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Chapter 73: Count Bleh Bleh Bleh.
🕑 Added 2025-05-27 22:59:01 +0000 UTC[P]-[W]-[M]
Romania - Transylvania
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The moment we stepped through the inn’s creaking wooden doors, something I found odd considering the owner would have magic and could have fixed it a long time ago, the entire room fell quiet. Every head turned our way, like some kind of old cowboy movie.
Witches in travel cloaks, grim-faced Wizards nursing glasses of alcohol, and a few pale figures with too-still postures and unblinking, sharp eyes, drinking crimson liquid my enhanced senses recognised as blood. All the suspicious looks were easily ignored as we made our way to the broad-shouldered bartender. He had a thick stubble and a towel slung over his shoulder, watching our approach with a raised brow as he set down the goblet he’d been cleaning, another odd thing to do when you had magic.
“You’ve got rooms available?” I asked, casually leaning on the counter.
The man gave a short nod. “Still have a few left upstairs. You’re welcome to take 'em.” He leaned forward slightly. “You want food with that?” He gave the three of us a quick once-over, momentarily settling his eyes on each of our tailored clothes before continuing. “You don’t need to worry,” he lifted a hand as if to ease a concern we hadn’t voiced. “A house-elf makes our food. He fancies himself a gourmet, but does good work. Makes it all proper and fancy.”
He seemed to hesitate, then added with a pointed glance, “But if it’s blood you’re after, it’ll be safer if you get permission from the lead vampire. I can ask around and see if anyone wants to… donate after you’ve got permission.”
It made sense that they would have some kind of hierarchy. If vampires came to town and drained all the blood, then there would be nothing left for the locals. I would assume he was referring to asking the Count, but from what I knew, the Count had taken great strides to build blood banks and had no need to pay individuals for their crimson lifeblood.
“No blood. We’ll take whatever the special is tonight,” I gave the man a light shrug. “We’ll eat down here.”
The bartender nodded. “Suit yourself. Take any table you want. The Elf’ll pop the plates over when they’re ready.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” Nicolas said with a regal, polite smile befitting any true butler, while Perenelle offered him a soft nod of gratitude.
We turned and made our way to an empty table near the back corner, one with a clear view of the room, windows and both exits, for obvious reasons. By the time we sat down, the room slowly returned to the liveliness I had heard before we entered, though more subdued than before. Conversations resumed in hushed tones, tankards clinked again, and the occasional chuckle floated through the air. Still, glances continued to flick toward our table now and then.
Leaning back in my chair, I loosely crossed my arms as I scanned the patrons. One of the vampires, a silver-haired woman in a crimson cloak, shamelessly watched us with faint interest, while another, younger-looking vampire in ragged black, quickly looked away when he met my gaze.
“Not the most welcoming crowd,” Perenelle murmured as she cast her calculating eyes around the room, while her husband conjured a glass and started using [Aguamenti] for some water.
“Oh, they’re just cautious,” Nicolas replied, gently swirling the now-filled small glass of water in his hand before taking a sip. “We’re new in town, but they’ll get over it soon enough. Not that we’ll be staying long anyway.”
It didn’t take long for our meals to appear on our table and we got to work devouring the food. We were enjoying it too, until heavy footsteps broke the comfort. Four vampires stood from their table a few seats away and approached, with the leader, a wiry man, stopping at the edge of our table, the other two flanking him like wolves waiting for the first signal to strike. Or rather, bats, considering the whole vampire thing they have going on.
“Hello there, strangers,” the leader greeted, trying to be intimidating by flashing his teeth at us as he smiled, almost challengingly. “You’ve entered my town and haven’t paid the toll.”
I had seen his face before. He was one of the vampires I saw the junkie bring another friend of his for some easy money, but I didn’t see what happened to that one. I suppose friend was probably a strong word, considering it was a pattern of his to do with others with the same dealer. I do know that he had killed a few humans and Wizards alike, enough to build a reputation of fear among the locals. The only reason the Count hadn’t dealt with him was a lack of proof from what I could tell
I gave the blood sucker a slow blink, calmly finishing my current bite of food before setting my fork down with a soft clink. While there was no outward reaction toward my behaviour, I could sense his irritation at being kept waiting. Seeing no reason to keep him waiting any further, especially considering I had already decided he wasn’t going to live to see tomorrow, I let out a disappointed sigh as I looked up at his still-smiling face. “What’s the toll?”
“That depends on how valuable you are,” The vampire smirked. “We accept Galleons,” he licked his lips suggestively before continuing. “But we won’t be against other forms of payment.”
Ignoring his words, I paused, tilting my head in thought. “Pretty sure this town belongs to the Count. Not you. Unless you’re implying you are the Count?”
The air seemed to grow tense as the vampire’s smile vanished. The Flamel’s wands were already in their palms under the table, even as they casually wiped the corners of their mouths with their free hands, magic already primed.
While his lackies took steps to spread out around our table, trying to be threatening, the lead vampire leaned forward, baring his fangs as he turned to an indifferent-looking Nicolas. “You should really tell the boy how to treat his elders. You wouldn’t want him getting in any trouble, now would you?”
Nicolas just shrugged as he met his gaze. By that point, the entire room was silent as they watched the show. Patrons turned in their seats, but no one moved to intervene. So, I gave them a show. Just not one that their eyes would be quick enough to truly keep up with.
In an instant, my wand snapped into my palm, and all three vampires were suspended mid-air, limbs stretched out and forced to act like humanoid starfish. I didn’t even give them time to be surprised as I removed the [Sunscreen] spell before sending out a [Lumos Solem], sending out a radiant beam of focused sunlight, striking the three directly while indirectly forcing the patrons to protect their eyes from the light.
Their screams were brief before ash fluttered to the ground like snow. By then, the light on the tip of my wand was already out and I was already reaching for my fork and knife, cutting back into the food without missing a beat. Nicolas, with nothing more than a shrug, reached for the bread while his wife sipped her wine. Both discreetly put their wands back in their holsters.
Even as the patrons got their vision back when I put the light out, no one moved or protested. A few pointedly averted their eyes, while others stared with surprise. A moment later, the inn’s door opened with the same creak our entrance produced and in walked a tall, well-dressed vampire, clad in a tailored doublet of dark blue and black velvet.
He had long black hair that was pulled back into a ribbon, and a polished signet ring glinted on his left hand. I already sensed him outside, waiting, but seeing how he was dressed, it was easy to see he wasn’t with the rabble I had just dispatched, unless they worked under him. My initial assumption was that he was there to heroically save us before asking for something in return, or possibly run off to another group to inform them of what happened. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
He paused in the doorway, scanning the room before his gaze landed on the three of us, on the still-settling ash, then back on the three of us. Without a word to anyone else, he made his way toward the table, walking exactly like Nicolas does now that he had become my butler, smooth and dignified, like a professional.
“Lord Grey,” he spoke in a calm, eloquent tone as he stopped beside our table, stepping directly on top of the settled ash remains, before inclining his head politely. “It seems I’ve arrived just after something... instructional. I would have waited for you to finish your meal to approach, as is customary, but thought it better to relay a message that would deter others from interrupting your meal further.”
I took another bite, chewed, swallowed, then I finally lifted my eyes and said, “I was hoping to finish dinner first before interacting with others too, but no matter. Can I help you with something?”
The new arrival gave us a slight bow with one hand elegantly placed over his chest. “I am Calder, butler and herald of His Grace, Count Vlad Tepes Dracul the Third,” he said smoothly, sending me a look of respect. “My master has taken an interest in your arrival and would very much like to meet you.”
I regarded him in silence for a moment, then resumed cutting into the last of my meal. “Alright. I’ll drop by. Right after we finish.”
Calder gave me a nod, ignoring, or more likely not even recognising the jealous looks Nicolas was sending his way when he gave me another graceful bow. “Of course. I shall wait outside. If it pleases you, we may depart in the Count’s carriage once you are ready.”
Receiving my short nod of agreement, Calder turned on his heel and strode back toward the door, without another word. By that point, the inn had grown quiet, having heard we had the Count’s interest. Not that they were going to do anything about how I treated the recently deceased vampires anyway.
Through the front windows, we could see him take his place beside a waiting ornate, dark carriage, lined in silver trim and drawn by four tall Thestrals whose skeletal wings ruffled occasionally as they minded their own business. Seeing the drama settle, the inn slowly returned to motion, albeit cautiously, and we had no other interruptions.
“I’m a better butler,” Nicolas seemed to mumble into his food, earrings a giggle from his wife while I just sent him a smirk.
Once the last of the food was finished, I wiped my mouth with a napkin like the Lord I was and stood, with Nicolas right there with me, brushing off his robes, and Perenelle adjusting her cloak with a final sip from her goblet. I approached the bar and placed a few galleons on the counter, more than enough to cover the meal, with extra for any emotional damage I might have caused.
The bartender, still with a somewhat wary look from earlier events, gave a tight, respectful nod without a word, and we left. Outside, the air had grown colder, with mist rolling in gently from the surrounding forest. Calder stood patiently beside the open carriage door, as composed as when he had entered, completely straight-faced and umblinking. In the corner of my eye, I could see Nicolas straighten a little as he started to walk more like a butler would, mirroring the way Calder walked.
The Thestrals gave low snorts as we approached, and I had to fight the urge to tell the ancient Alchemist that even the Thestrals were laughing at him. But the side eye he was getting from his wife told me we would be enjoying ourselves making fun of him another time.
“Whenever you are ready, sir,” Calder said, gesturing for us to enter. The driver sitting in the front didn’t even give us a glance, preferring to look around for potential threats. Whether he was concerned for us, the carriage or the Thestrals, I did not know.
I entered first, settling into the cushioned seat without comment. Perenelle followed, and Nicolas climbed in last, settling across from Calder as the butler joined us. He closed the door with a soft click, tapped the roof a few times, and the driver got to work whipping the reins, getting the journey started.
As the carriage began to fly, I instantly started missing the feeling of flying the Gauntlet. For a while, we rode in peaceful silence, with Perenelle and I content with passing our time looking out the window at the mist-covered treetops. Nicolas, however, took the opportunity to engage his… rival.
“I must say,” he began, clasping his hands in his lap as he hid the glare he would send the vampire’s way when he wasn’t looking, “it’s not often the vampire Count sends his own herald. From what I heard, in the past, he would send a message to town to inform the necessary party that they had been summoned. I take it your master has been closely monitoring his lands lately?”
He was speaking from personal experience. He had been in Transylvania a few centuries ago and even went as far as to exchange knowledge with the old vampire, gaining his respect in the process.
Calder gave the Alchemist a subtle nod while folding his gloved hands. “Indeed. His Grace is... meticulous. Especially where ancient agreements and local order are concerned.”
“Understandable,” Nicolas mused with a slight frown. “Especially with recent tensions.”
Calder glanced briefly at me. “He will have no objections regarding what transpired at the inn, I assure you.”
“And the vampires that have been making sure people go… missing on a permanent basis?” I murmured without turning away from the window.
Calder seemed to show a little more emotion now as he frowned, almost sneering in disgust at the… unrefined nature of his brethren. “I can assure you the Count was unaware of such occurrences. However, I will be sure to look into it.”
The conversation faded, leaving only a comfortable silence as his feature returned to its natural blank, but I could see the gears turning in his eyes. Nicolas seemed to smirk though, finally seeing that something got to the vampire’s serenity, like the petty child he was deep down.
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The carriage climbed higher over several mist-covered hills, we finally rounded one last bend as the forest gave way to a wide, stone causeway leading to a large castle perched atop a jagged mountain ledge. As cliche as it looked, I couldn't help but think the man had the right idea. He’d clearly had centuries to perfect the art of aura farming, and it showed.
While it didn’t quite look as cool as it did in the Castlevania games, Castle Dracul rose over the mist like a well-preserved haunted relic, with dark spires tall enough to cut into the clouds, just as majestic as its game counterpart. Of course, it wouldn’t be a vampire castle without massive bat-shaped gargoyles adorning the parapets, with their wings outstretched as if to ward off intruders.
The Thestrals slowed as we landed on a large courtyard of black flagstones polished to a mirror sheen, before coming to a gentle stop. The more I looked, the more it looked like a goth version of Hogwarts. Calder stepped out first, clicking his polished shoes against the stone as he turned toward the carriage door and bowed.
“We have arrived, sir.” He announced. “The Count awaits you in the Hall.”
I stepped out into the crisp night air, but said nothing as I let my magic and the Force wander around. Nicolas descended next, panning his eyes and magic across the grounds, scanning the place much like I was, if only lacking in my level of ability. “Looks much better now than back then,” he murmured, while putting his hand out for his wife to descend after him, which she took graciously.
Calder gestured for us to follow, leading us up a wide staircase to the castle doors, which swung open slowly as we approached. The Wards I felt as we crossed the threshold of the door were good, great even, but not nearly as good as I expected from a man who had centuries to build his wealth. He could afford to pay for better. In fact, he could most likely do it himself, considering his age and time to improve his magical capabilities.
We passed through the large entry hall littered with Muggle paintings along with a long corridor before stopping at another set of doors with a dragon motif, his family insignia, carved into them. Even if it had arms, it had no wings, so I don’t know if it was still classified as a dragon in my book.
With a gentle push, Calder opened the doors to reveal a large, pristine marble-floored hall which looked more like a throne room. At the far end of the hall, raised atop a platform, sat a solitary throne that made the one in Game of Thrones seem like it was designed by a child with no artistic talent. And on it sat the Count himself. He was tall, imposing, and well-dressed in black clothes, as one would expect, with features that reminded me of Luke Evans from a past vampire movie I watched.
As we entered, he rose.
“Lord Grey,” Vlad spoke in a deep, elegant baritone that easily carried across the room, even without magic, but I could feel subtle magic all the same. “...And staff. I bid you welcome to my home.” He frowned slightly while focusing on the Flamels still in their civilian disguise. “I can sense your staff's magic is familiar. Have we been acquainted?”
The [Fedelus] on the Flamels clearly wasn’t enough to stop people from sensing their magic. One would think Nicolas would keep his secret identity and just reply by telling Dracula that he was just my butler, but that would have been too easy.
“Drakey! Hahaha!” He bellowed instead, with a broad smile on his face as he started undoing the transfiguration, arms spreading wide to present himself like he was the main character in disguise this entire time. “How’s life been treating you, my boy!”
That… somehow felt like a poor choice of words. If the shake of his wife’s head and the deadpan expression on the count’s face were anything to go by, then I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
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“ Some motherfuckers are always trying to ice skate uphill. ”
— Blade.
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Hello There
Emotional Damage!
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Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC and original ideas. All credit goes to their respective owners.
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Thank you for reading.
As always, stay awesome.
Until next time, Light's out.
Comments
Lord Belly
I feel real bad for Abeloth. Hoping our boy Jonathan can help her in some way.
LothWolf
Thanks for the chapter 👍
