Assistances

They rode all night long, only making short breaks for their animals to drink some water. After a few hours Alfred began to feel the skin of his inner thighs going sore, even though the leather of the saddle was well manufactured and cared for. He just wasn't used to such a forced ride. To tell the truth, he wasn't even used to longer rides. He had learned riding as a small kid, as it was right and proper for a member of the landed gentry, but he had never been prone to the sport. Actually, he wasn't prone to any sports at all, clumsy and inept as he was.

But Alfred didn't complain. His whole being wished to free his count of the hands of his old mentor. Herbert, who led the way, seemed to be even more determined. But then, he had an even stronger bonding to his father.

Alfred felt a little guilty. All of this could have been prevented if only he hadn't been that silent yesterday; if he had just told Herbert directly what he and his professor came to Transylvania for, none of this would have happened. But it had seemed wiser yesterday to keep that detail to himself. If only Herbert had mentioned his father wanting to return to the inn...

But pondering and compunction didn't help. The Count was in the Professor's clutch and it was down to him and Herbert to rescue him.

Finally, Herbert halted. They had reached a small shack in the middle of the forest. Alfred had no idea where they were. But there was a stable alongside the dwelling that contained hay and oats, which surprised him, since the shack was clearly uninhabited. After they got off the horses, they led the animals into the stable.

"Can you go and fetch some water?" Herbert asked of him. They were the first words he had spoken since they left Chagal's village. Herbert's voice sounded tired and weary, and he walked as uneven as Alfred did.

Alfred nodded, took the two big buckets that Herbert gave him, and went outside, where he found a well after a small search around. He put the first bucket beneath the tap and turned to the pump. It looked deeply rusted and Alfred doubted that a weed like him could ever move it. He took a deep breath, placed both hands on top of the lever, assembled his forces, and pressed against it with his whole weight, to push it down. It unfortunately ended with him landing face first into the damp earth because he had underestimated his new vampiric strength completely and the pump budged far easier than he'd expected it to.

He rose and stared, confused, at his muddy hands, to the pump, and back again. He was lucky the lever didn't break during this act – it had been a close call. Way more cautiously, he filled the two buckets with water up to the brim and brought them back into the stable effortlessly. Alfred smiled. He liked this newfound discovery. Finally he wasn't the weakest person anymore. He'd really like to talk to some of his former classmates or fellows right about now...

In the meantime, Herbert had filled the mangers with oats and brought hay into the boxes and was about to free his animal of its tack and rub it with straw. Alfred followed suit and cared for his mare. The completely wet horse drank and fed greedily and Alfred looked worriedly at the trembling flanks and legs of the animal. How far would they have to ride? The horses wouldn't survive many more of those forced rides.

After they had cared for the animals as best as they could, Herbert said, "Come," and Alfred followed him into the shed.

Exhausted, Herbert sat down at a table in a sparsely furnished kitchen, Alfred soon following suit.

"We can't go on any farther tonight," Herbert explained. "This is one of the last shelters we built between castle and Kronstadt (A/N: today: Brasov). There is a hidden trapdoor leading into a windowless cellar. Only some short hours of riding tomorrow and we'll reach Kronstadt. We'll have to see how we'll get to Vienna from there. I know some people to talk to. But I'm quite sure it won't be a comfortable journey."

Alfred nodded. "Travelling is surely a bit more complicated for vampires."

Herbert managed a weak smile. "Not necessarily. At least if you have planned it thoroughly beforehand."

Herbert pulled himself together and rose again. "There's just the cold water from the well for washing, I'm afraid to say."

"Wait – I'll go and fetch some. Now that I know how the pump works," he added silently, rising to look for a bowl before he went to fetch the water.

When he came back, Herbert said, "Just go first, I'll see to the horses once more," and somehow Alfred was glad that he was left at least this last bit of privacy. He freed himself of his clothes and washed hastily. The water was uncomfortably cold, but he guessed it would have bothered a human more than it did him. He hardly froze at all.

After he had washed the dirt from his skin, he looked at his clothes, sighing. He'd worn them since yesterday, had slept in them, and undertook this ride in them. He could imagine better things than to don them again. But there was no other possibility. To wash the cloth and just wear the traveling cloak while sleeping was futile – it was way too cold and clammy in the shed for them to dry until evening. So he put them on again, feeling as dirty as before washing.

Alfred took the bowl, went back outside, shed the water away, and went to the well to pump new water for Herbert. He then saw a shape sitting on a rock in the dark a bit farther away from the shack, staring into the ever brighter sky. Herbert looked lost and vulnerable as he sat there and Alfred felt, again, that twinge of guilt he simply couldn't get rid of. He put the bowl down and went to Herbert. He hesitated another second before sitting down beside the count's heir and pulling him into his arms. Herbert laid his head amiably on his shoulder.

"We'll find him and free him," Alfred repeated his words from earlier that night and stroke Herbert's silk-smooth hair consolingly.

"Will he hurt him? Torture him?" Herbert whispered and Alfred heard imminent tears in his voice. It soothed him somehow to see that a creature like himself was still able to such emotions. He pondered his answer, before he said:

"Professor Abronsius is not the man to inflict pain on any creature just for the fun of it. If he did, then only to protect himself." Alfred remembered the silver handcuffs in Abronsius' luggage. If his professor's theory was right, then they could bring the count severe pain. But he didn't want to ask Herbert right now if silver really was that harmful to vampires. That would only lead to other questions and Herbert would probably feel worse afterwards. For now, he seemed consoled and relaxed a little in Alfred's arms. It was best to keep it that way.

Alfred couldn't tell how long they sat there like this. Eventually, Herbert spoke. "We have to get inside," he said as he rose and wiped over his face with his sleeve. The comfort Alfred's arms gave him did him well, and he wished he could have met Alfred in other circumstances. But that was impossible right now.

Alfred filled the bowl up and brought it in, but Herbert contented himself with a very quick wash. He then showed Alfred the trapdoor that matched so perfectly into the floor that hardly anyone would find it if they didn't knew it to be there. They went into the room beneath. It was furnished with five coffins, aside from some more or less clean mattresses, pillows, and blankets.

"Would you mind not sleeping in a coffin today? It's … too narrow for two," Herbert asked and Alfred was surprised he was given a choice.

"Sure," he merely said as he chose the cleanest mattress and laid down. At once Herbert crawled to him, cuddled into his arms and fell asleep almost immediately. Alfred, tired out by the night's events, followed him into sleep not long after.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

About half an hour after Alfred and Herbert had struggled into the saddles once more, Breda von Krolock woke from the day's rest.

Even before he opened his eyes, he could tell that there were changes from the night before. Last night, he had lain in a tightly closed coffin, without any means to escape. The net, which had been used to capture him, was still slung around his body. That had been irritating and uncomfortable, not to mention the fact that they obviously were travelling by a coach and the uneven ground earned him some bruises. But the worst had been the cuffs still binding his hands. The agony had become almost unendurable.

Now he no longer lay in the coffin, but sat upright, apparently leaned against a wall. Plus, the pain in his wrists had disappeared. The net was unfortunately still surrounding him. Well, as long as his hands were free, he'd find a way out of there.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and immediately saw the old, white-haired man, who had gotten him into this situation initially. The man showed him his back, sitting on a small table, deeply immersed into the book he was scribbling in. Breda looked around. This was most likely a guest room. His prison-coffin laid open beside the bed.

But when the count came back to his own situation, he felt frustration well up inside him. He should have known the old man to be too smart to make it that easy for him. His situation had gotten better as well as worse.

Worse, because now there were not only silver cuffs applied to his wrists, but also to his ankles. Better, for his wrists and ankles were bandaged with some cloth now, so that the torturing metal no longer made contact with his skin. This saved him from a lot of pain, but made escape simply impossible. He could not free himself!

He looked up when he realized that the scribbling of the quill had stopped. Indeed, the old man had begun to watch him with interest.

"Oh, we're awake? I allowed myself to reduce the effect of that silver a bit. I don't want to present a vampire to public whose hands and feet have fallen off. I just wrote down what kind of injuries the cuffs have caused to your skin. Very interesting, indeed."

"I believe it to be more regrettable than interesting," Breda snapped back.

"Well, to regret, you need to feel remorse, and remorse is something vampires don't know, so why mention it?"

"Why do you believe that vampires can't feel remorse?" Breda found himself honestly interested in the answer.

The Professor just looked at him, confused. "Isn't that plain? When the human dies and the demon takes possession of his body, his soul is lost. And the soul is the thing to enable feelings such as love, remorse, hate, grief..."

"I don't know about souls and what happens to them when you turn into a vampire. But I can assure you that I can feel all of those emotions sincerely," Breda explained calmly and smiled a bit when a look of deepest disbelief met him.

"Vampires are masters of lies and lures. Of course you'd tell me things to fascinate me. You undoubtedly want to make me an ally to you and then set you free after realising you're not that bad."

Breda chuckled. This suspicion was amusing – and appropriate.

"Another small mistake. Your studies are incomplete and wrong at some points, obviously. It's right that we seduce humans. But this charm only works for the opposite sex. As long as you do not have a much darker secret than I, you're safe from my charm. But I'd still be happy if you set me free."

The Professor stared almost longingly at his book on the table. Breda could just feel how the old man languished to scribble down these new theories. He decided to keep him a bit from it. It could be his only bit of fun for the next time.

"Where are we?" he asked the old man.

"Oh no, I won't tell you. Just this much: Tomorrow morning this coffin will be brought on board a train, which will take you far away from Transylvania."

"Then we must be in Kronstadt, and you already told me that you intend to take me to Königsberg. Why don't you want to tell me?" Breda was interested in the man's mysterious motives.

"Well, so you can't tell your vampire friends via telepathy where you are and where they have to look for you. Apart from this, I had a lot of time to think about my next steps and have decided that I won't take you to Königsberg."

Breda smirked. Yes, they were powerful creatures, superior to humans in many ways. But their power had limits. They could not fly, as many believed, nor were they skin-changers, nor could they influence the weather. Telepathy was one of the many myths that were at least partly true. But it was only possible in narrow limits; you needed strong bonds and trust in the other vampire – for it was a two-way street. And one surely didn't want just anyone being able to read his or her thoughts. It was also locally limited. He had this kind of connection with Herbert. But they had to be close, to find the mind of the other one. The distance between castle and inn had been too huge, for example.

Did the Professor really change his plans? Why? If he told the truth, possible pursuers would really have a hard time. Herbert had probably found out by now that the Professor came from Königsberg – if the villagers had been able to keep the town's name in mind over more than some hours. But then there was the young assistant too. Possibly he had an idea? Breda could just hope for it.

Professor Abronsius watched his prisoner sharply, who just smirked but didn't say anything back. He took it as an admission and congratulated himself for his decisions. He really had done a lot of thinking during the two-day coach ride. His thoughts had wandered to Alfred more than once and he had tried to imagine what he would have said to it all.

Alfred had always been more realistic than him, he was the one to lift the moral finger whenever the professor had forgotten anything in his excitement. Oh, of course he had noticed it! That's why he had liked this assistant so much. Alfred himself believed to have intervened without him noticing. For he would never have told him bluntly. But he would not be Professor Abronsius if he hadn't downright looked past Alfred's doings.

This imaginary Alfred had recited the possible failures of a journey to Königsberg. At first there was the possibility of vampires following them to free the Count. Then imaginary Alfred pointed out that it'd be hard for them to find enough – if any – scientist they could convince to look at the vampire and believe their eyes.

He had to look for an ally who added to his credibility. They would not believe one scientist claiming to have caught a – well – "living" vampire. Two scientists, maybe. And there was but one colleague who would believe him at once.

Gianni Alibori, chair in Vienna, who studied the myth of vampires himself. How often had they exchanged theories and quarreled passionately on the topic? They estranged finally over the question that originally established the reflection theory (which Abronsius had already verified, using a small hand mirror).

So, since Alibori had the annoying habit of stealing other people's success, Abronsius took precautions. He had written and sent a letter to a colleague in Königsberg already, stating his discovery with a certified date. So Alibori couldn't steal his merit. But he need not know this until they had won the belief of other scientists.

He watched the count taxingly, took his book and the pen, and determined to give this probably sleepless night a purpose. "I have some questions for you and would be very grateful if you answered them as accurate as possible."

"Will you get me out of this net in turn?" came the counter question rather promptly.

Abronsius shook his head. "No. I like my life and the more there is restricting you of attacking me, the better. Moreover, this net might be annoying, but it doesn't hurt you."

"So, why should I answer? Where lies the value for me?"

"Well, if you cooperate, I promise I won't remove the bandages around your wrists and ankles when I put you back into the coffin."

Breda glared darkly at the old man. Well, it surely couldn't hurt? Either he got freed and the Professor was killed along with his knowledge, or their secrets would be revealed anyway. He was quite sure there'd be many tests with him as a research object. Furthermore, it would make this night more entertaining and Abronsius obviously had the better argument – he didn't want to feel that silver again. So he said: "Well, ask away then."

Professor Abronsius' eyes began to shine and it was all he could do to restrain himself from clapping his hands. "Well, first question: I already observed that your reflection doesn't appear in my small hand mirror. Is it the same with any reflecting surface, such as water, or are there exceptions?"

Breda took a deep breath before he exhaled an answer...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Alfred slid off the horse's back hours later, he thought for a moment to be unable to complete just one step forward. Or backward, for that matter. They had passed the first farms and houses of Kronstadt about twenty minutes ago and Herbert had led him through the narrow winding roads until they had reached this quite big property.

A stable-boy came to tend to their horses, eyeing them worriedly. Alfred could only hope that the boy could cure them. Some minutes more and his mare would probably have collapsed.

"Is your lord at home?" Herbert asked the stable-boy, who nodded silently. "Come," he said to Alfred, as he did so often. Alfred followed him, as he did so often, out of the stables, across a huge patio into an impressive townhouse. A servant opened the door after Herbert knocked briskly. Alfred noticed the missing heartbeats of the man – he noticed it before with the stable-boy too. Obviously this was an estate of vampires.

"Master von Krolock," the servant greeted the count's heir and took a small bow. "I will announce you to my lord immediately. Please follow me, I'll show you to the parlor.

The servant went ahead and they followed him. Alfred was not surprised to be treated as if he weren't there. He was used to this treatment – it was no different as assistant to the Professor. The scholars Abronsius associated with often took him for a better hat stand.

The servant showed them into the very elegant and modernly furnished parlor and left them there. Herbert sat down in a comfortable chair and Alfred followed suit. He was quite happy that this chair was well cushioned. He wondered if Herbert had any idea how to get to Vienna from here. They had not talked during their ride.

Some minutes after their arrival, the door opened and a middle aged man entered. He had an impressive mustache while his head was bald. His clothes were modern and genteel, just like the furniture. He went directly to Herbert.

"Herbert von Krolock. To what do I owe the honor of this visit? Did His Excelleny* send you?"

"Greetings, Robert. No, father does not send me, to the contrary. I follow him – he got abducted."

There was concern in the dark eyes of the vampire named Robert now.

"That does not sound good. How can I help you?"

"We have to go to Vienna, as quickly as possible. And I need some paper and a feather. There must be bloody chaos in the castle right now. I had to leave at once when I learned about the abduction. They don't even know yet."

"Paper, feather, and a messenger bringing it to the castle – that's not a problem at all. About Vienna..." Robert played pensively with one side of his mustache. "I'll send an envoy right now. I know a vampire who really can do wonders regarding sudden journeys. Can you pay?"

Herbert looked contritely at the vampire. "I have a bit of money in my travelling cloak, but I don't know how much I will need in Vienna. As I said, we were not prepared for this journey."

"Never mind, I can disburse it. I know your father well enough to know I'll get it back."

"If we find and free him," Alfred thought, but didn't say anything since his opinion obviously was in little demand.

"Thank you, Robert," Herbert sighed, relieved.

Robert rose. "The servants will bring you the things you need and I'll send the envoy now," he said and left.

Shortly afterwards, a servant brought paper, ink, and a feather and Herbert sat down at a writing table in the corner. Determined, he unscrewed the inkpot, dipped the feather in it and let it soar over the paper. Then he paused.

Slowly all those thoughts he had suppressed during the forced ride, befell him now. Up to now, getting here was all that was important. Now, that he had to think about it, he became aware of the chaos he must have left behind. He laid the feather aside and took his head in his hands.

Alfred had noticed already last morning that the count's heir was at the end of his tether. He felt again that little twinge of guilt and struggled to get up from his comfortable seat. He went to Herbert, laid his hands on his shoulders and asked: "What do you want to write?"

Herbert let his hands sink on the table, leaned back, and rested his head at Alfred's belly. Alfred let him do as he pleased and started to massage Herbert's shoulders softly. Herbert closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the care and taking encouragement from it.

"You have no notion of the chaos in the castle right now. Father and I disappeared without a trace, just the night of the midnight ball. This one night of the year that they are all waiting for."

Alfred could imagine the fuss in the castle. But he was trained to ask only the fundamental questions when Abronsius was already ten steps ahead. So he asked: "Who are you writing to. That Koukól-guy?"

Herbert snorted scornfully. "He can't even read. No, I'll write to Kadir. An Ottoman servant to my father since 27 years ago. He took over most administration. He is also in command of the cemetery. He's not yet as apathetic as the others and these tasks will help him to keep his head above water for some more time."

Alfred heard how bland Herbert talked about this vampire. It was such a stark contrast to the feelings for his father and the cordiality towards this Robert here. A vampire seemed to be a pretty torn creature. But since he wanted to help Herbert right now, he suppressed this thought, pondered for a moment, then said: "I don't think you should write the truth. Just write that you had to undertake a very sudden, but unpostponable journey."

"I didn't want to write the truth. There are some vampires whose level of suffering is high enough to be able to cut the bonding to their sire – if they just get the right reason. I fear this event could have happened yesterday. They wait all the year for this drop of human blood – and they get nothing."

Alfred thought about this. After the couple of gulps yesterday he could not imagine having to wait a whole year to get another swig of it. And it obviously wouldn't be a swig, but merely a whiff of the taste, sharing it with so many others. If even that was denied to him...

"Write to Kadir, that your father gave permission for them to catch one human from every village of the countship, as a compensation for the cancelled midnight ball. So everyone will have plenty in comparison."

Herbert looked at Alfred, aghast. "That'd be completely against my father's laws. Only he and I are allowed to hunt humans."

"It's a one-time exception. When we'll have freed your father and brought him home to find a contented flock of vampires there, he will pardon this necessary step. If not – just tell him it was my idea." After all, Alfred was used to be blamed for other people's (i.e. Abronsius') faults.

Herbert looked again at the still empty paper, then sighed. "I'll tell them about a permission of three humans. Eight would be way too much. But three are two more than usual at the midnight balls. That should be enough to smooth their ruffled feelings."

Now that the decision was made, Herbert wrote down the words fluently, blew on the paper to dry the ink, folded it, and finally sealed the edges with a bit of molten wax from the candle, using the ring on his left ring finger as a sigil.

Herbert had just finished the letter when Robert entered the room once more. "Is the letter done? Well, I'll send the messenger right away with it. It can be a while until my other servant has returned, so I ordered them to put the guest chamber in order. You'll find everything needed for an upcoming journey there."

Herbert rose, went to Robert, and took his hand gratefully. "How can I ever thank you?"

Robert simply brushed him off. "I won't ever forget what your father did for me. Come, Herbert, I'll show you into the chamber myself."

Alfred just followed the two unasked, but wasn't rejected either. They took some stairs to the upper floor and crossed a long hallway, until Robert finally opened a door and showed them inside. When Herbert and Alfred were inside, he closed the door behind them.

The first Alfred detected was the smell. Human blood! He felt his fangs stretching right away. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Herbert.

"Stay calm. You'll get some. But you have to retain yourself. This servant is our friend's and he will want to keep him."

Alfred closed his eyes and tried to regain control of himself and his instincts. Finally, he felt strong enough to look around. There was a human sitting in a chair beside a table. On top of the table stood two wineglasses and there was a tube sticking in the arm of the human. Astonished, Alfred realized that this man was about to be "milked". And since he didn't look anxious at all, he did this voluntarily.

Herbert went to the man, took a wineglass and fumbled on the tube. Slowly, the glass filled with red blood. The smell got more intensive at once and Alfred did not dare coming even one step closer. Herbert filled both glasses to the brim, nodded dismissingly to the human, who rose and left at once and came back to Alfred, offering him one of the glasses.

Alfred really tried to drink the blood as slowly and measured as Herbert did and not just tip it into his mouth. Only now he realized, how hungry he was yet again. Fortunately his curiosity was stronger than his hunger just enough to help him retain decency.

"Does this happen often?" he asked Herbert and pointed with the thumb in the direction, the man had disappeared.

"Only in the city. There are enough people ready to do anything for money here. In rural areas – no."

"Too bad," Alfred said and Herbert nodded approvingly.

After they had emptied their glasses they turned to the bed. There laid two sets of clothes each and a travelling bag. The clothes probably wouldn't fit a hundred percent, but a belt would do the trick. Alfred was relieved that he apparently hadn't been just air to their host after all. He longed to get rid of his dirty, sweaty clothes.

By turns they used the small bathroom, providing running water, if only cold, and washed before they changed their clothes. Alfred put the other sets of clean robes into the bag, while Herbert threw the dirty ones carelessly into a basket for the servants to clean. Finally, they sat down on some chairs and waited for the return of Robert's servant, almost dozing off.

Eventually a knocking at the door ripped them out of their drowsy state and Robert entered.

"Ah, you're ready, that's good. My servant came back with the order that you should follow him at once. Obviously the journey will start this morning. All is arranged, don't worry. When you reach Vienna, seek aid with this vampire. He owes me a favor – give him this letter." Robert gave Herbert a sealed letter, declaring a name and an address. "He'll give you free lodgings, at least."

"My father will reward you for all of this Robert, I promise," Herbert said, putting the letter away in the pocket of his travelling cloak.

"The main point is that you'll come back together with him – that'd be reward enough for me. And now hurry!"

Robert brought them to the entrance, where the servant awaited them. After thanking Robert once more they said goodbye (even Alfred got his hand shaken for a change) and followed the servant through the night shrouded Kronstadt, heading to the next step of their journey.

TBC

*A/N: I know that "Excellency" is actually the wrong addressing for a Count. In this case, I just follow the mistake made in the musical, in which the Count is always referred to as "His Excellency".