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Lancer of Black      DONCASTER

     The town Lancer of Black liberated is a lovely little place. It is in almost every way a typical, quaint mountain village emerging into the new era. It is walled, with buildings both medieval and modern on all sides as one strolls through the town. There are soldiers with guns at the gate, dressed in modern body armor and similar accoutrements. There are people in medieval-looking clothes walking towards an open-air market, at which not only fresh-baked bread but the latest technological goods from town are being hocked for the currency of the realm.

     The only unpleasantry that may draw the eye is the sheer number of strange wooden objects sticking out of the ground. Some of them also jut out of the walls at odd angles. It seems as if they've been chopped away, and if one looks here and there, one can see telltale signs of the wood being integrated into various buildings. Warped, stained wood...

     The palace itself is basically unguarded. It is a modest palace, without gold or jewel adornments, though there are obviously spots where gold or jewels ought to be, suggesting that its current owner had them stripped away and sold.

     Out front, Thomas von Richten Yggdmillennia stands, in an open dress suit and khakis. Command Spells curl around his right hand, red like the long scar on his neck, or his long hair.

     Thomas puts on a grin as they arrive and bows theatrically. "Welcome to Castle Dracula," he jokes, straightening, "Lancer's in the study. Come on, I'll show you."
Ainsley     When Ainsley arrives, it is by air. Her flight is apparently unassisted by propelled, jetpack or otherwise. It ends with her landing among likely befuddled townsfolk with a cloth-covered tray in her hands. The smell of cinnamon wafts behind her as she expertly weaves her way along to the front doors of 'Castle Dracula,' the palace. She pays no mind to the signs of Lancer's presence that still scar the town, at least not overtly. It would be rude to do so. But she does note the people are doing alright, which adds to the bright look of cheer on her face when she sees Thomas.

    Almost silvery blue eyes greet the man, with a toothy, open-mouthed smile and a soft laugh. She follows on inside with a gait that's nearly soundless, except for her cheerful humming. "A nice welcome. Here, one for your immediate hunger," she then retrieves a nearly bakery fresh cinnamon bun from the tray to hand off to Thomas. "You know, I am /pretty sure/ Dracula's Castle was in Romania," she points out with that scholarly finger waggle, "But that's just fussing over the details. It's a nice town!"

    The way her feathers puff up is positively sugary. More sugary than the treats, perhaps.
Genya Arikado     Being a secret agent type dude isn't as glamorous as Hollywood would have one believe. For his part, Genya spends much of his time buried under mounds of paperwork. Which is... not fun. So he's always grateful for the times when he can get out. This is one of those times. Thankfully he's still human enough to be able to enjoy the simple pleasaures in life-- cinnamon buns being amongst those. Better yet, there wouldn't be garlic in a recipe for cinnamon buns, so he doesn't have to mention his particular 'food allergy'.

    He arrives via a craft that sets itself down outside the town and lets him out. He appears dressed as he always does, in his typical charcoal gray suit that only makes him look all the more pale. He walks quietly through the town, and may arrive a bit later than Ainsley due to unassisted walking being his means of travel. But the very observant may note that he seems to close the distance faster than his simple leisurely walk should suggest.

    The greeting from Thomas gets a blink, and one black brow raises in question. It's a bit of emotion on an otherwise impassive face, though, so maybe that's good. He returns the bow with a a respectful nod of greeting. To both Thomas and Ainsley, he offers, "Good to meet you both. I am called Genya Arikado." He speaks Japanese fluently and easily, but there's a trace of a guttural inflection in his words. And he follows Thomas into the palace, offering a polite bow and an indication that Ainsley should precede him if she wished.
Lancer of Black      Thomas chuckles. "It's not really much of a castle, anyway. It's sort of like a town hall? The guy before us built it, and it used to be nicer, but, well..." Thomas pats one of the gemless statues, "What can I say? The new boss isn't much for opulence. At least he kept the carpets, though. Place was a bitch to heat in the winter even with electricity. Who builds open windows in this weather? Swear to God."

     Thomas offers Genya and Ainsley his hand - the hand without Command Spells on it. "It's nice to meet you both. I'm Thomas von Richten Yggdmillennia. Theoretically I'm Lancer's Master, but...well, you'll figure it out when you meet him."

     Thomas leads them into the palace/town hall/squat building. The inside is very much in the medieval style, a long hallway that leads to a throne with a red carpet down the way. Again, there's that sense that things are missing, that things have been ripped out of sockets or plucked and sold. Even the throne seems to have been replaced recently, as the wooden throne seems ill-fitting with the stone that lies all around.

     It also seems to be made out of *stakes*, but that's neither here nor there.

     Thomas eats carefully as he leads them into another hall. He's being very careful about crumbs, evidently, which is perhaps somewhat at odds with everything else about him.

     Thomas stops at a pair of large double-doors. "Alright. So. Word of warning. I know I made the Castle Dracula joke earlier, but, trust me, you shouldn't. He really hates it. Like, a lot."

     He dusts the cinnamon bun off his fingers with a lick and then opens the door.

     The interior of the study is perhaps the most luxurious thing about the 'castle' so far. The room is snug, but not from size so much as *stuffing*. There are accoutrements for sculpture, pottery, books of all shapes and sizes, globes, a writing desk...except for the coffee table, the large, comfortable-looking chairs by the fireplace, and the tray of teacups, wineglasses, and goblets, everything in the place is some tool of some hobby or another.

     A young girl sits in front of an easel.

     "Lancer, your guests are here," Thomas tells him, "And they come bearing cinnamon buns."

     "Thank you, Thomas." A thick Romanian accent, well-cultured with the rigors of nobility, rolls from behind the easel. "Eliza, you may go. I will finish this from memory, and you may come retrieve it at a latter date."

     The girl smiles and curtseys. "Thank you, my lord." She walks past the group, curtseying to each of them in turn. Thomas grins at her, and she giggles and blushes, then runs out.

     "Please forgive me. I had thought to be done with this work by the time you arrived."

     Lancer rounds the easel.

     He is tall, and handsome, an older gentleman, though there are no real signs of age on the Servant's face. Silken white hair rolls down his shoulders, long but well-kept, and a similarly snowy goatee frames a sharp chin and thin lips. His clothes are the finest black, lined with gold and blue fur, of an older and more archaic style. His skin is pale like the light of the moon, though not the pallor of undeath. Slender fingers set down a paintbrush as he walks past the easel to greet his guests.

     His eyes are gold like the eyes of a cat, a predator's eyes. There is danger in this man - an old-world danger, a predatory danger, like one of the ancient monsters that lives in the dark places of the world and brings men to fear.

     It is quite at odds with the gentility, the peacefulness, of his smile, and the warmth not only of the room but of the town as a whole.

     "May I present," Thomas offers, "Lancer of Black - Vlad III Tepes Dracula."
Ainsley     When Genya speaks, the trace of foreign flavor to his words catches Ainsley's skilled ears. She gives a softer smile at Genya, searching his face as if curious about something, but soon lets it go as if just silently accepting his greeting with a nod. He seems to be from a modern world, anyways. That accent could've come up in a rainbow of ways. Instead, she busies herself with eagerly accepting Thomas' introduction, and replies with a curtsey of her own.

    "Ainsley the Wizard. Nice to meet you, too, Thomas. Mister Arikado."

    As she follows, she does take in the powerful desire for a humble palace. Something that looks stony, that represents a stronger sort of person than the decadence would ever allow. She looks impressed, her infinitely deep eyes drawing in everything as if she were recording it in perfect detail in her mind. She even pauses a moment to take note of little signs of how Lancer's changed the decorations, her sharp vision finding the signs of what was once there.

    Somewhere along the way, she remembers to hand a cinnamon bun to Arikado, very gentle about it so that she doesn't leave any sort of crumbs.

    When they reach the study, she turns her attention to the strangely peaceful man. She cannot stop staring. Her smile fades. It's more than just being impressed. She blinks slowly at the sight of Dracula himself, the spiritual manifestation of a historical figure. When she sweeps into a curtsey this time, trying not to spill the sweet treats she bought in the process, it's as if she were meeting a famous celebrity.

    "A pleasure," she says. And then she approaches, fearlessly, drawing out a cinnamon bun as she does so to hold it out at Lancer, beaming with cheer as if she wanted him to autograph it. "And an honor."

    Her tail is wiggling quite a lot now.
Genya Arikado     "I can understand that," Genya replies to Thomas's mention of Lancer not being much for opulence. He'd gotten out of the habit himself, after all. Genya does return the handshake, his hand is somewhat cooler than normal. Though that could be explained by the weather. He keeps quiet until they stop at the doors. And then that brow raises again. A trace of a thoughtful look passes his features. Interesting. However, he nods. "Understood," he says quietly.

    He pauses upon seeing the interior of the study. A man of many interests, it seems. His eyes scan the room in a methodical fashion, looking for everything from potential hiding places to escape routes. Then his eyes fall on the easel and the girl before it and he pauses. He remains quiet until the introduction comes. And then he freezes.

    Vlad Tepes Dracula?

    Genya has had centuries of practice in keeping outward signs of his emotions in check. But this tests him. Just for an instant, his expression is of one who knows that name well-- gray eyes widen a touch, lips part slightly, for a quiet intake of breath in surprise. And then it's gone, and the expression on his face is non-existent once again. But in that instant it hadn't been dismay or fear in that surprised look.

    It had been... hope?

    Well, either way it's gone, and he's back to 'normal' for him.

    Ainsley will probably also notice that there's nothing Japanese about Genya's features. He looks eastern European, if she has a basis to compare. In fact that basis may come from their host, given he is from the same region as Genya hailed from so many years ago. Though Genya looks like he's in his late twenties to early thirties, so there's definitely a difference, whatever similarities between his features and the Lancer of Black's that may or may not exist.

    For himself, he offers a respectful bow to Lancer. And that bow is how they used to be done, right there. Respectful but not subservient. And he says, in perfect, completely unaccented Romanian, "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Dracula."
Lancer of Black      The Lord Impaler bows politely, though not deeply - the bow of a ruler meeting others who are not of nobility, acknowledging them with respect but not obeisance. It is identical to Genya's bow, something that Lancer takes note of - along with Genya's reaction, though he says nothing. Either he is too polite, or he has not figured any significance to it; after all, the Confederate Field Marshall also carries his name, twisted monster though it is. He takes the cinnamon bun reverently, biting into it (there is no resemblence in his bite to the famous vampire, nor any fangs present whatsoever as he opens his mouth. Genya and Ainsley can both clearly see that his teeth are human).

     "A well-made pastry. I should like the recipe, at a later date. I have been meaning to learn the culinary arts for some time."

     Genya's specific phrasing of his name elicts a look from Lancer that is...not *unkind*, exactly. His slender white brows furrow. His handsome, slim face twitches very slightly. It is a look of profound frustration that lasts about as long as Genya's own slip, for about the same reasons - age, practice, the upbringing of a noble gentleman in an age where a slip of the face was a deadly insult.

     "Please. The name of my legacy is soaked with the taint of Stoker's devil-monster. Lancer will do. Sir Vlad, if my class is too impersonal for you."

     "And it has been some time since I had heard my mother tongue so well-spoke, since I saw the greeting rituals so well-performed. You have been raised well, young man. I commend you." The irony is palpable.

     "Please, have a seat. You have come all this way for a mere errand, and I would be ashamed if I did not offer you respite and entertainment. Thomas, put morning tea on. We shall take it here."

     Thomas grins. "He keeps forgetting which of us is the Master here," he jokes. Nonetheless, he takes the tea tray and walks out, leaving the little group alone. Lancer gestures for them to follow him over to the big, comfy-looking down chairs.

     He does not ease himself into the chair as an old man might. There is no hint of age weakening the Servant's body. The man is as vital and healthy as he must have been at the height of his life. He gestures for Genya and Ainsley to do the same, sitting back and steepling his fingers in a gesture that probably makes Genya more than a little uncomfortable.

     "I would hear tales of your world, if you would but indulge me while Thomas prepares our repast. Please - my curiousity is great, and the celestial spheres are vast and without number."
Ainsley     Despite her delight just at meeting Lancer, Ainsley shines more happily and visibly blushes when asks for the recipe, the happiest tiny lizard creature that he's ever to meet. "Of course!" she chirps back, and that's when her calm, muddled English tone turns to the Spanish that's native to her. She steps aside though, humbly allowing Genya and Lancer speak. The Romanian gets a sidelong glance from her... she quirks a brow in Arikado's direction, questioning with a look.

    Despite how tense this might be otherwise, the reptile lady finds a nice comfortable seat to curl up in, placing the tray aside on the nearest table or table-like surface.

    After Lancer's question, she turns her smile on Arikado. She stares at him in this knowing way, her head tilted a little...

    "What tales you must have, Arikado," she points out, in Romanian, emphasizing the name a little awkwardly. She almost calls him 'Alucard,' and by the smug glimmer in her eye, it's entirely on purpose. She knows he's not Japanese, so she knows his name is probably not Arikado.

    She waits to see this unfold. So excited.
Genya Arikado     Genya does indeed take note that there are no fangs present in the Lancer's bite. He's not sure whether he's relieved or not. For now, Genya decides not to think about it. Lancer's flicker of frustration is caught, but perhaps not completely understood. But the explanation... yes, that does make sense. Back to speaking Japanese, Genya replies to the explanation, "I have little experience with the book. There was, however, a 'Vlad Dracula' in my world." He doesn't go on to explain any more about that.

    And the compliment? This gets a respectful nod. "Thank you, Sir Vlad." Apparently he prefers the respect of a title of merit rather than the impersonal title 'Lancer'. "My mother would also be pleased to hear you say that." Probably for a handful of reasons. Anyway.

    He looks to Thomas with a small, amused smile. "I can see that," he notes, with a wry tone in his voice. But, more seriously, he offers to the man, "Thank you." He almost wants to apologize, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, Genya follows Lancer over to the chairs as well, and seats himself, crossing his legs at the knee.

    Lancer's finger-steepling gesture does indeed strike a nerve in him, but he keeps himself calm. There's the ghost of a smirk though. Silently he reasons all Lancer needs now is a glass of wine, and the resemblance would be uncanny. Hopefully he wouldn't tos the glass to the floor, though. The carpets would suffer so. And Thomas would probably very not-pleased.

    The request to tell about their worlds though, gets a widening of that smirk. Ainsley gets a raised eyebrow. "I was actually about to offer you first go," he notes, extending a hand palm up in invitation. "I could probably sum up everythign there is to tell about my world in a handful of sentences. And very little of it is pleasant, I'm afraid."
Lancer of Black      Lancer seems far more fastidious than Thomas could ever be. Every motion Lancer makes is a reserved one. He is the very air of the gentleman elite, a Knight of Christ well-trained in all the virtues of knighthood. Suffice to say, if Lancer threw a glass of wine to the floor, it would cause *him* more consternation than Thomas.

     Lancer apparently is very, very good at suppressing his feelings, because the knowledge that there was a Vlad Dracula in Genya's world provokes no twitch of the face this time, nor even a hint of anger. Undoubtedly, Lancer is wondering - which was it? The man, or the monster?

     And, undoubtedly, he probably knows in his heart exactly which one it was.

     He looks between Genya and Ainsley as they banter. If there is any awareness of the subtle (mis?)pronunciation of Genya's last name and its possible significance, Lancer shows no sign of *that*, either. Probably not, though. He probably never had a son whose name was his own backwards, and he probably never needed to go by Alucard in his mortal life, either.

     "More and more often I hear that the worlds are unpleasant. It does my heart poorly to think that the light of Christ is so far from so many."
Ainsley     "Mmh."

    If it was possible for Ainsley to pout in a readable way, it would be right then. Arikado avoids explaining anything, and so the lady reptile decides to retrieve a cinnamon bun before she even dares to speak up about her own world. She even holds up a finger as if to indicate she WILL speak about it.

    "I was raised in my world, and it was normal for me. For two decades, I had hardly the understanding to know the difference between a good and a bad world. I still believe it is just a world, and all worlds have problems. Some have problems in the form of men, those that wish for turmoil for the sake of profit, or depravity, and then there are worlds like mine, where many problems are in the form of monsters, the things that prey upon men and take the forms of their darkest fears." She glances aside at Arikado. "In some worlds, it is a mixture of the two. It is hard to see the light when these dark things overshadow it."

    "But there is always light, and it is not always called Christ or God. Sometimes, it is called hope, or mercy, or justice." Another glance to Arikado, "And sometimes the light must be taken back with the edge of a sword or with the lash of a whip."

    "I am sure you are quite familiar with hardship of that flavor, though," she concludes to Lancer.

    "And now that I have avoided explaining my tales in detail, too, I'm going to finish my cinnamon bun."

    And she sits there nibbling at it in a circular motion, carefully unraveling it as she eats.
Genya Arikado     Genya folds his hands in his lap, lacing his fingers together, as Lancer speaks. He seems thoughtful for a moment. "The world is darkest moments before the sun rises. Perhaps this is merely the darkness before the dawn," he observes quietly. "Besides... men forget the light if they see it all the time..." He trails off, though, so as not to interrupt Ainsley's tale.

    THe listens quietly to Ainsley's account of her world, a trace of a thoughtful expression there on his features. While she talks, he acquires a cinnamon bun of his own, and starts on it. This may be the excuse he uses not to immediately begin speaking up on his own world, once she's finished. It's rude to speak with his mouth full, after all.

    Lancer may also notice a similar bearing to his own about Genya as well...