The Beginning of It All
The guild had been easier to find than Amelia had expected.
Given that she had never traveled to the south, Amelia decided to go against hunter travel norms and follow the road; she kept just a few paces from the broad, dirt path, wanting at least the cover of the trees. As before, she passed no one, the small rodents skittering nearby her only company. The nights were long, quiet, and unfamiliar. During the day, she hardly slept.
After a week of trudging along soft, humid ground, the trees slowly began to dissipate. Eventually Amelia laid eyes upon vast and uncultivated land, dotted with silvery tributaries. The uneven ground caused Amelia to move herself and Nora onto the road, thankful that the moon was soft enough to remain obscure.
She’d been concerned that it would be difficult to procure food on the open plain of foreign lands, wondered how long her stores would last. Her worry proved unnecessary. In the distance she spotted the light of a modest cottage, perhaps a few miles from where she stood. When dawn breached the sky, Amelia saw smoke from several chimneys peppering the horizon. Suddenly the grassy meadows became irrigated seedbeds, plowed along the outer districts of a great city. As she continued on the houses began to cluster. She could smell them: mud, thatch, and people. The language of the south surrounded her, reminding her of how far she’d gone.
Amelia soothed Nora, rubbing her neck as they moved through the crowds, but she, too, kept looking around. Before them loomed the high gates of what she assumed was Kiers’ Gourd. Never had she seen a hunters guild in the middle of a city, providing auspice to those citizens who sought refuge at their walls. It was the northern tradition to keep a certain measure of isolation, for the sake of law and neutrality. She would not have expected to find her summons in such a place.
When she approached the fort, a guard standing outside called up to the battlements. The gates began to open, and out stepped a tidy man in a flat-crowned hat, who approached her. She extended her hand.
“Amelia van Reichter.”
“Hadfield. Charles Hadfield, or as I’m better known Lord Hadfield,” the man returned steadily, offering a gentleman’s smile before releasing their handshake. “Glad that you’ve finally made it. And alive.”
The hunter nodded at his sentiment. “You are lord of this fort?” she asked.
“Of the town you see here, yes. The fort belongs to Kiers’ Gourd, the main branch of the southern hunters’ organization.” He gestured to men and women in clothes similar to Amelia’s but much suited for warmer temperatures, moving just beyond the gates. Amelia peered around him, quietly at ease that she would be with other hunters, then returned her gaze to Lord Hatfield. “They are excited that we will have a guest from the north. Come, I will show you to your quarters.”
He ushered her into the fort and spoke to one of the guards as they passed beneath the iron portcullis. A woman dressed in plain clothes walked over to them. She uttered a few words that Amelia didn’t quite recognize from her accent, then the woman gestured at Nora.
Lord Hatfield spoke, leaning towards her, “She is in charge of our stables.”
“I see,” said Amelia. Nodding, she patted her horse softly before handing over the reigns.
Kiers’ Gourd was even more impressive than the city; made entirely of stone, the turrets rose high enough to be seen even from the edge of the farmlands. It was the middle of the day, but rather than being manned by a solemn watch, the court was full of dusty boots, hunters carrying armfuls of old parchments, talking and moving urgently between their posts. The halls of the fort were no different. Dreary and weathered passages carried on the knowledge of generations. With swords hanging discretely at their sides, these hunters were vigilant. Some would greet the Lord Hatfield as they went. All stared at his side where Amelia walked, noting the foreign insignia on her cloak and giving silent, inquisitive stares.
They took a left turn from the entrance hall and walked down a tight corridor which held small closet-like rooms on either side. At the end there was a window and a staircase, and they followed it up to another landing.
When they returned to the wider hall, gutted so that over the banister one could look and see at the floors below, Amelia said, “The letter sent to Nadi Guild, it was signed by a General Heidi.”
“Ah, yes.” Lord Hatfield stopped for a moment, pausing to think. He snapped his fingers at having remembered something, and continued forward. “He would have officiated the letter of your request. I’m certain he’ll be wanting a word with you.”
“May we go see him?”
“Now?”
“I was told the situation was dire; until I’ve been properly briefed I cannot be of any use to you.”
“It’s a matter of courtesy. I could not take guests without offering accommodation and a moment’s reprieve from your journey.”
“I’ve rested.”
The Lord Hatfield looked at her. His smile this time was impressed, but also something quite opposite that Amelia wasn’t sure she’d seen.
“Likely he has already been informed of your arrival, but I will let him know of your request for a speedy attendance.” Then he turned and rapped his knuckles against a low, wooden door. He promptly opened it, and stepped aside to allow her the space to enter. “Ms. Van Reichter.”
There was a slat in the wall that let in a rectangle of sunlight, but the room was larger than she expected. She bowed under the door frame, scanning the bed at the far corner, the desk and chair beneath the window, and the armoire beside a small cavity that held a wash basin. Woolen carpet lay across the floor, which seemed a misplaced luxury against the stone. A vase sat atop the oak desk, holding a modest array of flowers.
“These will be your quarters for the remainder of your stay. We’ve provided a change of clothes and a few bath items, which you can find in the wardrobe.”
“And the General?”
“Once I am able to get a hold of him, I will relay the details of your meeting personally. In the meantime, if you need anything, one of the apprentices will stop by. They could tell you all you’d need to know of the guild and our fair city.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Good morning to you.”
When he’d shut the door, Amelia made her way over to the window. She had a view of a courtyard spotted with strawmen attached to wooded stakes for training, a weapons rack against the outer wall. She couldn’t see the stables but she could hear them, horses trotting back and forth. She thought of Nora and wanted to check on her, but she wasn’t sure if she’d know how to get there.
With nothing to do except wait, she made her way over and sat on the bed. Though she hadn’t been tired, the weariness from her journey began to gnaw at her bones, weigh upon her limbs. No long after the room went quiet, Amelia found herself lost to her dreams.
Waltz of the Damned, the nearly chronological adventures of one Amelia van Reichter, vampyre hunter.
The-Bleu-Bivouac 