The Crimson Covenant: The Moonlit Blood Chapter 13

 

Volume I  The Crimson Covenant: The Moonlit Blood

ACT III  Journey of the Coffin Guild

Chapter 13 A Family on the Road

Morning sunlight filtered through the endless emerald canopy of Central Elyria. The forest roads wound lazily between towering oaks whose trunks were so enormous that five grown men could scarcely wrap their arms around them. Golden rays slipped through the leaves, scattering patches of warm light across the moss-covered road. Crystal streams crossed beneath ancient stone bridges built so long ago that no historian remembered who had first laid them. The smell of pine, wildflowers, and fresh rain filled the cool air. Birds sang without fear. For the first time in many months...

There was peace.

A black gothic carriage rolled quietly beneath the trees. Unlike ordinary wagons, it made almost no sound. Its polished ebony body reflected the morning sunlight like black glass, while delicate silver runes shimmered faintly along every panel. Gothic arches decorated the windows, and silver dragon carvings curled across its doors. Four shadow horses pulled it effortlessly. They possessed no flesh. Their bodies were woven from living darkness, their manes drifting like black smoke behind them. Silver eyes glowed softly beneath skeletal faces, yet woodland animals paid them no mind. Even nature seemed accustomed to their presence. Walking beside the carriage was a towering giant of brass and steel. Őrök. More than three meters tall, the ancient Guardian-Class Arcane Automaton looked like a walking fortress. His broad shoulders were wrapped in weathered bronze plates engraved with glowing blue runes. Layers of black steel protected the joints of his massive limbs, while silver filigree decorated the edges of his ancient armor. His face resembled the visor of an old knight's helmet. Behind the narrow slits glowed two calm blue lights. Though every step weighed enough to shake the earth... He walked carefully so wildflowers beneath his feet remained untouched. Across one shoulder rested the elegant black coffin of Győző Várhegyi. Despite its size... He carried it as effortlessly as one might carry a walking stick.

Inside the carriage...

Chaos.

"I told you not to put your boots on the seats."

Bálint sighed.

Across from him sat Zoltán.

Now ten years old, the younger brother had grown slightly taller, though he still looked much younger than his age. His blond hair had become longer, constantly refusing to stay neat despite repeated attempts to comb it.

His bright blue eyes sparkled with innocent curiosity.

Unfortunately...

His boots were covered in mud.

"...Sorry."

He quickly wiped them using his sleeve.

"...That made it worse."

"I know..."

"You absolutely made it worse."

The carriage suddenly lurched over a bump. Several books slid across the table. A teapot tipped over. Zoltán caught it just before it spilled.

"...See?"

he grinned proudly.

"I helped."

Bálint pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You caused the problem."

"...Then solved it."

"...That's still helping."

Bálint couldn't argue with that.

Outside...

A pleasant metallic humming echoed through the forest. Őrök... Was singing. Or trying to. The ancient war machine possessed no real voice.

Instead...

His chest produced rhythmic mechanical clicks remarkably close to music. Small woodland birds had begun flying beside him.

Around midday...

The carriage stopped beside a crystal river. Lunch. Without a word... Őrök immediately began unpacking supplies. He unfolded a surprisingly elegant iron cooking table from inside the carriage. Then another. Then chairs. Then a kettle. Then enough cookware to feed an army.

Bálint blinked.

"...How do you fit all that inside?"

"I organized it."

came the calm mechanical reply.

"...Very efficiently."

Within minutes...

The smell of stew drifted through the forest. Fresh vegetables. Wild herbs. Slow-cooked venison. Warm bread baked earlier that morning.

Zoltán's eyes sparkled.

"It smells amazing!"

Bálint looked suspiciously at the enormous cooking pot.

"...When did you learn to cook?"

Őrök paused.

"My primary function during the First Age..."

"...included logistical battlefield support."

Silence.

"...Cooking?"

"Correct."

"...For soldiers?"

"Correct."

"...How many?"

"...Approximately forty-two thousand."

Both brothers stared.

"...Oh."

Lunch tasted incredible.

Neither brother understood how.

Zoltán reached for another loaf of bread.

"...Can I have one more?"

"You have already consumed six."

"...Seven sounds better."

"...Acceptable."

Őrök immediately handed him another.

Bálint sighed.

"You're spoiling him."

"I am feeding a growing child."

"He eats like three growing children."

While they ate...

The coffin rested quietly beneath the shade of a great oak.

Soft knocking echoed from inside.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

"...May I come out?"

Győző's calm voice echoed gently through the lid.

Bálint looked toward the sunlight.

"...Still daytime."

"I am aware."

"...The shade appears sufficient."

"...Probably."

The lid slowly opened. Dark mist drifted into the air. Thousands of tiny bats emerged first, circling the clearing before settling among the branches overhead like living leaves.

Then...

Győző Várhegyi stepped into the forest. Though thousands of years old, he appeared no older than a handsome young man in his mid-twenties. His pale skin contrasted sharply against long dark brown hair tied neatly behind his neck. Crimson eyes reflected centuries of wisdom rather than hunger. He wore elegant black noble clothing trimmed with silver embroidery, a long velvet coat flowing almost to the ground. Despite everything... He looked remarkably ordinary.

Until one noticed...

He cast no reflection upon the river.

He inhaled deeply.

"...The forest smells exactly the same."

Bálint smiled faintly.

"It always does."

"One advantage of immortality."

Győző chuckled softly.

"You appreciate consistency."

After lunch...

Training began.

Always.

Every day.

Without exception.

They found a quiet meadow surrounded by ancient pines. Birdsong filled the air. Győző stood calmly at the center. Hands folded behind his back.

"Bálint."

The older brother stepped forward.

Twin silver whips rested at his sides.

"Again."

Without warning...

Győző disappeared.

CRACK.

One whip lashed forward.

Nothing.

A finger tapped Bálint's shoulder.

"Too slow."

Bálint spun.

The vampire had already moved behind him.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Each attack missed.

Not because Bálint lacked speed.

Because Győző moved faster than sight itself.

"You're predicting movement."

Győző explained patiently.

"Stop predicting."

"Observe."

"Then react."

Minutes became hours.

Eventually...

Bálint managed to catch only the edge of Győző's sleeve.

The vampire smiled.

"Better."

It was the first praise Bálint had received all day.

He treasured it.

Though he never showed it.

Nearby...

Zoltán trained with Őrök.

The contrast was almost comical.

"Again."

said the automaton.

Sky Breaker crashed downward.

BOOM.

The earth shook.

"Too much shoulder."

Őrök corrected.

"Rotate the hips."

"...Like this?"

"Correct."

Another swing.

BOOOOM.

This time...

The axe struck cleanly.

The force split an enormous boulder neatly in half.

Zoltán blinked.

"...Oops."

"Excellent progress."

Őrök replied.

"...I broke the mountain."

"It required breaking."

"I don't think it did."

"It appears happier."

Both brothers stared.

"...You tell jokes now?"

"I have been studying humor."

"...How successful?"

"...Approximately seventeen percent."

Győző quietly smiled.

"I would raise that to twenty."

Evening arrived. Campfire smoke drifted gently into the darkening sky. Győző sat beneath a tree reading an ancient leather-bound book whose pages looked older than entire kingdoms.

Occasionally...

He paused to explain forgotten history.

"Long before humans built castles..."

he said softly,

"dragons taught dwarves how to shape mountains."

Zoltán's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Perhaps."

"You don't know?"

"I was asleep."

Bálint laughed. Actually laughed. Only once. But it happened.

Night deepened. Stars appeared overhead. The brothers lay beneath blankets beside the dying fire.

"Grandfather?"

Zoltán whispered sleepily.

"Yes?"

"...Do you ever miss Grandma?"

The forest became very quiet.

Győző closed his book.

Looked toward the moon.

"...Every day."

His voice was gentle.

"But love does not disappear because someone leaves."

"It simply..."

"...changes where it lives."

He placed a hand over his heart.

"...Here."

Silence followed. Warm. Comfortable. One by one... The brothers fell asleep. Bálint's hand rested unconsciously near his younger brother. Even while sleeping...

He remained protective.

Throughout the night...

Őrök stood watch beside the road without moving. Moonlight reflected from his ancient armor. Not because anyone had ordered him to. But because...

That was what family did. They protected one another. No matter how long the journey. No matter how dangerous the road ahead. And somewhere beyond the endless forests of Central Elyria... The Kingdom of Vahsravia waited. Along with a mystery that would soon call the Crimson Covenant into the shadows once again.