Preys & Predators IV; Monster and Witches Chapter 2

 2.

 

“We are here, Sire.” The brougham came to a halt when the coachman pulled at the reins of the two horses. The brougham came with a four-wheeled enclosed carriage with a driver's box and a two-passenger compartment. They have arrived at the main gates to a huge mansion that once may have stood like an icon in the county, but given the years of neglect, it was a sad-looking structure.

The coachman then climbed off the riding bench and proceeded to open the carriage door for the passenger to disembark. The figure dressed in the dark three-piece suit and holding the top hat took the steps to exit from the carriage and then stood firm on the ground there. He was joined at his left side by a young lady dressed in the simple outfit suited for travelling.

“Do you want me to wait, sire? I could take you to the town for more suitable lodging.” The coachman looked from the passenger towards the huge derelict structure.

The huge triple-level brick structure stood erect; once its walls were painted white and windows held the flowing rich tapestries behind it, but then with the exodus of the family, the structure looked in disarray. The windows were broken in at the ground level, and the upper windows were bare of any covers. The once great entrance doorway remained, but it was battered on its surface. The left-side doors, the high glass doors, were off their hinges and left open. The immaculate garden once inlaid with flower beds was then more of an underbrush of weeds and encroaching wild plants.

“Father, are we at your home?” The young lady held onto the left hand of the man while she gazed at the mansion. “It looked abandoned.”

“Yes, my dear. This is… or was Frankenstein Mansion. It was my home and belonged to your grandfather.” Victor, then in his mid-forties, walked towards the mansion.

“Coachman, please hold.” The man named Victor Frankenstein called out to the man. “Please bring my daughter to the tavern in the village. Put her in the tavern there, the Merry Men or another if it does not exist there, and then come back for me.”

“And unload the luggage there, please. I will pay you more coins for that.” Victor reached into his coin purse and drew out the extra coins.

“As you wished, Sire.” The coachman resumed loading the luggage that he unloaded.

“Father, I want to stay.” The lady protested.

“Not now, my dear. Be nice and follow the coachman. I will join you soon.” The young lady stepped back into the carriage. The coachman also climbed on, and the carriage took off.

Victor makes his way to the main doorway of the mansion. He pushed at the door, and it gave way. He walked into the hall and eyed the huge stairway there. Once it was the mainstay of the mansion with its curved structure; adorned on the walls next to it were the huge paintings of the family members of the past generations. His father had insisted the artist draw the image based on his memory, and each of the paintings was an imposing sight of tough men of their generations. His father's portrait was not there; he had it hung at the library.

“I will not be placed next to the dead ones while I am alive.” Father had replied when asked about that. “My portrait will be in the library. When I am dead, you may hang it there with the others.”

“Why, Father?” Victor remembered asking.

“Well, I am not dead. And for being alive, I will preserve the family’s knowledge hidden in the library.” The elderly man told Victor. “Son, knowledge is the power of the family. Our knowledge may break others of their soul.”

Victor was not to understand it then, but he knew of the many guests to the mansion and met his father at the mansion. Some stayed on and moved on later, but none made any contact with the children there. They have their own meals alone from them most times. Most of the guests were mostly his officers who served with him when he was the Общий. He had not known what was spoken, and his father will not tell of it, nor do the guests. The last guest was Rudolf Spielsdorf and the lady named Lauren Spielsdorf, a lady they rescued from an accident near the creek.

“Victor, the power of knowledge is supreme to any weapon in hand.” The elderly man told the second son of his. “Your brother, William, lacks the will to acquire it, and that leaves me the two of you. Ernest, my youngest, is knowledgeable, but he is more inclined towards other subject matter. More to it, he is a ……. Cripple. And that erodes his power to the others.”

“Father, Ernest is ……” Victor had cut in to protect the youngest.

“I know my children well, Victor. Ernest held his knowledge from his mother, who died at his birth. I believed she gave her knowledge to him then, but his physical defect made him imperfect.” The elderly man stayed true to his view. “In the military, he will be a liability to the regiment. He cannot ride and battle even compared to the youngest officer. Truly. A regrettable fact,”

‘Father, I am not a ….” Victor sighed.

“A military officer? No, you are not. You are a man of… knowledge. I am told of science, of which I knew the least, but I am told the subject of science will be the power to come.” The elderly man smiled. “I do encourage your learning there, and one day, your knowledge will be awed by many.:

“Father, I do thank you for the opportunity. I shall do my best.” Victor had promised his father.

In the mansion, Victor made his way to the library and saw the interior. The painting of his father still hung there, but a dark cloth covered half the portrait. Victor walked up to the portrait and pulled off the cloth covering it. The painting is a revelation of the general in his uniform with his ceremonial sword. The sword held a bejewelled hilt with the dark red piece on the top. The portrait was marred by the strip of dark paint at the neck of the general.

Victor had hated the painting and smiled at the defecation done. He could not do it, for he feared his ‘tata,’ as he called his father.

“Who are you?” The voice was to the rear of Victor. “Leave here now, or I will shoot.”

Victor turned slowly and faced the one who spoke. He recognized the elderly man there holding the rifle levelled at Victor’s chest.

“Sven, it is me. Victor… Frankenstein.” Victor announced himself. “I am back.”

Facing Victor was the man who once served his father as butler and master of the household. When Victor left him ten years ago, Sven Ducard was a broken man who lost his adopted son, Henry, and then the Frankenstein family.

“Are you Victor? “…… Master Victor?” The elderly man in the later part of his age frowned at the sight of the other. He was dressed shabbily with the knee hight boots; a relic from this army days.

“I am. I was friends with …… Henry,” Victor replied. “We grew up together.”

When Sven heard the name Henry, memories swept his mind. His son was killed then; by whom he was unsure, but the main suspect was Victor. His finger tightened on the trigger of the rifle held in his hands. The rifle was a relic of his days from the regiment, the Beldan rifle with the single shot.

“It is me, Victor. I am back.” Victor looked at the elderly man. “I have returned home. Do you remember me now? William and ……Ernest were my brothers.”

‘Master Victor……. I am glad.” Sven lowered the rifle. “When did you ……”

“I just arrived. I told the coachman to send my luggage to the village.” Victor said.

“Village? We are more than a town now. It is more like a huge town. A city perhaps.” Sven smiled. “You have been gone far too long.”

“Indeed I am. I brought along my daughter, Mary Annabelle Frankenstein.”

“Your daughter?” Sven was stumped. “Did you and ……”

“Yes, I wedded Elizabeth, and we have a daughter.” Victor looked at the man.

“I saw Elizabeth here.” Sven looked at Victor.

“She may be. We went separate ways some years after the birth of Mary Annabelle. I do not know where she went, but now I know. Did she come here?”

“Yes, Master. She was seen here but would not step into the mansion. She stood by the gates a few times and then left.” Sven told the young master. His eyes swept the library, then in a disarray where once proud editions lined the shelves were seen on the flooring or in ashes in the fireplace.

“I tried to keep the mansion well, but I am alone. I have tried to stop the others from pillaging the place, but they kept on coming. There was not much to steal or take; the best was taken years ago soon after you left. They were sold by the ……. Ones whom they claimed on your father’s estate. I tried to block them off, but I was alone to protect what was of value.”

“Then the worst were the young ones who came here to have fun here. I had shooed them off, but I am an old man.”

“Do not despair, Sven. The past is over. We will do what is needed, like rebuild the mansion. Father left me enough to rebuild here.” Victor smiled. “That is why I returned. The mansion will once more be the home of Frankenstein.”

Victor lied then.