Evrat Rawlins has been a member of the Brotherhood of Light for 25 years, and he's gotten used to being surprised. It's become part of his character - one day his eyebrows jumped up his forehead and never came back down, his fellow knights like to joke.
He's constantly surprised by the fact he's still alive.
He's fought lycanthropes, goblins, vampires, ghouls, and manticores. He's arrested criminals, delivered sermons, and eaten field rations for six months. And now he has found himself standing at the gates of a large castle - more a large walled city, based on its sheer size - that apparently grew itself out of the mountainside over the course of a fortnight.
The mission warrants a full squad, but the only one briefed on the specifics was Captain Gilmore, a career officer.
(And, thinks Evrat Rawlins, a career asshole.)
The squad consists of six members of the Brotherhood - the captain, a senior knight (Evrat), a Light Magic healer and battle-cleric (Sister Petrova), a Shadow Mage (Brother Carlton), and two more knights to fill out the ranks (Brother Albrecht, a master swordsman; and Sister Lynn, skilled with archery and throwing silver knives at range). They take a moment to stare incredulously up at the Castle.
"Captain," Evrat asks the squad leader. "...What exactly are we hoping to do here?"
"...I suppose I might as well brief you before we go in, and get our collective asses handed to us," Gilmore sighs, his usual condescending attitude absent.
(Shit, thinks Evrat Rawlins. This is really serious, then.)
Gilmore grimaces, turning to face his squad, the metal plates reinforcing his Brotherhood reds, clanking as he crosses his arms to level them all with a stern expression. It makes his craggy face look constipated.
"Here's the situation. This is where our own Brother, Gabriel Belmont - may the lord watch over that poor bastard's soul - allegedly killed the Vampire Lord of Shadow about six years back. The Castle's gotten bigger over the last month, expanding down the mountainside into this monstrosity - this would point to some kind of creature taking up residence. Our job is not to engage the threat, but to find out just what the fuck is going on. Because we don't know. No one knows."
Gilmore nods towards Sister Petrova, and she adds her own two cents. "The seers we've consulted have seen nothing until a few days ago - right before we were deployed - that's why its been such a rush to get out here," she explains in her no-nonsense voice, lips pressed thinly with a frown. "And they won't speak of what they saw - but three of them slit their own throats the next morrow."
"What the-!" Carlton's expletive is aborted by Lynn's timely smack to the back of his armored helm.
"Now," Gilmore continues. "What we are going to do is very simple - we are going to enter the Castle - Rawlin's will be taking point as he has the most field experience, and we are going to stealth our way through this shit-hole and find out what is rallying every Dark creature on the continent under its banner."
"Now hold up there - no one mentioned anything about a fucking Dark Army!"
"I just did, Albrecht. Suck it up." Captain Gilmore, you are an ass.
The squad grumbles a bit more - psyching each other up. The griping is as much routine as checking the straps on their armor and the positioning of their weapons and gear one last time. And it's into the proverbial Lion's Den.
They've been wandering the corridors and hallways of the Castle for the the better part of an hour and a half, and its been eerily silent. It seems almost completely deserted - the legions of ghouls and mandragoras they had been expecting in the gardens had been absent. There have been no skeleton warriors, giant spiders, goblins, or even fairies (and those greenies are usually everywhere).
The Castle is clean - the floors are shiny, the ornaments and furniture polished and dust-free. The torches and chandeliers are all well-lit, the doors are all unlocked. It could almost be a normal seeming Castle if it weren't so large, or so very empty.
"This place is too damn quiet," Carlton whispers, peering around the large ballroom they've found themselves in.
Evrat wants to punch him. But he's not surprised - in every squad there's an idiot that just has to say it.
And that's when the vampire shows up. Right behind them. "I'm sorry you feel that way," it says.
Trained Knights and Battlemages, they are. Masters of stealth, and combat. Bodies and minds and hearts and souls, forged into the weapons that guard humanity. So of course, they practically all fall on top of each other as they whirl around and scramble away, screeching like little girls. Except for Evrat Rawlins - he punches Carlton in the arm.
"Ow! Goddamn it, Rawlins!"
"I am not the one that jinxed us," Evrat gripes, brandishing his combat cross to hold the vampire at a distance while the recollect themselves.
It must be powerful - it looks almost entirely human, save for the paleness of its skin, the haunting red of its eyes, and the very visible fangs visible in its mouth as it smiles at them, amused and seemingly friendly. Tall, dark haired, and clad in a red armored greatcoat, the sheer presence the creature gives off is almost tangible. They were looking for the Master of this fortress - and it seems they've found it.
"There's no need for any of that," it states calmly, nodding towards the cross. "I have no intention towards killing you... I was hoping we might... talk."
"Then talk, creature," Sister Petrova hisses, her hands glowing blue with Light Magic.
The vampire has the nerve to roll its eyes. "Which one of you is the Captain," it asks, looking at them one by one. Evrat shivers when those eyes meet his - they're not just red, but orange and yellow as well, burning like fire with narrow catlike pupils. "...You?...I think I remember you, Rawlins... I was on a mission with you once or twice. Manticores out west."
"W-what?! Gabriel?" Evrat cannot believe his eyes, but now that he's made the connection, it cannot be unseen. The rest of the knights sort of fall into the background, watching with horrified confusion as the creature reveals itself to be one of their own. "We thought you were dead!"
The vampire crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.
"Well...more dead," Evrat amends. "...And its not that I'm not glad to see you... But you have to admit, seeing you back as a vampire, and in this place... It's ringing some pretty bad bells in my mind right now."
"Understandable," Gabriel nods. "...I do not intend to cause problems for the Brotherhood directly... But there are some things that will need to be made clear. This is what I need to talk to you about. All of you," he directs to the entire squad.
Captain Gilmore nods slowly. "We'll go along with this for now," he concedes, gesturing for Petrova and the others (who have all drawn weapons or activated magic of their own) to stand down. "What exactly do you have to say?"
"First of all, I will confirm with you that the three Lords of Shadow have been defeated, among other...enemies. I have here my field report that I would ask that you bring back to the Brotherhood compound in my stead." He throws a thick package at Brother Carlton who catches it - it's a worn Travel Book - the one given to Gabriel when he embarked on his quest to speak with Pan more than half a decade past. "Secondly... Things are going to change, for the Brotherhood, for humanity, and for the forces of Darkness. The monsters and demons of this world will be rallying here. There will likely be violence and raids - it is the nature of the Dark to give humanity a common enemy, so that there shall not be violence amongst God's children," the vampire continues, voice serious. "But there will not be the sort of horrors against the Light that we have seen in the past... Well," the vampire shrugs, looking both ashamed and regretful, but also resolved. "...Some things cannot be helped, but I hope to keep things... almost civilized."
"...What do you mean, 'you hope to keep things'?" Sister Petrova has an inkling of where their former comrade's allegiance lies, but the way he speaks about the forces of Darkness are not as an enemy-
(That is to be expected - vampirism is known to corrupt those afflicted with it; most victims become unrecognizable from their human selves in both looks and personality. It is a testament to Gabriel Belmont's great strength of character and force of personality that he is still relatively unchanged in appearance and mannerism. Despite his vampirism, he still speaks of God with unabashed respect and reverence.)
-but he does not speak as if he is 'one of them', either. As if he is somehow separate, but not really, from the oncoming Dark Ages.
Gabriel grimaces at her question. "...Do you know, any of you, of a certain prophecy regarding the defeat of the Lords of Shadow?"
Captain Gilmore swears loudly - he is the only one among them with high enough clearance for that sort of thing.
"...Captain, I would advise against blasphemy of that sort," Gabriel states softly, but somehow terrifying. For all its grandness, the ballroom suddenly seems constricting and far too small - there's a dark shadow of a great beast inching its way up the wall behind the vampire. "My not-so-recent experiences..." He shakes his head. "My apologies, I digress. But I have accepted my Fate, Captain. And I will fulfil God's purpose for me in my own way... Would like to explain to your squad, or shall I?"
Gilmore swallows heavily. "...If it's alright with you, I think they'll take it better coming from me."
Gabriel shrugs. "Fair enough. That door, there-" He points down the length of the ballroom, the torchlight glinting off the dark claws on his fingertips, towards a door that was not there earlier. "That will lead you outside the gates. Be well, Brothers and Sisters of Light."
They back their way down the room, more than reluctant to turn their backs on a vampire, no matter how 'friendly' it has behaved, before heading out the door to return back and report on what they've found. The door shuts behind them with a resounding thud, but not before the vampire's parting words echo in their ears-
"Despite the circumstances, it was good to see you, Evrat. Look out for my son, Trevor, won't you?"
When they turn to look behind them, the wall is smooth stone.
