Of Tudor's Ambivalence (A Standalone Series from "The Elemmírion")

1: More Than a Fairy Tale

House of Andronești Manor
Craiova, Oltenia (Romania)
20 March 2019

The manor's high ceilings and thick wooden beams gave the room an ancient, almost mystical feel, with the scent of herbs and garlic permeating the air. In the middle of the room, sitting at a long, rustic table, was Viorel Mărăcinianu, a semi-retired alchemist from Timișoara. His weathered hands, marked with years of potion-making and experimentation, skilfully braided a wreath of garlic bulbs with the practised ease of someone who had spent decades mastering his craft.

Across from him sat Veronica Árien, the youngest member of the Drăghici family, just a first-grade student. She watched Viorel intently, her bright cognac eyes full of curiosity as her small hands tried to imitate his movements.

Beside her sat Vladuț, Vladislav Andronescu, the proud grandson of the famous vampire hunter-wizard Mircea Andronescu. Unlike Veronica, Vladuț appeared more focused on observing than participating, his sharp gaze fixed on Viorel as the alchemist worked in silence.

Viorel, fondly called "Neică Viorel" by Veronica, feeling the curious eyes of the children on him, finally broke the quiet. His deep, gravelly voice filled the room, blending with the crackling of the fire in the hearth. "You know, garlic isn't just an old wives' tale," he said faintly, holding up the braided wreath. "It's been used for centuries to ward off things that dwell in the dark—vampires, evil spirits, and who knows what else."

Veronica, always eager to learn, perked up. "Is it true that our family hunted vampires, Neică?" she asked, using the affectionate term for uncle. Her small fingers fiddled with a loose strand of garlic as she spoke.

Viorel chuckled softly, setting the garlic down. "Aye, our family's history is steeped in it. Especially your eldest cousin Mircea. He was one of the most feared vampire hunters in the Eastern Wallachia."

Vladuț, listening with folded arms and a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, interjected, "He still is. Grandfather's name sends shivers down their spines, even now."

Viorel nodded in agreement but then grew quiet, his expression darkening slightly as if a shadow had passed over him. "But there's one story," he began slowly, "that not many know. It's about our inter-family, Veronica. It concerns Tudor Hațieganu VI, the long-lost cousin of Mircea."

Veronica nodded, her innocent curiosity sparkling in her young eyes. "But he has his aftername, Uncle Viorel. His name was Lietar."

Viorel's hand froze momentarily, and he met Veronica's gaze, his brow furrowing slightly. The name stirred memories long buried. Vladuț's smirk deepened as he caught the hesitation in his uncle's eyes.

"Lietar..." Viorel repeated, his voice heavy with meaning. "You speak of Tudor Hațieganu, don't you? Tudor."

"Yes," Veronica confirmed eagerly. "The one who disappeared. Some say he died in infancy before the Revolution. But is it true?"

Viorel leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Tudor Hațieganu was no ordinary child. Born before the turmoil of the Revolution of '89, his fate was intertwined with magic and blood. His name, Lietar, means 'People's Ruler' in the ancient tongue of the Sea Elves, a fitting title for someone surrounded by darkness and death from the beginning."

Vladuț, who was listening with silent amusement, finally spoke up with his half-mocking tone. "Some say he was more than just a sorcerer, for he had a way of bending people to his will even as an infant. But you really believe all that, Uncle Viorel? Sounds like a fairy tale to me."

Viorel shot him a knowing glance. "You should know better than to dismiss old stories, Vladuț. In our world, myths and legends often hold more truth than we care to admit."