[Alucard's still as Hector explains. His friends are at home, and it's a mark of slight wisdom that Hector has made that decision. The world's instructed him a little more over the past several years, but that's until Hector says the w word.

At that, Alucard's features become harder set. He knows the little bubble of anger that begins to rise in his stomach. He's had it every time some new horrible rumor of a witch execution passes by through the Speakers or when Trevor and Sypha return home. There is some church man, the Speakers say, who wants to write a book about detecting witches. That the title might be Malleus Maleficarum, and Alucard hates it.

His mother's death wasn't one man's attempt at gaining power in the church. It was a herald of things to come. Hector's words only confirm it.]

I understand the devestation of that kind of loss.

[After all, what had brought Hector to this castle in the first place? And is Hector not weathering that grief better than Dracula, by focusing on only one man rather than the world?

Those are thoughts to unpack later.]

I do not know the man, beyond the fact he is why Carmilla never made to these doors. I cannot say what his intentions are. [Alucard sighs. He can't believe the words that come out of his own mouth.]

Come in then. There's little to be gained from discussing this where a passing breeze can overhear.