It takes three strands to weave a braid, and so it was that three strands of Fate wound themselves together to create the stage for the events to come.

From the North, Dracul's dark shadow began to stretch itself across the world - sneaking through the fringes and the edges of human societies, and swallowing whole the supernatural world under The Dragon's banner.

From the West, the Brotherhood of Light found itself floundering and planning in equal measures to deal with the surge of atypical behavior among the creatures if darkness and evil that they waged their constant war against. Trevor Belmont's training and lessons increased, as did his suspicions that the organization of Paladins and Priests was hiding something from him – both the Chaplain and one of the veteran Knights had taken a particular interest in his well-being and education.

And from the South, the Land of the Dead stirred as the Lord of the Necromancer's began reaching beyond his borders.

Word of this ominous stirring in the southern parts of the continent reached the Brotherhood in fits and starts, beginning with a severe drought that carried from summer into fall. It was when the meager harvest that season needed to be supplemented with purchased produce from further north that the conclave first became aware that there was something odd going on in the North-East. The small and almost negligible townships and hamlets of the North – some which had been barely worth the name of such, being only a smattering of two or three scattered homesteads – were somehow producing and trading far more goods then they had ever been able to in the past.

Senior members of the Brotherhood spent many evenings in council, puzzling through this development. Could it be related to their fallen hero, the creature that had once been the best of them?

Once voiced, such veins of inquiry needed to be followed upon. And so it was, in the middle of October, that a small squadron of Knights and their Squires, made an investigative expedition towards Wygol. Among these was Evrat Rawlins whom had been through the area before, and his Squire the teenaged Trevor Belmont.

And unknown to the party, dogging on their heels amidst their shadows, was the eldest of the gorgons.


The road to the North-East was different than it had been. In the time of the rule of the Lords of Shadow the ways had been fraught with werewolves, wargs, and countless colonies of goblins and trolls. The dark energy and absence of faith had served to infect the land and ecosystems of the continent, making even small journeys treacherous. The safest way to travel had been through the ruins of Agharta, though the ancient city was filled with its own dangers; its labyrinthine structure was the least of it.

Now that the plague of monsters and demonic beasts infesting the countryside had subsided in a dramatic change, the quicker roads around Agharta and through the sparsely populated and recovering provinces on the Northern side. The air was warmer than expected, making the trip almost pleasant save for the stern demeanor of the senior knights and priests in attendance. Trevor scowled to himself, fiddling with the leather straps and iron buckles that secured his bandolier of silver knives and the harness for his combat cross. Their mission was briefed as non-combat, and yet all the senior members and the squires were armed to the teeth.

"Master Rawlins," Trevor started, urging his horse forward to where his teacher was in the convoy. "…Why did you insist I come? All the other squires have been apprenticed to a knight for years – you only took me on a few months ago."

The grizzled knight looked at the boy – young man, almost – and grimaced. "…I made a promise to your father to look out for you. It was something I couldn't do if I were to be made to go along on this mission and you were to remain behind."

"My father?" Trevor's scowl lessoned into a frown of confusion. He blew out a harsh exhale to shake the hair from his eyes – it had been growing longer and darker at an almost alarming pace as the teenager had similarly begun to grow taller. He was long of limb and lanky at the age of sixteen, but still coltish with his youth. "…My father's been gone my whole life… and you only took me on as a squire recently. I never even knew you before then."

Evrat Rawlins remained silent. He did not want to lie to the boy as the rest of the Senior members of the Brotherhood were, but at the same time he could not tell Trevor Belmont that Gabriel Belmont still lived. He had more than his fair share of reservations on the subject, and one of them was of severe regret and trepidation. Taking the young Belmont on this journey to Wygol made sense for the boy's skill and standing in the Brotherhood of Light – a designated non-combat reconnaissance of formerly hostile territory was an almost perfect mission for a young squire. The problem lay in the fact that Wygol was the nearest human settlement towards that hellish Castle, and that bringing his blood so close to its walls would certainly garn the attention of the vampire that nested within its walls.

…Why had he thought this would be a good idea again?

"Master Rawlins?" Trevor called towards the knight.

The older man shook his head. "I was lost in thought for a moment." He sighed. "In truth, Trevor… The promise I made to your father was one that I was afraid to keep. One that I was afraid to fail keeping. In some ways, I still am. That's all I wish to say on the matter." With a spur to the side of his own mount, the knight went further ahead to ride among his peers – a clear dismissal.

Trevor scoffed. When it came to his father, no one told him anything more than the tales from when he was young. Now, they all clammed up whenever he tried to mention it. The talked of his mother freely, but the young man wanted to know more about the man who loved his mother, about the man whom many of the Brotherhood regarded with respect. But the mission would last for several weeks, yet. And Wygol had been one of the villages Gabriel Belmont had passed through on his fabled quest. Someone would have to tell him something eventually.


They arrived in Wygol during the evening. The wind howled against them and cold rain soaked them through to the skin through the treated leather of their travelling cloaks. It was a wet and miserable contingent of Brotherhood Knights that arrived at the edge of the village – a village that seemed much larger and more vibrant than previous reports had indicated. Even through the grey sting of the rain it was visible how the once reputed poor and decrepit outpost was now flourishing. The buildings were new and constructed well, and the roads were hard and cobbled where one might have expected the slop of a mud track.

Several of the townsfolk watched them ride in through open doors and windows, eerily silent in their regard. The Brotherhood had sent messengers ahead to forewarn the townsfolk of their arrival and arrange accommodations, and so it was that the scouts regrouped with the main contingent and led them to the warm hearth and stables of a large inn.

"…This wasn't here before," Evrat pointed out quietly to one of the other knights.

They nodded solemnly in reply. "Wygol has never been much of a trading post or a waypoint for the common traveler. At least, not until now. It would make sense that they build something like this."

"Hm. We'll have to see what the village headman has to say on the morrow."


Trevor watched his mentor and the other knights conversing quietly from across the room – they sat in the corner, nursing bowls of thick stew while he had perched himself on a stool by the fireside to dry out his socks. The people of the town were quiet and watched the knights carefully and from a distance – the inn was completely empty except for the owner and his family.

Another thing he noticed was that every one of the locals that he had seen wore a red or dark brown strip of fabric around their neck, tied in a manner that resembled a bandage. It was a curious item of fashion – not something that Trevor would normally take note of, save for that several of the people he had seen had tugged nervously at the edges if they noticed one of the delegation looking. The other knights and squires quickly settled into the inn, quickly demolishing their own portions of stew with tired gratitude for the warm food and hospitality, before retiring to the rooms that the scouts had arranged.

Trevor remained in his corner, watching the senior knights as they frowned and spoke solemnly. They had not retired with the others. He could not hear them, but from the way a few of them gestured towards their clavicles the teenager surmised that they had also noticed the strangeness of the neck-scarves. Perhaps such a thing would be explained on the morrow.

He watched as another knight moved to join his mentor and the senior knight's group, noting as they introduced each other and then began catching up with some good cheer. But something about this silver-haired knight made Trevor uneasy.


Stheno watched her charge from the shadows of the rafters, clinging to the ceiling and concealed by an amulet of illusion. She had watched Trevor Belmont grow from that frightened child she had first met into a young man of skill and sharp wit. It was nostalgic to her, reminding her almost of the past and watching the growth of her younger siblings before the Fall of Agharta and their subsequent changes. A bittersweet sort of feeling.

She had known that there were elements of the Brotherhood that knew of the young Belmont's connection to her Prince, as well as the possibility of other dangers as the life of a warrior was one that tended to court casualty, and over the years she had done well in guarding Trevor from both enemies outside the Brotherhood, as well as short-sighted fanatics within. She knew that her charge's mentor was one of the few knights with the knowledge of her Prince's identity that could be regarded with minimal suspicion towards his intentions – Evrat would have been killed by Dracul, otherwise.

Thusly, she was surprised. She could never have predicted that the Brotherhood would permit the squire to travel so close to the Dark Domain of The Dragon.

Unless, it was a matter of insurance? With Trevor among their number, Dracul would not move to harm them and risk alienating his son while they travelled into the edges of his territories. Stheno nodded to herself with a slight hiss – such a tactic was sound.

"Ah, good evening gentlemen," a new voice chimed in, deep and cultured. Stheno twisted herself about on the ceiling to get a closer look. There was a silver-haired man dressed in the uniform of the Brotherhood, but she could not recall him from the convoy.

"Bishop Jasper dispatched me out here a few months ago – I've been awaiting your arrival to check on the situation for quite some time. I am Knight Stewart," he concluded amiably with a small smile, his dark eyes crinkling merrily at the corners.

The other knights greeted him, though some with some confusion at first.

"Ah, I didn't realize the scout from the initial report was still in the town?"

"No, no – I have heard of Sir Stewart. He has a good reputation for his scholastic achievement."

"Oh, now that you mention it, I am sorry I didn't recognize you."

Knight Stewart grinned, taking a seat among their number. "That's quite alright. I certainly have that sort of face, I suppose." He laughed, touching a hand to the Light Magic amulet he wore.

Stheno frowned. She had spied and concealed herself among the Brotherhood's compound for the greater half of a decade and knew many of the knights by face and name. But Knight Stewart was not someone she could recall or recognize even vaguely from that time, though something about the man's voice prodded at her memory.

Something was not right.


A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience in putting this chapter together. There may be two or three more chapter's planned before the conclusion of this segment, so please stay tuned! To those on tumblr and other medias that have been wondering just where the hell I vanished off to… it was my self-imposed exile from the internets and all computer gaming over the last three weeks that gave me the kick in the pants to finally get this chapter sorted out! I have missed all of you – I will be 'back' effective on Tuesday September 13th!

Also, I tried to make it obvious about Knight Stewart… hopefully I will not need to gift anyone with a dunce cap!