by Spark, Luc
“Dretore my esteemed friend… you have issues that’s for sure” harked David.
Viorel looked at both these individuals while they enjoyed their chat, he looked at them with a sense of confusion-that underneath all the power and apparent devilishness of the vampire there was also like any human a deep sense of needing to have a good chuckle. As time was taking its toll on Viorel he felt stronger and the bloodlust inside him grew to a high level, he needed to have his thirst quenched, but despite this, he still had a shard of human left in him that would not accept this new way of existence. All around the camp, there were guards walking with torches that seemed to be immune to the drizzle.
Was this some form of sorcery? His question was about to be answered. Along came a young vampire or at least must have been young when he was taken.
“Hello, my names Jacque… I see you are intrigued by the torches the guards carry” he said.
“Yes, what form of sorcery has been used on them to allow them to carry on glowing through rain… the fires that never go out must be the work of a mage” said Viorel.
“Wouldn’t you like to think so… the reality is much more boring Viorel, it’s simply a bit of chemical mixing that allows them to burn through dampness… the torches are smothered with something called napalm, lethal stuff to use with arrows and then fire at an enemy…sorry to spoil your wonderment” said Jacque.
“That’s okay Jacque I can see that I’m going to be learning a lot over the next week…Dretore wants me to become an assassin and guardian for the vampires of Bucharest” said Viorel.
“Ah yes, your colleague Dretore… he is well respected around this camp, every vampire I have spoken with praises his courage and strength of character, you are in good hands with him, every time I talk with him he offers me knowledge on everything from telepathy to weaponry” said Jacque.
“That’s good to hear, I’ll be honest Jacque I’m only a recently formed vampire so anyone who offers me friendship I respect… I would hate to be on my own which I thought was the cut and thrust of being a vampire-that’s my biggest fear” Viorel confirmed.
“As you go through your new life as a vampire you will discover soon enough that like any human we seek companionship always, just because we suck claret does not mean that we do not need the warmth of friendship,” said Jacque.
The drizzle had stopped and dawn was just beginning to break, the sun slowly rising above the ice caps on the mountains. Nearby the birds were starting to break into their morning song. Over the far side of the camp, Dretore and David were settled down in the huge cellar beneath the assembly point. Both donning their traditional apparel for merry making… a big pointy hat almost of wizard issue, they brought the pewter tankards to their lips. Dretore would have it that he was the quickest downer of alcohol in the kingdom, although David would beg to differ. But this was no ordinary mug of wine, David being the owner of the camp knew that to keep spirits up amongst the vampire faithful he had to add another ingredient to his broth. This highly potent and energy giving ingredient was raw blood. The blood of noblemen, the blood of peasants and not to mention the blood of wolves and other beasts. David would order the blood supplies from one of his vampire friends who ran a group controlling the Romanian/Hungarian border. The friend had like most of the eastern European vampires trained at David’s facility. So with this as the simplest of negotiating tools, David was able to command a reduction of seventy percent on bulk orders of the blood. Then once inside the compound, David would go about the tedious task of sorting out the different classes of blood and then mixing them with the ale and wines he kept in huge vats and barrels in the grand cellar.
The drink of Dretore’s choosing was the sparkling white wine of the northern mountains mixed with the blood of a vicious alpha wolf. As the wine slid down his throat he felt a feeling of euphoria and a sudden rush of wild energy. David as his merry making partner chose the red wine with the splash of peasant blood. He said this gave him the euphoria but also a deep feeling of weakness which he liked to bring him down to earth, always the snob David loved to stereotype the lower classes. Although brought up in a working class family, he had smashed his way out of poverty by befriending the vampires and saving his money to establish his camp. The investment was soon returned with interest from all the vampires that would travel great distances and pay well either with their own money or cash from their factions, to use the place. With his long dark hair and implanted fangs he cut from the mouth of a wolf cub, the vampire’s mistakenly took him for one of their own. Only Dretore was fully aware of his real identity.
“David I must bring it to your attention that young Viorel is an investment for our future dominance of Romania, it is imperative that he receives the full brunt of your training,” said Dretore.
“Fear not my friend, he shall be versed in the art of stealth, the art of the long sword, and any other skill which we feel will be of value to him, also alchemy, smith work, orientation, whatever you feel he needs work on we will get drummed into his head” said David cheerfully.
“Between me and you David I also must point out that Viorel was turned by Kristen, who has gone into hiding, he was not made by choice, but we decided to keep him in the group, so if he steps out of line be sure to let me know” grunted Dretore.
“Rest assured Dretore you will be kept posted at all times during young Viorel’s time here, is there anything else you need to tell me before you no doubt head back off into the blue yonder on some great quest?” inquired David.
“If it has not already come to your attention David, which if we did our job correctly it should not be known by any soul in the kingdom, we had to relieve Vlad of his command,” said Dretore.
“You’re correct Dretore I have not heard such news, you’re telling me that our ruler Vlad is dead?” asked David.
“That’s confirmed my friend, we received orders from the Ottoman Empire to end his rule,” said Dretore.
With this, the two old friends downed another of the bloodied wines, and they broke into song-an old folk song about a time traveling horse which drunk from a most bizarre river. Over at the opposite end of the camp, Jacque was explaining to Viorel why he was here in Romania and also why he wanted to train at the honorable camp. Viorel was quickly beginning to become fond of Jacque, he found him a relaxed and intelligent character, Jacque it appeared was from that great capital of France over in the western countries. His group was now controlling a network of drop in shelters for Paris’s homeless; he spoke very highly of his sister Udlia who he claimed to be over one hundred years old but still looked to be twenty-one, the age she was bitten. Jacque’s eyes lighted up like beacons when he spoke of her commitment to the welfare of his group. It turns out she had financed his trip to Romania by singing in the PVO-the Paris Vampire Opera. He became very hazy on the details of the vampire that turned him, almost bordering on slight defensiveness, Viorel could only take a guess that like his own experience it was not something Jacque had particularly enjoyed. All that he brought to light is his maker was a local Frenchman who had powerful allies in the south suburbs of Paris. Like Viorel, his creator had fled without warning and Jacque had found it almost impossible to track him down. Jacque was finding Viorel to be an incredibly enlightened young vampire.
“Well Viorel if you want I will take you on a customary tour of the camp, let you know the different training zones and introduce you to the many different characters around this place,” said Jacque.
“Thank you, Jacque the pleasure is all mine, lead the way” Viorel replied.
Jacque motioned to the north eastern corner of the camp and Viorel followed on, this corner was the archery zone. Many bows of different sizes and materials were lined up against the huge stone wall. There were bows made from yew the traditional and most common type, and there were bows made from oak, ebony, and marble. The marble design caught Viorel’s eyes, he could not fathom who would use such a bow.
“Ah the great marble bow Viorel, as
you can no doubt imagine that weapon is purely reserved for David himself, he is very meticulous about its welfare,” said Jacque.
“I’m not surprised just look at how grand it is, one day I hope to have such a bow as that,” said Viorel awestruck.
Jacque gave Viorel a quick grin and pointed over to the teacher, a hulking and bearded vampire looking to be about fifty in human years. The teacher took Viorel’s hand and gave it a firm and dexterous shake, as he shook Viorel’s hand his beard jumped up and down like some puppet on a string. He had strong and confident black eyes and a battle scar across his right cheek; on his neck, he sported tattoos which appeared symbolic in some way. He gave his name as Bogdan and broke into his introduction.
“Gentlemen welcome to the archery zone, here you can learn the ways of the archer and develop the skill to perform silent kills from distance, the great selling point of archery and what draws vampire folk here all the time, if you can become a great archer you can become a great assassin and instil fear wherever you go… not only that but its chuffing good fun too”
“Bogdan this chap is Viorel and he is here for a week, can he walk out of here once the week is up and command respect from any bow?” asked Jacque.
“Jacque you have been here for three weeks and now you are as deadly as any living soldier I have seen, my training methods are unparalleled but of course it’s down to the individual’s desire and learning ability too… I’m sure our new friend here will be fine, now let’s go through the different types and sizes/grades of bow and arrow, you must walk before you can run” Bogdan replied proudly.
Bogdan led his students over to the arrow rack which hung adjacent to the bow rack; from here he talked them both through the different head that could be used. Viorel’s particular favorite was the arrowhead which seemed to emit a blue glow. Bogdan pointed out that this type was enchanted by the training camps mage. Viorel was eager to get into action and get suited up in the camps apprentice apparel. He had seen the many other students walking around in the apparel that was provided and it looked grand.
“I see you’re keen to get kitted out Viorel, what size do we need to get for you?” asked Bogdan.
“Anything that can fit a young vampire a shade under six feet and of a slender frame” replied Viorel in earnest.
Bogdan walked over to the clothing tent and passed over the sizing details to the beautiful vampire woman who made the clothes on her loom. She fetched from under the counter a sparkling new outfit and handed it over to Bogdan. It was a full suit comprised of black leather boots which reached up to knee level, a pair of blue suede tights, and a green top with a hood neck. Sewn into the left breast was a wolfs head and directly underneath the initials DVTA (David’s Vampire Training Academy). Jacque clearly had a crush on this woman because from Viorel’s line of sight he could see that Jacque was drooling down his chin. The drool of somebody in a deep level of obsession, anyone within a mile radius could see Jacque was willing to lose his composure over this stunning piece of vampire femininity. Viorel had to laugh at the sight of his new friend standing with his tongue out like a dog waiting for water after a long run for an escaping stick. Bogdan strutted back over to the pair and handed over the apparel to Viorel.
“You can change over in that makeshift changing room over yonder”
Bogdan pointed towards a stone wall which appeared to bend round to make a cylindrical shape. It seemed private enough the sides reaching to over ten feet. There was a slab in the center to sit on while the trainees slipped into their footwear.
“When you’re finished getting changed we can begin with a bit of target practice, I’m sure you’re salivating at the prospect of seeing how dexterous you are, and that’s an important factor in determining how deadly you will become,” said Bogdan.
“Teacher I reckon he will be as dexterous as a top level Bucharest surgeon,” said Jacque
“Ha that does not bode well then Jacque, you know them guys are killers they can turn anything healthy into a corpse ready to put on the dead wagon” joked Bogdan.
Viorel walked over to the stone changing area and began to slip off his current attire; he could not help but recall the memory of the now deceased Vlad mentioning something about a mage he had on his payroll. Coupled with this was talk around the camp of a mage too, who he was supposedly going to be learning some finer points of alchemy and sorcery from, this made him try and put a connection to both mages. Are they one and the same? He pondered on this for the few minutes it took him to get changed. His strong newly made fangs seemed to be getting a tad bigger, perhaps the result of some final stages of transformation that still needed to be completed. The inner soul inside of him now felt completely at ease with life as a vampire, he had found comrades and was finding life to be a hundred fold more entertaining and meaningful as a creature of the night. He wandered out of the changing area and made his way back to Bogdan and Jacque who were sharing a joke together. Once Viorel stood alongside Jacque the great Bogdan placed a hand on his shoulder and spun him round to face three separate targets. One was about four feet high and made of straw with the target circles attached. The next was the same in that it was in a fixed position but it was around six feet high with smaller target circles. The final one was the same dimensions as the second but this one was spinning on some form of pivot, the speed seeming to be regulated and changeable. Bogdan went back over to the various bows and arrows racked up against the back wall. He chose to wield the bow made from yew, and his arrows of choice were the standard iron tipped without enchantments.
“Okay Viorel ill fire off a couple of arrows, see if you can copy my stance and take a note of where my shoulders are in relation to the rest of my body, this will determine the angle and power of the release” Bogdan explained.
Bogdan gave out a grunt as he fired off the first arrow which smacked hard into the first target, his guttural roar appearing to emulate the ferocity of the arrows flight. It landed dead center of the target, right into the smallest circle and splitting at the end. He gave a confident pump of his arms and winked to Jacque and Viorel. The pretty woman vampire at the clothing tent let out a cheer; this was followed by a slight flush from Jacque, obviously feeling a slight level of jealousy towards the esteemed teacher who had now shown why he was allocated the job of archery trainer. Viorel knew the moment that the arrow landed that he wanted to be able to match the teacher’s level of prowess. Bogdan walked back over to his students and handed over the yew bow and a new arrow. Viorel took a firm hold of the bow and was instantly overawed by its indentations in the sides.
“That’s the official training camp logo and on the other side are ancient symbols for the two gods Odin and Thor, our camp master is a pagan so he makes sure that we honour his belief every time we wield the camp weapons, whether he is of Nordic origins I could not say” said Bogdan.
Viorel began to pull back on the bow, the tension giving a meaty pull on his deathly white arms. The teacher went to his side to adjust his positioning ever so slightly, and the next thing Viorel saw was the back end of his arrow whooshing off towards the target, and it hit the circles just askew of the smallest circle and then bouncing off. Viorel felt rise to a sudden feeling of disappointment. The teacher walked over and picked up the failed arrow and turned to Viorel.
“That was very well done young sir; most folks don’t even hit the farthest point on their first attempt!”
‘I’m absolute dog shite, how can I even manage to become a good vampire assassin like Dretore wants me to if I can’t even use a stinking bow and arrow-I’m going to fail miserably in this place I know it’ Viorel thought to himself in a depressed manner.
Jacque clicked onto the look of failure on Viorel’s face and offered him a consolation hug.
“Viorel pay attention to what Bogdan just said, nobody gets it dead on centre the first time or even the second or third time, like anything in the life of a human we only get better with practice, just because we are of vampire blood does not
make us instant professional practitioners of everything we do” Jacque said in sympathy.
Jacques kind and powerful words hung in the air for what was for Viorel the pivotal moment that made him want to become good friends with the French vampire.
There was something about his demeanor that made every word come out of his mouth echo with flamboyance and sincerity. Viorel realized that this was what made humans look up to the French when it came to social skills and general etiquette. Especially Parisians who could not be matched for their tastes when it came to art and standard of living. The bell began to ring very loud and prominent in Viorel’s brain, he must keep on the good side of Jacque and gradually delve into his new friends life to see if there was any possible way that he could escape the blight of Bucharest and follow Jacque back to the loveliness of Paris-Viorel was becoming a snob thanks to his heightened pride and sense of the need to be surrounded by all things strong and beautiful, he turned back to Jacque and proclaimed.
“Thank you, Jacque, I will do my best, Dretore will be proud of me and will surely attach some fancy title to my name once I have officially graduated, I’m relishing the challenge here to train side by side with you”
Jacque quipped “Okay if you say it is so Viorel, although I did not realize that Dretore wielded such influence when it comes to handing out titles of honor”
Bogdan gave the two students and humorous dig in the ribs and began to run through the different types of bows, carefully pointing out the benefits and burdens of each type. It appeared that bows were originally used in the far lands across the great sea west of France and that Europeans had only recently become accustomed to the brilliance of silent killing. That said he made the strong point that the gods Thor and Odin had gifted the Europeans the right to use the bow and to customize it to their own designs. Once he had finished his tutorial in all things silent killing he whistled over to a hulking vampire with a bat brooch on his robe.
