Last of the Belmonts (A Castlevania: Season 1 and 2 Fanfiction)

Chapter 2: One Year Later

Targovishte. One year later. 

The old archbishop was carried out on the ornate chair and was promptly sat down on the platform. He breathed, overlooking the people as the happy chatter and applause died down to relative silence. 

'For twenty years have I served you, and God, as the archbishop of Targovishte Cathedral. Yet never before I have felt the love of God shine so upon this great city. A little more than one year ago, many of us suffered a vision during the God-willed punishment of a witch in our midst. The devil himself came to us and threatened us with doom in one year. And yet, here we are. The devil lied. Why should we be surprised?' The skies above began to darken as he put his hands out. 'Do we not know the devil to be a liar? Do we not know his works to be illusion? Of course, we do. Illusions and falsehoods hold no fear for us, for we are the righteous of Targovishte, living as if cradled in the love of God.' Something splattered against his hand, and he looked down, seeing blood. 

Within moments, the skies rained down with blood, causing panic on the once happy residents of Targovishte. Small ugly creatures rained down from the skies next, before the church exploded into a pillar of flame, knocking the archbishop down from his seat. The face of Dracula appeared in the flame. 

'One year. I gave you one year to make your peace with your God,' Dracula snarled. 'And what do you do? Celebrate the day you killed my wife. One year I gave you, while I assembled my armies. And now I bring your death.' The face faded into fire and smoke, saying, 'You had your chance.' Another explosion rocked the city, and a large castle appeared in the middle of Targovishte. Several demonic creatures appeared, appearing in every corner of the city to kill and destroy as they saw fit. Mindless, winged creatures roamed the streets, slaying the citizens of the city in gruesome ways. The creatures did not differentiate. Men... women... children - all were slain, making the streets of Targovishte run red with crimson. A flock of ravens gathered to form another apparition of Dracula, and he spoke again. 

'Kill everything you see,' his voice boomed as the streets ran red. 'Kill them all. And once Targovishte has been made into a graveyard for my love, go forth into the country. Go now. Go to all the cities of Wallachia: Arges! Severin! Gresit! Chilia! Enisara! Go now and kill! Kill for my love. Kill for the only true love I ever knew. Kill for the endless lifetime of hate before me.' The apparition burst into a swarm of thousands of ravens, flying into the darkened skies as the night creatures wreaked their havoc on the world. 

In another village in Wallachia... 

The world was quiet here in this village. Only six or something occupants shared the spacious area that was the tavern tonight. In the corner, sat two people, vaguely listening to the chat going on at the bar by two other occupants about goats. The two people, one male and one female, idly sat with their drinks of ale, wearing thick fur coats with wary looks in their eyes. Suddenly, a young man burst in. 

'Ale! For Christ's sake!' he cried out, slamming the door. One of the other men at the bar called out. 

'Piter! We was just wonderin' if you'd spotted any attractive sheep on your ride out!' the man ran to the bar, grabbed the ale that was given to him, and slurped it all. 

'What's the word, mate?' the other man asked. 

'The horde's been seen, sweeping west!' the man cried out. 

'Shit! You think they'll reach us.' 

'I think they might pass us by,' the young man said. 'I don't know. I hope. I'm told they're closing on Gresit.'

'Serves 'em right,' one of the men who had spoken earlier growled. 'Stuck up bastards.'

'Ah, come on,' the bartender tried to say, but the man put a finger out. 

'No. No, it all comes down to the families and the houses, doesn't it?' the man barked. 'The great houses of Gresit.' He spat. 'Vlad Dracula? An old family. The capital. All run by the great houses. And they're not even the worst. The Belmonts? We should have killed all the Belmonts.' 

The two occupants with the fur coats and the wary look in their eyes glanced at each other at hearing this, the man cursing under his breath.