Castle Dracul
The tapestry of night hung overhead in a countless sea of twinkling stars, while down on the earth all the little creatures sang their songs in a primordial orchestra of life and death. This great choir would soon be joined by two new voices - the cries of babes.
His babes.
Lisa, so beautiful even with all her exertions, was smiling radiantly. Her hair wreathed her face like the halo of a Christian Saint, and the moonlight made her glow. Her smile was everything.
His voice was soft, gentle, so much unlike his old self. "Name your son, my love."
"Adrian." She laughed, as their son's little hands clenched a fist full of her hair. "And our daughter?"
He leaned down and kissed her precious head, crowned by platinum curls just like her brother. "Alexandra."
There was a time that he had thought he would spend eternity alone, and yet here he was, blessed with his beloved and two children, a son and daughter perfect in every way.
"Adrien Fahrenheit and Alexandra Gloriana Draculesti."
Being X had once again proven himself a detestable hypocrite. Whatever hopes I had of the bloated parasite leaving my soul be were thoroughly dashed, and I immediately knew to be on the lookout for his next bungling. At least I don't have any lingering trauma from my untimely demise, if it was untimely at all. There were certainly vivid memories of my time as commander of the Salamanders, but I recall at least enjoying part of my retirement post war. Others were faded, or absent entirely. Not much different from my first life; I can remember the color of my comfortable office chair with back support, a calm faded blue, but not the faces of my mother and father.
Perhaps it is supposed to make accepting my place in this new life easier, but I doubt it. More likely the vile bearded violator of free will was taking more from me, believing I will break. Loser. Never!
This new life was certainly intriguing, I'll grant you, but the subtext was…troubling. I am apparently royalty of a less than traditional custom.
Once, the Salaryman. Once, the Devil of the Rhine. Now? The daughter of the Vampire King, Vlad Tepes Dracul.
Dracula.
I'd laugh, but I can literally feel the baby fangs poking out of my gums.
Castle Dracul is far from some horrifying demesne of a monstrous evil; it has a respectable opulence, as is befitting the home of a monarch. What was truly impressive were the refreshingly modern utilities, to say nothing of the staggeringly vast repository of knowledge it held. Science and mathematics, history and art, and the sheer ocean of magic…
More than once, I have felt a presence touch my thoughts and feelings, brushing against my very soul. Not the ham-fisted constrictions of the bearded bastard, no. More like I was swimming in an invisible pool with an equally intangible whale. By the gentle nudging of the thing, I could feel it's curiosity, and while it was not human it was very much aware.
My father's castle is alive, and has a soul. How novel! It certainly made such incredible feats as teleporting up and down Eastern Europe far more understandable.
Adrian and I had experienced a burst of rapid development; enough that the stage of needing our mother's milk and swaddling wraps changed was swiftly done and gone, and we were given rooms of our own. We were still children though, and soon our parents began our education. It was quite enjoyable really; Father and Mother were incredibly knowledgeable on a variety of subjects, and made certain to frame the material in ways that would be engaging for us. Apparently, the first time they met was mother hammering the castle gates and insisting he teach her.
A blind man could see that Lisa Tepes was a remarkable woman with both the intelligence and the will to change the world, but where her heart lay was in medicine; overcoming cloying superstition and religious dogma to save and improve lives. I might have only known her for six years, but she had my confidence.
My father..was complicated. I knew enough, even if they did not openly speak of it; an epithet like Lord Impaler did not spring forth apropos of nothing. Even in my life as the Salaryman and as Tanya Degurechaff, the monstrous deeds of Vlad Dracul were infamous and immortalized. However it would seem that life as a family man has been quite the dramatic shift for Father, and when he lectured us on history, I could sometimes see the briefest hesitation. Likely remembering some of his own deeds.
In any case, it was winter of the year 1465 in the Christian calendar, and about six months from our 10th birthday. Adrien and I had begun martial and magical training under Dracula; I knew that there would be great wars to come, but thankfully our father's reputation and power would shield us from the worst. Only an insane fool would dare lay a hand on the Impaler's children.
Such a rigorous routine would have been brutal, cruel and illogical were we normal humans, but as dhampir, we had inherited the lion's share of our fathers might and magical ability. Sunlight could not harm us, nor have we displayed any particular vulnerability to flowing water or silver. Holy relics were still up to question, but that wasn't a threshold that I was particularly inclined to cross at this juncture.
Blood was not necessary to sustain us, not like it was for Father, but I have found that after a long week a quick meal of fresh warm blood swiftly revitalized sore muscles and helped replenish the well of power within myself. Thankfully, I felt no particular compulsion towards human blood; to my tastes, it was slightly better than that of animals, but I could also make the same comparison of pork to fish. In a pinch any mammal would do really. My preference was bear while Adrien enjoyed boar. It also meant that we regularly had fresh game to share with mother.
Rising from a comfortable sleep, I immediately caught the scent of mother's honeyed walnut bread, sausages, and eggs wafting from the kitchen. I felt the touch of the Castle's spirit and reciprocated warmly. A quick trip to the privy for my morning ablutions, then it was into my favored attire of black and blue with the wonderfully soft red Cashmere scarf mother had knitted for me wrapped around my neck - a twin to her own.
The castle was warmed by immense furnaces and pipes that transported steam and heated air throughout our home, but we would be venturing out for the day, and Father had recently shifted the castle's location to somewhere in the higher slopes of the Greater Caucasus. From my window, the Black Sea appeared like a giant ink stain on the stark white winter landscape.
Slipping my lovely heeled shoes on I walked down the hall, passing works of display pieces older than most kingdoms, until I reached the warm kitchens. Mother was elbow deep in another set of dough; if the utensils I spied were correct, she would be trying her hand at another dish from 'the Far East'. Her anpan had been lovely, and I found myself craving more.
"Good morning my darling" spoke my mother, leaning over to kiss my head before returning to the dough. "Breakfast will be ready shortly. Wake your brother for me?"
"Yes Mama."
Then it was back down the hall and a left turn to wake my brother, the lazy bones. I found him half-hanging off his bed, one arm splayed over his face while a bit of drool trickled from his open mouth. His hair was a mess, and his room looked like a storm had passed through.
With a grin, I picked up an already open book - A Study On The Five Good Emperors - and slammed it shut with a thunderclap. Adrien yelped and bounced from the bed, struck his head on the ceiling, and then fell onto the floor with a thump.
Spitting and cursing like a cat, Adrien stared mulishly at me. "What in the hell-"
"Language young man!" We heard mother's voice call from the kitchen, and he went still.
"Are we sure Mom isn't magic?"
"No, you're just predictable." I tossed his ridiculously overcoat over his head, and he squawked when the boots followed. "We're going out after breakfast, so get dressed."
"I don't have to listen to you."
"Sure you do. I am the big sister."
"Only by a minute!"
The morning spread was lovely, even if Father did not partake. Instead he played his piano for us, and we sat beside mother, our plates loaded with enough to satisfy three grown men. Another wonderful meal courtesy of mother's hard work, but alas - no coffee. Not yet at least. I had my eye on trade from the lands to our south and west. Mother and I wore our matching red scarves, while Adrien barely fit into the big black overcoat father had given him.
"I have a meeting with one of my..associates, but I will be meeting you three at the west end near the docks after noon. Behave for your mother - that means no gallivanting off on another adventure Adrien."
Father could join us in the daylight, but doing so obviously was a discomfort for him; he'd quietly explained one evening that to move in daylight was to walk as a man - with all the weaknesses and vulnerabilities implied. Even so, he still cut a regal figure, though he had abandoned his stately black and red raiment for humbler attire. Finer than anything a common man would ever see, but a dark gray long coat with silver buckling and tall riding boots along with saber and rondel dagger completed the look of human nobility.
Altogether we appeared as a traveling family of means, which I suppose was true enough.
Sochi was a lovely city hugging the shores of the Black Sea, but we weren't going to be getting involved in the troublesome politics of the region. She certainly still bore the scars of her experiences during the regional civil war, but life had largely moved on; the market was packed with goods and merchants haggling with customers and each other over prices and values and scarcity.
For our part, mother needed certain ingredients for both her laboratory and the kitchens. We'd be meeting later for our luncheon on the shore, and then it was back home. Adrien and I had relative freedom to enjoy the day so long as we stayed within her sight.
My brother and I had drawn a few looks, but they were nothing untoward. We weren't so nobly dressed that we would look out of place, and Adrien was definitely a boy of ten playing with that carved saber like he was Janos Hunyadi. Even so, a few of the women were gushing over our hair, and a couple men guessed at our parentage. One of the local guard had begun shadowing us and our mother from a distance - likely out of a concern that our presence might attract some less friendly eyes.
"I have fresh fire clay on offer! New pots, bowls, and cups for your table!"
"The red one looks nice dear. What do you think?"
"The bull is in good health; three years old and full of vigor. He's sure to sire good calves for the spring!"
"I'll give you twenty five aspri, plus another two if you can throw in a good harness. Mine's gone to shit anyways."
The larger market was a teeming mass of humanity, chaotic and yet flowing naturally with the supply and demands of the people. It was like a breath of fresh air, and I felt a smile come unbidden to my face.
"Apples! Last of the harvest! Come and get them while they're good!"
"Carrots and turnips! Fresh out the ground and sweet!"
"Mommy, mommy! Look! Dolly!"
"Maybe in the spring, love."
"Awww."
The barter and exchange of raw goods was common enough, as were coppers changing hands. Rarer was the denominations of silver and gold. Meanwhile, courtesy of Father, my brother and I had an allowance that was likely more than most of these people or their children would ever see in their whole lives.
Of the two, Mother was far more sensible with her wealth. What she could not make herself, she'd barter for - often through her own invaluable trade. If she couldn't barter, she'd haggle with the tenacity of a hungry bear and kind words and an ease of presence impossible for all but the most stone-hearted to resist.
"Good morning to thee, young Domina."
I froze, and from the periphery of my vision, I saw an older man garbed finely and sucking from a bottle of wine nonchalantly. Furs and ivory, silver and steel crafts, porcelain and even jade. All of that, along with plenty more of the wine that he so casually imbibed.
His inventory wasn't all that shocking, even if it was impressive. Caravans following the Silk Road were tremendously profitable, and terribly dangerous as well. In a city like this? So soon after the bloodshed? It was very likely that this man had profited tidily from the war. Maybe even selling to all sides as well. Foolhardy and unscrupulous? Absolutely. It also meant he was cunning as a viper and had fangs to back that up.
No, what was shocking was the language that had passed his lips. Greek, Hungarian, Russian, Tartar - these were normal around these parts. It wasn't impossible for an educated nobleman to know his church Latin either. But flawless Aramaic, as taught to me and my brother by our father? That was another creature entirely.
Should I respond? Should I feign ignorance? Should I flee for mother and call for father? In the end, I sighed and turned to address the man directly with a shallow curtsy.
"Good day, gentle ser."
"Hah! Oh I am many things my dear, and that hardly is one of them. Please, come and have a seat in the shade."
The background noise of the marketplace fell away as we locked eyes. My wintry blue, to his amused brown.
Quirking an eyebrow, he casually proffered the wine bottle, and I rolled my eyes. With a light hop I sat atop a box filled with what I suspected was smuggled weapons or 'rescued' goods.
"You seem to have me an advantage, but we have never met before." I studied his appearance closer, noting the assortment of rings and bracelets, and suspected the chains about his neck carried a number of talismans. All the better to allow passage through war-torn lands, of course. His was a face marked by laugh lines, and the kiss of a dagger had left it's vicious mark across his cheek and jaw, where the salt and pepper of his beard no longer grew. His right hand was missing the little finger, and his left bore the brand of an escaped slave.
"I think we might have. Your esteemed father and I go a long ways back."
"Odd, then, that I have never heard of you."
"Oh, so suspicious! Whatever kind of daughter is my old friend raising?"
"The kind who knows better than to trust a stranger."
"Well now I'm just hurt. Positively wounded!" He feigned clutching his heart, and gagged as if choking on his own blood. Then he smiled and set his wine to the side and extended his hand for a shake. "The name's Viktor."
"Alexandra." I grasped his forearm as he grasped mine, and noted the well-cut ruby on his finger. A war-profiteer and a magician perhaps? Since I wasn't spontaneously exploding into demons or enslaved, I lowered my guard just a touch.
Not enough to allow him to touch me again though.
"That's a lofty name Vlad's given you."
"One that I will have many years to live up to."
"Of that, I have no doubt," he chuckled. Viktor the stopped, smacked his face, and hopped down from his seat. "And here I am, forgetting the big day coming up. Stay right there!"
While he scarpered off behind his wares to dig through what sounded like a chest or three, I allowed my senses to expand. Sight and sound and smell were amplified, from the notes of his wine (an old Greek vintage from the peninsula) to the noise of a man..
'Okay, violation of privacy aside, gross. At least wash your hands after!'
I shook my head, then redoubled my focus. Everything took a reddish hint, and then I began to feel it. Another merchant at his stall lit up with a dim glow following his veins and arteries, and I could hear his heartbeat as if it was right beside me. Further down my mother spoke with an older woman and what might be her grandson.
There were a strange array of not-colors as well; some dark and gray, others light and lively. Ambient noise fell away completely, and I could hear the underlying song of the world. The churning of the Black Sea, the rumbling of the deep earth, the whispers of the mountain winds.
I felt the vague impression of a hollowness nearby. A cave? No. It was like a gaping hole..what in the world is that?
Well, there was no sign of magic around me, so it appeared he wasn't a magician at all. Better safe than sorry. With that worry off the board, I released the breath I had been holding and felt the world rush back in like a poke to my proverbial third eye. I'd be paying for that one later I knew.
Viktor returned with a pair of dark palm-fitting boxes latched with silver; one rectangular, one squared. "Gifts! Please, inspect them as you like."
Gently I received them, and opened each in turn - a choker and a ring. Both made in emulation of my father's crowned dragon sigil, and wrought from electrum. They both were designed to be set with gemstones of significant size as well.
Well, if I ever find a suitable replacement for my old Orb, I know where to put it.
"These are.."
"Princely, yes, but then again, nothing less would suffice for royalty."
Her eyes narrowed. "There's no such thing as a free lunch. What's the catch?"
"Hah! I am found out so easily!" Viktor's eyes gained a cold quality, and I found that even the air felt like we were in a tomb. "Only a request that when the Dragon marches to war once more, he remembers his old friend Viktor." Then the cold retreated like it never was, and we were back in the bustling, lively market of Sochi. "And to let him know he should swing by more often! I have only these winter years left to me, you know, and I'm not growing any younger! Haha!"
"I'll be sure to let him know." Great, another creepy old man. What is it with these guys and using little girls to achieve their desires?
Later, as we enjoyed our meal on the shoreline with father watching us eat, I revealed the gifts to them and saw my father frown minutely.