Castlevania Nocturne: A Guardian's Tale (Part 2)

A Heavy Weight

Richter  was surprised to find the town square alive at night. Festival tents were set up, and tricolor banners strewn across the houses. The square was lively with chatter and song, people seemed to be in spirited moods.  Strange, with all the vampires and night creatures. Richter wondered, until he saw the armed revolutionaries keeping guard over the square and townspeople. The ones Emma personally trained to combat vampires. He wished she were recovered enough to be here.

"It's not fair!" A young girl cried.

 "Ah, sweetheart, everyone wants to be Liberty." Said her older sister.

"Maybe she could be Equality. Or Fraternity." Their friend suggested.

"You have to be a man to be Fraternity. It means "'brotherhood.'"Richter smiled when passing them by.

  "'Sisternity,' then." The younger sister chuckled, looking upon the young man and holding out a ribbon.  "Oh, suits you. Want to join us?"

"Your festival, or your revolution?" Richter asked.

"Both." The young girl giggled smitten.

"You don't need me."

"We'll need someone to fight for us." Urged the older sister. "And you look as if you have some fight in you."

Richter gave a weary sigh. "Maybe I'm tired of fighting."

The tavern was none the less lively. It took Richter a few minutes to wave down the innkeeper and order. "Is this enough?" He set down Amalie's coins. 

"More than enough." The inkeeper cleaned a glass, nodding in approval. "But don't bother, the man over there says put it on his tab." He indicated a gray old man mulling his drink in the dark corner of the tavern. Richter ordered his meal along with a pastry wrapped in a bag for Emma. He happily dug in, enjoying a well deserved dinner among the vibrant songs and festivities of the patriotic tavern.

"Thanks for dinner. " He approached the reclusive old man afterward.

The old man took a gulp of his beer. "Well, you know what they say about a free dinner."

"Do they say anything?" Richter asked.

"They say, "Go back to where you came from and don't expect another one." Shrugged the old man. "Or maybe that's just me."

 "Look, I didn't ask for any favors-."

The door slammed opened, silencing the music and turning the happy chatter into frightened gasps.

"Where the fսck is the old man?" A red haired vampire snarled. He managed to sneak past the guards through mist-form to the tavern door, which he locked shut.

The entire tavern froze like deer. Nobody moved a muscle not even shouted a cry of alarm for the guards. Only the innkeeper, who ducked and covered under the counter "Ah, fսck. Another one. "

The vampire focused solely on the old man busy drinking his beer. "You swore the next time you saw my face in this village, you would kill me. Here's my face." He taunted. "Give it your best."

 Richter instinctively grabbed for the Vampire Killer's hilt at his belt, only to catch empty air. He caught the man striding by him, gripping  his family's ancestral weapon in his own bony hand.

Richter heard the stories of the Belmonts of old. Amalie recounted them many times, describing the way they practically danced with the vampire killer, lashing it in graceful arcs dispatching their enemies. It was never about brawn and brute strength with them; it was always about finesse and precision. Richter never understood what she meant until he saw the old man, seemingly withered and weary, fighting  the vampire. To him, it was the legends come alive, and he wondered to himself if  they truly died to begin with.

The old man combated the vampire with the grace, finesse, and precision of the Belmonts of old, lashing the whip in wide arcs, first severing the vampire's arm, and then cracking his head off his neck in a violent spurt of blood. The head was  sent flying, crashing into the table where the old man sat and tipped it over.

"Well, I guess this makes me a man of my word." smirked the old man, chuckling at the toppled empty beer mug he drank from. "It's a good thing I finished that." He took Amalie's coins and placed them on the bar. "For carpentry."

Silence lay over the cavern before it was shattered by victorious cheers. Chatter resumed and singing came louder than before.

"Give me that." Richter snatched his weapon back.

"You should've taken better care of it. I forgot how heavy that thing is." The old man shook his head. "Too heavy."

Richter ran after him when he left the tavern (though not before remembering to take Emma's treat). "Hey! Hey! Who are you? "

"Aren't you supposed to be clever?" The old man paused, turning his head.

"What?"

 "That's what Julia always said." He hoped it wouldn't happen, and  cursed Amalie for being right; Secrets are always eventually found out.

"Who are you?" Richter demanded.

 The old man gave a long tired sigh. "I'm Juste." 

"Juste who!?"

"Juste Belmont." He finally revealed.  "Your grandfather."

The pastry bag dropped from Richter's hand.