1 Kill Them All

Gallica, AD 1462

The rolling plains of the Burgundian countryside stretched endlessly in every direction. Under the rays of the mid-afternoon sun, the fields of green and gold gave off a warm, inviting glow, and the scent of spring was fresh in the air.

Soon, however, these plains would be stained with the red of freshly-spilled blood, and the air would reek with the raw stench of death.

"Lord Adrian! We have you surrounded, but you still have reason to rejoice! Raise your hands to the sky and give thanks to God, for Grandmaster Montfaucon is merciful and does not wish to take you by force. He is offering you one last chance to surrender yourselves."

Adrian remained unmoving atop his horse, and the visor of his helmet, fashioned to resemble the visage of a demon, prevented the messenger from gauging his reaction.

The messenger hesitated slightly before continuing.

"If you agree to go peacefully, the Holy Father has promised that you will be given a fair trial. You will be treated as noble hostages and will be allowed to defend yourselves before the Tribunal. But should you refuse even now, the lives of you and your lady shall both be forfeit!"

At first, the vampire lord continued to show no signs of responding. As the seconds passed, however, his shoulders began to shake, and it soon became clear that he was trying to suppress a laugh. When he finally called out to the messenger, there was a tinge of good humor in his deep and gravelly voice.

"Brave herald! I do not understand why we are discussing the terms of my surrender when we should be discussing the terms of yours. Tell your master to stand down, or he will never again taste of good wine or fine women… No need to look so indignant, herald. You know just as well as I that your master is no saint."

"So you would die, then?"

"No. But I pray that God will have mercy on your soul. You will be seeing him soon enough."

The messenger's jaw tightened.

"You will not leave these hills alive, demon. Whether you surrender or not, the Lord's justice shall be done. Before the day is over, your bodies will lie broken, and you will return to the fires of hell from whence you came."

"That remains to be seen."

"Aye… And it will be."

Leaving no room for Adrian to get the last word, the messenger pulled up on his reins and turned his horse around. With a light kick, his horse broke into a gallop and retraced its path down the side of the hill. Before long, he had rejoined his fellows.

Adrian squinted his eyes and watched with interest as the messenger approached his Grandmaster, who was mounted on a white stallion in the center of his lines.

"He must be hiding the reality of this situation from his men. Why else would a lowly messenger be so unafraid to face me, while the Grandmaster himself chooses to sit in safety so far away?"

The vampire voiced his thoughts to no one in particular, but a few of his twenty men grunted in assent.

"Not every man serves a worthy liege, my lord."

Adrian laughed.

"It would appear not."

Returning his attention to the ranks of the enemy, he once again assessed the situation. By his estimation, the Knights had brought with them around two thousand men. A thousand stood directly before them at the foot of the hill, and the rest were dispersed in smaller groups surrounding the area, so as to prevent him from escaping.

Over a quarter of the enemy was comprised of mounted troops. The rest appeared to be a mix of whatever the Knights could get their hands on. Among others, there were men-at-arms, mercenary crossbowmen, and infantry borrowed from the Holy Father himself.

The most conspicuous part of the opposing army was the silver-plated cross that had been wheeled into position behind their main force. It towered over the men that stood in front of it, and Adrian knew well from fighting in the Crusades how effective such a standard could be.

He half-smiled beneath his mask.

They were the Knights of the Silver Cross, after all.

"Sana."

Adrian turned to the woman on the horse beside his own.

Like him, she protected herself with a suit of full plate armor. But where he also wore a helmet, she had only tresses of dark brown hair tied up and braided in a crown around her head. Unlike Adrian, she was much less wary about showing her face – her light olive skin and emerald eyes were the kind that minstrels immortalized in their songs.

There was little about her appearance that pointed to her true nature, to the bloodthirsty beast that dwelled deep within her. Little, except perhaps the otherworldliness of her beauty itself.

"Can I trust you to handle them?"

"Yes, your grace. However, I will need to change first if I am to take on that great a number."

The vampire lord dipped his head in acknowledgment.

"So be it."

As if right on cue, the sound of a war horn carried up to them from the foot of the hill, and a deafening cry rose from the ranks of the enemy. The shouts were soon mixed in with the rustle of armor and the beating of hooves against earth; the main force of enemy cavalry was starting to advance.

"Now then..."

There was no need for Adrian to say another word. With a single swift motion, Sana hopped off her horse. As soon as she had landed and found her footing, she straightened herself up, removed her gauntlets, and began to undo the straps of her armor.

Adrian crossed his arms.

"Leave a clearing for your lady."

His guards quickly obliged, moving back and fanning out to form a small line behind him. From there, they wheeled around in their spots, making sure to face away.

Sana had now stripped down to her undergarments and was in the process of sinking her teeth into her own left arm. The surface of her skin opened up in a small fountain of blood, and her lips were stained crimson. Her "change" had begun.

As Adrian watched, she raised her head and stretched out her arms. Her muscles rippled beneath her skin, and her entire body started to swell.

"They have us outnumbered a hundred to one. But here on this field, numbers shall be rendered meaningless. Sana!"

The vampire bride now stood over four meters tall. Wings sprouted from her back, and her body was covered in feathers the color of coal. Responding to her name, she reared back and roared.

"In the name of Adrianus Romania sȃng Magnus… Kill them all."

Leaving a stream of wind in her wake, she bounded forward and leaped at the approaching enemy.

To Adrian, it was a beautiful sight. Hundreds of cavalrymen, suddenly faced with this new enemy, stopped their horses and turned around in terror. In the confusion, many of the knights were knocked to the ground and were trampled by their fellows. Those who remained rode for their lives, back towards the lines of infantry. But no matter how fast their horses ran or how much they prayed, it was all for naught in the end.

Sana bore down upon them in a flurry of claws and gnashing teeth, and the retreating army dissolved into a thick, red mist.

Back at the top of the hill, Adrian lifted his visor and took a deep breath.

For the first time in a long time, he felt alive.