Author's note: I've been away from fanfiction for a while
but I'm glad to say I'm back and with better writing skills
and a new story to go with them. This is sort of an alternate
reality retelling of Castlevania Legacy of Darkness from Reinhardt's
point of view. But you'll find events and characters vastly
different as it changes from gothic action to a suspense
thriller. I hope you enjoy. now on with the show.
Castevania: Black legacy
Chapter 1: The Outset
Whomever is reading this, sir or madam allow me to introduce
myself. I am known as Reinhardt Shneider and my profession is a
rather strange and obscure one. I am an investigator of sorts.
My services were purchased by the an aquaintance recently and
off I set to what will most likely be the most memorable of assignments
I've undertaken. The following is a record of the events occuring between
October First and November 13th 1852.
Friend I caution you against reading further if you are meek
of spirit or have a tendancy to take ill, for the horrors I have
witnessed would make the most pious man scream blasphemies. The
memory still haunts me. Like ghosts inhabbiting the creases of my
brains, it swirls around raking at me every moment. I feel the very
knowledge shortens my life and may lead me to grow old before my time.
As such I warn you, read no further, unless your cause for doing
so be of dire importance.
I supose it actually had its beginnings shortly after sunset
in late september. I recieved a letter at my office in Berlin. I
thought it strange that the post would run at such a late hour but
then again i supose it could be seen as equally odd that I would still be
working at such a late hour when most would be either ready to retire for
the night or perhaps deeply ingrosed in a book if reading by lamplight were
their inclination. I however due to the nature of my occupation often
worked late into the night.
But I digres. The letter was postmarked from Walachia from
residence belonging to a DeRais familly. It read as follows.
Dear Mr. Shneider
I have interest in aquiring your unique services. It has taken me some
time to locate you and the situation may be dire by the time you read
this so I do hope you will hurry at haste to my residence. Attached
you will find my address, A map to my home as well as directions and
other information of the locale that may be useful to you. Upon
your arrival I promise you reimbursement for your travel expenses.
You see I feel that my very familly may be in danger from some ancient
force that had owned this property in previous ages. I implore you
Mr. Shneider do not let even a moment go to waste.
Yours Truely
Oldrey DeRais
The letter while brief was desperate and the map provided thurough. I
departed the next day via train taking the basics of my profession
with me and notifying my partner Charlie Vincent of my assignment
via a letter I placed on his desk during his absence. As he was
on assignment at the time I will leave it to his choice whether
he should follow or remain behind. Though in hindsight such
a lengthy travel alone may not have been the best of ideas, I felt
it urgent I depart without the slightest hesitation.
The train ride was mostly uneventful. The clacking of this modern
rattletrap was oddly soothing and helped my mind to wander away from
anticipation and fear for what might lay ahead. I used this time well
to rest my eyes which had grown heavy given the long day and night that
had proceeded my departure. I am sure my dinner had long since gone cold
and been given away. I would have to ask my lovely wife Rosa her
forgiveness upon my return. Perhaps when Charlie arrives, to inform
her of my departure, he will see to it that Rosa's cooking does
not go to waste. He never was one to let anyone cook in vain.
Time passed as my travels took me some way, but the interior of Transylvania
required travel by stagecoach. In this old country modernization
had not yet seeped into its darkest reaches. When I stepped from the
train and began searching for a coach and driver that was willing
to go the distance, I couldn't help but remark the drastic changes
between the world I stepped away from in Germany and the world I walked
into here in Transylvania. If one could imagin such a concept,
it seemed the train had not only carried me across the expanse of land
but also backward in time.
Eventually I did hire out a stagecoach willing to take me
as far as Veros, which he informed me is a small town nearest the
D'Rais residence. He was not a short man but deffinately didn't
reach my own stature. Upon greeting him in fact he commented
on my hight. It reminded me of my mother's comment when I was
a child, that I grew faster than the weeds in the garden. Ah,
times long gone by. This however was not the time to reminisce.
The coachman invite me into his cairrage. Two Hoarses pulled his
cart. Not the hoarses of equestrians I might see in my home town, no
these were hearty work hoarses, larger and heavier, than those
one might normally see. They pulled a black painted coach, its color
meant to hold in the warmth of the sun, to make the ride more pleasant
for those who traveled in the frigid winter. If this old coachman
truely did ride even in the bleakest days of the winter, it was obvious
why he had such a long and wooly beard.
The ride was rough but not unpleasant. The horses at least were
swift, and the coachman's driving as confident, as his sense of direction
was exact. I hoped I was spending DeRais's money well.
It was several days travel even at this pace during which I studied
the information Mr. Derais provided me carefully. I also spent some time
in conversation with the driver He spoke in depth of his hometown of Veros in
the walachia province and of old legends of a castle nearby in which evil
spirits dwelled. Your average traveller to the land would probably listen
only for the value of entertainment taking it in as no more than
supersticion. I however gave careful attention. Although I must take each
word with an ounce of skepticism I understood that old legends often had some
truth at their roots.
The Driver would tell me tales of epic battles between heroes
of the church and a man who sold his soul to the devil, and of a prince
of the old ages who deffended the country from turkish invaders. Of
how he repelled wave after wave of those would be conquerers and of
how his fearsome spirit still dwelled in this land leaving his legacy
of blood and violence.
Stories of the bloody prince ranged from depictions of a great hero to
fables that would make this man's name synonymous with fear. The horrific
atrocities he comitted, and his utter contempt for the sanctity of life
chilled even an experianced supernaturalist like myself.
It was the first of October that the stagecoach driver at last
halted his progress at the tiny town of Veros, his very hometown.
Aparently it was even closer to my destination than I expected.
It was not marked on my map, though the coachman explained that
Veros is never a place remarked on maps. It was a peculiarity
that this town came in and out of existance throughout history.
At various times near the turn of the century it would suddenly
cease to be. Destroyed by fire, flood or abandoned entirely. But
mid century as it was this town was bustling with human population.
It was a small town that put on an air of an older time. It
seemed as if the days of knights and crusades had never met
its end here. These humble villaigers made their lives
the same as had been done for centuries. I paid the stagecoach driver and
he was on his way taking several passengers back with him. They seemed oddly
egar to leave their homes though I know not why. Perhaps this was a result
of the same dark force that had given DeRais such a scare. I thought
I had best keep my guard up.
After purchasing provisions for a day's travel by foot and a more
comfortable pair of boots I double checked my directions with the locals.
Allthough I was cautioned against going further I am the sort of man who's
livelyhood goes against such warnings. It seems DeRais's residence was on an
island across a vast lake and through what the locales reffered to as the
forest of silence. I had rested long enough so I decided to proceed on my
way despite the aproach of nightfall. I aquired an oil lantern to
guide my way before my departure.
The journey by foot would be uneventful. The path was roughly
beaten though recently overgrown by wild grasses it was still
visible. As I traveled further I took notice of how the moon had
recently taken on a red hue. Though soon the moon would not be
visible as the path lead me through woods who's branches would
interweve to entirely block the sky from view leaving only my lantern
to guide my way. I hadn't noticed before how crisp the air was this time of year. In fact I found my nose feeling the chill of the cool air of autumn.
I could feel a chill air coming from the lake and the smell of water wafting
in the air. It was uncomfortable to say the least traveling through
the forrest on a chilled autumn night. More unnerving was the knowledge
that I may have well been walking toward some form of evil.
Beyond the reach of my latnerns light was only the walls of
darkness, and the branches of leafless trees reaching out like
the bony hands of an old man. While a modern logical man like
myself should be able to hold off man's primitive fear of the dark,
being alone in this place reminded me just how strong the primitive
mind was still in all of us. The imagination runs wild when
confronted with the unknown. Some horror just out of view, the
thing one most fears, always remaining unseen. One wants to
shine the light into the darkness to abolish such irationality.
But I chose not to do so. I stayed on my path simply arguing myself down
that nothing but the occasional owl prowled these woods. Still a
part of me didn't want to shine my light for other reasons. The slightest
off chance that such horrors that exist in our most terrible nightmares
might actually be revealed. Mankind fears the unknown, but fears
knowing what should not be known more than the lack of knowledge.
I however abolished such irrationality from my mind. Best to
save phillosophy for lectures and intelectual discussion. A strong
mind does not let imagination run rampant over logic.
Without any unpleasant occurances I found the lake though no clear
means of crossing. Determined that there must be a bridge I began following
the shoreline. The light of the full moon reflecting off the water
despite the moon's crimson hue and, the murky nature of the lake, was
a welcome departure from the consuming darkness of the forest. It wasn't
long before I spotted a lantern much like my own in
the distance. I thought at the time that it must be the mist off the lake
that made it appear to glow green though I found no change in color as I came
closer. Indeed upon my arrival I found his lantern did indeed glow a shade
of green. The "he" I reffer to would be the old ferryman. His boat
was small yet still sizable enough to carry himself and
a passenger possibly two if necessary. He leaned on his oar as if it were
a cane so i assumed he must be ancient though in truth all I could see
of him was the cloak and hood which obscured every inch of his figure.
He asked me to climb aboard and would take me across with no
discussion of fee. As I'd yet sighted no bridge I took his offer
assuming he must be an employee of Mr. Oldrey DeRais
Across the lake he rowed us slowly but steadilly. In fact it
was impressive how steady he rowed his boat. He handled his craft expertly.
There must be some pride to the Transylvanians, as each performed his job
so masterfully. It must be I thought more than a mere occupation to these
people but a purpose for living.
In time I would arrive on the island were already was obvious the ruins
of a once great estate. I turned my head back to thank the ferryman but
found he'd already left the premise. How he did so quickly is still a
mystery to me. Still some time from sunrise I decided against
subjecting myself to further travel through eiry forests especially as my
lantern was running low of oil. The lakeside seemed peaceful enough so
I covered myself in a blanket I kept in my pack and rested there
keeping my cross and rosary atop my chest for good measure.
There I would sleep until first light, or I confess two hours
after first light and even then I was still feeling unrested though I
resolved to awaken then and find the DeRais residence soon and hopefully
would be able to rest further there.
Putting my blanket away I made progress into the so called
Forest of Silence. Trees of all kinds grew in the distance though steep
outcroppings of rock prevented exploration, not that I desired to. Along the
rocky areas were several wooden signs reading only "path" which lead
me on my way. On occasion I would in the distance sight a statue or
crumbled gate that was most likely once a majestic part of the castle
which stood here.
It was an arduous journey and more than once I nearly lost my footing
to steep slopes that would have deposited me into the river below and I
had no intention of swimming this day. I was happy to be traveling
in the daylight despite a dense cloud cover that seemed to have moved
in while I was sleeping. Like a theif in the night it came, with no prior
warning. But i supose that is the nature of this season.
At least it was well lit enough now to vanquish the ramblings
in the back of my mind. Yet as the ficticious fears faded away I grew
unnerved. I could sense, in the air truer evils. My hairs stood
on end, as the air stank of mysticism, and arcane magics. My extra
sense honed by years of investigating the haunted and cursed, I knew well
the feeling of evil. The way it swam through the air and passed through a
man raking through his innards, setting off a cold tingle in every fiber,
was unmistakable.