Chapter One: News From the Old Country
The small establishment was filled to the brim with drunken men, offering whores, and smoke of the cigar kind. A tavern of this kind was a welcome sight to any weary traveler taking the otherwise deserted roads of southeastern France. Horses were tied up to posts and trees outside, waiting patiently for their intoxicated owners to come swaggering out of the gritty place with rum on their breath and a giggle in their throat. Many men would probably loose their animals, money, and dignity in this place, that is if they didn't die from fighting or alcohol poisoning first.
People yelled to each other from opposite sides of the room, but nobody paid them any attention. Besides, anyone that did stand up and yell something to shut them up would probably get a knife in the bread basket. Many would consider this a dangerous place, but some considered it a place where the grape vine carried many interesting rumors and where opportunities ran rampant. Opportunities that involved a large bounty, a chance at rising in status, or an opportunity to just kill someone to get frustration off your chest. Either way, greasy old pubs like this tended to give people something to do. Whether it was sinful or not was up to them.
The wooden door slowly creaked open, careful to avoid ramming into any passing customers. Quickly and silently as possible a rather large, burley man slipped through the opening before the door was pushed shut by two other men fighting over a spilt drink slammed into it and pushed it shut. A crowd slowly gathered around the two chanting for the favorite. The newly entered man, however, scooted along the side of the bar avoiding the goers at all costs. When he was finally free, the man began pushing his way through the stragglers of the tavern and over to a relatively vacant corner.
"Bloody heathens," he mumbled, "No respect for respectable people."
"You say that about everyone, Charlie," a new female voice broke in after this Charlie man sat down at a table, looking at the top with a disgusted look on his face. Across from him, the woman sat with one leg propped up on the other and her elbows resting on the arms of the chair with her hands clasped in front of her. "Its just that bit of you that charms so many people," she went on with a small smirk and a sarcastic tone.
"Oh, ha, ha. I suppose you think your fairly entertaining don't you, Rawnie?"
"So I've been told," Rawnie replied jokingly and gave a small chuckle. Setting both feet on the wooden planks of the floor, she leaned on the table looking over at her well muscled friend. If Charlie hadn't had been such a stiff, women would have been falling all over him and praising the ground he walked on. He had shaggy dark brown hair, a strong jaw, and baby blue eyes to die for. However, Rawnie wasn't planning on 'dieing' any time soon over a pair of beautiful eyes. "Tell me, Charlie, have you suddenly taken an interest in this kind of crowd or is there another motive as to why you're here?"
"Heaven forbid," he scoffed at the 'sudden interest' comment, "Something was brought for you the other day. Don't know who its from, it doesn't have a return address on it." at that he took a carefully folded letter out of his vest pocket and handed it over to his female companion. The paper was rough between Rawnie's fingers as she peeled back the sloppy melted seal. Carefully unfolding the paper, she narrowed her eyes in the dim light of the tavern as she read. It was a rare occasion indeed when she, or anyone around there for that matter, received mail of any kind. The woman opened her mouth to asked who brought the letter, but the few sentences that were written on the parchment stopped her words dead.
"Dracula has been killed," Rawnie read aloud in a hushed voice, "He's dead. He's gone, Charlie," as she spoke her tone increased to a joyful sound. But as she read on her face melted back into its stoic expression. "Velcan…he's dead." Charlie's face changed as well with this news.
"Rawnie, I'm sorry. He died with honor I imagine. Don't wor-"
"No. Do not give me sympathy for loosing someone I didn't even know. It would be disrespectful to those who did know my brother," she said and shook her head. Placing the letter lightly on the table, she stared down at it, rereading its contents over and over in her head. Dracula was dead. The creature that held the fate of her family in his hands for hundreds of years was gone. Her brother, her father, her…sister? Rawnie's mind came to a screeching halt as she read over the paragraph again. 'We regret to inform you that both brother and sister, Velcan and Anna, have fallen.'
"Anna?" she said out loud with a confused expression. Glancing up at Charlie she shook her head again out of bewilderment. "Who's Anna?"
The man quirked a brow and took the letter from its resting spot on the table. Reading it, he also shook his head. "Sister? Anna? You never told me you had a sister."
"That's because I didn't know," Rawnie shot back in a frustrated tone and yanked the letter out of his hands. Narrowing her eyes in a glare, she pursed her lips before staring back up at Charlie. "Who brought this? Who gave it to you?"
"A woman," the bulky man shrugged his massive shoulders. "She's staying up in the Inn from what she told me," he pointed up to the ceiling toward the second floor where the rented out rooms were located. Rawnie looked up at the ceiling for a moment or two before pushing herself up out of her seat and leaving a coins as payment for her drink.
"Where are you going? Don't you want to talk to her?"
"Don't worry, I'll be back. Make sure she doesn't leave, Charlie," the woman called out and shoved and elbowed her way through the still remaining crowed of the tavern, ignoring the ever annoying whistles she received as she passed by the drunks. Pulling the door open with an aggravated look, Rawnie stalked out into the night air of the hills. Stepping over the sprawled out body of a passed out man, she ran a hand through her short chopped smoky chestnut hair. It flopped in an untamed manner over one of her deep brown eyes which were still set firmly in an aggressive stare. Her long pants scuffed over her boots and onto the ground as she walked briskly over toward her mare. Climbing up on the horse, Rawnie winced slightly and the corset that was latched around her midsection and chest. It was made to be flexible for this kind of activity, but it still bit back when bent the wrong way. Pushing back the large cuffs of her odd jacket type dressing that were draped over her elbows, her gloved hands gripped the reigns and her short heeled boots hit into the side of the beast of burden with a force that told it to get a move on quickly.
The red dirt of the ground flew up as the shooed hooves of the mare ran the road for all it was worth. Wherever this 'Anna' came from, Rawnie was never told of her. The little brother Velcan was the only sibling that she had in her knowledge, and now there was news of a second sibling. A sister. A dead sister. Attempting to forge any sort of relationship with the new found sister now would be pathetic and useless, but the curiosity of an older sister held a wanting for knowledge.
Her house was small. Nothing to extravagant was needed for her plain living conditions, though Charlie had begged her many times to let him help her find a better place to live. It was wedged in between two hills along side a tiny barn, just large enough for her one horse. The unpainted wood of the house left something to be desired, as did the failing roof on one side. When this homely little house came into range Rawnie slid off the horse and jogged for the door, trusting that the animal wouldn't run off. Throwing the door open, she trudged in and went directly for the desk inside the makeshift study.
The interior made up for some of the more non appealing qualities of the exterior. The kitchen, sitting room, dining area, and study made up the first floor while her bedroom made up the top floor. It was all formed into a loft situation that Charlie identified with as a barn. Rawnie could never understand how a son of a baker could have such a high class mind.
As she rummaged through the many drawers of the desk, she never noticed the footsteps sounding throughout her home. As she pulled out several other letters besides her most recent, the woman never noticed the figure standing in the doorway. As she turned to enter her sitting room, she never thought to look before you walk.
"What the hell!" she yelled out when she collided with another's body and in turn dropped the papers to the floor. The next thing the still unknown person knew, a dagger was being held to their throat along with a pistol at their stomach.
"My apologizes, dear," a slick voice rang out with a heavy English accent. The person standing in front of her was not the kind of person Rawnie would ever expect to break into her house. An old woman that had to be teetering on the edge of 70 or 80 was standing perfectly relaxed in front of her. Her thin, white hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense bun leaving her aged yet still graceful face free for all to see. She was a short woman, probably about five feet tall at the most. Long lilac toned robes fell to the ground hiding her feet in the masses. Fragile hands were locked in front of her as she stared up at the younger woman who was a good ten inches taller then her. Though Rawnie had the distinction that just standing in a room with this woman would prove to be exhausting. Her warm green eyes held no fear from the two weapons that were trailing dangerously close to being used.
"Who are you?" Rawnie requested in a stiff voice. She lowered her weapons, but still kept them gripped in her hands. Paranoid? Maybe.
"Of course. I'm Seareinty," the woman started and held out one frail hand in a greeting, "You must forgive me, the door was unlocked when I arrived. A man down the street said you'd be here," she finished and gestured out the door with her other hand. Rawnie stared at the offered hand for a moment before slipping the blade back in its hidden sheath and taking Seareinty's hand and gave it a small shake. This brought a lovely chuckle from the woman. "I will not break, Rawnie."
"How…" she opened her mouth to ask then stopped herself. "You brought the letter. Of course you'd know my name," the short haired woman said mainly to herself.
"Indeed," Seareinty mumbled reassuringly with a small smile. Her eyes studied the taller being in front of her for a moment or two before traveling down to the dropped papers. "Forgive me. I should have made myself known."
"Oh, no, its alright. Just a tad jumpy all of a sudden," Rawnie shook her head and kneeled down to pick up the mess at their feet. The papers ranged from all different tones of colors. Letters from when she was at the ripe age of fifteen to nearly a year ago, most holding the recognizable writing of her father. Years of letters were being held in her hands, yet none to her memory told anything of a sister named Anna.
"Important documents, I imagine?" the old woman suddenly spoke from her new place across the room. Her fingers dropped from the frame of a picture she was admiring as Rawnie glanced up at her, her own fingers still busy stacking the papers.
"To others, no. To me…" she chuckled and sat the still not so tidy papers on the in table. The black leather of her fingers ran over the curving words that were fading just like the image of her family in her mind. Little Valcan and his blonde curls. Mothers tiring face during her pregnant days. Fathers strong determined face that always seemed to soften at the sight of his family. So long, so many years… "Are you from Vaseria?"
"Yes. I've lived there for quite a few years now. Such a lovely place now that that creature is gone," Seareinty answered. The younger woman paused in her motions just for a second at the odd tone drifting through the other woman's voice. Now that that creature is gone…
"So you must have known Velkan, and…Anna," at this question from the woman, Seareinty hesitated.
"Not as much as you hoped I would, unfortunately. I live on the outskirts of town where its quiet," she excused and waved a hand around with a smile. "You understand."
"My friend tells me you brought the letter," Rawnie went on with a small grin, "No offence of course, but you don't seem like the type to be delivering letters to anyone. Let alone the type to be staying in a place like that inn," this said, the old woman laughed.
"Do not worry about my well being. I've come fully equipped with a safe entourage to guard me through the night."
"So you didn't come alone," the interrogator nodded. "Why did you feel the need to confront me, Seareinty?"
"Why all the questions, child?" the elder laughed softly and eased herself down upon the worn sofa.
"I have my reasons."
"Very well," Seareinty started, "From the letter, you already know of the passing of your brother, as well as your sister."
"Keep going," Rawnie urged on and sat down in the equally worn out chair opposite the couch.
"You haven't figured it out yet?" she raised one elegant brow, "You're the last of the Valerious bloodline, Rawnie. The last of the royal family in Vaseria."
"And…?" said woman went on in false ignorance.
"Your father was King of the Gypsies. Your father is dead, as is Velcan. Anna would have been the next as an affect of your absence. Now she is gone, and you are left as the last heir to the Valerious throne. You're the Queen of the Gypsies now, Rawnie."
"And you stayed just to tell me that?" the Valerious mumbled and rubbed her eyes with a bitter smile. Pushing herself up from the cushion, she made her way into the nook of the house which served as a kitchen and went for the liquor cabinet. "Drink?"
"And you choose to just…ignore this fact?" Seareinty continued, not bothering to answer the question as her green orbs followed the young woman as she poured herself a beverage.
"Exactly. Now your catching on," Rawnie nodded while taking a sip of the amber colored liquid and leaned against the counter.
"May I be so bold as to ask why?"
"Would you believe a fear of public speaking?" she laughed a bit before settling back down in the chair. This sarcastic comment earned her a slight glare from the old woman.
"Your people are without a leader, and your lounging about drinking and laughing about it."
"My people? They aren't my people," Rawnie scoffed.
"Then who are your people? Those drunks and prostitutes down at that tavern?" Seareinty argued throwing her hand out sharply toward the direction of the building.
"I have no people," the youngest went out with a raised voice coated with a bit of harshness.
"Oh, really? Well I'd say there are many people on the far side of Romania that would say otherwise."
"Hey, if they wanted me as their leader they should have decided that a long time ago rather then leaving me here to wander what the hell is going on with my family!" Rawnie shot.
"You're a grown woman, you could have gone back any time you wanted!" Seareinty yelled back.
"Not if I wanted to be welcomed I couldn't!" closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, the brown eyed woman tried to calm her temper. "I received letters from my father for years. Never once did he ask me to join him in Vaseria."
The two women stared at each other for quiet some time. Seareintys determined gaze locked with Rawnie's and both knew that the other wouldn't give up easily. The youngest could see why the woman would want her to go back. She was the last of the Valerious, the rightful Queen of the Gypsies. The thought of being royalty, gypsy or no, was tempting she had to admit. But she wouldn't be a good leader at all. Besides, the Valerious had been on the throne for hundreds of years, it was time for a new family to take charge. At least that's what Rawnie thought.
"I see you will not be as easily persuaded as I thought. I leave tomorrow, Rawnie. Sleep on what I've told you, no matter what you think of it. You can't ignore what or who you are, and you can't stay here hiding amongst mountains and bars the rest of your life. Vaseria needs you…Your father would want you to do whatever makes you happy. And I don't see an ounce of happiness dwelling in your body from living here, Rawnie, you don't belong here," the old woman broke the silence and stood from her position on the sofa and slowly glided seamlessly to the door. Opening it with a loud protesting creak from the hinges, Seareinty turned and looked at the back of the still sitting Valerious. "I take my carriage back to Vaseria when the sun rises. If you change your mind, your welcome to ride with me. If you don't then…I bid you farewell, dear."
With that, the old woman was gone into the hills leaving Rawnie in her chair with a sour look on her face. It was a bittersweet time in her life. For so long she had wanted to return to Vaseria and be with her father, little brother, and newly discovered younger sister. They were gone now though, and it wasn't them who would be greeting her in the town. It would be people she didn't know, or would barely recognized. She would be back in Vaseria, but she would be alone just the same.
Screaming to herself in aggravation, the young woman threw the glass of rum across the room and watched it hit the wood boards of the wall sending the liquid and bits of glass flying everywhere. For nearly an hour she gazed blankly on the spot where the glass made impact like it was giving her the answers to all the problems the world ever knew. Minutes dragged on and on and the only movement Rawnie made was the blinking of her eyes now and then, and the gentle rising of her chest from her easy breathing.
Finally, she raised up from her chair and trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Pulling off her clothing, weapons, and boots and slinging them over numerous pieces of furniture. Dropping the oversized mans shirt that she stole from Charlie over her head, Rawnie crawled on her bed and sat cross legged in the middle of it. Letting her brown eyes trail over her comfy little quarters, she sighed then flopped down on the cheaply made sheets and pillows. Wincing at the sight of the crumbling ceiling above her, she rolled over and stared out the window at the waning moon.
Supposedly there were werewolves in Vaseria, though she didn't know anymore. That was another point to not go.
The old house moaned from a slight wind that blew by outside.
The winters were suppose to be harsh at times in Transylvania. Another don't go.
The bed below her squeaked at a single small movement she made.
Vaseria needed a lot of renovating with the businesses and homes. A lot of work to do to go that far.
Unidentifiable flakes fell from the ceiling and into her hair.
"Bloody hell…"