Fourteen men scrambled around the camp, armoring up for the incoming fight. Of them, only one knew what they were up against.
He was a thin man with a leather vest on. Crossing his chest, forming an X, were two belts of vials, as well as one around his waist.
His face, to some, would be considered fearsome, yet not overbearing. To others, beautiful and serene.
This man was bent over the map in his tent, considering a method of attack. His name, Julien Dracul, the Hunter of Vampires.
His target, Drake Dracul, king of vampires and Julien's great-grandfather.
One of the other men approached Julien.
"Julien, the others are ready to attack. What are your orders?"
Julien looked at him. The man was old, mid-fifties at least.
'Fentor. Decent build, despite his age. By how he walked in here, prior soldier, probably infantry. By far the most experienced fighter of the men. Blood grade B by how he smells. Not bad.' Julien thought.
Julien made his analysis quickly.
"Fentor, you are to take three of your militia to the undercroft, here." Julien said, pointing at the map. "Be sure they can handle a gruesome sight. Your task is to release the ancient vampire, then retreat. He won't hesitate to kill you. Remember, run like there's a blood hound hunting you. Meanwhile, I'll draw out Drake with the rest. I can try to lure Drake into his monologue speech while you do your task. Bring the vampire to here," he pointed at the area outside the courtyard, "and run. Run really fast. Once the vampire smells Drake and me, she will become bloodlusted."
"Yes, sir." Fentor said. Turning towards the militia, he picked the three men for his task. Leaving Julien with the rest, Fentor prayed to the gods, known and not, for Julien to have strength. Killing a vampire is an extremely difficult task, even for an expert.
Julien, on the other hand, was drilling the other militia on what their objective was.