Dromos 18, Imperial Year 1643
The Northern Forests, Mercia – Three Days After Gray Rock
The class had split again.
Elara had argued for it. A group of eleven travelers was too conspicuous, too slow, too easy to track. They needed to cover more ground, find more of the missing, and stay out of the crown's sight. Reinhard had agreed, though reluctantly.
Roderick, Rosalind, Miku, and Hikari had gone east toward the Free Cities, following a rumor about a fox beastfolk caravan. Kaito, Daiki, Natsuki, and Rin had gone north toward the dwarven mountains, searching for a dwarf brewer named Torvin. Elara, Reinhard, and Gregor had stayed together, heading northwest toward the orc territories, where a slave mining operation reportedly held an orc named Grom.
They had been on the road for three days when they found the wolf.
Dromos 18, Imperial Year 1643 (continued)
The Forest Clearing – Vlad's Perspective
Vladislav Eisenberg had been tracking the slaver for a week.
The man's name was Harlan Vex, a middle‑aged human with a scarred face and a reputation for cruelty. He had been buying and selling people for twenty years – orcs, beastfolk, halflings, anyone who could not fight back. His current caravan carried twelve captives, bound for a mining camp in the mountains.
Among them was a wolf beastfolk – young, male, with gray fur and yellow eyes. He was chained at the neck and wrists, his tail matted with blood, his ears flat against his skull. He had tried to escape twice; Vex had beaten him both times.
Vlad watched from a rocky outcropping, the assault rifle – repaired and test‑fired – cradled in his arms. He had fixed the jamming issue with a modified gas tube and a stronger spring. The drum magazine was full.
The target is Vex, he reminded himself. The rest are collateral.
The nightmare came. The classroom. The flash. The screaming. Then the faces of Vex's victims – a dozen ghosts, pleading for justice.
The balance is clear.
He raised the rifle.
The caravan was small – three wagons, six guards, and Vex riding at the front on a black horse. Vlad waited until they entered a narrow clearing, where the trees closed in and escape was difficult.
He fired.
The first burst caught two guards in the chest, sending them sprawling. The second burst took down a third. The remaining guards scattered, drawing swords, shouting. Vex spurred his horse toward the trees.
Vlad shifted his aim. The rifle cracked – a single shot, not a burst – and the horse collapsed, its legs folding, throwing Vex to the ground. The slaver screamed, his leg pinned beneath the animal.
Vlad stood, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and drew a pistol. He walked down the hillside, his boots crunching on the frost‑covered grass.
The surviving guards saw him and fled.
Vlad did not pursue. He walked to where Vex lay, whimpering, trying to free his leg.
"Harlan Vex," Vlad said, his voice flat through the mask. "Thou art accused of slavery, torture, and murder. The evidence is thy ledgers, which I have already taken. The witnesses are the twelve souls in thy wagons. Dost thou deny it?"
"Please," Vex begged. "I have money. I can pay you."
"Thy money is blood. I do not want it."
Vlad raised the pistol and fired. The bullet struck Vex's head. The slaver's body went limp.
He holstered the pistol and walked to the wagons.
The captives were huddled together, their faces pale, their chains rattling. Vlad unlocked the cages with a set of keys taken from Vex's belt. One by one, the captives emerged, blinking in the afternoon light.
The wolf beastfolk was the last.
He stood in the doorway of the cage, his yellow eyes fixed on Vlad's mask. He did not flee. He did not speak.
"You are free," Vlad said, in Mercian.
The wolf's ears twitched. "Who are you?"
"That is not important."
"You killed a man. You freed us. I want to know your name."
Vlad paused. The wolf's gaze was steady, unafraid. There was something familiar about him – not a face, but a presence. A weight.
One of them, Vlad realized. One of the reincarnators.
He had not planned for this. He had come for Vex, not for the class.
"Alucard," he said. "They call me Alucard."
The wolf nodded slowly. "I am Fenric. Fenric Greymane."
"You are injured."
"I will heal."
Vlad looked at the other captives. They were scattering into the forest, desperate to be free. Only Fenric remained.
"There are others," Vlad said. "Like you. Reincarnators. They are searching for their kind."
Fenric's eyes widened. "You know about them?"
"I know where they are. Three days' ride east, toward the old trading post at Gray Rock. They will take you in."
"Why are you helping me?"
Vlad turned away. "Because someone must."
He walked into the forest, expecting Fenric to follow.
Fenric did.
Dromos 21, Imperial Year 1643
Gray Rock Trading Post – Reunion
Elara, Reinhard, and Gregor had returned to Gray Rock after a failed attempt to find the orc mining camp. The trail had gone cold, and they needed to regroup.
They were sitting by the fire when Fenric walked into the clearing.
He was gaunt, bruised, his fur matted with dirt and dried blood. But he stood straight, his yellow eyes clear. Behind him, the forest was empty.
"Who are you?" Elara asked, rising.
"Fenric Greymane." His voice was hoarse. "I was told you would take me in."
Elara exchanged a glance with Reinhard. "Told by whom?"
"A man in a beaked mask. He called himself Alucard." Fenric's tail twitched. "He killed a slaver. Freed me and eleven others. Then he told me where to find you."
Gregor stood, his hand on his sword hilt. "He led you here?"
"He pointed east. I walked. He did not follow."
Reinhard stepped forward. "You are one of us? A reincarnator?"
Fenric nodded. "My name was Ryo Tanaka. I sat in the back row, near the window. I did not speak much."
Elara's heart clenched. "Ryo. We have been looking for you."
"I know. I felt you. In the darkness between lives." Fenric's ears drooped. "I did not think anyone would find me."
"We found you," Gregor said. "Or Alucard did."
The group was silent, processing this new information.
"He saved you," Elara said. "And then he sent you to us."
"Yes."
"Did he say why?"
Fenric shook his head. "He said someone must help. Then he left."
Elara looked at the forest, at the dark trees where the Raven had disappeared.
He is watching us, she thought. He knows where we are. He knows who we are. And he is helping, in his own way.
She turned back to Fenric. "You are safe now. We will take care of you."
Fenric's shoulders sagged. For the first time, he looked like he might cry.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Dromos 21, Imperial Year 1643 (continued)
The Forest Above Gray Rock – Vlad's Perspective
Vlad watched through the spyglass as the class welcomed Fenric. The halfling – Elara – put a blanket around his shoulders. The teacher – Reinhard – offered him water. The knight – Gregor – stood guard.
They are not completely useless, Vlad thought.
He lowered the spyglass. The wolf beastfolk was safe. The slaver was dead. The balance was satisfied.
He should leave. He had other targets, other missions, other calculations to run.
But he lingered.
Why?
He did not know. He only knew that watching them – these broken, stubborn, foolish reincarnators – made him feel something he had not felt in a hundred years.
Hope.
He shook his head and turned away.
Idiots, he thought. But they are my idiots.
He walked into the forest and disappeared.
End of Chapter Twenty