Note: Cacophony: A Harsh Sound, or an unpleasant mesh of sounds.
***
March 11, 1988: Near Veros, Romania.
"My Good Man, what is that Tower yonder there?" A man asked in American-accented French as he points to a long spindle of a tower upon a cliff, remains of a castle, which seemingly had long since crumbled into the ground. The man was in his mid-twenties, with curly, yet well-groomed blonde hair, sharp, dagger-like blue eyes, aquiline nose, with thin lips framed by a thick mustache and neck-length beard. He appearances suit more to a tycoon from the Industrial age rather then a globe-trotter who happen to have the money to burn.
"A place called Castlevania, Sir." The Guide, a short stocky man with dark messy hair, and dark skin replied timidly in French, which is heavily accented by his Romanian tongue. "I would not recommend going there, Sir. An evil demon used to live there." He gulps as the horse beneath him fidgets uneasily, as if it understood the guide's words.
"A Demon?" The blonde asked curiously, though not in the snotty disbelief that the guide was used to get from these rich foreigners. "Tell me more of this Demon that used to inhabit that tower." He asked, a bit too eagerly for the native's liking.
"He is a Warlock, A monster in human form that can cast evil spells, and had stolen the Villages' maidens in the night during his wicked life, never to be seen again, save perhaps transformed into monsters similar to what he was. My grandfather said a century before, a Saint banished the fiend, and with the fiend gone, his evil tower fell unto itself." The guide explained his well-worn tale. "But the site's cursed, no one with any sense will venture up there, including this man." The guide pointed to himself. "But I will not let you go alone, for I will not let you go at all."
"Your concern is touching." The fair-skinned man replied dryly. "Well, it is becoming late, and I am sure you whether return to Veros then to continue the conversation out here, am I correct?"
"Aye, Mr. Fawkes." The native nodded as he steer his horse around, and it gladly did so, the old mare seeming to have gain a special spring in it's steps as the two men rode down the beautiful, but deadly mountain range. "I see your Wife had not wished to join you." He commented.
"Well, There is something in this land that is giving her a terrible hay fever, she could barely stand the moonlight, let alone this blazing sun." Mr. Fawkes explained as a quaint little village started to peek out of the thick oaken woods, a little hamlet straight out of a medieval woodblock, with the exception of a rusting pick-up truck, and a concrete building serving as a clinic.
"I'll be heading back to my little wife, and the little ones. I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. Fawkes." The little man called out as he departed from the foreigner. Fawkes then rode alone through the Town Square, then halted the beast as he came to the stables of an inn, labeled by a hanging wood sign as the Running Lion, or so he guessed by the picture of the animal. The foreigner then had an inn-worker returned the borrowed animal to the farmer who had owned it.
"Good Evening, Sir." The Innkeeper greeted Mr. Fawkes as he entered the main room. "I think your wife is not feeling well, for she turned away all food that was carried up to her." The Innkeeper shook her head with concern.
"It's just her hay fever." The foreigner explained gently. "She gets so miserable that she loses her appetite, she would be fine by the time we leave, I should think." He started up the stairs, and unlocked the door to his inn, and slipped inside, switching back into English. "These townspeople are quite the compassionate bunch, or very superstitious ones at that." He sighed as he locked the door behind him. His eyes scan the inn room; it was comfortable, in a rustic simplicity, hand-carved bed, crude nightstand, though the bed, to his surprise was the softest mattress he had ever slept on. Fawkes crouched next to a long wooden box, mentally counting the minutes until the sun set. His clock read 6:30 when the very last rays of the sun vanished behind the rugged mountains of Romania.
There was a soft creak as the lid the box started to move, Fawkes rush over to close the shutters, taking no chances. Then he smiled gently as the lid was thrown open, revealing his Sleeping Beauty to his eager eyes.
"Good evening my Sleeping Beauty." He greeted the lovely woman who crawled out of the crate.
"Evening, Joseph." She yawned slightly, as she brushed a green-black lock from her brilliant green eyes, and gave Joseph a toothy grin. "How was your day, hmm...?" She asked as she grabbed his broad hands, and rubbed her unnaturally cold cheek against it.
"I've seen it, My dear." He answered softly as he stroke her long hair with his free hand.
"Castlevania? What do you make of it Joseph?" She asked as she let go of him, stopping to adjust the sleeve of her blue dress jacket.
"I can see that even in its ruins that it was majestic place!" The man replied as he held her shoulders, almost as eagerly as a schoolboy learning that school was to be canceled. "But if it is to be rebuild-"
"'If'? Joseph, Joseph, 'If' is not the right word I would use." She interrupted as she ducks out of his hold. "It would be 'When', 'If' is for the dreamers and the... what was that word? Oh yes, the wishy-washy."
"Of course, how foolish of me!" He laughed, flashing a brilliant smile. "My dear, I had told the villagers you do not go out because of a terrible hay fever, so do try to act like you have a bad cold if one comes across you." He adds in all seriousness.
"I will,"
"I unfortunately was unable to the convince the guide to take me to the site of the castle itself."
"Superstitious peasants, though they are poor ones, maybe adding an extra fee to your payments will convince him otherwise." She suggested in a purr as she leaned close to his ear, her icy breath made the hair on his sideburns stand on end, and his skin crawled. "Now, are you familiar with the Romanian's system of purchasing estates?"
"Pretty much, but I will know all the ropes of it. Soon, we can leave here, and perhaps take onto more scenic visits, darling." Joseph smiled as he kissed his darling on the cheek.
"Hmmm.... Yes, we shall, how about Rome? I had always wanted to see the eternal city."
"Rome it is then!" he chuckles. "I will get right on to the acquirement of Castlevania, so we travel to Rome soon!"
"Well, I will have to excuse myself, Joseph." She sighed as she pulls a handkerchief from a pocket.
"Please don't be out too late." He called out as she starts for the window.
"Of course not."
"And do be especially careful!" he adds.
"No one will find out." She smiled as she crawled out the window, into the night. Leaving the man to prepare for what he fear to be a daunting task.
***
March 11, 1988: Near Veros, Romania.
"My Good Man, what is that Tower yonder there?" A man asked in American-accented French as he points to a long spindle of a tower upon a cliff, remains of a castle, which seemingly had long since crumbled into the ground. The man was in his mid-twenties, with curly, yet well-groomed blonde hair, sharp, dagger-like blue eyes, aquiline nose, with thin lips framed by a thick mustache and neck-length beard. He appearances suit more to a tycoon from the Industrial age rather then a globe-trotter who happen to have the money to burn.
"A place called Castlevania, Sir." The Guide, a short stocky man with dark messy hair, and dark skin replied timidly in French, which is heavily accented by his Romanian tongue. "I would not recommend going there, Sir. An evil demon used to live there." He gulps as the horse beneath him fidgets uneasily, as if it understood the guide's words.
"A Demon?" The blonde asked curiously, though not in the snotty disbelief that the guide was used to get from these rich foreigners. "Tell me more of this Demon that used to inhabit that tower." He asked, a bit too eagerly for the native's liking.
"He is a Warlock, A monster in human form that can cast evil spells, and had stolen the Villages' maidens in the night during his wicked life, never to be seen again, save perhaps transformed into monsters similar to what he was. My grandfather said a century before, a Saint banished the fiend, and with the fiend gone, his evil tower fell unto itself." The guide explained his well-worn tale. "But the site's cursed, no one with any sense will venture up there, including this man." The guide pointed to himself. "But I will not let you go alone, for I will not let you go at all."
"Your concern is touching." The fair-skinned man replied dryly. "Well, it is becoming late, and I am sure you whether return to Veros then to continue the conversation out here, am I correct?"
"Aye, Mr. Fawkes." The native nodded as he steer his horse around, and it gladly did so, the old mare seeming to have gain a special spring in it's steps as the two men rode down the beautiful, but deadly mountain range. "I see your Wife had not wished to join you." He commented.
"Well, There is something in this land that is giving her a terrible hay fever, she could barely stand the moonlight, let alone this blazing sun." Mr. Fawkes explained as a quaint little village started to peek out of the thick oaken woods, a little hamlet straight out of a medieval woodblock, with the exception of a rusting pick-up truck, and a concrete building serving as a clinic.
"I'll be heading back to my little wife, and the little ones. I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. Fawkes." The little man called out as he departed from the foreigner. Fawkes then rode alone through the Town Square, then halted the beast as he came to the stables of an inn, labeled by a hanging wood sign as the Running Lion, or so he guessed by the picture of the animal. The foreigner then had an inn-worker returned the borrowed animal to the farmer who had owned it.
"Good Evening, Sir." The Innkeeper greeted Mr. Fawkes as he entered the main room. "I think your wife is not feeling well, for she turned away all food that was carried up to her." The Innkeeper shook her head with concern.
"It's just her hay fever." The foreigner explained gently. "She gets so miserable that she loses her appetite, she would be fine by the time we leave, I should think." He started up the stairs, and unlocked the door to his inn, and slipped inside, switching back into English. "These townspeople are quite the compassionate bunch, or very superstitious ones at that." He sighed as he locked the door behind him. His eyes scan the inn room; it was comfortable, in a rustic simplicity, hand-carved bed, crude nightstand, though the bed, to his surprise was the softest mattress he had ever slept on. Fawkes crouched next to a long wooden box, mentally counting the minutes until the sun set. His clock read 6:30 when the very last rays of the sun vanished behind the rugged mountains of Romania.
There was a soft creak as the lid the box started to move, Fawkes rush over to close the shutters, taking no chances. Then he smiled gently as the lid was thrown open, revealing his Sleeping Beauty to his eager eyes.
"Good evening my Sleeping Beauty." He greeted the lovely woman who crawled out of the crate.
"Evening, Joseph." She yawned slightly, as she brushed a green-black lock from her brilliant green eyes, and gave Joseph a toothy grin. "How was your day, hmm...?" She asked as she grabbed his broad hands, and rubbed her unnaturally cold cheek against it.
"I've seen it, My dear." He answered softly as he stroke her long hair with his free hand.
"Castlevania? What do you make of it Joseph?" She asked as she let go of him, stopping to adjust the sleeve of her blue dress jacket.
"I can see that even in its ruins that it was majestic place!" The man replied as he held her shoulders, almost as eagerly as a schoolboy learning that school was to be canceled. "But if it is to be rebuild-"
"'If'? Joseph, Joseph, 'If' is not the right word I would use." She interrupted as she ducks out of his hold. "It would be 'When', 'If' is for the dreamers and the... what was that word? Oh yes, the wishy-washy."
"Of course, how foolish of me!" He laughed, flashing a brilliant smile. "My dear, I had told the villagers you do not go out because of a terrible hay fever, so do try to act like you have a bad cold if one comes across you." He adds in all seriousness.
"I will,"
"I unfortunately was unable to the convince the guide to take me to the site of the castle itself."
"Superstitious peasants, though they are poor ones, maybe adding an extra fee to your payments will convince him otherwise." She suggested in a purr as she leaned close to his ear, her icy breath made the hair on his sideburns stand on end, and his skin crawled. "Now, are you familiar with the Romanian's system of purchasing estates?"
"Pretty much, but I will know all the ropes of it. Soon, we can leave here, and perhaps take onto more scenic visits, darling." Joseph smiled as he kissed his darling on the cheek.
"Hmmm.... Yes, we shall, how about Rome? I had always wanted to see the eternal city."
"Rome it is then!" he chuckles. "I will get right on to the acquirement of Castlevania, so we travel to Rome soon!"
"Well, I will have to excuse myself, Joseph." She sighed as she pulls a handkerchief from a pocket.
"Please don't be out too late." He called out as she starts for the window.
"Of course not."
"And do be especially careful!" he adds.
"No one will find out." She smiled as she crawled out the window, into the night. Leaving the man to prepare for what he fear to be a daunting task.