Chapter Four: Correspondence with Beings Unknown
Months continue to pass, as Sara continues to send sellswords one following another in what seems to quickly become a Sisyphean effort to save Leon.
She continues not to hear of them, and she is more and more convinced she is only sending them to their doom.
After weeks, she has heard naught of the third. Perhaps… perhaps it is time to invest in a more prestigious company, though those are frequently more elusive, and highly selective as to the sort of contracts they will accept.
If only Mathias seemed able and willing to seek after Leon… yet he seems neither, convinced as he is of Leon’s demise and apprehension towards its unwavering confirmation.
Sara sits afront of her letter-desk, preparing her ink and feather. She needs only consider whom would be the most likely candidate to accept such a contract… and who to complete such a contract with success.
As she sits, her hand held aloft in her hand, a bird she recognizes not flutters in, an owl, landing gentle atop the writing desk Sara seats herself at.
A letter sit upon its leg, tied in twine.
Curious. She has not sent for anyone. Who would send such a letter?
To whom it concern,
I presume you’ve sought to recover one you love from the vampire Walter Bernhart. In such case I offer my condolences. I would wish not such a tragic fate upon any.
I recognize you may be unable to mount a rescue of your own, but I assure you, the answer lay not in damning innocent lives.
Cruel it might be to say, the truth lay itself plain. The one you love more than like lay dead.
In truth, I sympathize. I have lost those I love to the vampiric lord of this castle. And I wish to see none else lost to his evil, be it one beloved whom you wish to see home or mere sellsword.
I ask only you send not more to their demise.
Rinaldo Gandolfi
Sara merely stares upon the letter in quite the state of bewilderment.
It appeared the messenger-owl had taken its leave. Luckily, Clea had no letters of her own to collect, and as such remain with Sara.
Good.
Sara begins to pen her own letter. Perhaps this man simply knew not just whom it was to be taken.
———
Several days pass, as Sara continues correspond with more skilled sellswords she thinks like to agree to such a dangerous contract. She is making some headway, to be sure, though progress continues at a sluggish pace.
She considers her next words carefully. She knows many sellswords are like to turn tail if offered a contract they believe impossible to succeed. Some are more like to attempt such contracts, though their price is great. As this contract involves successfully maiming or escaping a powerful vampire with another in tow—granted, another who is very well capable of fighting—the task of convincing one to agree to this is greater than she would wish. There are fewer still whose expertise lies in fields involving such creatures, elsewise Sara would seek help from such individuals before all else.
Yet… even still. Should even she continue searching for a sellsword to help Leon? Perhaps that Gandolfi fellow stands correct; Leon may be dead, this may be a fool’s errand. Who is she to assert her fiance’s life to be of more import than the life of any other?
If she has only been sending men to their death, will she be able to live with that?
Though… there is also the fact of the matter that she cannot, will not lose hope Leon lives.
Sara sighs, holding her head atop laced fingers.
Clea chooses now to flutter in from without, cooing, nuzzling against Sara.
Sara lets out a soft laugh. “Clea, 'tis good to be graced with your company again, my dear.”
Clea continues to caper about for a moment, before sitting still. It would appear she has a letter tied to her leg.
Madame Trantoul,
The man taken was none other than Baron Belmont himself? I concur, that is odd…
Why Lord Bernhard would take an interest in such a man is beyond me. As you mentioned, there are many such easier targets than he. This vampire follows a pattern, and rarely does he deviate from it so…
Unfortunate as it remains, if the Baron has yet to be recovered, it is still most like he has died within the castle. Tragic as it be, it may be worth diverting what resources you have to discover why it was he who was taken.
Rinaldo Gandolfi
Sara reads the letter over, then over again. So he does think it odd that Leon was taken, yet… dismisses the possibility that he could still remain alive?
This whole situation is very odd. It eats at her. One observation more than any other.
This vampire has a pattern. She had not previously known of this. What pattern could this Gandolfi be referring to?
She must pursue this information. She must have answers.
———
Madame Trantoul,
I suppose it best I start at the beginning.
The vampiric lord of this castle, Walter Bernhard, enjoys playing games, as he would call them, with humans.
Traditionally, he will take a beloved family member of a person, usually somewhat-renowned fighter of varying sort, and hold them captive, inviting the aforementioned fighter to rescue this captive.
He holds the one taken in a secluded area of the hold, and the pursuer must advance through in order to reach them. Only, Bernhard’s castle is fraught with danger. Not once has either the captive, or the pursuer, survived this so-called game.
You see now why this is so strange. Plainly put, I would sooner expect you to be the one taken than the Baron. Whatever Bernhard’s intent be, it need be reiterated that 'tis doubtful the Baron lives. This vampire’s no use for one such as him.
I understand having such need to seek after one so dear. Yet it is more than like to cause naught but yet more pain.
Rinaldo Gandolfi
Sara has awaited a response for near three weeks now, and the answer troubles her so. She had hoped to learn something that may yet shed light upon the circumstances surrounding Leon’s disappearance, though Gandolfi tells it true, this hardly aligns with the vampire’s expected conventions.
‘Tis all but a game the vampire finds great amusement in. A game of cat-and-mouse. To be sure, Sara has some skill in the hunt, and has observed knights and their scuffles. Yet she does not near the skill Leon has acquired in his many-numbered years as a knight. Sara is hardly the ideal pawn for such a game.
Still, perhaps Leon does yet live… does this vampire, this Lord Bernhard, seek for her to play his game?
Very well then. Play she shall.