly in the back of his mind as he allowed himself to just tune out his worries and concerns. He was sitting on the stump of the tree they had fell a solid distance away looking at the canopy above. He couldn't help but think about the paths his life would have taken had he not been born a Belmont. No need to be humanity's savior (or the savior of monsters for that matter either). He would live a simple life. Maybe as a trapper or village guard. He never wanted to be in a position where there was simply nothing to do. Yet, fighting in another war was beyond his patience. It was food for thought at the very least.

"...Hmph. Don't think that the sky holds the answers you seek, Belmont. It would be best if you turned your attention to the matter at hand."

Hmm? Richter gave a quick gander to see who was speaking to him. Death, of course. His words had merit though. Richter could spend much of his time later pondering his existence. Philosophically waxing was not really something he considered to be a strongpoint of his character. He did need to buckle down and get to the meeting. The idea of holding a brief conference was dashed the moment he wrote the topic list the day prior. This was going to be a lengthy series of conversations and in a sense, he was dreading it. Nothing else to do about it though except push forward. He swung his legs off the stump with a grunt, nodded at Death's retreating form, and slowly walked to the table. He still had his satchel on his person so with a quick search, he found the paperwork he had been needing to truly start everything off. He splayed out the different documents, maps, and blueprints along the surface's entire length. Placing the last ink well and quill on his end, Richter ran through any of his mental notes he had not written down. Outside of the restriction on magic, everything had been documented and jotted down on one of the many pieces of parchment. There was no reason not to start the first meeting of the Village Council. All that was left was an attendance check. As silly as the notion was, it was a formality from his days in his own village that he refused to forget. It was hard for him to visualize a meeting really beginning without first running through the roster. Plus, it gave him time to piece more of his presentation together mentally. So that he did as he procured the same copy of the members he had lent the Spear Guard the night prior. Clearing his throat, he began.

"If you will give me just a moment, let me make sure that everyone is here."

That he did. Fourteen figures sat, stood, or floated before him down both sides of the table's length. It was quite the colorful cavalcade and if Richter had stumbled upon the sight before him when he was on his first crusade to slay the evil of the night, he would most likely be slain where he stood. Their visage was just a bit daunting to say the least. At the opposite end of the table sat Death. Amusingly enough, he was seated. Legs crossed, poised, and staring into Richter's soul no doubt. It was an odd sight to behold. The former reaper of souls was now willingly participating in a reformation project. Oh how the tides had turned. Richter still despised Death but now it was with an air of respect. He had to grant him that much. Flanking Death on both sides were his goons Slogra and Gaibon. His bloodline had documented their presence alongside Death's for as long as the Belmont could remember. They were Death's most loyal subjects although his connection to them continued to be hidden. Slogra, for all of his bipedal avian glory, was just a messenger. One extremely dangerous with a spear no doubt but still a messenger. Gaibon on the other hand was, to Richter's knowledge, a demon enforcer. A bruiser of sorts. All muscle with not much else going on upstairs. He took his job seriously though which was something the Belmont understood all too well. The two were inseparable and proved to be very hazardous when paired up in combat. They trained, fought, and died together for generations. Richter had chosen them for their history with the castle and the authority they held over many of the lower ranked spirits. There was little else he could take note of on the pair outside of their inability to speak a language.

Next to Gaibon stood the Guardian that had carried Richter about an hour ago. Still standing at attention with his greatsword buried in the ground next to his form, he was watching for...something. What it was, Richter knew not, but he'd be damned if he told the hulking suit of armor to stop. They were devout followers through and through. Its presence gave the Belmont a sense of security that was alien to him. The idea of having someone or something willing to spend its undying existence protecting him until the bitter end left him feeling giddy. A Belmont's life was that of turmoil, anguish, and perpetual combat. Anything to alleviate that was deeply appreciated. Even if Richter never had to bring forth his might in battle again, the guarantee the Guardian presented warmed his heart. He just nodded at the armor before looking at the figure across from it. Black robes framed the misshapenly-human form of Karasuman. His wings tucked close as his beak was buried deep in one preening. The Lord of Ravens, as he had been called, was a wild card in his council listing. He knew very little about the monster. They faced off, only once, at the site where Shaft's spirit had assaulted Richter before the final climb to Dracula's throne so many years ago. The Belmont was not in the best of moods, especially from standing in the very reminder of the torture he suffered through for years, so the fight had come to an end quickly. He needed someone who could testify about the Outer Walls of the Castle and its form exuded magical history. His yellow sash fluttered in the air as he pulled his beak out and looked at Richter's staring form. They locked eyes for just a moment before it sheepishly turned away. Guess the fight was still fresh on his mind.

Next in line was the Master Librarian. With all degrees of honesty, Richter was shocked the old man could even walk around like he had earlier. He was sitting down on a throw cushion that most certainly wasn't present before, surrounded by several tomes of unknown origin. A bag of scrolls, parchment, and other supplies rested nearby. Waiting patiently, he was enveloped in the contents of the book he was reading. Richter admired the tenacity his elder held. The attitude and sass that was shot off with every conversation never failed to equally entertain and infuriate. His conversation in the Long Library reminded him of such; and somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he could vaguely remember bits and pieces of conversations held in the Library away from the prying eyes of Shaft. Those of strength, wisdom, and the comfort brought forth from the knowledge of a man far beyond his years. Maybe they'd return to his mind in time. Deep down, he felt like he owed much to the Master Librarian. Across from him stood (or was she sitting) the form of Medusa. The terminology associated with snake-folk was lost on the Belmont. He did know however that Medusa held a spiritual side that rarely ever made itself present. Given her former history as a high priestess, she maintained a connection to the forces of light that managed to keep her alive for this long. Richter knew all too well that the mythology surrounding her was prevalent even before the altar. Her continued association with each Castle's Chapel proved to the hunter that she held more depth than just her common persona of a vengeful snake monstrosity. There was much Richter would love to ask her about of her faith if given the time. He could think of no one better to maintain and supervise the construction of a new chapter.

After her sat Akmodan the Second. Again another monster Richter was not exactly familiar with despite the fact that they had faced off quite a few times. The same could even be said of his entire bloodline. The "Mummy" was a reoccurring spirit in each documented castle to ever curse Romania with its presence. Outside of the crippling age associated with his Egyptian wrapped form, there was little else Richter could take note of. He needed someone who was familiar with Olrox's quarters and he was on the list. With a shrug, he moved his gaze down the line to the three brothers. Ah, the Giant Brothers. Richter knew not if they were skeletons underneath their armor or if they were just powerful poltergeists. Either way, they were a group he was very well acquainted with. They had oftentimes challenged him outside the countless portal rooms, every time he passed by the colosseum, and even his trips into the catacombs. They followed him and seemed to enjoy their countless fights. Despite it all, Richter never considered them to be a nuisance. They always adapted their strategies and approaches after each of their many losses. They exuded character in combat and that had not changed even now. First, with the youngest, was Hammer. Boisterous, goofy, and surprisingly dangerous with his massive mallet. He showed up the most out of the three. Oftentimes just by his lonesome. Then there was the middle child, Gurkha. Undeniably the sturdiest of the trio and yet preferred to keep his distance. Seemed to pride himself on strategy. His green armor was of a design Richter couldn't quite recognize. It was very ornate and sharp, much like the knife he had the tendency to throw at dangerous speeds. Finally there was Blade, the eldest. The first word that came to mind was determined. He, when present, always led the trio. Always in the forefront and always fell first. Without fail he would always throw one of his two massive daggers at Richter's form upon his death. Every time. Not once did the attack ever land, but the Belmont had to give him credit for trying. His burnt-tangerine armor, of European descent by the looks of things, always made him stand out out of the three. They each would be an excellent section leader in their own right.

He had gotten to the final three who were equally mysterious in their own right by every definition of the word. Richter knew next to nothing about each and they were keen to not let much information slip out into the public's knowing. The Grave Keeper, the Hellfire Beast, and the Cloaked Knight all would be representing their own respective sections of their former castle. The hunter knew that they suffice as leaders but there was little else to go off of. The Grave Keeper was an expert martial artist and seemingly an unaging human spirit. He also was an avid drinker of tea from what little environmental evidence the Belmont could gather in his younger years when they faced off the first time. The Hellfire Beast was a magical musician of sorts. Lightning and Thunder elemental spells filled his repertoire and produced much of the music that drifted down Castlevania's halls. How it could create such sounds remained a mystery. Finally there was the Cloaked Knight. A powerful armored spirit who preferred to telekinetically dice his targets with a flamberge far larger than it had any right to be. His floating form was perpetually cloaked in a red aura. What any of it meant would most likely remain hidden to the Belmont. It was not his job to truly understand anyway. Some mysteries were welcomed. As long as they would do their jobs and focus on the project at hand, Richter cared not about their unusual properties. Giving the three of them a nod, Richter turned his attention back to the map at the table. Everyone was here. It was time to start.

"With that out of the way, I'd first like to thank each and every one of you for volunteering for the project to begin with. Without the help of everyone here in the altar, I doubt I could get much if anything done on my own. I'm not ashamed to admit that I would most likely die trying given my track record lately. There's much to be said about your undying forms in comparison to my injury wracked body. I'll be honest. This project is massive in scale. It's no Castlevania, mind you, but the sheer amount of work that lies in front of us would take an army of mortal men decades to complete. Guess it's a good thing that, again, none of you are mortal men, eh?"

It elicited a few chuckles from the Brothers and an odd grunt out of the Librarian. The rest just nodded and waited patiently for Richter to unveil the table's worth of maps. They had been covered or flipped over before now. Out of dramatic tension or to make explaining it when it came up easier, he couldn't decide but the deed had been done. With a flourish, he indicated for them to give a gander to the litany of work that rested before them all. The sounds of parchment sliding upon and catching on the rough lumber underneath it filled the air as the paperwork was uncovered in mass. Almost immediately there were quiet and hushed conversations among them all. The Belmont chose not to pry into it, after all if they had questions he knew they would ask. He did quickly follow with his start to the explanations as they glanced over the documents.

"So this...is the Village Project. It's a two-pronged excavation and construction effort. Put simply, we're digging a huge cave underground, reinforcing it, and then moving all of you down there. As you may have noticed by now with the paperwork and the assignments mentioned to you by my messenger, there are thirteen assigned sections. Each will be personally managed and supervised by a Council Member. I can't be everywhere at once and my body has limitations. These sections are to represent the different environments the original castle held. If I'm going to uproot each spirit in the Altar, I'm going to move them, and you, to somewhere where everyone will be happy. The last thing I want to do is do this all over again. Questions so far?"

As Slogra made an unabashedly obvious headcount, Hammer beat him to the punch and shot out a simple observation.

"Boss, there's fourteen of us here not including you."

Richter nodded at the statement. Truth be told, the Village Council would actually consist of a party of sixteen. The last member was unable to leave the Altar and Richter was to be included in that headcount. Speaking of which, he probably needed to elaborate on that count.

"That is true. Not all of the thirteen sections will have only one supervisor. There was supposed to be another guest with us, Scylla, but I'm sure you can see why she couldn't attend. I have already sorted out the designations but I would still like to go over it with everyone here in case someone would prefer to be moved elsewhere. Would you like me to get to that first before we delve into questions?"

A general murmur of agreement rippled through the seated monsters. That answered that. Richter gave a quick gander at the assignment list he had roughly jotted down the night prior. He wanted to make this quick.

"Alright then. For those who resided in the Entrance and Grand Hallway, I assigned Death to supervise. The Alchemy Laboratory will have Slogra and Gaibon, the Marble Gallery with the Guardians, the Outer Wall with Karasuman, and the Long Library with, guess who, the Librarian. Moving down the list we've got Medusa at the Royal Chapel, myself at the Castle Keep, and Akmodan the Second with Olorox's Quarters as Olrox himself didn't make the transfer. Not much of a surprise, that one. The Colosseum with its spiked population will be watched and monitored by the Giant Brothers. The Underground Caverns with Scylla, the Pit with our resident Grave Keeper, the Catacombs with the Hellfire Beast, and finally the Clock Tower is assigned to the Cloaked Knights. Whew. Anyone have any questions or complaints?"

"Is it wise for you to watch over the Keep? With how it troubles you so, your flock worries about your health"

Richter did not know why he was so caught off guard by Karasuman speaking. Maybe it had something to do with the spirit's head, as it was that of a large anthropomorphic raven. Or possibly is was the fact that the voice that flowed out of the beak was undeniably posh. It had an almost physically tangible silk-like nature to it. Richter was used to most of the animal and beast-like creatures being unable to speak. Even those who were capable of speaking were never quite so eloquently put together. But that brings up Karasuman's original question, was it wise for him to watch over the Keep to begin with? Even without having to tap into his memories, the Belmont knew that his experiences there were never healthy. Even the hollow sense of catharsis he achieved by killing Lord Dracula and eventually Shaft there was diminished by his own time as Lord of the Castle. He shook his head at the notion. The only way for him to be able to contribute to a project of this scale was to face his trauma. Indirectly or otherwise, a few steps needed to be taken to get the gears turning. He wasn't quite ready for the memories just yet but it was a start. So with a soft smile, he turned his attention back to Karasuman as he'd been lost in thought on the question.

"I'm glad to hear that everyone here worries about me, but I do need to throw my own weight around time to time as well. This is OUR project to toil with, not just yours. It would set an awful example if I left all the spirits residing in the altar the work and I leisurely sat around accomplishing nothing. So I appreciate the concern but I refuse to let the past taint our future. Besides, the Keep has a shockingly low population count to my knowledge. It works out with the rest of my duties as I branch from section to section. Got to help all of you time to time, yeah?"

The raven's eyes looked no less worried, but there was nothing Richter could do to immediately convince him or the rest of the Council for that matter. It was to be proven in time. Waving that question along, he called again for more questions. As prompt as ever, Hammer alongside his brother Gurkah aired their grievances. Their oldest brother Blade was already shaking his head at the questions they were about to ask.

"With all due respect boss, why don't we just bring the old beast down 'ere? It would be an awful lot less work for everyone."

"My brother is right, there's much we could circumvent if we just brought Castlevania onto the surface. If we wanted to attract less attention, we could just shift it downward a few thousand feet."

Richter took no time before shooting back. This was one of the decisions he would never budge on, a hill he would die on time and time again if need be. Slamming both palms down onto the rough wooden surface of the table with a resounding thud, he began.

"Absolutely not! First off, it needs to be addressed that we're not doing this because it could be easy. Hell, if we wanted something to be a breeze we would all just stay inside the Altar! The point of this project is to remove the spirits, yourselves included, from it and its influence. That means no more castle, no more summoning, no more spiritual magic, and no more reality jumping. Once all the spirits are out, I'm sealing the damned thing. Too much harm has come from it. To all of us. So-"

Richter pointed at each member of the council with the conviction of a man with his world weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"-not a single on of us are to take this project lightly. I am willing to lay my life down to free each and every one of you and everyone here damn well knows that. I chose to relinquish my control to command the forces you used to be part of but I do expect that the work we put into this to be mutual. No shortcuts. Besides, outside the hellscape we would create if the castle suddenly appeared on the surface of this already hostile towards monsters environment, it would have very little of the accommodations we would need for a project of this scale."

Taking a deep breath, Richter collected himself. He didn't quite mean to blow up like that. It was more so a self-assurance of his conviction than it was a lecture to the Council Members. He did come across a bit...aggressive though. Before he could even think on how badly that would reflect on him, he noticed that at the opposite end of the table, Death had changed his posture. He was more attentive than before and upon noticing the Belmont's gaze, he nodded in approval. Guess the rant did some good after all then. Hammer and Gurkah just retracted their hands and looked down at the table. It reminded the hunter of how young children would react to an angry father's belittlement. That was most certainly not his intended goal, but the line in the sand had to established. There was much to do to separate himself from the previous rulers of the Altar (including himself, as amusing as that was). He needed to ensure that the project was treated earnestly and with the attitude that no quarters were to be given with navigating around the plan. The Librarian, after having been whispered something from Karasuman, coughed and brought the attention to himself. He pulled out from one of the satchels nearby another blueprint. It was immediately obvious though that it was not the Belmont's handiwork.

"If what you say is the case, Belmont, then we need a few issues resolved. But first, let me add something you so negligently forgot... hehehe."

He passed the parchment down the table until it finally arrived directly in front of Richter. It only took a moment's glance to realize what it was: the blueprints and structural details of a villa built around the Altar on the surface. They were ornate enough to be obviously designed by someone with far more knowledge of construction than the hunter but still held a sense of modesty. Had the Librarian thought about where Richter would be living? That was...very forwardly thoughtful. He didn't know what to say.

"Heheh, it is okay to feel ashamed. You truly thought we would care not for your wellbeing, that's funny! You have to sleep somewhere. Besides...I'm not making that walk again."

Richter could only offer an eternally grateful smile at the proposition. He needed someone to help supervise the construction for this too, and it just so happened that he knew just the figure for it. He called over the Spear Guard who had diligently been waiting near the Altar, whispered another request over his shoulder, and sent him off back into the Altar to retrieve someone. With that over with, he turned his attention back to the Librarian.

"Alright old man, you got me. I didn't give my housing much thought outside of a few brief moments. But what are these issues that need to be resolved?"

"Hehehe, if you're so inclined, so be it~"

The Librarian took no time to begin listing things off. As expected.

"We need to procure a schedule for construction. I see that you had the forethought to assign monsters to their respective sections but not all of these spirits can handle construction efforts. That list needs to be updated after a brief site survey. We also need a bill of materials for the excavation, the village, and your home. Follow that up with how to get said needed materials. Can't make something out of nothing, hehe. Finally, and most importantly, is that we have no choice but to use magic to a degree. In your enthusiasm, you forgot that certain spells, incantations, and enchantments are needed to replicate the environments my peers need to thrive. It is to be expected though. A hunter like yourself is lost without a scholar like myself, hehe~"

Oh, that was actually...quite a bit. He had not thought about how not all of the monsters within the spiritual castle weren't capable of really aiding the project. Unlike mankind which could be taught given enough vigor, the spirits had direct limitations that could not be surpassed. He could not expect a dodo to wield a hammer, after all. A "Bill of Materials" was another issue that the Belmont had completely overlooked. He was actually shocked by that one. How he could forget something as vital as that? On top of the already piling mountain of assignments that rested before him, he wasn't even quite sure what materials would be needed for the project in its entirety. He had always approached construction on a system of momentary needs. In his youth, the village oftentimes had to rebuild homes that were destroyed during raids, conquests, or miscellaneous disasters. When Richter had tossed his hat into the ring, he would just work with what he had until there was either nothing left or he needed something vital. He would then piece together a brief list of immediate "needs" before starting the process all over again. He guessed that attitude would reflect poorly on him in this setting though so he kept it to himself. He hadn't a clue either where he would get the materials outside of locally. Lumber from the forest, rope from the fibers of nearby plants, and stone from the ground beneath them. Mud could be used as a sealant and mortar. Tools were a different story and lord knows what to do about appliances and lights. Then there was a the real blow to the gut: magic. The Librarian was sadly right and it burned Richter to know that there was little he could do about it. They needed the powers that came from their own realm to house many of the spirits. Yet, the magic was alarmingly dangerous. The destruction wrought by the spells of the formerly malign magicians and spirits continued to replay in the back of his mind. Entire landscapes corrupted and warped beyond recognition. Beasts of unholy origin formed from the mutilated corpses of his brethren. Something must be said.

Before he could even speak though, the Librarian just flashed a grin and interrupted.

"Hehe, yes, there's much to be said. Our magic is indeed potent and hazardous. It has the tendency to spread and corrupt if the intent is impure. Ties to the altar, oh I know that it agitates you so. But damned if we do, damned if we don't. Our chances here are far better than you think though. Your mind is stuck in the ways of what once was and not what soon will be. To my belief, none of our magic is influenced by a hostile force. Face it, you're no Count Tepes. You never will be. You simply can't even muster up the intention in that measly mind of yours so unless the Dark Priest manages to resurrect himself and jump dimensions here to possess you a second time, we will be fine. This world that you know next to nothing about will be fine"

Damn it all, Richter knew that the old man was speaking the truth. Or at least he was desperately hoping so. He could not handle another world ravaged by the spoils of an unholy magic. Even his own powers and abilities were capable of many deeds crippling to think about as they had done in the past. The history of a blade may be elegant in nature, but its purpose will always be far more sinister in intention. No matter how hard he tried, he could not come to terms with the notion of implementing the same forms of magic that had once brought the entirety of Romania to its knees. The Librarian seemed to notice the trepidation on the younger man's face. Or maybe he was feeling the ceaseless uneasiness that was reverberating from his core. Hell, maybe it was his heartbeat that gave him away. No matter what it was though, the older man's expression softened and much of the sarcasm and playful condescension faded away.

"Richter, you need to remind yourself that this Altar has cut all ties to the forces of darkness. Everything connecting us to that era has been severed, purged. It'll be safe, I give you my word as a scholar."

It would be enough. It had to be. Some measure of faith was required to fuel the motivation and the drive Richter so desperately needed. So with a sigh, he gave in.

"You win then. But I know not where or how to procure the first few items you mentioned."

"Hehe, it is a good thing I knew you would be neglectful enough to forget about them! I have my own lists prepared. It just needs a few revisions based off of the paperwork you slapdashed together but we can begin much sooner than I'm sure any of us anticipated. Except myself, of course. I must get to work at once!"

And with the energy unexpected of a man his age, the Librarian scooped up most of the paperwork around him and booked it to the Altar. With a quick beam of light, he disappeared. With a shrug, Richter turned back to the rest of the Council. They seemed to have quite a few questions, and thankfully he had no issues spending the next hour or so answering them.

All in all, the meeting was a smashing success. What was supposed to be a simple one to two hour conference turned into a five hour long exploratory forum discussing the intricacies of a project of such scale. Every detail that the Belmont could think of, and the details that slipped his mind as well, were brought forth and addressed. Much of his own original plans had to be scrapped in favor for the ideas of his peers but that was for the best, he thought. They knew far better what they would desire to reside in than he would. He was just a simple hunter after all. He could have a simple shack in the woods far away from civilization and he could arguably live the rest of his life in relative peace and relaxation. They had their own expectations for their future lifestyles and he was not about to belittle them on the matter. He was truly glad that they were seemingly equally as invested as he was in such a project. Richter's internal ambitions to turn this into almost a redemption project were addressed as well which took him by surprise. It hadn't been a lengthy discussion of said topic either. Karasuman just interjected a smaller conversation with the blunt statement, "Is this for forgiveness?" Unusually enough, everyone else ignored it and continued their own discussions. Richter found himself at a loss for words but knew he could not get away with saying anything outside of the truth. So the truth he told and as earnestly as possible too. This was not to redeem his soul for the actions he had committed in the past. Instead, it was to provide the monsters a life free of subjugation with the power he found himself now possessing in the hopes to avoid a repeat of the past. He knew that the creatures of the Altar deserved a significantly better fate than the one that had befallen them thus far so he was adamant on said change. He took no notice on where he would reside in any of that. At the mere mention of his lack of self-care, he could visibly see the feathers on Karasuman bristle. But the topic was dropped and they had continued on for about another hour. There was little left to discuss so the majority of the summoned monsters took their leave and left Richter pondering over the new plans.

There was much to ponder about indeed. The Belmont was almost shell-shocked with how much content had been brought forth for him to review and put into action. The agreed date of a week from today made it even more alarming to a degree. The Village Project had truly turned from a mishapened attempt to construct something to legitimate and coherent step by step plans to build the next step for the future of each and every monster residing in the Altar. It was an unusual feeling, being as lost yet excited as he was. It was to the point though that he had completely tuned out his surroundings as they had started to leave the table. So much parchment to revise and collect. The details were borderline essential to reinforce and managed to absorb him into the contents of his work. He was eventually drawn from his studies though by a hovering shadow mere feet from his flank. It was unusual that someone had stayed behind, he thought to himself. But lo and behold, as he looked up, he noticed that quite a few of the council had stayed to either discuss among themselves or to watch over their clearly enveloped master. The Guardian had not budged from his previous position, the Spear Guard was back from his mission with figure he had requested: Owl Knight, and the mysterious dark shape in his peripheral was none other than Karasuman himself. Itself? He guessed the Lord of Ravens had a gender. He'd get to Owl Knight in a minute. After all, the knight was still in good company with the guard alongside him. Richter panned his head over to Karasuman and shot his eyebrows up in a quick unsaid question. To the anthropomorphic bird's credit, he had the decency to look away abashed. Had he been peering over his shoulder to watch him work? Or was he just waiting for a moment to speak up and yet just simply waited too long? Richter needed to know.

"Is there something you wanted to ask me, Karasuman?" he had asked of the cloaked form, trying to ignore the peering eyes that were partially hidden beneath the wave of dark reflective feathers. They did not stay there for long. With an elegant sweeping motion, the beast shook his feathers and stood at attention. His beak partially open as if pondering what to respond with. The notion was very human in appearance, reminding Richter of the times in his youth where he would stand agape struggling to put together a witty response to bullies pestering him for his fascination with wildlife. Arguably that fascination carried over to many of the monsters he had faced in his younger years and even now. The intentions were different but the unashamed interest was still present. The creatures residing in the woods around him brought more comfort than his fellow man.

"Nothing to ask, master, this one was just worried for your wellbeing. I was just watching. It is unbecoming of me, as your peer, to ignore the pain that plagues you. It has been evident since the first day we had met that you were harboring much in that soul of yours. Your eyes bleed in a way that others simply can not observe. But observing is all I do. So please speak freely with me and I apologize for the intrusion." With another tilt of the head, the raven monster simply just observed the Belmont's face and waited for a reaction. He must have been serious about his role as a watcher. The elegance to what had been said still stunned the hunter. Karasuman was equally blunt and concerned and it seemed that much of human culture and traditions was lost on him. Richter could not hold it against his peer though for the constant staring. He was, at the end of the day, a bird after all and it was quite fitting behaviorally. So with a nod, Richter conceded.

"You would be right, Karasuman. I appreciate your concern and I'm honestly touched that you pay attention to these ongoings, however...A lot is troubling me, true, but I don't want you spending your time worrying about it when we've got grander things on the horizon. Maybe sometime in the future we can sit down and have a chat about it all. We simply just need to have time for it, a commodity I believe we both know isn't readily available after today. But yes, your observations are correct. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

The raven opened his beak to interject only to be interrupted by the sound of a finely sharpened iron blade being expertly pulled out of a sheath. The sound accomplished a few things, none of which were good. Richter knew not where the sound had come from but instinctively his body told him to dodge. Duck, dive out of danger, assess, retaliate, and eradicate. Seeing an opening away from any figures that could have potentially been closing in, he dove over the table and into the grass patch beyond. A fan of knives found themselves in his hand as he reflexively scanned his surroundings. Karasuman's feathers were all on end and he had taken up to the sky, scanning the woods for a threat that Richter was still unaware of. The Spear Guard was gone completely having must have retreated to the portal to gather reinforcements, but in his stead was an armed Owl Knight moving forward with the determination befitting of a falconer: nothing to lose and everything to gain. The Owl was perched on his shoulder squawking up a storm. That must have been where the sound had come from, but why? Richter personally didn't have to find the Guardian, the Guardian had found him. With a few stomps seemingly shaking the ground beneath Richter's boots, the Guardian quickly placed himself in front of Richter with his mighty blade hoisted next to his side. Everyone was facing the forest clearing's opening...but again, why? Richter had initially assumed that he was under attack but this situation reeked of something else. The Belmont dispelled his knives, stood to his feet, and shouted at the Owl Knight to stand down and report. That he did with a single pointed glove towards the same entrance everyone had been about to rush down.

For the briefest of moments, Richter caught the glimpse of human male hiding in the brush. Countless flashes were coming from the...camera (as Toriel had shown him) he was holding which only seemed to illuminate the figure's surroundings. He had been hidden quite well but the glint of his eyes put the hair on Belmont's neck on end. And like his sudden appearance, he was gone. Owl Knight instinctively lurched forward only to be met by Richter's approaching arm. The knight just nodded and sheathed his sword before sending his owl out to presumably search for any other prying eyes. It wasn't an attack after all despite what his companions must have assumed. The repercussions however could be just as dire though. It must have been one of those "journalists" that Toriel had briefly mentioned. Insidious men who preyed on the emotionally driven to stir up trouble and chaos. Reminded Richter of an imp. The bastards and their forks that always cursed the Belmont in attacking at random. He gritted his teeth and the notion but couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible was going to follow them in the shadows from now on. There was only so much he could accomplish at the moment though so with a sigh, Richter turned back to the Guardian who was hovering close by his side. The air around the hulking suit of armor bristled with magical energy. His protector must have picked up on the malicious intent that figure in the forest brought with them. Either way he needed everyone to stand down...but this needed to be avoided again.

"Thank you for protecting us. If you would be so inclined, do you think you could stand guard around the Altar alongside Owl Knight to make sure no harm comes to it? I can't honestly say what might come from this but I would prefer to be on the safe side.

With a respectful nod, the Guardian brought his blade to its resting position and marched back to the Altar. The sound of his heavy blade sinking into the dirt protectively in front of the monument filled the silence as he searched for Karasuman. He couldn't seem to find the damn bird no matter how hard he searched. Oh well, it wasn't like he would stray far. That just left the Owl Knight which he addressed quickly. He hadn't even needed to go far as the knight must have known his orders were coming. He stood at attention, running a gauntlet down the wingspan on his owl, mere feet away from Richter's waiting form. That was convenient.

"So I'm sure by now that you're aware of the Libarian's villa construction project here on the surface? Well I thought it best to have you posted up here to oversee not only the project itself, but the landscape and environment as well. Surveying the land and the forest for resources." It was a good choice to, Richter complimented himself, as without the knight's eyes (as well as those of his birds') he doubted they would have spotted the intruder. If they had gotten too close, the retaliation could have been dangerous. Seemed that Richter wasn't the only one with old habits that needed to be broken.

"Aye, sire."

"Then I need you to monitor this area with the Guardian. He'll keep the Altar safe as I highly doubt anyone would be brave enough to push past him, but there is more to this clearing than just the Altar. You're responsible for keeping tabs on who comes here and why. Do not intervene, understand? Even if they attempt to attack you and the Guardian, do not engage or intervene. Just protect the Altar if worst comes to worst. Let them see what they want to see and then let them leave in peace. We are here to move past our violent history and this is the first step. Outside of that, feel free to gather whatever resources you see fit for building the villa. The project begins in about a week but until then, we have time to kill. Is this all understood?"

"Aye, sire"

"Good. Then I'll be seeing the two of you in a few days. I need to get back to Toriel's. If the Spear Guard comes out, just brief him on the orders I gave and tell him to wait with the Librarian. I'll be fine on my own for now although I appreciate everyone's enthusiasm. It was nice meeting you outside of combat."

"Very well, sire"

And with a firm handshake and a nod towards the owl, Richter turned his attention back to the satchel he left on the ground. He rolled up the paperwork that was scattered about the table and the nearby dirt, stuffed it into the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and began to make his way to the clearing. A quick glance to the sky told him he had a few hours left until the sun would begin to set. Despite his healing condition, he would not like to be caught out alone in the dark. There was much about that human passerby that rubbed him the wrong way. He doubted the pictures being taken were as wholesome in nature as those littering Toriel's wall. Nothing to be done about it though. Outside of the presence of a few ravens in the sky nesting in a few trees and resting on powerlines, the walk back was quiet. Uneventful. No one stopped to ask him anything despite the fact that many folk walked on the sidewalk alongside or past him. He considered it a blessing although he wished that the circumstances were different. Richter wouldn't mind a bit of company. It was odd, he never found himself desiring the presence of others as much as he did now. There was this void in his chest where the sensation of all the Altar creatures being nearby him had resided. Now it felt like a barely lit wick. Something was still fueling it but was too far away to really catch aflame. Must be the protection crew back at the Altar. More things to think about, he guessed.

He had been resting on the couch, buried deep in papers, blueprints, and roster lists, when the sound of the front door opening startled him awake. When had he fallen asleep? Good lord, the mess he must have made of this poor living room. He managed to sit up, slinging bits of parchment onto the floor, only to be met by the frowning visage of Toriel and her kids. It was for just a moment that he got a good look of the faces of her kids but that singular moment was enough: they were pissed. Despite the fact they were teenagers, it still looked out of place. It was the ire only brought forth by the worst of humanity. The pillagers of battlefields and of the dead, the mercenaries he slaughtered after their "protection racket" failed, and the cultist servants of the dark lord Dracula all brought the same feeling of anger to Richter himself. He was far from able to ask what had angered them as much as they were now as they stormed past him, into the hallway, and into their respective rooms. Toriel herself just sighed and closed the door gently. She seemed worn down and it was probably a safe assumption that it wasn't from her kids. This was far beyond that. All he could do was gather up his paperwork, place it aside, and pat on the lounge chair that sat next to him. Toriel gladly accepted and uncharacteristically was quiet. Had he missed something? Not a single word had been spoken to him. Given this family's reputation, that was very unusual. Continuing to pack up his studies, he softly let out a question. Maybe an attempt at humor would break the ice.

"Hey Toriel, something bothering you? I'm surprised you didn't mention the mess I made of your living room."

It worked but only just. A faint smile adorned her muzzle before fading away with a sigh. She turned her attention to her purse as she spoke up.

"Just another of the conferences monsterkind is forced to attend to. The stress and hatred directed towards the children by state legislation just...hurts. I do want our kinds to be at peace but they seem to want to push us back into the mountain from where we came. As if the districts weren't enough. Asgore just lets them walk over him in fear of causing another war. We have lost more ground than we gained. It's just..."

Richter couldn't think of what to say in this situation. He had always been the human hunting down the monsters of the dark, slaughtering them without mercy or trepidation. This came with a degree of sensitivity that he just couldn't informatively provide. He was in the wrong shoes for this and he knew it. So he did all he knew he could do. He quietly asked for her attention and directed it towards the palm of his hand. The wraps had been removed revealing scarred, pink, but very much so healing flesh. With an ounce of concentration, a small ember began to dance around his fingertips. At first from a lack of practice it stayed that way, just a shapeless marble sized ball of magical fire. But soon it returned to him. From a marble to a thin sea serpent that coiled around each of his fingertips, up and down his arms, before bunching up back on his palm. He used to perform this trick to distract the children of hunting parties when their parents were late on the return trip...or if they never returned at all and instead people were searching for the bodies. It seemed to be popular and there was something cathartic about the creative process of fire magic. Such a devastating and damaging element used for something so...trivial. Harmless. Toriel seemed to enjoy it the same way they had. He asked her if she would like to see it, to which she replied with a yes, and soon she had a fiery serpent swimming through her fur like the oceans its ghastly counterpart used to trouble. The heat illuminated the room with an echoing warmth as they sat there for a minute in silence. But eventually Richter could feel the strain and let it do one last jump back into his hand before exploding in a miniaturized puff of smoke. He just stared at his fingers and the almost visible trail of fire that had been left behind as he began to speak.

"I'll be honest with you Toriel, I'm not the man who can give you the comfort you need here. I mentioned to you in the past that I was a hunter, but I never told you what it was I hunted. I am, was, a monster hunter. My entire bloodline consisted of them and we killed more monsters than I believe came out of that mountain of yours. So needless to say, I know not what it is like to be subjugated to something as fierce as this. This is a new world for me and my circumstances are so much more different than anything in my previous life. I am no longer the man I used to be but that still leaves me with little I can offer. What to say evades me here but I just want you to know that I am here. For whatever comfort that provides, just know that I will be here for you. It is the very least I could do for everything you and your family have done for me. If you need someone to vent to, to ramble about the faults of humanity to, I'm here. I am all too well versed in the sins of mankind. The same is for your kids. I will protect them and keep them safe if need be. I owe my life to your family."

The gentlest laugh Richter had ever heard, like that of a feather on a sheet of freshly fallen snow, echoed out of Toriel before he found his scarred hands clasped by her paws. It was far warmer than any of his own magic could do justice in comparison. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. What diplomatic and emotional help was that of a warrior, a slayer of kin? But apparently to her, it was more than enough. He could hear audible sniffing as Toriel replied. "Your soul does not belong in this world, Richter, and I say that with all my heart. You bear much on your soul, from a land I can only guess was far more violent than ours, and yet you bear yourself full to me in earnest for my family? Oh my child, our troubles should not be your own and yet you have made them so. I know of your conversations with Asriel. My hearing is far better than he gives me credit for and his uncle is always keeping an eye on him for me. Not once have I feared your past and I have quickly come to appreciate the heart of fire you brought alongside you. Your offer to me means a lot and if I take it up, then you too need to speak to me about what troubles you. Not immediately but in time. If it makes you feel any better, consider it an exchange."

With one more soft pat, Toriel wiped what he assumed to be tears from her fur before standing up. Richter couldn't even respond, he was at a loss for words. What could he say? Maybe it was best that he remained unaware, he didn't want to ruin the moment. So he just nodded as she meandered her way to the hallway leading to the rooms of the two teenagers. Richter purposely made sure to distract himself so he would not pry in on their undeniably personal conversations. Instead he dedicated himself to finishing up his studies and moving forward with the Village Project. A week was an incredibly short period of time to wait realistically but at the same time, Richter couldn't shake the feeling that it would be one of the longest weeks of his recent life. Fate always tended to keep something nasty in store just for occasions of any remote importance to the Belmont. All he could do now was wait. Here goes, he thought to himself, as looked over the Village Project's blueprints one last time for the night.