"Two hundred years is not much time for a region to go through all the chaos of establishing whose vampiric court might come out on top.  So that may be the cause of this particular path they're using.  Not that that mitigates anything you've said, but the why of how something is done could become noteworthy down the line."

But Alucard is not inclined to dismiss the matter as something to leave be entirely. He's biased of course, because vampires getting mixed up in politics that impact Wallachia will always leave him biased.  He doesn't hide the thin frown that grosses his face, admitting fully, "Our agent said that the texture of it just felt off.  I don't want to wholly put it aside.  I trust their instincts."

It was one of the older Belmonts who was doing the work.  Experienced with these things, capable of making such judgments without jumping to conclusions.  If something is off, then it is off.  Easy as that.

The glass of wine in Alucard's hand is set on the side table as Lenore gets up.  There's not a sip gone from it. "The Speakers aren't infallible. I am only relaying how they have recorded this."

With the object in hand, Alucard leans forward to look as instructed.  He is wholly unsure of what to expect.

The scenes that play out cause the dhampir to flinch.  There is love and watching it warp brings a dull ache back to the surface.  It is always for love that these things seem to happen.  Cruel, bloody, inhumane, always leading to the death of others.  And then there is the gore and viscera and raw fear etched on those that perish for these vampires that leaves a barren wasteland in the end.

When it is all done, Alucard leans forward and places the dodecahedron down on the ground.  He then leans back in his chair, eyes closed.  Processing everything he has scene, scrambling to make sense of it all.  There is a shake in both of his hands, and finally, a long exhale.
His eyes meet Lenore's.

"I...will need a few moments."

No part of him reaches for the wine.