The city of Gresit was hardly ever a lovely tourist site. It was a backwater squalid town in Walachia, at an age where the definition of tourism did not even exist. Some would argue that its architecture was far more impressive than its status. Polished stone and brick houses were far more common than in other places of the country. Those that were of the same humble size and population, that is. The town also boasted a stone wall, which was also unheard of to many. Perhaps to that barrier the town owed its survival throughout the latest days. Certainly, most predators of the night possessed wings and beastly strength to smash the gates, but it bought the townsfolk some much needed time. There was some gothic influence that far East, as the spires of its catholic cathedral could be seen to anyone in a several mile radius, serving as a beacon to those lost in the surrounding forests.
A person who was visiting the town would first be greeted by a sorry, grim and macabre sight, for the moats and ditches were filled with corpses, and wooden pikes had an addition in the form of impaled heads. For mindless beasts, the creatures attacking the city had a twisted sense of humour and symbolism. Unsurprising, considering who was sending them after the people across the entire kingdom. The visitor would wrinkle the nose in disgust, and would once again be convinced that he had been correct to come there. Crossing the wooden bridge on his two feet, as he had never learned to properly ride a horse — not that there were many uneaten by beasts — the visitor once again examined the sorry condition the town was in. Many houses were broken into from above, as signalled by the collapsed roofs, many houses had been touched by all-consuming flames, damaged in a fire started for no certain reason. A torch fallen on a haystack, ignited oil from occasional lamps? Who knew and who actually cared. What mattered is the cause of all local misfortunes.
The visitor would have gone further, concealed by a well-woven cloak, if not for a sudden interruption. Not from the guards, who were noticeably absent, too busy tending to the wounds inflicted the night before. Rather, it was a bunch of little rascals that came up to him with little fear, as nowadays any human would appear less imposing. Not to mention that the newcomer himself did not appear menacing. Loudly begging for food or a coin, they remained unperturbed by the visitor's thoughtful silence. Eventually, a sigh escaped from under the hood, as he sat on his knee, lowering to the kids' eye level. He took off said hood, revealing the face of a young man around twenty, with messy raven hair and the eyes of the coldest shade of blue. With a kind smile he apologised for not having any food supplies on him, evidenced by a lack of any extra luggage, but he handed the band of children a coin of pure gold, enough to feed them all for quite some time. It didn't matter to them that the coin was Roman, and that the entire coin purse of the newcomer was a numismatist's dream.
Warning them to only show it to their parents, lest some less savoury people decided to harm the helpless kids for a single coin, the newcomer left the thankful children and pulled on the hood once more. Of course, he entertained no illusions. If the attacks continued, there wouldn't be anything they would even be able to buy on that money. The town was effectively besieged, and eventually the locals would have nothing to eat. The corpses of night creatures were a death sentence to the eater. They were an unholy mixture of ectoplasm, dark magics and rotting flesh. Each of these ingredients alone was enough to kill someone willing to try. Lightly shaking his head to push away those gnarly thoughts, the visitor made his way forward, unsure of what he should do himself.
After all, he came to that country, to that town without a strict plan of action, guided only by advice of his close associates and his own ideas. To be more precise, he in particular was coming at the problem from a different angle. His goal was very broad, for he came to defend the people from the initial onslaught of night creatures and confirm some things. And plucking the source of the problem — the vampire king himself — was a more distant goal. Coming and challenging him in the open would be dangerous, for the vampires were unburdened by traditions the guest was beholden to. There was nothing stopping most powerful vampires from coming together, other than their own petty rivalries. The visitor would know of such danger, for his predecessor met his first demise after facing a united front. And since the defeat would come from vampires, rather than his own kind, it mattered even more. Everyone advised him to exercise caution, and he had no reason to doubt their judgement.
Bearing such things in mind, the visitor entered the town square, the centrepiece of which was a tall stone statue. The square was full of poorly put-together tents and market stalls, and the guest's grumbling stomach demanded attention. Noble goals or not, he needed sustenance this far away from home. With a dry expression, he made his way to a surprisingly intact meat stall, operated by a large, elderly lady. She quickly noticed the newcomer, who was eyeing the pieces of dried meat.
"Whatcha need?" She asked uncaringly, wiping the knife with her neckerchief.
"It smells odd," the newcomer commented, his youthful voice dripping with curiosity. "What is it?"
"Dried goat. Pretty much everything we have these days. You gonna pay or not?"
The guest hummed. "You know, a good customer service is a decent future investment. Free of charge too," he smiled under the cloak, before taking off the hood.
"The hell are you on about, smart guy?" The lady seemed displeased with the remark.
"Nevermind that," the young man dismissed the remark, digging out a silver coin from his pocket. "Not much of a choice I have."
The woman took the coin and examined it. "Is that a German one?"
"Hm?" The man appeared as curious as her. "Dunno. I just have what I managed to take before being dumped here.
"You do look like ye aren't from here," the woman commented, putting the coin in her pocket and cutting a piece of meat. "What's with you people coming here in such time?"
The guest raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought I'm the only nutcase around. Maybe those were refugees?"
"That thug didn't seem like one, kept asking around about what's going on."
The piece of silver obviously warmed her up enough for a small talk. And the desire of aged women to talk rumours was apparently a trend that had transcended the eras.
"You look a tad bit too clean to be a traveler. You a well-to-do lad?"
"I do get some pocket money for my job," the man smiled enigmatically. "Anyways, what did you tell that man?" He was now intrigued as well.
"He asked about the Speakers. I told him they live here. Not for long, though."
The guest took a piece of meat and bit on it. The lady couldn't help but notice the slightly sharper canines. But he walked in the sun, so he couldn't be a vampire. Even a superstitious woman was not devoid of reason completely. The guest in the meantime found the meat decent enough to continue eating.
"Speakers? Never heard of those," he spoke.
"They travel here and there...the bishop says they are the cause of Dracula's attacks."
"Right..." the guest didn't seem to buy it. "Do you people have anyone left to defend you? The creatures will come here again," he asked with concern.
"The bishop commands the militia. But you better hide somewhere, you won't make it to another city before the sundown."
"The bishop, you say? Yes, I think he might be the go-to. I've been DYING to meet him, anyway. Thank you, ma'am."
Nodding to her, the guest departed towards the most obvious place a bishop might have been in. The cathedral at the far end of the city. On his way, as the sun was steadily descending towards the horizon, he was noticing some interesting things. Some people were carrying pitchforks around, and some lit their torches. And from experience he knew that it did not bode good usually. Was it a measure against the night creatures? But the people did not have the essentials: no salt, no fire traps, nothing. They were either suicidal, desperate or their goal wasn't the night creatures at all.
The cathedral up on the hill was in a surprisingly good condition, and the guest sarcastically remarked to himself the possible divine providence.
"You were told to..." the man blinked upon seeing a stranger.
"I don't believe we've met," the guest kept giving a good-natured smile. "Is Sir Bishop in there?"
"He is not accepting anyone," a response came. "He already told you people what has to be done."
"Am I not welcomed in Lord's house?" A question dripping with faux drama followed.
"That depends. We don't know ya," said the priest.
"Sir Daniel James Phantom, knight-errant of Aragon requests the audience with the bishop. Tell him this much," the guest introduced himself with befitting formality. And of all his ridiculous titles, that one was more believable.
"You don't look like a knight. You don't even have a weapon."
"You don't look like a monk. Because you do carry a weapon," the guest responded without missing a beat. "But we both shouldn't judge."
"Jeremiah, let him in," a voice sounded from the inside.
Huffing, the priest opened the door, allowing Phantom to enter. The vast hall was not much different from all others located within different catholic churches. In the other end of the room the guest saw the man himself. Not much could be said about the bishop's appearance. His body was showing the signs of reaching past half a century, his grey hair was receding, yet he held himself firm, despite the age and the current misfortunes.
"Aragon, you said? That is quite far from Gresit," the bishop spoke.
"I travel a lot," calmly responded Phantom, as he approached the bishop. He opted to omit that he didn't serve the kingdom the bishop was alluding to.
"And your name is quite peculiar," the bishop continued his observations, "Other than a strange last name, you, by all intents and purposes appear to be an Englishman."
"My journeys led me to Aragon one fine day. For making a fine work out of a dragon, I became a knight. My last name though..." he chuckled. "It's more of a nickname that stuck very hard," the young man sat on the nearest bench and crossed his legs.
The bishop, however, did not appear entertained in the slightest. He was, in fact, looking all the more suspicious.
"Your Holiness, why are we entertaining this nonsense?" Asked the priest.
"Hmm...a spark of curiosity perhaps. But my reaction will solely depend on what our guest wants. Speak up, child, for if it is a ruse to swindle us in this time of great need, you will come to regret this."
Phantom kept smiling, as his sensitive ears were catching some distant noises.
"You know, when I heard of what's going on here, I just couldn't pass by this situation. A plan of worldwide genocide of such proportions, phew," he whistled. "Humankind is screwed if nothing is done," he added. "And I get the money, the title and a neat castle to stay in whenever I want precisely for stopping this from happening. What do ya know."
"If you are filled with samaritan desire to help, then you should join us in vanquishing the threat. Not waste my time."
"You don't need me to burn down a bunch of bystanders," Phantom shrugged. "I also don't see you taking part, either."
"They. Are NOT bystanders. They practice witchcraft and heretical teachings," the bishop hissed. "And you are walking a very thin line, child."
Heavy threat was hanging in the man's voice, reciprocated only by an innocent smile from the one the threat was aimed at.
"Maybe. But I am risking the wrath of a single bishop. Hey, was it you who served in the...what's it called..." Phantom hummed in thought, before digging up a small crumpled note. "Diocese of Targoviste. Sheesh, old man, you knew I'd forget it," he mumbled in the end.
"You are surprisingly well informed," the bishop commented quietly and suspiciously.
"I have my ways," the guest cackled. He was evidently enjoying whatever role he was playing. To the two men of the church he was appearing ever stranger. "That's great, so I didn't make all this way only for the locals. Actually, I was told you are in charge of town defence."
"The people will manage to do this much without my supervision. Once the Speakers are driven out, Gresit will be saved."
"I don't think forcing away or killing a bunch of humans will suddenly make Dracula just surrender."
"This again? Who are you to lecture me on what's right and what's wrong?!"
"A guy who is expected to fix every mess yet is being dismissed at every turn," Phantom spoke with annoyance, obviously letting some harboured feelings out.
The guest looked at the stained glass windows. The sunlight was barely coming through, signalling the approaching sundown. Tapping thoughtfully on the ground, he was about to say something else, but the bishop was quickly losing patience. But then, a look of realisation appeared on his aged face.
"You do not have a weapon on you...is this, perhaps, because you use...magic?" He said, and the last word was laced with venom.
Phantom's eyes moved from the windows and towards the bishop in a fraction of a second. His ears were catching the approaching footsteps.
"Even if I were," he commented. "Would I really have said it to the man of the church at such day and age?"
"Do not. Evade my question," the bishop spoke and looked directly into the guest's ice blue eyes.
After a moment of silence, the guest leaned back in the bench.
"No, I have never used magic, Sir Bishop. I would know better than to come right to you if I have," Phantom rationalised. "After what happened in Targoviste. You were the one who was investing the case of one Lisa Tepes, weren't you? So I've heard."
"So my name has already been made known across the realm," the bishop said not without satisfaction.
"Yes, somewhere along the lines of 'that man brought this all upon us.'," Phantom was quick to dismiss the man's delusions of grandeur. "What say you?"
"That woman was a witch," the bishop spat. "I did what I had to. And I will not stop until the blight of sin is thoroughly cleansed. We will start from Gresit."
"Screw the Pope, Gresit will be the new centre of faith," the guest mocked. "Maybe even God should pack his things and move into your humble town?"
"God lives in all of his houses already. And in one of them, some blissfully impudent child is mocking the holy cause," the bishop whispered. "This conversation is pointless. Leave now, you are lucky I have better things to do."
"Killing nomads who were too foolish to stay here? The villagers told me that they are at fault for what's happening. But we both know it's not the case, right?"
"The Devil remains strong for as long as we allow the sinners and heretics to persist. By purging all the impurity we will defeat him."
The guest stared at him with a mixture of feelings, the prime of which was bewilderment. In his mind, the young man already made his conclusion.
"That's funny..." he mumbled, as the sun finally hid from sight, and the land was now basking in darkness, pushed away only by torches. "Dracula told me a similar story."
"What..." Bishop hissed, before Phantom stood up with a small knowing smile on his face.
"Yes, can you imagine?" He asked and began to pace around. "One day, his emissary comes to my home and asks me, not knowing anything about how we work as people, and asks us to join him on his quest to destroy humanity. The funniest thing is that you both want to erase the human sins. You both wish to do so by killing thousands. Ironic."
"Don't you dare compare me and that foul beast."
"Not really my comparison," he rolled his eyes. "Sammy just really has a thing for gothic drama. But what will you do?" Phantom asked, glancing at the man encroaching upon him with a dagger. "Your goon will stop me?"
A flick of his finger, and a deathly green beam of light struck the leg of the sneaking priest, making him yell in pain and tumble to the ground.
"Sorcery..." the Bishop whispered and stepped back.
"Not really. This is the house of God, Bishop. Why would I lie in this sacred place? No, it is a simple trick."
The guest once again listened to the world outside. "And I told ya the truth. I want to help, despite how much I complain. But as I was told, things are often complicated, with no solid baddies or goodies. And here I see you, without a shadow of a doubt taking pride in murdering someone's loved one. I'd be pretty mad, too. Not in a 'murder-the-whole-wordly' way...actually, yeah, I see where he is coming from," Phantom finished dryly, before sighing. "Long story short. I came for confirmation and I got it. You are really pathetic, you know?"
"I have done His bidding. My life's work is in His name!"
"When you talk to God, good sir, it is piety. When he talks back it is usually a sign of being a nutcase," he leaned forward, "Which you are."
They were interrupted by a series of outside noises. Something big was already stalking about, far bigger than even a horse.
"Annoyingly on time," Phantom tiredly commented, showing no signs of worry. "You are surprisingly calm, Bishop. Not afraid of night creatures breaking through these walls?" He asked, looking at the trembling priest on the floor. That one obviously did not share his superior's confidence.
"This is the house of God," Bishop spoke. "No foul creature from Hell can enter this sacred place."
The guest rewarded him with a dry and unimpressed look. "Then why not hide the civilians here? And besides, one foul creature is already here, am I not?"
Then, as he was still looking at the bishop, the doors of the church opened and closed. Something definitely crawled inside.
"Who is that?" Bishop called, seemingly deeming the lunatic near him less important. The arrogance of that man, Phantom thought. Was he that unimposing?
"Are the speakers dead?" The man of the church kept asking the unseen figure.
"I don't think a human would hide like this," Phantom responded, going several steps down from the cathedra. "Especially not the dumdums you sent."
"An observant one..."
From the dark hall of the cathedral emerged a hulking black-furred beast, with a plethora of beady blue eyes. Several bone spikes protruded from its back. There were other beasts lurking in the shadows, several gargoyles were staring hungrily at their soon to be prey. But Phantom seemed more amused than anything.
"You can talk," he commented, staring into the eyes of the six eyes of the beast that was breathing down his face. "That makes it easier. Do you know who stands before you?" Phantom spoke with faux bravado, stepped aside and gestured towards the Bishop, whose hands were shaking.
"Of course I do," the beast sounded amused. "The Bishop of Gresit. The wonderful man to whom we owe our presence here."
"Exactly," Phantom snapped his fingers. "So, what were you planning to do with that definitely righteous individual that definitely got the Big Guy's approval?" He asked and pointed to Heaven.
"I was simply intending to have my fill. Now I have come here and see not one human, but several...and I don't like to share."
"Take a whiff, beastie," Phantom mumbled. The bishop could not witness it, but the shaking priest on the floor saw how the stranger's eyes gained a similar glow to that of the beasts around them, only his were of lifeless green colour. "And call me a human once more."
The beast was in no hurry, for the night was still young. It sniffed the grimacing young man, who himself could smell the nasty odour of the night creature.
"I see. You look like a human, yet you smell different. What are you?"
"It doesn't really matter. Point is, I was here first. Dracula sent out an invitation for me, and I've just decided to bring along a gift," Phantom grinned and turned towards the Bishop, who now could witness the sign of the supernatural. But it was the words of the stranger that made him all the more fearful.
"You think that Dracula cares for him?" The beast tilted its head. "His rage will consume all mortals. Every single one of them."
"I think he will appreciate the gesture. It is still better than leaving him in your stomach. And if you don't bother me, I'll make sure to mention you in a positive light."
The beast cackled. "Or maybe I could simply feast on something else."
Phantom sighed, as he rubbed his temples. "Looks like at the end of the day, you are a beast just like the rest."
"And I will begin from yo..."
A single slapping hit from the young man was enough to crack the creature's jaw and launch it aside. The cathedral's wall cracked upon the impact.
"Why do you never pick the easy option?" Phantom asked tiredly.
At least he could drop the pretence now. The rest of the beasts immediately lunged forward. Before anything, Phantom snapped his fingers and conjured a dome of green energy that protected the bishop and the priest. However, as much as it was a safe house, it was also a prison, the humans could see it for what it was. The guest had stated his intentions very clearly. Phantom swiftly dodged a gargoyle, grabbed its neck and tossed it on the ground. Another beam of light emerged from his palm as he blasted the creature's face and scorched it off.
"It was on my bucket list from the start to kill you all, so let's get this over with."
"You said you are an ally of Dracula," spoke the recovered lead beast. "What do you actually want?"
"To stop this madness, one way or another. That is why I searched for the Bishop here. This may just be your chance to follow the example of Jesus himself, good sir," Phantom looked at the old man and smirked. "To die for the sins of man. Oh, that was a good one," he whispered.
"Dracula is too far gone in his anger," the beast huffed. "I didn't expect such naivety."
"I have to try. Even if my hopes will end up being crushed. Nobody needs this slaughter but you. Not the humans, not the vampires, and not even the undead."
"Is this what you are?" The beast guessed.
Phantom gave a wide toothy grin. "My kind was never that big. It's just me and my daughter nowadays. More than enough to throw a wrench into your plans."
The beast immediately lunged towards him at supernatural speed, only the visitor responded with the reaction to match. No matter how much the beast swung its clawed arms and snapped its jaws, the opponent was always out of its reach, quick and agile, waiting for an opening. And then, once the beast came at him with even more determination, careless of what could come at it, Phantom's fist came right at its chest. The entire palm was engulfed in emerald light and smoke as the punch impacted the chest, pierced it right to the unholy core.
"I know you are angry," Phantom spoke, twisting his hand inside the beast's chest as it flailed and tried to get away. "But if you look deep into your heart, which you will be able to do quite literally in a moment, you will see that I warned you."
A single burst of otherworldly energy was enough to obliterate the beast from within, as its body began to bubble and the creature screamed in agony, before exploding in a display of gore and blood. Phantom's clothes did not get a drop on them. The remaining gargoyles preferred to stay back, frightened by the display, and instead chose to flee the cathedral. The young man spun around on his heels, smiling once more as he approached the two shaking men of the church.
"So, good Bishop. Still sure that the God is on your side?"
"His ways are unknown..."
"Really? You seemed pretty knowledgeable not a moment ago," Phantom said as he grabbed the collar of the man's robes.
"Put me down, you demon!" Bishop bellowed, but soon he was dragged to the windows and his face was pinned to the glass. From there, he could see the destruction the city was going through. And he had been the reason why the citizens were outside so late. And not in their covers.
"Look at this, Bishop. You are the one who did this. I am the one who has been stopping such things for years. Who is the demon here?" Phantom asked and released the man. "You are coming with me. Safe travels."
"What...AH!"
The Bishop did not finish his sentence and yelled in surprise as he suddenly fell into a green, swirling portal beneath his feet. It closed immediately afterwards, and Phantom turned his attention to another quivering man.
"You aren't bleeding," he said and went towards the exit from the cathedral. "The shot burned the skin though. Go hide in the basement and apply something cool to the wound when you get the chance."
"Fuck you!" The man exclaimed hysterically.
"Love ya too, take care," Phantom turned his head around, flashed a smile and exited the doors.
If he wanted to get on Dracula's good side, his cleanup of the city had to be thorough and merciless to those beasts. Lest the surviving ones reported back to their master. But just in case, he would keep his name and other appearance a secret from them. But the human guise was quite limiting.
Phantom had to hurry. A long night was ahead of him. Sighing, Phantom pushed forward, soon jumping on the roof of one of the buildings in one leap, from where he could see more of the surrounding areas. His main objective was reaching the point where the people had gathered at the Bishop's behest. It was easy to spot, for the torches they carried could be seen from any point of Gresit.
On his way across the town, jumping from one rooftop to another, Phantom killed every night creature he saw. Those abominations had no place in his usually merciful heart. He shot them out of the skies, he jumped on them from above, using nothing but his fists. He had got too used to such combat to wield a weapon. Phantom rescued several humans and issued commands left and right. People took refuge in their houses and barred the windows, smearing the ever-present shit across the street to hide their own smells. The latter was not his order but their own volition. But some followed their saviour, as, ironically, the huge gathering that neared the town square, as evidenced by the moving torchlights, was the safest point as well as the most desired prize of beasts. After all, alongside the majority of the town's probably male populace there were also armed guards that could help the defence.
Protecting the followers also meant that Phantom could not hop back on the roofs, however.
As he moved down the street, Phantom saw a gargoyle breaking into a house through a window. Immediately he moved towards the hastily made building and passed through the closed door with the power of intangibility. The beast that was about to rip apart a screaming woman felt a tap on its shoulder. When it turned its head, the gargoyle felt a burning fist impact its face, before it felt nothing, sprayed on the floor.
"Can't believe this worked," Phantom commented with amusement. "You are like a sitting duck, ma'am, so I would suggest following us."
"I saw that!" She whimpered and pointed at his hands.
"Yeah, yeah. Rescue comes first, burning on stakes later," Phantom rolled his eyes. "We can't sit and wait, so move if you want to see the sun again. That applies to all of you!" He raised his voice at the people that were gawking at him through the window.
Without saying anything else, he removed the lock on the door and exited the building, to be faced by a multitude of fearful and hateful gazes. Phantom sighed.
"At the moment I'm the only thing standing between you and them," he pointed at the sky filled with the beasts' screeches. "So I really put my hopes into your common sense...Nobody jumping at me with a knife? Good," he beamed, "Then come on!"
That small revelation allowed a more liberal use of his powers as they went forward. He was on his own, as he was guiding the unarmed civilians. They could only serve as extra sets of eyes and ears. And speaking of ears, Phantom caught the sounds of loud fighting in the town square. And true enough, as he entered the place, he saw what could only be described as mess of a battle. The humans were making their stance against the creatures, using the tried and true methods...which they were unlikely to have used on their own. As it was unlikely that the pillars of ice were their doing. True enough, he soon saw the possible cause in the form of two fighters. Phantom decided that the chaotic battlefield would be a poor cover for the civilians.
"Stay here and don't call attention," he ordered.
"Are you going to leave us?!"
"Don't worry, nobody will make it to you. There's plenty of defenders around."
Phantom quickly leaped into action, and the young man killed several creatures on his his way to the rest of the fighters.
"Some men you are," he commented quietly, looking at the desperately fighting peasants. Even if they were showing resolve, they had abandoned their families to kill a bunch of nomads, abandoning all sense of reason. But Phantom still called out for them, gave them enough support in the form of barrage of green blasts, so that they, after brief dressing down, quickly ran to protect their loved ones.
Phantom approached two of the most capable fighters, freezing another gargoyle on the spot, before snapping out an icicle from a random ice structure and stabbing its head. One of the fighters was a peach blonde-haired woman in blue travelling robes — a spell-caster from the seems. Another one was a man around Phantom's age, too, carelessly shaven and gruff-looking, wielding a whip that killed each beast upon a single hit.
"A consecrated weapon?" Phantom asked and smirked. "Impressive."
"You look like you can fight," the redhead said. "Are you a fellow practitioner of magic?"
"I don't think now is the time," the whip-wielding man sighed, before lashing at another beast.
"That's a long story," Phantom smirked and froze an opponent. "The sentient night creatures usually lead the packs. I killed the talkative one, so they are now attacking at random," he said.
"That's...good, right?" Asked the lady.
"That depends," the man shrugged. "They are easier pickings now, but they will just rampage unpredictably."
"That's why I tried to gather everyone in one place," Phantom pointed towards the civilians. "To predict the unpredictable. I'm Danny by the way."
"Sypha Belnades."
"Trevor..." the man answered. "It's good and all, but don't get distracted."
"Ooh, the brooding one, huh?" Phantom smiled and grabbed a gargoyle with telekinesis, lazily tossing it onto the spikes. "These aren't soldiers," he commented. "They are just meant to be civilian killers."
Trevor noticed several beasts approaching them at once. He swung his whip and managed to hit them all in one swing, creating a massive explosion that consumed the rest of the night creatures.
"And ticking bombs," Danny added. "That really is one neat tool you have. Not my parents' brainchild but still impressive."
Before Trevor could respond, the ground below them started to shake. In an instant it split apart, revealing that there was little beneath the stone paths of the town square, little but a gigantic gaping hole to nowhere. Phantom managed to float to the side at the last second, but Trevor and Sypha plummeted downwards. Danny was about to jump after them, but then he saw that they managed to land without dying and without his aid. Still, he felt the need to shout.
"Are you alright down there?" He asked.
"What do you think?!" Trevor's shout came from below.
Once again, Danny wanted to go down himself, but the beasts' onslaught was continuing. One of them even tried to bite his face off.
"Try finding an exit!" He called as he stabbed it with ice. "I'll watch things on my end!" He shouted before yelping upon being tackled.
Yes, the night was going to be a long one. But the beasts would not see the sunrise.
-Linebreak-
In the meantime, in a secluded strip of land stood the gargantuan, grotesque structure. Dracula's castle was a marvel of science and sorcery, and its tall gothic towers that defied the many laws of physics were merely one of the testaments to its macabre greatness. In there, Dracula himself was receiving the most powerful vampires across the world, who were to serve as his generals on a quest to end mankind. All talks and whispers and arguments died off the second the vampire king entered the room, initially silent in a room where even breathing could be heard. The tall, raven-haired vampire stood over them all by his throne. His voice resonated across the hall of black marble each time he uttered a sound.
"We prosecute a good war. In killing my wife, humankind has proved that they don't deserve Wallachia. No, it will become our seat. We will scour them off the land," he said with venom, "We will continue using the creatures of the night, all the creatures of terror that humanity drove away. Afterwards, I think I will give Wallachia to them."
None of the generals voiced their objection to those words. But as Dracula was about to continue, the doors to the throne room opened. The newcomer and her entourage immediately caught everyone's eyes. In the lead was a beautiful young woman, hardly eighteen years of age. She had the hair of pure white that were tied in a low ponytail and glowing green eyes that rebutted any suspicion that she was a human. If the aura the colour of moonlight was not enough. The young lady was dressed in an elegant black and silver dress and held herself high as she went deeper inside the room. Alongside her were several armed skeletons whose bones emitted an unnatural green glow. Mutely she stood before the throne and lightly bowed her head.
"Greetings, Lord Dracula. It is an honour meeting you in person. Forgive us the sudden intrusion."
"You are interrupting our War Council. Who are you?" Dracula raised his eyebrow.
"Apologies. I had no idea of your schedules. Not so long ago you have sent your herald to our court. And the Ghost King heard you."
Dracula's suspicious expression softened, as he sighed and sat on his throne.
"What is King Dark's response?"
The woman could not hide a small smirk from her face.
"It is a failure on our part to inform you of the recent developments. Your herald in the form of bodiless artificial wraith was incapable of providing a two way communication. The affairs of our realm are difficult even for vampires to ascertain, so do not take it as a jest at your expense. Besides, it is a relatively new development. Pariah Dark has not been our king for years. He was slain by my father, Daniel Phantom, the first of his name. It is him who currently rules the Infinite Realms."
"I never thought I would see the day..." Dracula mumbled. "I am waiting for an answer...Your Highness."
"My father was surprised by the suddennesses of your request. Most of his forces are currently occupied with solidifying his reign, but he is willing to provide undead soldiers to your cause, as well as providing you with all the supplies you may desire. We value the relationship our kinds share and have been building for eons."
"And your help does have a price, I suppose?"
At this, the lady's emerald eyes turned towards the two forgemasters of Dracula's court.
"By providing you soldiers, we expect you to refrain from abusing souls in that dark act to such an extent. You know well how we feel about this wretched practice."
The dark-skinned forgemaster narrowed his eyes, before speaking up. "Lord Dracula," he spoke with a strongly pronounced accent. "I do not question your judgement, but I have to point out that this," he lightly gestured towards the princess. "Is not the one you sent out for. You have no knowledge of that new king. And there is no way of knowing what they are planning. Entrusting them to hold the line is a risky move."
"You are awfully sincere," the princess smiled and tilted her head. "There is always the first step towards building trust. As a show of good faith he sent me here as his emissary, Lord Dracula. With your permission, I'll stay here and represent my realm's interest, and make sure that yours reach my father's ears."
Dracula sighed once more. "This is not the place to discuss the terms. Join me in my study. Hector, Isaac," he spoke to his forgemasters. "This concerns you as well. Now the meeting is truly adjourned."
The vampires started leaving the room one by one, whispering and conversing, as the princess strolled after Dracula and his human servants, not sparing the rest of the court as much as a glance. What was perceived by many as the actions of an ice queen, was in fact something else. Danielle hid it well, but the princess simply didn't want to be there. It was not something she had begged her father to let her take part in. And knowing him, he was probably having fun as she was stuck with a bunch of blood-sucking beasts. But since vampires knew nothing of them, she might as well have picked any persona she wanted and rolled with it. And until she got the hang of the surroundings, she was advised not to show much at all.
"Stupid old man," the girl whispered inaudibly.
Her skeleton bodyguards remained standing in the hall, standing in unchanging position. A single vampire tapped on the green glowing skull of one of them. He was a gruff-looking man with red hair, and overall viking appearance. He then stuck his finger inside its open jaw, before it suddenly clenched shut, with him barely able to pull the finger out.
"So we have actual ghouls here, eh? Nah, still would fuck that one," he said and glanced at where the princess left the room.
"You would fuck a dog, too, if need arises, Godbrand," said another vampire and guffawed, exiting the hall as well.
Godbrand chose not to lash out now, what's with the guards all around. He spared one last look at the silent skeletal sentinels, staring into their empty eye sockets.
"What do skeletons even have to do with ghosts?" The brash viking asked nobody in particular.