Annoyance. One of the few emotions that still managed to pierce through the centuries of inhuman detachment and a year long depression that made up Dracula's core.
The plan had worked. More or less.
I realized that the moment the castle shifted. The air changed. The magic settled.
I'd looked out the window and found a frozen wasteland staring back, halfway up a mountain, the land below smothered in snow and dotted with skeletal trees. For a second, I thought I'd dropped us in Antarctica. Or worse.
Then the scream cut through the silence. A human scream. A child's voice. Dracula wouldn't have cared, not after Lisa's death. Even before then, the odds of him caring enough to leave his castle to attend to whatever was screaming at his doors were marginal at most. But I was the one in control now. Mostly.
I spun on my heels and ran, which was where I fell into a bit of an impasse. I didn't account for speed. Luckily for both the castle and me, enough remnants of Dracula's instinct remained to smooth the trip. The journey from the study, down the stairs, and through the great hall blurred together. I remembered only flashes. The cold. The wind. The white light bleeding in through the open door. And then, instinct.
A foot snapped out before I had time to think, connecting with something massive and furred. It went flying immediately. It's heavy weight crashing through snowdrifts until a tree finally put a stop to it. I stepped out into the cold, cloak trailing behind me like smoke, and took in the world fully. The air was cold. The sky gray. And far in the distance, looming over everything like a monolith...
A wall. A massive, frozen wall that stretched across the horizon. I stared for longer than I was proud to admit in disbelief, but no matter how much I looked at it, the massive slab of ice horizon didn't care to prove me wrong by dissipating like a fever dream. Instead, it gleamed brightly as whatever sunlight managed to slip past the gray clouds hit it.
Holy shit. I'm in Westeros. That was what I wanted to say, at least. Instead, the moment my lips parted, my voice called out in a soothing, regal, and deeply unfamiliar tone. "Tell me that is not The Wall in the distance," I found myself asking rhetorically to the open air.
I gave a brief glare at Castlevania, and in response, the castle doors creaked open the slightest bit wider. Despite Dracula's memories of the contrary, at least what little I allowed myself, I was almost certain the quasi-sentient castle was laughing at me. "I'm going to have a serious conversation with you about what I call home when we're done here," I muttered at it.
The wind suddenly picked up. Snow scattered across the clearing, and somewhere below, slightly further down the mountain that Castlevania had decided to plant itself on, something howled. I took a breath. Partially out of habit once again, and less out of necessity. I didn't have the best memories of vampires from the Castlevania anime but I'm pretty sure they were not undead, at least not fully.
That aside, the air was clean. Brutally cold, dry, and thin but clean. Not a trace of industry, no stink of oil or smoke. Just the pure, raw breath of a world that had been stuck in the medieval ages for over ten thousand years. Judging by the show's end, I didn't expect them to be leaving anytime soon. The realization settled in slowly, like frostbite.
I was really in Westeros. Not just anywhere good. I could've landed in the Reach, a beautiful land filled with roses, wine, women, and knowledge. Instead I was smack dab in the ass end of the continent, on the other side of the wall which explained the cold. The screaming. The walking steroid in a fur coat I'd just launched halfway down a mountain. And of course, just in case I've not stated it enough, the huge fucking wall in the distance.
I turned to look at the beast I'd kicked. It wasn't dead. Of course not. Say whatever you want about Dracula, but for all his great and terrible deeds, killing random wild animals was not one. Instead, he usually glared at whatever beast was unfortunate enough to cross his path during his travels, while exploring the world at Lisa's request.
I stared at the bear, my red eyes piercing it, and for all of five seconds, It froze up. Its instincts, far superior to human's told it a simple truth. I was a greater and more evolved predator in every way that mattered, which, for a bear, especially one of the snow bears of the North that ruled supreme shy of mammoths, was an unfamiliar feeling.
Unfortunately, despite my efforts, the bear shook its head and shifted its eyes from me to the two figures I had just saved from a mauling. I had a sense of anger and rage radiating from the creature which made me wonder, what the hell did they do to piss it off, kill its cub? I didn't have the chance to spare them much attention, but what little I had seen so far spoke of red hair and frightened features.
I took two slow steps, my eyes focused on the bear, and suddenly I was blocking its line of sight once again, and it was forced to look back at me. My movement had been instinctive, born out of a desire to not be ignored, some remnant of Dracula once again. Which was not the only sign of his influence, because I doubt I would've been this unworried about standing up to the bear if I were my usual self.
The bear didn't seem very happy with it, judging by the way it was dragging itself up with all the grace of a drunk mammoth, snorting steam and glaring at me like it knew what my ancestors had done to its own. Behind me and to the side, Castlevania creaked. Ancient stone adjusting to a new world, its weight settling further into the side of the foreign mountain. I could feel it through my connection like a heartbeat. The magic of the castle was reacting to something.
It was enough to distract me as the bear let out another roar before bounding forward once more, crushing snow beneath its feet as it charged towards me with murder in its eyes. Yet once again, despite the danger of a charging multi-pound bear hurtling towards me like a train wreck, I didn't feel the slightest fear or worry, even while turned away.
"Watch out!" Two voices called out in sync with each other, and I found myself contemplating the fact that I could understand them, a scenario that was proving more interesting to the more complex scientific and intellectual mind Dracula possessed.
Four feet away from me, the bear pounced forward, throwing its full weight into the jump, maw wide open, finger long fangs bared and ready to dig into soft human flesh. The bear was nature's perfect murder machine, heightened and enhanced by the more brutal conditions of the Far North it was forced to endure. It was a creature that decimated hovels, an animal hunting parties avoided, and yet when it got within a foot of me, my right hand snapped out automatically and caught the beast by the throat while my gaze remained focused on the castle, my mind deep in thought.
Whatever language the two teenagers... For the first time, I glanced at them, actually taking in their features. Red hair, blue-gray eyes. Soft features, slim limbs, yet slightly packed with muscles that spoke of a body forged from hunting and traversing the forests. Were they children or particularly small adults? I found it hard to judge, considering how much they were cowering and staring at me and the bear in my hands with wide eyes. Judging heights was difficult when you were a seven foot tall centuries-old vampire.
The bear thrashed in my hands, which was only possible because of the light grip I kept on its throat. Its much longer limbs scratched at the arm holding it up, yet its long black claws were unable to find purchase in the black cloth that wound tightly around my form. Unconcerned with the still thrashing beast at literal arm's length, my thoughts immediately went back to the language.
It was not English, that much I knew. There was a bit of Proto-Indo-European Lithuanian with a dash of Albanian, two enduring languages that had... my thoughts screeched to a stop. Lithuanian? Albanian? Even as I asked those questions in my mind, I was already getting answers.
Lithuanian was a Baltic language known for its conservative nature that had endured for time immemorial, and Albanian was an ancient language that stretched far back and originated from prehistoric times when men still lived in caves and used stone tools.
How did I know this? That was not a question I should've bothered with.
"My father is a man of science, a philosopher, a scholar, and knows things our society has forgotten three times over. Do you still not understand the enormity of what we're doing? He's a repository of centuries of learning."
Alucard had been right. Unlike most versions of the vampire known as Dracula and even the Castlevania games included, Dracula from the Castlevania anime was a genius. A polyglot, a man of science and magic. A centuries-old vampire with an intellect so vast, it would take multiple lifetimes to put to words.
Dracula was not just some brutish vampire, despite how well he mimicked it as well as his sheer martial capabilities and propensity for combat. Above it all, Dracula was a fountain of knowledge and wisdom that spanned eons. I was a fountain of knowledge and wisdom that spanned eons. A consequence of opening myself so much to Dracula's knowledge and influence earlier in my efforts to manipulate Castlevania to previously unused levels.
"I think it's dead now, my lord." A soft voice called out from behind me. Enough to make me blink scarlet eyes in response. I was getting lost in my own head. How did Dracula do it? Centuries of life and experience. How did he not get lost in all of it. I turned my head to the limp bear in my hands and raised a brow.
The kids were wrong, not that I could blame them. It was a perfectly fine leap of logic. Lost in my thoughts, my grip on the bear had tightened until I had stopped blood flow to its head, knocking it unconscious. Any more and the bear would be dead. I slackened my grip and watched it fall to the ground, displacing snow with its great weight. My arms were not even the slightest bit strained despite the effort of holding it up until it fell unconscious.
Dracula was a physical monster, and it came to me once more. This was him after over a year of not feeding, a year of trying to live like a man, followed by mourning his wife's death. This was Dracula at his weakest, and he had manhandled Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard like babies.
"It's not dead. It's resting, but not for long," I said without turning back to look at the duo. Despite how interesting seeing humans who were not Isaac or Hector was, I found I was not in the mood to interact with them. Too many things were running through my mind, so I sent the kids off. "It won't be sleeping for long..." I stated, leadingly, then I turned to stare at them, and they flinched back.
"Thank you." The brave boy who stood in front of them said with a nod too serious to be on the face of the teen. My reply was silence as I stared at them with hooded eyes, lost in thought. I vaguely noted Hector and Isaac watching from a balcony. Then, as the children fled down the mountain and back to whatever hovel they called home, a Night creature followed behind them. Most likely to ensure they actually got home as well as for reconnaissance.
Instead of wondering about my Forgemasters' loyalty and initiative, I turned away and began to walk back into the castle. The moment I stepped past the threshold, the castle doors shut behind me, closing me off from the world. There was work to be done.