Chapter 1 - A Failed Mission
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Everything started on a cold winter night, in a time where the people had another style of living.
It was on a tall mound, protected by its natural structure, gifting it plenty of protection was resting a magnificent Renaissance-Gothic styled castle where a tall bridge to match the height of the castle connected the imposing fortification with the rest of the city.
Inside this castle, a young man with long, blonde, curly hair walked toward the upper levels by himself while wearing prestigious noble clothes that only men of the medieval era would be entitled to wear.
As this young man who was climbing the stairs to the upper level of the imposing castle breathed, vapors could be seen thanks to the torch in his hand, and after seemed hundreds of steps, he reached a hallway that led toward more rooms, but his target was the last room on the end of the hallway.
Approaching closer, a calm yet cold voice resounded in the entire hallway.
"You said you wouldn't be visiting me until you see me dead? Why the change of heart?"
"Lord Basarab, how come you can tell so accurately who is visiting you?" asked the blonde young man, who still continued walking forward, unbothered by the remark of the man inside the room.
"How come? It is simple, but I will not tell you my secrets. It would be dumb.
Now, what problem do you have in your mind that I can help you with?" responded the man behind the door with his voice not changing in emotion, remaining cold.
The young man's face was slightly paled, with circles of tiredness under his eyes, with redness in his, and some marks of tears touching his young face, and as he reached the last door of this floor, he stopped in front of the room and remarked with a defeated voice.
"Catherine died in childbirth. My son was stillborn." (A/N: Mathias Corvinus first wife, no need to stress yourself)
He supported his head on the black wooden door to get closer to the person inside the room, and when he received the man's response, it felt expected, with some mockery in that cold, arrogant voice of his.
"So that girl died. How old was she? I don't remember. The passage of time in this prison has messed up how I perceive time."
"She turned 15 this year."
"You can't say I didn't warn you. This is nothing concerning the Lord and Savior, instead is the thing I explained to you." ending the man inside the room, soon after hearing the young man hitting his head slowly on the door.
"Can't you say something to make me feel better? I always heard my father tell me that you have your way with words and making people feel better. Being the best person at manipulating people."
"… That stupid old man, he told you everything, right? No matter. What things am I not doing for Lord Ioan? We're going to the Library?'
"No, we can talk here."
"Good." responded the man, followed by the sound of the lock mechanism being opened.
*Click* *Creak*
With the door opening without him even being required to use his keys, the blonde young man, in question, the King of Hungary, Mathias Corvinus, looked at the middle-aged man whose ink-black hair reached his waist, with a body that was slim but also ripped, signs that he didn't linger idly in this room.
The clothes of this middle-aged man were rugs with some filling to them.
He wasn't privy to a fireplace to keep himself warm in those hard times, such that his only option was to train his body and maintain himself in good physical shape, trying to emulate his prime when he was just like a ferocious beast.
"Brat, you sure are a sissy. You look so pathetic, no longer bossy like when you captured me."
"How did you manage to open the door?"
"Once again, secret. Haven't you heard your courtiers? I am a strigoi. I can vanish and do whatever I want, even steal the keys from your Black Captains." (A/N: Eludes to Mathias's Corvinus Black Army - the first professional army in Europe under a monarch)
"Bullshit. Peasants stories to keep their calves in check.
Anyway, even if you have the keys to your cell, I don't care. You are free to move around the castle starting tomorrow. Now keep my head occupied and tell me more about those stories you heard from those interesting slaves of yours that you killed."
"No thanks. I don't feel like it. I lost that war and I really don't want to remember about it."
"I tried, but those stupid peasants and greedy boyars have their own agendas against me. Regardless, back to your little doll, are you now going to doubt me when it comes to women and their childbirths?"
"I still can't understand how come you know all of that information. You, the dreaded Impaler that can scare any turk, german or hungarian just by telling them your name."
"I feel insulted right now. Tone down the way you mention me as if I was some possessed monster.
Everything I did was for a reason. Do you think I am the one who invented the wheel?
The Impalement?
Brat, the answer is by studying. I didn't waste my time, unlike others. Instead, I've studied inside Adrianople all the documents I could get my hands on, from Turkish, to Greek to Latin, you name them. I've read a decent-sized library if you would compare it. (A/N: Adrianople or how it was named in Turkish, Edirne, was the capital of the Ottoman Empire before the capture of Constantinople)
"Also, in conclusion, I can tell you this, brat, compared to men, the bones of a woman are slightly fragile, so you can imagine what the stress of pushing the infant would do to a little girl, such that you have birth complications.
Do you understand, little Matei? I am not telling you those words just so I can seem smart. It is just the correct conclusion I reached."
Mathias, when hearing Vlad mention this with such confidence in himself, it started steering up his frustration and anger for not taking heed of his advice, as he didn't take the important step of not impregnating her.
"I pray on her soul in Heaven that she can smile on me right now."
Taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself, he felt a rough skin touch his head, where the callused hands of the infamous Impaler, who could be said to be like a distant uncle that had his mood swings but constantly was kind to one nephew.
"This is life, little Matei. Sometimes you win some, other times you might lose everything. Everything is decided by our life choices."
"Thank you for those words, Uncle."
"Hahaha, annoying brat, you captured me so you could use me to be your advisor or what?" laughed Vlad when hearing the young king's appreciation.
"No, I intended to stop your madness, and now that you have calmed down, I might keep you as my advisor. You aren't half bad."
"The amount of money you have to pay me for all my services, even the military ones, it will take you chests of gold coins to satisfy me."
"We'll see if it can be achieved. Besides, can you go back to your story of those slaves?"
Vlad, who had only a wooden bed without any softenings or pillow to it along with one lone chair, went to sit on the chair.
"Hard to explain that experience fully. But to tell you shortly, those slaves of mine didn't belong here at all. I've got them from the Turk's camp, where they looked to be Mehmed's prisoners of war or something."
"That was the souvenir I gained from that whole debacle of attempting to kill Mehmed with my own hands, ending this scourge. "
Vlad shook his head as if he had an inner conflict, not agreeing with his approach but also finding it ironic that he couldn't kill Mehmed since he was in a military tent similar to the Pasha's tent he stormed, thinking it was supposed to be the resting tent for the Sultan.
It failed horribly for him, which was a situation that later descended into total chaos, and now he was acting as a boy's emotional support of sorts.
"You stopped. Did you forget where you were left?"
"I am not senile. I was reminiscing about past events. Now that I think about it, I may have left those two guys to live. They by no means were spies from their whole body language. Okay, let me continue my story."
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[A/N: Wait a little bit. Sorry to interrupt you. But to give you a context of what's going on in the first part of this chapter, the story starts with Mathias Corvinus at that point being a youngster visiting Vlad who has been imprisoned inside the Corvin Castle for about one year, the year of this action being somewhere around 1462-1463.
Everything that happens in this chapter, and the following 2, are historical fragments I interpreted and played around to my taste, like a chronicler. I can't place the entire wiki on this format since I will bore you to death, so you'll only see important fragments. Now back to the story.]
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Going down the memory path, the point where he prepared the entire special operations of storming the enemy camp.
It was an opportune moment because it was their last push toward Targoviste, and Vlad bet everything on this plan's success. Wishing to end all this war and beat the nail to the Ottoman's coffin by killing Mehmed.
All the stars on the sky seemed aligned for him that night, making his conviction rise to the skies. All the puzzle pieces were prepared, the Janissary Armor stood to attest that Vlad was more than ready to leave with extra height his hands could carry while he was saddled on a black stallion.
They were still in the forest outside of the Ottoman Camp, unsure of how things would progress, with his men waiting for his last instructions.
Assuring them of the plan's success, which made sense at that time, they went into action, moving toward the Ottoman Camp approaching a confident aura, similar to the Ottoman soldiers, who were brimming with morale since the conquest of Constantinople, the Queen of Cities. (A/N: This event will end rather soon with Vlad's second reign of Wallachia Principality)
"Remember, let me do the talking.
If the Turks ask you something, keep quiet or only those who know Turkish may respond. However, if they insist on asking the rest who don't know the language, listen carefully.
"One cough of mine means yes. That would be translated to a nod, two coughs of mine meaning no, you shake your head, it's a no. Don't do it in reverse like the Bulgarians."
"Lastly, don't panic and remain in formation if everything fails. It will take the Turks a while to mobilize and figure out what happened. Until then, slaughter everyone in your sight. Understood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." responded the whole contingency of soldiers under Vlad with their morale high.
"Good, then let's get going. Don't forget, our only target is Mehmed, no one else. If you spot him with his guards, storm and take his head.
"Please, God, this will be a long night for us. Give us strength."
Finishing the speech that boosted his men's morale while doing a slow cross to the sky and then in a passive stance, he appeared in front of the camp passage gate riding his black horse.
The scenario played out just as he expected.
The Turks stopped him asking him about his origins, and in flawless Turkish, he painted out the story about how he was a contingent of the main army, who returned from scouting of the enemy territory also managing to get some information from the peasants.
The way he behaved didn't arouse any suspicion on his end, such that without even knowing, this poor Ottoman guard opened the gates to the hyenas that started smelling the rotten taste of flesh.
When getting inside the camp, Vlad looked left and right until he found his target, a large military tent that looked simple but also expensive, something only the ones of higher rank would use.
Soon, he separated with his small contingent force, getting closer to Mehmed's tent.
Silently, his facial expression switched, turning dead cold, emotionless, moving with long strides toward the tent he was willing to bet that Mehmed resided in his entire life.
Stepping inside, he didn't waste time to observe the number of people, as he took out his favorite weapon of killing, the Kilij, a lighter weighted saber faster than other European made blades. (A/N: Kilij means in turkish, sword. Hah, so original)
The explosion of power and agility that were boosted by Vlad's Kilji instantly made the difference in the confrontation, as he took out in a flash two Turkish men wearing large Turbans, decapitating them without even giving them a chance of a reply, but to his surprise none of them were Mehmed.
However, to his luck, he killed those Pashas so swiftly that there were no cries which could alert the camp.
'Cursed bastard, where are you? Are you at the second tent?' thought Vlad, who frowned, starting feeling the pressure building up on his shoulders, and before departing, he used the white turban of the Pasha he slew to clean his saber, making it a sadistic and yet ironic display of power.
Returning back to his Janissary appearance, standing upright with his Kilji stranded on his waist, he stepped outside, moving toward another of the tents of high officials.
Before stepping inside, he took deep breaths and burst once again in motion, swiftly culling down his enemy without a care of who they were, only finding their faces familiar when they were dead.
'DAMN IT! Where are you, rat?'
The anger in his mind was building up, and to vent some of it, he stabbed the decapitated man into his heart so many times that his heart turned into flesh pulp, oozing blood.
In that state of anger, seeing his boots covered in blood woke him from his madness, later turning his attention on another corpse that he used as a sponge, going outside when cleaning around.
The only problem he encountered was that when he reached the third tent, the lucky charm that the pagans believed in, he heard the camp's alarm going off.
'Don't tell me those incompetent idiots couldn't stay shadowed? Even though most Turks are in their tents, sleeping, drinking, or God knows what else, they had to mess it up."
Thinking that he prepared himself to enter inside the third tent, but before he could make his entrance, the Royal Guards appeared from the tent, looking at Vlad with a questioning look, asking him something in Turkish.
"You came to alert us about the enemy?"
"Yes!"
"Good job, your service will not be forgotten."
Then from inside the tent, a familiar voice was heard, belonging to someone he hated so much, his eyes turned even colder than he could possibly get.
'WAIT! PATIENT! ONCE HE GETS OUT, I'LL TAKE HIS HEAD WITH ME.'
Yet before Mehmed could get out from his tent, another Royal Guards exited, and once they saw Vlad, they looked big-eyed and instinctively placed their hands on their swords.
Not giving them a chance to scream for the reinforcements, Vlad took out his Kilji and slashed the head of the Royal Guard, in doing so, alerting the others that gave of the alarm in this surrounding area.
"DRACUL! You monster, you will suffer for all your transgression. You even dare to come here?"
"I'll dare to even fuck your mom, now go preach to that Allah of yours. I only want Mehmed." remarking that he then started fighting off with the Royal Guards that kept coming.
Not long after, Mehmed came into his eyes, looking around with a worried, even scared expression.
"You came, scared rat? Here, receive my parting gift."
He took out a dagger with his available left hand that he threw like a maniac at Mehmed's direction, and sure of his skills that he hit the target.
Making sure he uses this chance of alertness of the Royal Guards who turned to look at their Sultan.
Vlad took out a smokescreen bomb that he smashed on the ground, where he made his way out, gathering his men who began fighting like possessed beasts, knowing that Mehmed was dead from his words, spreading out the news in the camp, which leads to more instability in the Turks orders.
"Kill how many you can! Once I give you the Retreat order, you do as I say!"
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All the thoughts spent on this mission, all the money, equipment, everything went down the drain because of his blasted luck.
A third was a lucky charm, but some stupid fool in his ranks had to mess up his mission. Once he gained enough distance from the Turk's camp, he found the ones who gave the Turks the alert signal, two guys wearing ripped rags that gave him the impression they were slaves.
His hatred for the moment was directed at those two guys who trembled in fear after spotting his gaze.
"This guy might even have the Conqueror's if we were home. What a scary spirit he has."
"Shh, act normally. We can get out of this, I will try to use my Advanced Armament to break the iron chains after things calm down."
"I DARE YOU SAY ONE MORE WORD, I'LL BREAK ALL YOUR BONES ONCE I GET TO TARGOVISTE."
The two middle-aged men struggled a bit to set themselves free. However, once they heard Vlad's mad roar that made them remember about the legend of a certain individual from their home, and swiftly shifted their appearance, complying with what Vlad's soldiers were ordering.
"Fuck, we are screwed, my friend."
"Let's hope we find some reason with this crazy person."