Castlevania: Lisa's Last Words
Chapter 16
Man Meets His Destiny
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Dracula emerged from the cellar, his presence heralded by the creaking of the wooden stairs. Beth awaited him in the cabin, her eagerness to begin her lessons palpable. She stood poised by the door, her eyes fixed upon the Dark Lord with an unwavering intensity. Tonight, however, their usual routine would be interrupted by a more pressing matter.
The corpse of the vampire, still and silent, lay within the cabin, a grim reminder of the previous night's encounter. With Beth slumbering and Dracula forced to seek refuge from the dawn, the pair had neglected to dispose of the body. Now, it remained, pristine and unblemished, save for the blood that stained its surface, as if it might stir back to unholy life at any moment. The vampire's remains required destruction by fire or holy magic, a task that could not be delayed.
"Come, child, we have work to do," Dracula said, his voice low and measured. The skeleton, raised by Beth's nascent powers, stood patiently by her side, awaiting instructions. Dracula intended for Beth to practice her abilities by raising the remaining skeletons, but her youth and inexperience limited her progress in the Dark Arts.
"First, let us dispose of the body. Use your undead minion to carry it outside, and we shall burn it. Leave the head," Dracula instructed, his gaze lingering on the vampire's visage. The mouth hung open, revealing the razor-sharp fangs, while the eyes remained blank and unseeing. For a fleeting moment, Dracula felt a pang of pity for the woman, wondering what had driven her to madness. Had his powers not been waning, he could have communed with her spirit, but that was now beyond his capabilities, and Beth was not yet skilled enough to attempt it. It was nothing but an idle curiosity regardless.
Beth gathered the wood and prepared the fire, her movements efficient and practiced. The skeleton placed the vampire's body upon the makeshift pyre, and Beth's improved skills allowed her to ignite the flames with ease. As the fire began to consume the corpse, Dracula and the skeleton retreated to a safe distance, watching as the body burned with an unnatural swiftness, a characteristic of vampire remains.
With the disposal of the vampire's remains accomplished, only one additional task remained before Dracula and his protégée could resume their customary routine. The villagers would soon grow curious about Mathias's and the vampire's fate, prompting them to search the surrounding lands. Dracula sought to maintain the cabin's secrecy for the time being.
However, the villagers would also wonder why he had not presented evidence of the vampire's demise at daybreak, a conundrum easily addressed through a small deception. "Mr. Dracula, what are you doing!?" Beth exclaimed, alarm etched on her face, as Dracula summoned a blade and inflicted minor wounds on his leg and arm. He then wrapped the affected areas with simple bandages, allowing the brief bleeding to stain the wrappings and sell the ruse. To complete the charade, Dracula crafted a makeshift crutch from sturdy sticks.
Dracula grunted, finishing his preparations. "Fear not, Beth; this is merely a ruse to conceal the truth. We must keep the villagers unaware of what transpired here. Come." Dracula returned to the cabin, retrieved the vampire's head, and placed it in a bag at his waist. With Beth by his side, they set out for the village, their pace steady and deliberate.
The tavern door burst open, its hinges creaking in protest, as a battered and disheveled Mathias stumbled into the establishment, his every step a testament to his apparent suffering. Beside him, the young girl struggled to keep him upright, her efforts a clever ruse.
As Mathias lurched towards the bar, the patrons' collective gaze followed, their faces agog with shock and curiosity. The barmaid's eyes widened, her expression frozen in a mix of horror and disbelief, rendering explanations unnecessary. With a deliberate motion, the disguised Dark Lord retrieved the bag containing the vampire's head from his waist and deposited it onto the bar, its contents eliciting a collective gasp from the assembled crowd as the bartender revealed the gruesome trophy within. "I trust you can dispose of that," Mathias began, his voice labored.
"I hope..." Mathias paused, his breathing ragged. "I hope we can live here in peace for some time." With Beth's 'assistance', Mathias turned to depart, his limp a convincing display of his supposed injuries. He paused at the entrance, his voice carrying across the room. "For the next beast, I will need payment." With that, Mathias vanished into the night, leaving behind a tavern full of stunned onlookers.
Upon disappearing from view, Dracula employed his acute senses to ensure their departure went unnoticed, and then walked with a natural gait, his hand gently grasping Beth's, as they exited the village. "I doubt any of the villagers will be cruel to you again," he assured the beaming girl, his voice low and soothing. While Dracula still preferred the seclusion of their cabin, situated outside the village, he felt a sense of relief wash over him, knowing that Beth's safety was now assured, even if he were to send her to the village for provisions.
The nights unfolded with a serene tranquility as Dracula continued to mentor Beth in the mystical arts. To his utter lack of surprise, Beth's proficiency in archery progressed at an astonishing pace, surpassing even his expectations. By the end of the week following the demise of the vampire woman, she had honed her skills to effortlessly strike small game, and demonstrated a deft hand at skinning her prey with a knife.
As her prowess grew, so did her bounty. Beth began venturing into the village at dusk to peddle her abundant collection of pelts and meat, garnering a modest but sufficient income for their basic needs.
What truly astonished the Dark Lord, however, was Beth's remarkable aptitude for the Dark Arts. Each night, just before dawn, Dracula guided her in the ancient ritual of raising skeletons. By the second night, she no longer teetered on the brink of unconsciousness merely summoning one, and by the third, she could summon multiple skeletons one after the other. Dracula would have never suspected a Belmont to exhibit such a talent with necromancy. Indeed, he had expected the opposite.
Practicing with fresh corpses in the village posed a risk, so Dracula instructed Beth in the delicate art of releasing the bound soul without destroying the skeletal remains. Though she accidentally destroyed the first, she soon mastered the technique, raising and releasing a skeleton each night until her mana was depleted.
The vampire and his protégée settled into a routine: hunting and preparing game, Dracula sating his thirst with the blood of Beth's prey, followed by lessons in the mystical arts. Dracula soon dispensed with further archery instruction, instead teaching Beth the art of reading. Their existence was simple, yet one the Dark Lord hoped would endure for a considerable time.
Dracula maintained his glamor each night, prepared for any grateful villagers who might visit, though none ever did. Every third night, Beth would venture into the village to sell her wares, returning with a modest income that would soon suffice to purchase a finely crafted shortsword and leather armor from the local blacksmith and tanner. Then, Dracula would instruct her in the art of wielding a blade.
After a fortnight of traversing the countryside, punctuated by stops at three villages along the way, Richter Belmont finally beheld the silhouette of Coorhagen, bathed in the soft luminescence of the half-moon. As he rode into the village, just past the witching hour of midnight, Richter's senses grew acute, his vigilance heightened. For even a seasoned hunter like himself could fall prey to the vampire's cunning if caught off guard.
Richter guided his steed to the village gates, where he presented a token from the church to the solitary guard, who, recognizing the emblem, allowed him passage without hesitation. Dismounting, Richter secured his horse at the entrance and prepared his weapons, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced air. The time for hunting had arrived. With a deliberate gait, Richter made his way to the tavern, his gaze darting about, ever watchful for the slightest sign of danger.
Richter strode into the tavern, his purposeful gait commanding attention, as he sought to inquire about the local vampire infestation. The Vampire Killer, his trusted weapon, remained dormant, indicating that the patrons were not creatures of the night. Richter took a seat at the bar, ordering a humble ale, and declared, "I've heard you have a vampire problem. I'm here to resolve it."
The bartender chuckled, pouring Richter a drink, "You're a tad late, lad. The beast has already met its demise, and there are no offspring to worry about." Richter felt a mix of disappointment and relief; his journey was unnecessary, but he would not have to risk his life this time.
Richter savored his ale, ordering another, and asked, "Who vanquished the creature? I'd like to meet them, if possible." The barmaid, her eyes sparkling with admiration, replied, "A Demon Hunter named Mathias dealt with the fiend. He's likely recovering from his injuries." Richter detected a tone of interest in her voice, one that went beyond mere appreciation.
The name "Mathias" gave Richter pause, but he couldn't quite place it. A nagging feeling urged him to investigate further. "Where can I find this Mathias?" he asked. The barmaid shrugged, "Somewhere outside the village, but I'm not sure where exactly."
The bartender added, "We respect his privacy, so you won't find anyone willing to divulge his location."
Just then, a man with a bandaged nose, looking like he'd been in a scrap, exclaimed, "What a load of hogwash! That witch's thrall isn't no hero!" Richter's gaze turned to the man, his interest piqued.
The bartender grunted, his expression a mix of amusement and warning, "Just because Mathias handed you a well-deserved ass kicking, Micah, doesn't grant you the liberty to speak ill of him. I advise you to keep your mouth shut, lest Mathias returns and hears you disparaging that young girl of his. He might just break more than your nose next time."
Micah, still seething, rose from his seat, his alcohol-laced breath wafting through the air. "Ha! I've nothing to fear; that thrall will likely be bedridden for weeks. He needed a crutch to walk the last time anyone saw him." He sneered, "That witch girl probably knows Mathias's whereabouts."
Richter exchanged a glance with the bartender, who nodded in confirmation. "Aye, she likely does. She's the local urchin, Beth is her name. She's around six years old and has been known to frequent the village, selling furs and meat every few nights. The fur trader, fortunate for her, keeps late hours."
Richter nodded, his mind processing the information. Mathias seemed like a noble and upstanding individual, but Richter's intuition urged him to seek out the man. With a nod, he requested directions to the fur trader and set off, his mission to find Mathias now a priority.
The trader's humble abode, akin to many others in villages of its ilk, exuded the pungent aroma of tanning furs, which permeated the air even at this late hour. The structure, while modest in size, was notable for its adjacency to a butcher shop, a testament to the trader's diversified endeavors. Richter, his refined sensibilities assailed by the potent scent, was on the verge of entering the shack when a diminutive figure emerged from within. Clad in a tunic and pants, her feet shod in supple deer-fur shoes with gloves made of the same hide, the child's visage sparked a realization within Richter: 'This must be the young Beth, of whom the villagers spoke.' With a paternal pang, Richter noted that Beth was no older than his own son.
Beth walked out of the fur trader's shack, feeling proud of herself for selling her furs. She had worked hard to hunt those animals, and it was nice to get some money for them. As she stepped out into the sunlight, she noticed a big man with a blue outfit and a white headband. He looked strong, but not as strong as Mr. Dracula. Nobody was as strong as Mr. Dracula. She felt a strange feeling, like she knew this big man already, but couldn't quite place him.
"Um... hi!" She waved cheerfully, feeling a bit more confident since Mr. Dracula had taught the villagers a lesson. "You're not from around here." She said, noticing his unusual clothing.
"Good evening, young miss," he said, kneeling down to her level. "I was looking for you. I heard about a demon hunter named Mr. Mathias, and I was curious." He spoke in a deep, gentle voice, which made her feel at ease.
"Oh! Mr. Matt? He's the nicest man ever!" She pointed to her bow and quiver. "He taught me how to use this, and now I don't go hungry anymore! He's really strong too. He beat up some bad men and then killed a vampire. I tried to help, but I couldn't shoot that well yet." She said, proudly sharing her story.
The man was quiet for a bit, making her feel a bit uncomfortable. "I see... I'd like to discuss that event. Can you tell me where he is?" He asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.
For some reason, she felt like she should answer. She felt really calm near the man, like she could trust him. "He lives with me; we have a place in the forest." She stopped, feeling guilty as she remembered Mr. Dracula's warning not to tell anyone where they lived. But I just said forest, she thought. The forest is big; he won't find it.
Beth looked back, but the man was gone. She shrugged and started walking back home, feeling a bit confused. She wondered who that man was and why he was looking for Mr. Dracula. She hoped Mr. Dracula would be okay, and that the man wouldn't cause any trouble.
"...we have a place in the forest." the young girl uttered, her words sufficient to guide Richter's pursuit. As a seasoned hunter of both mortal and supernatural quarry, Richter could track his prey with unerring precision. Yet, there was something peculiar about this child, an enigma that piqued his interest. The Vampire Killer, his trusted weapon, reacted with an unusual fervor, akin to its response to witches and warlocks. Nevertheless, Richter's instincts remained quiet, prompting him to temporarily set aside his curiosity about the girl.
As he departed the village, Richter murmured to himself, "Mathias... Mathias..." The name lingered in his mind, teasing his memory, as if he had forgotten a crucial detail. Beneath the moon's silvery glow, Richter espied a lake and a vast expanse of forest in the distance, close enough to reach on foot. The forest stretched out before him, an seemingly endless terrain that would prove challenging to navigate without a clear trail.
However, fortune smiled upon him, as the evening's rain had left an indelible mark on the terrain. Richter easily discovered the young girl's footprints, leading from the village into the forest, etched in the muddy earth. With a hunter's instincts, he simply followed the straightforward path, tracing the girl's steps back into the forest's depths.
Upon entering the forest, the trail became increasingly obscure, and Richter soon lost the girl's footprints in the mud as the dense tree cover preserved the dry earth. Undeterred, Richter employed his acute senses to search for traces of fur from the girl's attire on the trees, leveraging his exceptional tracking skills.
After a brief interval of walking, Richter's keen ears detected the faint crackling of a fire. As he advanced, the Vampire Killer's fury suddenly surged within his mind, signaling that a vampire was near. It was then that Richter's mind made the connection: 'Mathias... Mathias Cronqvist!' The realization struck him with the force of a lightning bolt.
As a Belmont, Richter was well-versed in the storied history of his family's vendetta against Dracula. Mathias, the original name of the betrayer of Leon Belmont, who would become Count Dracula, sparked an epiphany. The likelihood of coincidence was minimal, and the Vampire Killer's reaction only served to reinforce Richter's conviction.
Richter couldn't believe his luck – he had stumbled upon his arch-nemesis during a routine vampire hunt! With his whip at the ready, Richter utilized the Vampire Killer as a tracker, following the intensifying reactions to guide him toward his quarry. As the whip's response grew stronger, Richter knew he was closing in on his target.