Part 5
After a few detours and wrong turns through the labyrinthine backstreets, Alucard Finally arrived at the town centre, his eyes drawn to the magnificent memorial structure standing tall and proud. It was a testament to the collective sorrow and the resolve to remember the fallen. The names of the victims, etched into the stone, served as a stark reminder of the lives brutally cut short.
Approaching the memorial, Alucard's fingers gently traced the engraved names that adorned the stone surface. Each name represented a unique story, a precious life extinguished far too soon. As his mind raced, he contemplated the intricate web of connections that might exist between the victims, sensing that there were hidden threads of fate waiting to be unravelled.
Yet, even amidst the lingering grief, Alucard couldn't help but notice the resilience and determination of the townspeople. Life continued to flow through the town centre, its bustling streets filled with individuals who, despite the hardships they had endured, were still fighting to carry on with their lives.
As Alucard surveyed the town centre, his attention was immediately drawn to a rustic building situated just across the street. It was the blacksmith shop that Alaric had mentioned during their conversation. The structure exuded an air of craftsmanship and industry, its sturdy walls and smoky chimney telling the tale of years of hard work and dedication.
But there was no smoke booming from the chimney this time, or the rhythmic clang of hammers against metal reverberated through the air, the shop had fallen silent. As he walked over to the main door, he hit the door with a loud bang. There was no answer. He hit the door again, but this time with greater force the door rattled on its steel hinges. Alucard looked through one of the windows by the main door, trying to see if he could spot any signs of life within the building, but nothing.
From what Alucard could tell, it looked like the forge had not been lit for quite some time, cobwebs had started to form over the blacksmith tools, and dust covered the large open room, as if no one had come back for quite some time.
Alucard turned around and saw the tavern right across the street from their shop, just like Alaric had told him. Alucard left the shop and walked over to the tavern, his thoughts wading heavy on him. He sat at the bar and gestured to the man.
“Can I have a large ale please?” asked Alucard. The man gave a nod and grabbed a large stein and filled it with Ail. Alucard started drinking it and could not stop himself.
"My god, that is some of the best ale I have ever had," exclaimed Alucard, a wide smile appearing on his face.
The barkeep, a seasoned man with a twinkle in his eye, beamed with pride. "Thank you for your kind words, my boy. It's my own homemade brew. I've put a lot of hard work and effort into perfecting it over the years."
"Well, whatever you're doing, it's working," Alucard replied, his thirst seemingly insatiable. "Another, my fine man." He placed a handful of coins on the countertop, signalling for another round. The barkeep gladly obliged, filling Alucard's stein to the brim. Alucard eagerly took another large gulp, savouring the rich flavour, but this time, he slowed his pace.
As he continued to enjoy the intoxicating brew, Alucard leaned closer to the barkeep and asked, "Tell me, barkeep, I am looking for a dwarf who owns the blacksmith shop over there." He pointed over his shoulder towards the direction of the shop. "Would you happen to know where I can find the dwarf called Brok?"
The barkeep's eyes followed Alucard's gesture, and he retrieved the coins left for him from the counter. With a nod, he directed Alucard's attention to a small figure sitting in the dark recesses of the tavern. The dwarf, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, muttered quietly to himself.
"There he is," the barkeep said, his voice tinged with a mix of caution and curiosity. "That's Brok, the blacksmith you seek. He mostly keeps to himself now after his brother was killed by the creature.”
“The loss of a loved one could leave deep scars,” said Alucard with a soft tone in his voice. Something Alucard knew far too well.
“Indeed stranger, I wish you luck with your inquiry, and be mindful of him, he has a very short temper, bit of a falmouth but he is a good man.”
Alucard nodded solemnly, acknowledging the barkeep's warning about Brok's short temper. "Thank you,” Alucard replied, appreciating the advice. Alucard left the barkeep and returned his attention to Brok.
He approached the dwarf, mindful of the grief and anger that the blacksmith carried within him. Alucard knew that Brok's emotions might be raw, he may lash out at him not intending to do harm, but Alucard would defend himself if needed.
"Brok," Alucard called out, trying to keep his tone gentle but firm. "I've come seeking answers about the creature that haunts this town. I know it's not an easy subject, but your knowledge could help me put some missing pieces together."
Brok's response was sharp and cutting. He slammed his tankard down on the table, causing the ale to splash over the sides. "What do you want from me, stranger?" he barked, his voice trembling with emotion. "I lost my brother to that cursed creature! I lost my kin, my heart, and my forge! And now you come here, stirring up painful memories!"
Alucard stared at Brok, showing no emotion to what he was saying. Alucard was getting tired of this, he understood the town was in danger and that the people were unsettled and scared, but he was here to do a Job, and he will find the monster one way or another.
"So this is the famous Brok, one-half of the legendary dwarf blacksmith brothers, Brok and Sigfree," Alucard said, his voice carrying a note of acknowledgement. "Your work was renowned, and your craftsmanship revered. I can only imagine the loss you feel."
Brok snorted, the anger still evident in his eyes. "Don't pretend to know how I feel," he retorted, his voice laced with bitterness. "You may be a stranger, but you won't leave this town untouched. No one ever does."
“I am here on business, and I have a job to do, I will get it done with or without your help, Mr Brok.
Brok snorted, his anger unabated. "You think you can defeat it?" he scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness.
"I won't know until I try," Alucard replied, his impatience growing evident. "This creature may be a force of darkness, but it can be stopped. Every evil has its weaknesses."
Brok leaned closer, the anger and pain in his eyes now mixed with curiosity. "And what makes you think you can find those weaknesses?" he challenged.
"Years of experience," Alucard retorted, his tone sharp. "I've faced horrors you can't even begin to imagine. I'm not here to play hero or pretend to have all the answers. But I do know one thing—doing nothing is not an option."
Brok's eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer to Alucard, his anger barely contained. "You think you're brave, coming here with your high hopes and noble intentions," he sneered. "But this creature is not of this world. It's darkness incarnate, and it will consume you before you even have a chance to strike."
“If that is my outcome then so be it.”
Brok scoffed, but Alucard could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "You're a fool to challenge it," he muttered, more to himself than to Alucard.
"Maybe I am a fool," Alucard said, his voice steady. “But maybe that is all you need, is for a fool to lead the way.
Brok, still half-drunk from drinking nothing but ale all day, stared at his drink, seeing his reflection within and the person he had become. He wondered what his brother would think of him now, drowning in sorrow and anger.
He raised his head to Alucard and, with a sense of resignation, got up from his chair. "Follow me," he said, his voice quieter than before. "We will continue to talk back at the shop. This type of conversation is not best to be spoken where anyone can eavesdrop."
Alucard looked around and saw that they had gathered quite a bit of attention, he had not noticed their conversation had gotten quite heated and drew in a crowd, Alucard nodded. He followed the blacksmith leaving the tavern's into the cool night air. The town was quiet now, the revelry of the evening fading into the background.
They arrived at the blacksmith shop, that was just across the street, its once proud and busy exterior now standing as a solemn reminder of the horrors that had befallen the town. Brok unlocked the door with a heavy sigh, and they entered the dimly lit workshop.
Inside, Alucard could see remnants of Brok and his brother's skilled craftsmanship scattered around. The unlit forge stood as a stark contrast to the vibrant flames it once held. The weight of the past hung heavy in the air, and Alucard felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
Brok gestured for Alucard to take a seat, and he settled himself on a worn stool, still holding his half-filled mug of ale that he had been drinking at the tavern just moments ago. The scent of ale mixed with the scent of metal and charcoal, creating an atmosphere that was both comforting and melancholic.
"You wanted to know about the creature," Brok said, his voice gruff as he took a deep swig from his mug.
“I do,” replied Alucard, “but I want you to tell me about your brother, Sigfree first. If you don't mind me asking?”
Brok's eyes softened at the mention of his brother's name. He took another deep swig from his mug, as if to steady himself before speaking. The weight of grief and memories seemed to settle upon his shoulders.
"Sigfree was the better of us, the one with the golden touch," Brok began, his voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. "He had a way with the forge that I could never match. It is true we both were a legendary team. We had skills beyond that of ordinary Blacksmiths, but people from all over came to see his work, to witness the wonders he could create with metal and fire. He was kind, generous, and the heart of our little shop."
Alucard listened attentively, the cynicism in his eyes giving way to genuine empathy. He could see the pain in Brok's eyes, the loss that had left an indelible mark on his soul.
"Everyone loved Sigfree," Brok continued, a hint of a smile flickering on his lips. "He had a way of making even the grumpiest of customers leave with a smile on their faces. He was the heart of the town, the one who brought people together through his craft."
"But then, the creature came," Brok's voice trailed off, and the atmosphere in the workshop seemed to grow heavier. "It was like a shadow that fell over our lives. No one knew where it came from or what it wanted, but we all felt its malevolence. It took the joy from our town and replaced it with fear and sorrow."
Alucard continued to listen intently to every word Brok said, absorbing the weight of the pain and fear that the creature had brought upon the town. The workshop seemed to close in around them, as if the darkness from outside had seeped into the very walls.
"So, you believe what killed your brother and is terrorising this town is a monster? And it was not done by man?" Alucard asked, seeking confirmation of what he already suspected.
Brok's eyes met Alucard's, filled with a mix of grief and conviction. "I have been alive for a long time, Mr.," he said, his voice steady. "I have seen my fair share of horrors from within this world. From atop the lands and from the dark deep below in the deep roads, but I can assure you, no person could have done this. It was pure darkness."
As Alucard sat in the dimly lit workshop, memories from his early days of training flooded his mind. He recalled the countless hours he spent studying the different types of monsters that roamed the world, learning their weaknesses and strategies to defeat them. Yet, even the vast trove of knowledge held within House Morgraine family library had its limits.
“Brok, My name is Alucard Morgraine, Of House Morgraine, I come from a long line of monster hunters." he said, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility. "My family has dedicated its existence to finding and eliminating monsters that threaten innocent lives. I swear to you, Brok, I will find the creature that is responsible for the crimes that have plagued this town, and I will show them no mercy."
Brok's eyes met Alucard's, and in that moment, a newfound sense of hope seemed to spark within him. "You mean it, don't you?" he asked, a glimmer of belief in his voice.
"I do," Alucard replied firmly. “What I ask next Brok will be hard, but I need you to tell me everything you remember from that night, can you do that?”
Brok took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting the struggle within him. He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the memories evident in his furrowed brow. But then, he nodded resolutely.
“I will never forget that night, Mr Alucard” said Brok with a sombre look on his face. “that night still haunts me. I was working late in the shop that night, finishing up some of the blacksmith orders we had fallen behind on. My Brother said he was going out to make a few last minute deliveries. I told him it was foolish going out at that time of night, it can wait for morning I said, but oh my brother was a stubborn one. Not long after he went out. I was outside the shop, closing the shutters and that's when I heard it. The dwarf face turned pale as a sheet of white as if he saw something so terrifying it turned his blood cold.
"What did you hear?" Alucard inquired, his gaze fixed on the dwarf's troubled face.
"They say you can hear his song when he comes," the dwarf responded, his voice trembling.
Alucard's brow furrowed with concern. "Whose song?" he probed, hoping to unravel the mystery that haunted the dwarf's nightmares.
Brok locked eyes with Alucard, his expression filled with sheer terror. It was a sight Alucard had rarely witnessed—a dwarf so shaken. The uncertainty in the air unsettled Alucard. He repeated his question, his voice steady but laced with urgency, "Whose song is it?"
Brok’s face drained of colour, as if he had beheld something so horrifying that it turned his blood to ice. With a trembling voice, he finally revealed the chilling truth. "Death's, Mr. Alucard. Death's song. I can still hear it now, the whistling, it pierced through the silent night like a knife through flesh.”
Alucard was intrigued from the dwarfs words, death it self, Alucard knows there are many monsters and creators of the night that live within this world, but for death itself
is something Alucard could not believe in so easily, but Alucard did not want to dismiss the dwarfs words.
"What did it sound like?" Alucard asked, his voice filled with both curiosity and trepidation. He needed to understand the nature of this song, to grasp its essence and unravel its purpose.
Brok’s trembling voice broke the silence once again, laden with fear as he struggled to describe the indescribable. "It was a whistle that sounded like a tune of sorrow, Mr. Alucard. A mournful melody that seeped into the very core of your being. It carried the weight of loss and despair, like the lament of a thousand souls trapped in eternal torment."
The dwarf's eyes darted around nervously, as if he were reliving the horror of that fateful night. After a moment of hesitation, he replied, "It was as if the very air around me grew heavy, suffocating. The whistling seemed to come from all directions, surrounding me, penetrating deep into my bones. And there was a sense of inevitability, as if it was a prelude to a tragedy I couldn't escape. I heard my brothers scream, it filled the night sky with ecos , I could not stop myself, without thinking I ran with a hammer in hand. To my brother, but I was too late. When I arrived, he was, he was” tears rolled down the dwarfs face, he did not find it, he was tired of putting on a brave face, he just wanted answers. “Dead,” Said the dwarf with a low whimper.
Alucard listened intently, his heart filled with empathy for the dwarf's tragic ordeal.
"I'm deeply sorry for your loss," Alucard said, his voice laced with compassion. "No words can adequately express the pain of witnessing such a horrifying scene."
Brok nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. "It was a nightmare, Mr. Alucard. A nightmare that replays in my mind every night. I tried to save him, but the sight of his lifeless body, torn apart... I'll never forget it."
Alucard listened intently, his face stoic and his eyes fixed on the Brok’s trembling form. He wasn't known for offering solace or comfort, but there was an undeniable flicker of concern in his gaze.
"It's a painful memory that will forever haunt you," Alucard stated, his voice devoid of its usual coldness. "Losing a loved one in such a brutal way leaves scars that never fully heal. But dwelling on the past won't bring him back."
Brok nodded, tears streaming down his face. "I know that Mr. Alucard. You don't need to be so cold about it. But the images, the screams... they won't leave me will they?”
"The weight of those memories can be crippling," Alucard stated, his tone devoid of warmth. "I've seen it destroy people from within. The dead are gone, and all that remains is the living. That's where your focus should be."
Brok tears subsided slightly as he absorbed Alucard's words. "You're right," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I've let my grief consume me, but it won't bring him back. I need to find a way to move forward, to honour his memory."
Alucard's gaze remained steady, unyielding. "Surviving is a battle in itself," he continued. "The pain may never fully fade, but you possess the strength to carry on. Channel your brother's memory into something purposeful and find solace in the living."
Taking a deep breath, the dwarf nodded, determination shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Alucard. Your words may be harsh, but they're what I needed to hear. I will not let myself fall into despair, it is not what my brother would want. We... I will do better.” The dwarf grabs his large blacksmith hammer and slams it against the large iron Anvil in the centre of the room, sparks burst out, symbolising the spark reignited within the dwarfs heart.
“Do you remember seeing anyone that night? After you found your brother? Did anyone else come to help or was looming around?”
"I am not quite sure. I was in such shock. Even a high dragon could have landed next to me, and I would not have noticed." Alucard replied, his expression sour as he contemplated his next move.
In the hushed gloom of the workshop, Alucard's response hung heavy in the air, a cloud of uncertainty that mirrored the darkness outside. The weight of his thoughts settled on him, like the oppressive stillness before a storm. His mind was a battleground of emotions, his face a mask of sour contemplation.
But then, like a shard of light piercing the murk, Brok's voice cut through the heavy silence. "Oh, wait!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening as if he'd unearthed a long-lost relic. "I did see something, a glimpse in the chaos of that night."
Alucard's attention snapped to Brok, his expression shifting from contemplative to attentive. The room seemed to hold its breath, shadows dancing around them like spectres waiting to be released.
"Tell me," Alucard urged, his voice a low growl of anticipation.
Amidst the dimness, Brok's eyes gleamed with recollection. "The town was in disarray, screams ripping through the air like a banshee's wail. Most were drawn to the horror, eyes wide with terror or clouded with tears. The guards, their faces etched with dread, draped a cloak over my brother's broken form."
Alucard's features tightened, his mind racing to process the image Brok painted. The atmosphere grew thick, like a weighty secret about to be unveiled.
"And then, in the midst of the turmoil," Brok continued, his voice a thread of revelation, "I saw him. Father Maxwell. The man of the cloth looked as though he had glimpsed hell itself. His face was pale, glistening with sweat as if he had faced a creature more sinister than the devil's own spawn. He exchanged whispered words with Gabriel, his closest confidant, and they disappeared into the night."
Alucard's jaw clenched as he absorbed the gravity of those words. The workshop felt like a sanctuary of secrets, an enclave where darkness met flickering light. “Everywhere I turn in this investigation, I always seem to be finding Father Maxwell. I don't like coincidences.”
"Tread carefully," Brok cautioned, his tone a mixture of concern and determination. "For within these walls, there's more than meets the eye. A storm is brewing, Alucard, and it threatens to consume all."
As the night advanced, the air grew heavier, thickened by a sense of impending revelation. The scent of ale mingled with the scent of metal and charcoal, like a concoction of fate itself.
His heart raced, a mixture of worry and an odd sense of excitement. A feeling so rare for Alucard that it was almost disconcerting. The puzzle pieces were slotting into place, the mosaic of terror gradually taking shape. Yet, an unsettling thought gnawed at the edges of his mind, like a sharp splinter that refused to be ignored.
"It's all just too easy," Alucard mused aloud, his voice carrying a note of scepticism. "If Father Maxwell truly is behind this, how has he managed to elude any evidence leading to himself for so long? Something doesn't add up."
Brok's gaze bore into Alucard, a mirror of his own doubts. "You're right," he agreed, his voice a low rumble of contemplation. "There's a shadow within the shadows, a truth hidden within the façade. The answers you seek might be even more sinister than we can fathom."
The workshop seemed to close in around them, walls that held both refuge and menace. The flickering candlelight cast unsettling shapes, an intricate dance that mimicked the complexity of their investigation.
“I can not give a definitive answer right now, I have only been here for a few days now and I have only just started, there are still many secrets I must uncover first leads I must track down, many of the killings don’t add up. This case is very complex to me.”
"Tell me, Brok," Alucard continued, his tone now focused and intent, "what kind of man is Father Maxwell?"
Brok's lips twisted into a scowl, his words dripping with disdain. "For a man of the cloth, he is a prick, an asshole, and a damn right wretched individual."
“Have you had any problems with him in the past? Or maybe Sigfree perhaps”?
"I cannot speak for my brother," he replied, his voice a mixture of bitterness and regret. "We were distant, our paths rarely crossed, and his faith held little appeal to me. We dwarves are children of the stone, born from the very heart of the earth itself. We don't buy into that eternal fire rubbish he was always preaching.”
Brok drained the last drop of ale from his mug, a bitter expression on his face as if the liquid held more than just bitterness. "Sigfree even made fun of it in the shop," he began, a touch of nostalgia and sorrow in his voice. "He'd mock Father Maxwell's eternal fire, telling our customers, 'Cleanse a soul with fire? Ha! The only thing fire is truly good for is cooking, keeping you warm, and stoking the heart of a great forge.'"
"So, Sigfree was quite the character," Alucard mused, his tone thoughtful. "His scepticism toward Father Maxwell's teachings speaks volumes about his nature."
Brok's eyes softened, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he remembered Sigfree's audacious spirit. "Sigfree had a way of speaking his mind, no matter the consequences," he reflected, his voice carrying a blend of pride and sadness. "He believed in the tangible, in the power of the forge, not in the intangible promises of fire. But when word spread about Sigfree's jest, some of Father Maxwell's disciples grew angry. They saw it as a mockery of their faith and their leader. They even attempted to vandalise the shop, fueled by a misguided sense of devotion."
Leaning in, Alucard's voice dipped in curiosity. "These devoted disciples, have they ever been troublemakers before?"
"They're like a horde of overly loyal sheep, always ready to do Father Maxwell's bidding. They've harassed those who didn't toe his line, sowing discord and confusion among our townsfolk. There have even been incidents involving some of the more ambitious members, attacking towns folk or the young girls that work the streets yelling at them, calling them all sorts of horrid names.”
"Father Maxwell's got quite the influence, huh?" Alucard remarked with a light chuckle, the implications clear but his tone playful.
"His disciples aren't just followers; they're his personal squad, ready to spring into action. The city guards are always close by and they always step in before anything major happens. But they are really starting to become a problem, if we are all not careful they could even try to take over the town, and remove the Lord and his family.”
“I don't think that would happen.” replied Alucard ``not under the watchful eye of the Captain of the towns guards, I had a very interesting talk with him, and he and his men are always watching them closely.``
"Seems like they're a bit overzealous," Alucard mused, his voice tinted with amusement. "Like a band of drama knights, always ready to defend their script."
Brok's laughter rumbled, a hearty sound that echoed with a mix of camaraderie and irony. "Aye, drama knights indeed," he chuckled, his voice a blend of agreement and amusement. "But their performance isn't winning them many fans."
Alucard's gaze shifted to one of the many windows in the workshop, where the daylight was gradually waning. Time was slipping through his fingers, and there was still so much ground to cover. He hadn't yet met with the Lord's wife, to gain her consent to examine her son's remains, or explored the shuttered iron mines situated just beyond the town's borders. He inwardly groaned at the commitment he had made to address the potential ghoul issue down there for free, realising now that it might not have been the wisest offer. Ghouls were far from a pleasant adversary, especially in the tight, confined spaces of a mine.
Alucard turned his attention back to Brok, a hint of regret in his expression. "Brok, it's been enlightening talking with you, but I'm afraid I must be on my way," he said, rising from his seat. “Thank you for all your insights.”
A warm smile stretched across Brok's face, softening the lines of sorrow that had etched his features. "No, Alucard, it's I who should be thankful," he replied, his voice carrying a note of sincerity. "In the midst of my own turmoil and foolishness, you've extended a hand of understanding. You've offered me something beyond the hunt for the creature."
The exchange carried a weight of mutual respect, and Alucard couldn't help but return Brok's smile with genuine kindness.
"Allow me to escort you out," Brok offered, pushing himself up from his stool and gesturing towards the exit. Alucard nodded in gratitude and followed Brok through
the door. A rush of chilly air greeted them, caressing Alucard's face. Across the street, the tavern was now alive with activity. Despite the advancing hour, the sounds of laughter and clinking tankards echoed in the night air, painting a vivid picture of the town's resilient spirit.
The duo crossed the street, their steps echoing in the quiet night, a stark contrast to the merry atmosphere of the tavern. As they reached the tavern's entrance, Alucard turned to face Brok.
"Thank you again for your time.” Alucard said, his tone sincere. Brok nodded, a mixture of gratitude.
“Well I best be off, I think it’s time for me to connect with the people of this town, just like I had in the past.” Brok walks into the tavern and greets the bartender with a large smile and disappears into the crowd of people.
As Alucard took a swift survey of the town square, his keen gaze caught the figures of young women hurrying home after their night's work, their steps quick in the chill of the evening. The town's guards were diligent, patrolling the streets with unwavering vigilance, their presence a reassurance to the townsfolk.
His attention was drawn to a small group of younger individuals clad in red robes, gathered in animated conversation. A quick deduction led him to identify them as the devoted disciples Brok had spoken of earlier. Their hushed tones carried an air of secrecy, and some of them glanced his way with expressions that ranged from suspicion to outright hostility. Alucard's response was indifference; he was accustomed to earning such reactions wherever he went. Their opinions held no sway over him.
After a momentary pause, Alucard turned away from the square, his path leading him down the streets away from the tavern. The night was settling in, casting elongated shadows that danced across the cobblestones. His destination was the Lord's manor, where he would seek rest and reflect on the day's discoveries.
Click here to read the 6th part in Luke's story here on the Bayside Radio website.
