Ch.70Side Story – Avashina, the Last Blood Clan Leader (6)

In all five villages, similar events unfolded.

Thinking rationally, one might have realized this was a hallucination, a symptom of addiction.

Hallucinations weren’t unfamiliar to them. The forest grew mushrooms that could cause trouble if eaten incorrectly, and this was common knowledge not just for foresters but for anyone living in the countryside.

But they knew nothing about the small, white refined pills that Jonathan and Mina Ryder were distributing. They understood lives dependent on alcohol, but were ignorant about lives dependent on drugs.

This was literally a pure land cultivated by the Count’s bloodline. And all purity in the world, once tainted, can never be restored.

“It’s a drug,” the old doctor declared firmly. “A highly addictive drug. Once someone starts using it, it’s difficult to quit without proper intervention. It seems even stronger than opium. Where on earth did such a thing come from?”

The Count banished Van Helsing’s group without hesitation. He found and burned the drugs the patients had hidden. He gave the old doctor a sample of the drug and asked him to go to the big city to find a solution.

“Look! The Count is oppressing us! I’ve awakened to the truth! Let go, let me go! This is what the Count did to me! It’s all because of the Count!”

Those who had their drugs taken away shouted in the streets, in the chapel, inside their homes. Their bodies, damaged beyond repair without the drugs, convulsed.

Chaos erupted. Wives fought with husbands, parents clashed with children, uncles and nephews blamed each other. Brothers tore each other apart while sisters turned away from one another.

Even after fighting as if they would kill each other, when people went to bed, they wondered:

Why did this happen? Nothing was wrong before. What’s the problem? Where did things go wrong?

Secret rumors spread among the people:

– It’s the Count’s fault. While people are fighting each other, the Count hasn’t done anything worthwhile.

– The Count is incompetent. We work our fingers to the bone while that Count literally sucks our blood and lives in luxury.

– Honestly, I’m not on the side of those who lost at the trial, but I think the Count’s attitude is problematic. A leader should do something.

– The Count has disgraced me! I’ve awakened to the truth! Look at me, this is who I am! I’ve been tainted! Because of that Count! You’ll all become like me. You’ll all become like me!

Helsing’s group appeared openly in the village. Even the guards were divided in their opinions. In fact, even the village guards were addicted to drugs. Not the ones that “break hypnosis,” but ones that “relieve fatigue and stimulate sexual desire.”

The Count’s army did control the people, but now the villagers took the lead in protecting Helsing’s group. Where else would they get their drugs? The drugs that protected them from the evil magic controlling people’s bodies and minds?

Amid the chaos, Van Helsing returned. He brought two large wagons, storing everything at Sidorov’s house.

“I will perform a procedure. To save Sidorov.”

People whispered that Sidorov had become a recluse after the trial, not meeting anyone. They murmured it was the Count’s curse, and that Dr. Helsing would save him. And indeed, Sidorov appeared before people as the same respectable gentleman as before.

Not exactly the same. He occasionally shook his head and limped. But that wasn’t the worst thing that happened to him. Only Volkov’s wife noticed the critical change: the sound of clockwork coming from Sidorov’s body.

But what did it matter? It was a free operation. Dr. Van Helsing was offering advanced technology from the British Empire for free. No need to rely on troublesome drugs. A free procedure with minimal side effects and long-lasting results.

Those who had tasted the drug rushed to receive the procedure, not to escape the drug, but to escape the Count. It was simple. All they needed was something like a pendulum clock implanted in their bodies.

Science would save everyone from the curse.

* * * * *

On a hot summer night with chirping insects.

The Count left the castle alone. He opened the window and climbed down the steep wall. The moon was wide-eyed, though it wouldn’t be full until tomorrow. After walking for a while, the Count reached a clearing in the deep forest.

There, the Count asked the moon:

“What should I do?”

There had never been such a crisis in the history of his bloodline.

When external threats came, the head of the bloodline would fight at the forefront and rule the people with loyalty, order, and principle. His ancestors had taught him how to earn the people’s trust.

But they never taught him how to restore broken trust. The Count’s ancestors were too excellent and too great to have experienced such a human crisis.

For the first time in his life, the Count felt incompetent and useless.

“Step back.”

The sharpness in his tone reflected this feeling.

A silver wolf with gleaming eyes approached him. It was a female wolf, slightly smaller than the large black wolf the butler had mentioned.

This was unlike a wolf. Wolves never approach from the front when hunting. The wolf howled for him. But the Count’s tired heart couldn’t hear its plea.

“I don’t warn three times. Step back.”

As if resigned, the silver wolf shook its head and backed away.

“You should heed our warning, Count.”

A sturdy man walked out from behind a tree. The Count had already sensed him. The man smelled of human, fur, blood, ash, and the pungent odor of rot—the smell of a wolf.

And he wore clerical clothes. But clothes the Count didn’t recognize. The Count traced back through his bloodline’s memories.

“Are you a Catholic priest?”

“Yes, Count.”

The Count briefly set aside his hostility. Since the separation of the Eastern Orthodox Church, Roman Catholics and Russian Orthodox had been at each other’s throats. Yet here was a Catholic priest deep in Russia.

With dark skin, no less.

“Are you perhaps a Moor? No, it doesn’t matter. Whatever you are, I can tell you’re not fully human. Whether you’re a clergyman or a monster who devoured one and stole his clothes, please leave. Take the main road to a big city and forget this place. I am troubled.”

“Count. Count.”

The priest spread his palms and stepped aside.

“Just a moment. Listen to me for just a moment. Let’s leave. There’s still a chance. Take your beloved wife and five children and come with us. We can help you. Last head of the bloodline. As you said.”

In the brief moment when the moon was hidden by clouds, the priest’s face changed. The seemingly gentle dark-skinned man disappeared, replaced by a wolf’s head with an elongated nose and muzzle.

“I am a monster. But even such a monster has a place to rest his body.”

“Werewolf…!”

“Priest. Priest. Get a hold of yourself.”

Again, a human face. Contrary to the priest’s intention, the Count raised his hostility and vigilance even more.

“I am a nobleman.”

The Count composed himself.

“This is my land, and I have precious people to protect. Each one is my subject, and where would a leader go if he abandoned his people?”

“Damn it, Count! Have you been buried in the countryside so long that you don’t know how the world works? It’s a world where subjects cut off their leaders’ heads! You say you protect your subjects, but they’re trying to capture and kill you!”

The Count wasn’t unaware. He knew such things happened. But he never thought it would happen to him.

The Count, too, was merely a weak creature who hoped for good things to happen and bad things not to happen at all.

And now the priest before him was trying to break the Count’s heart.

“Ismael Van Helsing, also known as Vladimir, that blasphemer, might not break you, but eventually someone will come. When that time comes, even the Tsar won’t survive. When the land is in turmoil and all the fallen grass rises at once, who can resist? Please, Count. Become wise like your ancestors.”

Fire sparked in the Count’s eyes.

“Begone.”

As the Count raised his palm, the priest’s body flew back 5 meters. The silver wolf bared its teeth and growled, but the priest, who got up and dusted himself off, restrained the wolf. Soon they departed into the deep forest.

The dejected Count couldn’t even think of following them. He just sat down on a flat rock.

* * * * *

Abashina couldn’t sleep. An unnameable anxiety kept tickling her.

Finally, Abashina got up from bed. She grabbed the doorknob, lifted it slightly, then turned it. The door opened silently.

Stealthily. The girl knew how to walk without making a sound. Fairy tales said to walk on tiptoes, but that was foolish. It was better to gently place the entire foot down.

Fortunately, the castle guards’ positions hadn’t changed. Abashina safely made her way to the castle kitchen. She was the type to listen carefully to the servants’ stories, so she knew where the cookie box was.

And in the kitchen, she encountered her father.

Hiccup. Hiccup.

“My youngest.”

The Count put down his glass and gently embraced his youngest daughter. The Count’s rough beard tickled Abashina’s cheek.

“Smell.”

Abashina frowned. She didn’t particularly like the smell of alcohol. And it was the first time she’d seen her father drinking when it wasn’t a festival day.

“I’m sorry. Daddy’s sorry. My daughter.”

The Count mumbled incomprehensible words. Abashina hugged her father tightly. There was a strange vibration in the Count’s words. It was similar to when she was about to cry.

“Daddy. Are you crying?”

The Count shook his head, but it was an obvious lie.

“Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy.”

“You’re crying because you’re happy?”

“Because my youngest daughter is so beautiful.”

Abashina didn’t understand.

Of course, the girl thought herself quite pretty. Not as pretty as her mother or sisters, but she attributed that to her young age. What mattered was that her father was crying. What would her mother do at a time like this? “Mommy’s here. Good girl.” The Countess always said that whenever Abashina cried.

So Abashina hugged the Count tightly and patted him.

“It’s okay. I’m here, so it’s okay.”

“I love you, Abashina.”

“Me too.”

“Now go back to bed.”

Abashina shook her head.

“I want to sleep with daddy tonight.”

Footsteps were heard in the corridor. Guards. Quiet but urgent. A low, ominous murmur came like a sad song.

“Abashina.”

The Count pressed his forehead against his youngest daughter’s.

“Promise me. I’ll be back soon. Daddy has to do some work. So go to your mother’s room. Wake up your sisters and brothers too. Tell your mother that daddy said he’ll be back soon. Can you do that, my youngest daughter?”

Even a six-year-old child could do that. Abashina wasn’t that much of a child. Of course she could do it.

But Abashina couldn’t nod. The ominous feeling now became something that weighed down her entire body. It felt like if she let go of this hand now, she would never see her father again.

But,

Looking at her father’s gentle eyes, Abashina nodded.

Abashina ran to the left side of the corridor, while the Count ran to the right. The guards rushed to the Count and reported.

The villagers had split into two groups and were fighting, and they had already reached the castle gate.

“Count…”

The butler trembled all over. The village elders had also gathered. The old doctor’s brothers were there too, sobbing.

“What happened?”

“My brother…”

The old doctor. The one who was asked to go to the big city to find a prescription…

The Count hurried up to the castle wall. Outside the gate, people with torches had gathered. It seemed like almost everyone from the five villages was there.

“Stand back! Stand back!”

The captain of the guard, the guards, and a small number of the Count’s supporters were blocking the gate, but,

“Move aside! Move aside! We need to ask the Count. We need to hear directly from the Count!”

Their numbers were too few compared to the angry crowd. With a sound of “Wah,” the crowd split in half. Two strong oxen pulled a cart through them.

On the cart was a long stake with the old doctor’s head impaled on it.

“This is the Count’s doing!”

Van Helsing’s voice echoed.

“The doctor was trying to go to the big city with the truth he had discovered. To report the Count’s atrocities! But the wicked Count tore the doctor’s body apart. Look at the Count’s brutality!”

Crack.

The stone wall crumbled under the Count’s grip. These were not the subjects he knew. Of course, he knew that not all subjects loved the Count.

But, did I really do so wrong? For them to be so easily swayed by such a liar? With his head spinning, the Count fell to his knees.

If it were an external enemy, he would have been confident in tearing them apart, as he had always done. But now, the subjects he was supposed to protect and love were hostile to him.

What should I do, ancestors?

The answer came from a completely unexpected place.

“It’s the Count’s order!”

“Sidorov?”

In the middle of the crowd, Sidorov was trembling and convulsing. He was shaking his arms and legs strangely, and even his head was trembling. Like someone struck by lightning, Sidorov was dancing bizarrely in the middle of the crowd.

“It’s the Count’s order! Everyone disperse! Squeak squeak! It’s the Count’s order! Squeak – squeak! Everyone dis-squeak-perse! It’s the Count’s squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak-squeak order! Every-squeak-one disperse!”

“Sidorov! Come to your senses!”

Strong men grabbed Sidorov. But Sidorov’s body moved more violently. Eventually, the largest man had to pin him to the ground.

“Huh…?”

The man wiped his face. It was Sidorov’s blood.

Looking down instinctively, he was horrified. Sidorov’s limbs were bent strangely, and broken bones had pierced through skin and leather. Yet Sidorov still,

“It’s the Count’s order! Squeak squeak squeak! Everyone disperse! Squeak squeak! It’s the Count’s squeak squeak squeak! Order! Squeak squeak squeak! Everyone squeak – dis – order! Count! Order! Count! Order! Count! Count count count count count!”

With a smile all over his face, he twisted his entire body. Even with his spine broken and his lungs exposed, he continued to shout. Even after his breath stopped, he still spoke!

“It’s the Count’s order! It’s the Count’s order! It’s the Count’s order!”

It wasn’t just Sidorov. All those who had been judged by the Count, who had shouted for salvation claiming to be cursed by the Count, all convulsed.

Not even drugs could save them. Not even British medical technology could save them!

“God! Why have you allowed this!”

Van Helsing wailed, waving a torch.

“Should this ruthless Count be allowed to live?”

“No!”

The crowd shouted in unison.

“Do you think God wanted this?”

“No!”

“Should we kill the Count or let him live?”

“Kill him!”

“Are we doing the right thing or not?”

“We are doing the right thing!”

Helsing pointed his finger toward the gate.

“You, offspring of the devil! Divine punishment will fall, divine punishment will fall! Oh God, are you watching! If you are watching, send down lightning! Send down a revelation!”

The Count saw it.

In the darkness, someone throwing a bundle of explosives with a lit fuse.

The Count’s body turned to mist. People didn’t pay attention to the mist coming down from the gate. In a critical moment, the Count embraced the explosives with his entire body.

“…!”

Flash. Boom. Explosion. The Count let out a painful scream. Everyone covered their ears and fell to the ground. To those unaware of the situation, it would have sounded like God’s roar.

Miraculously, no one but the Count was hurt. The mist barely managed to escape to the moat beside the gate, holding together a body that was about to be torn apart.

‘I stopped it.’

The relief was short-lived.

“God has answered!”

“God has permitted it!”

“Let’s defeat the oppressor with our own hands! Let’s go!”

The angry crowd rushed toward the Count’s gate.