It was such a small thing.
And yet, the little folded pieces of paper never failed to light up her eyes when he brought them to Lisa.
Dracula looked over the small paper he held in his hand, folded to resemble a bird of some sort. Chō had told the lord vampire it was a crane from her homeland when she brought it to him. A "gift" from some monk she had feasted on during her early travels. The white material almost seemed to glow in the darkness of his fortress. Much like she was such light in his life when he met her. Taught her medicine at her request when she came to his castle.
The glow seemed to burn as he thought of her wrongful execution. The paper cut into his hand as he crumpled it in a flash of anger. Before he could even scent his own blood the cuts were gone. Movement to his left and right distracted him from the thoughts of war he would unleash upon Wallachia in a few more months.
A voice tinged with worry. Dracula could hear it in that one simple title from Hector. “Worry not. There is more parchment should I feel the need to have Chō fold another for me.” The slide of fabric against the body and chair was heard as the vampire stood. “Continue your work on the army.”
His boots sounded heavier than they felt as he crossed from his sitting chair to the window. In the distance, the sleeping town of Targoviste bathed in moonlight and murderous ignorance.
“We shall strike soon.”