Bistritz

His fine-tuned body was moving. His legs giving out from under the sudden weight, he was falling. Curling into himself, he rolled and kicked the thing that had just jumped onto his back. Years of bare-knuckle fighting had sharpened his instincts perhaps even more than it had hardened his body. But Emilian's brain was in a sort of clumsy overdrive, floundering about as he tried to make sense of the situation.

'What could have...?'

The woman. To his horror, it was the same female he'd knocked to the ground just moments before. She had caught up to him, and somehow jumped down upon him from the branches overhead.

Feeling his heart beat faster in his chest, Emilian knew that she was more than just an ordinary woman. His trembling green eyes stole sporadic glances at her form. The woman could actually be considered quite beautiful. Her hair was impossibly dark, falling in strands across her face. That face. Pale and feminine without so much as a blemish. She looked as if she had just stepped out from an oil painting. It wasn't until she spoke that he knew fear.

"So what's your name, kid?"

Her teeth. No...not teeth. They were sharp. Pointed like an animal's. Razors that shone pearl in the moonlight. Her dark lips still stained with blood were now upturned in an unsettling smirk.

'Not seeing this...'

Emilian suddenly became aware of his body. At some point he had dropped the bag of loot from the castle, replacing it with the dagger he kept at his belt. It was held tightly in a reverse grip, more defensively than anything.

It was then that he'd finally processed her words.

'My name?'

She looked at him like a toy. Her golden eyes passed over him with a curious belittlement that sent a shiver through his core. She wanted to know his name? She'd just pounced on him from wherever and she wanted to know his name!?

"You gotta be kidding me!"

With that, he scooped up the bag, the contents inside rattling together, and ran again - this time straight for her. Knife out in front of him, he hoped to startle her to backing off, allowing for him to escape. To escape from this wretched forest, this awful town, and this impossible woman.

The fight had barely commenced before it was over. Embarassingly so. Appropriately enough, the vampire's work was commendable.

Appearing out from the trees, her feet stepped gracefully over the twigs and rocks that littered the forest floor. It was then that Emilian saw her...

Narrowed eyes came first, and an instinctive reach for whatever crude weapon lay holstered at his hip. And then came the widened, glazed expression. The vampire had noticed as well, and stared intensly, ready to pounce.

She took a few more paces toward them and stopped, giving a delicate curtsey.

"Salutations to you both. I am called Lieselotte." Her voice was sweet honey and her gaze slowly moved between the two parties.

"Please remit my sudden intrusion. I am afraid I was privy to your confrontation with that execrable demon. Nevertheless, I should like to praise your contrivance in the matter. Verily, I am impressed. One would expect no less preeminence from a member of the Valentine brood."

Lieselotte kept her distance from the two. She was close enough, however, for Emilian to see her divine lips curve into a coquettish smile. His heart leapt in his chest.

"Lamentably, time is not in our favor," she continued. "Allow me to explain the purpose of my visitation. I am a humble servant of a perspicacious master who is well-versed in matters of the occult. Most regrettably, he has forseen a particular disaster that shall occur in western Europe within the coming months. Should this come to fruition, t'would mean an unholy Rapture for all."

The woman paused, allowing Vayne and Emilian to digest this sudden information. The gypsy boy continued to gape at Lieselotte, though he'd regained enough sense to have the decency to close his mouth. The vampire's features, however, were a bit harder to read. The young woman continued...

"The Master is firm in his convictions that you, Milady Valentine, would prove to play a key role in averting this exigency."

Lieselotte's smile returned, both dark and serene. It made Emilian's stomach flutter and he hunched over a bit on reaction.

"Your prowess remains to be something of a legend, Milady...to those who still may recollect the most auspicious era of the Valentine dynasty."

She bowed deeply, keeping her distance yet feeling almost uncomfortably close.

"Should you acquiesce, I am to act as your obsequious servant until we reach our destination. I do beg your pardon for arriving with such haste. I understand any desire you may possess to dwell on the matter."

The night air between them was silent. Overhead the moon was in full force, casting a jagged pale light through the gnarled branches. Emilian thought it strange that he was unable to hear any sounds of animal life. A hooting owl, the chirping of frogs, perhaps... Looking back, he would think it odd that he would even take note of such a thing.

Lieselotte's porceline face set into another smile as she added...

"I hope your awakening was pleasant, Milady."

Vayne was leaving, heading back into town, while Leesle...Lees...Lieseeelll...the other woman was seemingly following her -

'and did she just call me her friend!?'

This was all too much. He didn't want any of this. Wasn't prepared for any of this. He'd just wanted to make an easy penny, and had ended up being stalked by this Vayne woman as if he were some kind of prey, attacked out of nowhere by a hideous old woman - IF you could even call it that, and thoroughly creeped out by this...vixen!

'Of course THIS is the kind of female attention you get yourself...tch.'

And now Vayne wanted to head back into town? For what? So they could all get a table and play Shut the Box over a pint!? No way. No way in hell!

"Forget it!" He shouted. Vayne stopped and turned to him, her face mildly taken aback.

"I'm not going anywhere with you! I'm not your friend! I tried to rob you! You don't know me, and I sure as hell am not getting to know you! So you know what? Keep your damn cloak! I don't want anything to do with you freaks!"

Emilian whirled the cloak off his shoulders and threw it to the ground.

"Don't follow me. I don't owe you anything. Good luck with...whatever."

With that, he stormed off in the other direction. After a few paces, he turned around and returned, picking up the cloak."

"Actually, I am taking this. It's freezing out here."

Tossing the garment across his shoulders, the boy jogged off, disappearing into the thicket of trees. Over and over in his mind, he wished to be as far away from Bistritz and Blue Castle as possible.







Lieselotte watched Emilian until he was out of sight. Then, turning to Vayne, she spoke...

"Might I propose that Milady patronize the local inn? I do suspect t'would be much more suitable to ameliorate your wounds. Milady could also permit me to further explain my cause, perchance?"

It appeared that "no" just wasn't in the cards for tonight. Before long, Vayne found herself sitting in the cold, dark annex of Bistritz's only inn. Lieselotte lit the few lamps that were scattered about the sparesly furnished room and laid out what little clean medical supplies that could be found.


o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o


An hour or so later, Vayne was ready to hear the girl speak. Lieselotte poured a cup of hot tea from a carafe, and set the cup in front of the vampire before bowing and taking a seat opposite her.

"Allow me to inaugurate properly by saying that The Master verily wishes he could be the one to explain these dire circumstances. But alas, infirmity has left him bereft of the strength necessary to make such an arduous trek."

Lieselotte paused for a brief moment, allowing the conversation to shift gears.

"If I may pose an inquiry...is Milady familiar with the ancient civilization of R'lyeh? It is purported to now lie at the bottom of the sea. As lore would dictate, R'lyeh exists on this earth to officiate as a beacon. This beacon has been called Neameto, Palace of the Deranged Gods. The rising of Neameto shall invoke the prescence of an ancient alien God from the far reaches of space. This entity will pass judgement on the earth, reducing all life to its purest original form."

The young woman stared across the table at Vayne, who had listened intently and without interruption. She had not touched her tea.

"As dubious as this tale may sound, I can assure you of both its validation and my sincerity. What The Master says shall prove veracious. There is a gentleman. A warlock of sorts. He is to be the perpetrator of this calamity via the Reverse Demon's Gate Invocation. Just six moons ago, this sacriment was attempted by a fool known as Dehuai. Indubitably, his ritual failed, but not without first inspiring another to continue where Dehuai left off. Even as Milady kindly grants me audience here and now, the warlock scours forbidden tomes, preparing for his self-made Ragnarok.

The Master seeks aid from the noble Valentine clan in this matter. The warlock and his schemes must be quashed if all life on this planet should aspire to see another generation."

That all-too familiar smile crept over Lieselotte's face as she delightfully added...

"Milady's brother has already left to join the fray. Master Keith awoke from his slumber not six moons ago, after the initial attempted Valorization emitted waves of mana and malice across the stratosphere."

Vayne's features narrowed and the air around her seemed heavy and electric. The mention of her brother's name suddenly made this twisted little fairy tale hit a bit closer to home.

"The sunken city of R'lyeh is said to rest in the deepest reaches of the northern Atlantic, off the coast of England. Will Milady be accompanying me? Or am I to return to The Master empty-handed and elucidate the details of Milady's repudiation with her brother?"

The wheel of fate was beginning to turn.








Emilian knew something was wrong before he'd even made it back to the encampment. The air was thick, and he couldn't seem to quell the sense of foreboding that took hold deep within his stomach. Unable to deny it any further, he reached the campsite at a steady jog.

Dmitri and Pesha were standing outside the elder's caravan. They were a few years older and younger than Emilian, respectively. Growing up together, the three of them, along with the older, patronizing Ferka, were nearly inseperable. Ferka and Dmitri still had scars from the bareknuckle fights the foursome would compete in for the extra earnings. Having no true brothers or father himself, Emilian viewed them as closer than any blood relationship he knew.

He shot them a quizzical look. The two merely looked away in return. Pesha then walked around to the back of the caravan without a word.

Feeling the onset of fear sweep over him for the hundreth time tonight, Emilian spoke, keeping his voice low...

"Dmitri, what's the matter? Where is everyone?"

The man appeared to be holding his breath as his eyes held a steady, glossy gaze on the ground below him. He gestured with his thumb to the door of the elder's caravan. Brow furrowed and biting his lip, Emilian pushed the door open.
The interior of the modest wagon appeared to be buzzing with murmurs and hushed speak, which immediately ceased upon the boy's arrival. His eyes adjusted to the crude lighting to see a handful of his fellow tribe members gathered around...

A body.

'No...'

Not just any body.

"Ferka!"

Pushing past the others, Emilian knelt by the side of his former friend. His fingers instinctively reached for the man's arm and felt the cold, hard skin yield to his touch. Immediately, he pulled his hand back as if he were burned. Mouth agape, he struggled to speak, wheezing on short, shallow breaths.

"Wh-wh-wh...what...what...happened...? Wha-what is this!?"

Emilian looked up at his tribe's elder with wide and pleading eyes. The old man sternly returned his gaze. After an agonizing pause, the elder spoke...

"He is dead."

"I know that!" Emilian's heart was racing and a painful lump rose in his throat. "I know! But what...who..."

"Foolish boy," the elder interrupted. His voice was deep and somehow, terrifying. Emilian simply stared up, dumbfounded.

"What...?"

"He followed you," the old man continued, seemingly uncaring of Emilian's pain. "He knew you were going to that accursed castle. Ferka knew it was dangerous and so he followed into the forest after you. To save your pathetic hide!"

Emilian's breath caught in his throat.

"E-Elder...how can...how can you say that? How can you-"

"Pesha found him in the forest like this. It took all the strength he had to bring the body back!" The elder's cracked lips spewed forth spittle as he emphasized the last few words.

"But that still doesn't explain what happened to him! Emilian cried out.

"THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM!" The old man boomed. He kicked the body, rolling it over. One of the women screamed.

Blood. Lots of it. Some dried and some still wet, covering the side of the man's face and neck. Emilian squinted and tried to look away, but something caught his eye...

Holes. Twin holes were set deep into Ferkas' throat. Puncture wounds about two inches apart.

'It couldn't be...'

"This is what your greed has brought us!" The elder's words cut the boy, who trembled at his feet. "This is what our patience with you has yielded! What was it all for!? What was worth this man's life!? This!?!?" He snatched the cloak and tore it from Emilian's shoulders. "This cotton and dye was enough to risk Ferkas' life? The man who cared for you like his own!?"

"No...no..." Emilian covered his ears as stinging hot tears streamed down his cheeks. "No...No..." his moans turned into pained wails as the elder continued to bellow, years of anger and frustration poisoning every syllable that spewed from his mouth.

"And now you disgrace this man's honor with your tears!? A gypsy man never cries! You bring shame upon this good tribe! More importantly, you bring pain and heartache! You aren't a gypsy at all! You are nothing!"

"Stop it!" Emilian shrieked. The elder continued to yell, veins rising from his blotched neck and temples.

"You will hurt us with your presence no more, child! From this moment forth, you are banished from the tribe!" He pounded his fist on the wall of the caravan, sending it rocking back and forth. "May God have mercy on your soul, because this world will not! Begone with you!"

Emilian screamed. So many thoughts and emotions swirled around his very core. A violent maelstrom of pain, anger, betrayal, guilt, and shame. When he finally cleared his head, he found himself running. When he realized he was running, he ran faster.