They say that the wretched queen, Paradonia, heeded the whispers of a powerful lich. A fallen knight who once served under King Malachor - the lich king. It was Brymthos who became consumed by ambition and became a demon in his own right. He bewitched the mad elf - and it was she who sought to open the gates of hell in exchange for unbridled power. King Solomon, the righteous and the first of his name, refused to abandon his people. He entered a forbidden covenant in hopes of overthrowing the treacherous queen and sentenced her to her demise - cast into the abyss along with the lich.
However, her passing did not come without a price. The kingdom and its dutiful king fell to an unforgiving pestilence. Flesh was eaten away and became rotten. Now everything remains as a footnote in history. Some even go as far as to say that the king's skeleton still sits upon the throne even to this day, although this is just mere speculation.
Queen Paradonia died over a thousand years ago. This is what the overall consensus was among the witnesses at the time, according to the scriptures. Vincent frowned at paragraphs detailing the course of events. For the past two days, he has received reports from the common folk on the outskirts of Elsein and his devoted scouts he had sent to investigate the perimeter near the mountain path, sighting a red-headed woman with black antlers wearing the hell's imperial military uniform, but according to the scripture, the queen who fell should be long dead.
Moonlight shone through the rose-stained glass windows, immersing the library in a quiet yet bloodied luminosity. The room in itself smelt like old parchment and candle wax. The surrounding towering bookshelves and the office desk had a wooden, rustic quality to it. Dust lazily wafted through the same familiar air as paper shifted and piles of books were moved about on the wide wooden desk. The vampire stood in his lonesome beneath the vaulted ceiling. Gloved hands continued to turn the pages of history.
"This is the last surviving account," he murmured to himself while in thought.
Was the woman they saw in the woods a mimic? Or someone who had the same likeness? Both the fae and demonic kind can be rather mischievous, but then again, how is it possible that the assassin from earlier was able to tell what he was seeing? And what is the nature of their connection with the late queen? Perhaps searching their family history could yield some fruitful results - or perhaps nothing at all?
The vampire shook his head and sighed.
"I'm getting absolutely nowhere right now," he said aloud to himself, and turned his attention to the young male attendant standing by the doorway.
"Prepare him." The command echoed softly throughout the library.
The attendant immediately stiffened.
"Him? Sire?"
The vampire narrowed his gaze into a leer.
"Now."
"Yes, of course! Right away, sire."
****
The lower levels of the forboding fortress had no windows - and for each step taken, the colder it became as you descended into its dark depths. The imperial masonry had stood the test of time since the creation of Elsein - the eternal land of twilight. Only a handful of guards served down below. Fewer volunteered. Those stationed here tend to avert their gazes from the final corridor, where silence lingers and remains almost impenetrable.
As stone gave way to more stone, two guards stood at each side of the gate. They bowed in acknowledgement.
"My lord."
Then one of them unlocked the gate.
Rosenberg walked straight past without uttering a mere word to him, and delved into the darkness - into the deepest bowls of the grand fortress. Ancient silver runes glow faintly across the cold walls.
Down at the very end of the final corridor, a tall iron gate, blackened by age, stood at a distance - welcoming him.
Beyond those iron bars, more darkness resides. Lit candles stopped at its threshold.
As Rosenberg stood at the gates, the quietude continued to dwell for a moment before the sound of metal rattling and clunking onto the stone floor reached his ears.
The slithering chains gleamed partially in the subdued candlelight.
Then a pair of crimson eyes appeared within the abyss and stared down at him. Watching in stillness. It wasn't entirely human nor beast.
The candles flickered erratically as the vampire beseeched the beast before him.
"There have been sightings. A woman. Red hair as bright as the hells themselves - and a pair of black antlers."
A scrape echoed within the chamber. Stone protested beneath the tremendous weight of the beast, and yet it dared not to fully emerge from the dark. Only its striking red eyes remained. Vehement. Patient.
"History insists that the late Queen Paradonia died centuries ago."
Nothing.
"I want to know if this is indeed true."
A low growl vibrated through the pitch-black. It was deep - and measured. Although never hostile, well certainly not to its master.
A faint smile graced Vincent's lips.
"I expected as much."
Another growl.
"I want you to track her and then report back to me."
Silence.
"Do not engage unless you need to."
Then it growled again, but softer.
"Good."
Then the vampire turned on his heel and returned from the way he came. With his intentions set firmly at the forefront of his mind, determined to find out more about the supposed mad elf who was famously bewitched by Brymthos - the very same queen who is now heading west, away from Elsein's borders.