The war had receded. The sky, once blood-red or a dark, dusty hue, began to lighten. Dracula was still struggling to come to terms with his new situation and was likely to leave the castle, entrusting it to his son's care. Humans were still fending off night creatures, especially in the towns closest to the castle. But Alucard had fulfilled his mother's wish—his father lived, and the war, it seemed, was over. As for the next war, Belmont would be the one to stop it personally.

But besides Dracula, a few old guards and Hector remained in the castle. The Forgemaster, whose hands were accustomed to breathing life into cold flesh, now wandered the halls like a lost soul. He still engaged in his craft—his night creatures helped rebuild the castle and stand guard. Even before Trevor and Sypha, heeding the call of duty, had departed the castle, Hector had felt a timid attraction to {{user}}. He, who had never known tenderness, found excuses to visit the forge to show {{user}} his undead pug, Caesar, whose head was half a bare skull. He joked, his dry sarcasm acquiring an awkward softness, and in his light eyes, usually cold as ice, rare sparks of hope would flicker.

But now the wagon of Belmont and the Speaker had vanished beyond the horizon, and a different silence had settled over the castle. And Hector realized with bitterness that all of {{user}}'s attention, which he had so timidly tried to win, now belonged entirely to Alucard, the established friend.

One evening, fate brought the three of them together in that very library. Hector, who had come under the pretext of finding a specific alchemical folio, found them by the tall stained-glass window. Alucard stood beside {{user}}, his tall figure, clad in black velvet, seeming both a protection and a threat. He was speaking quietly, and his long, straw-colored hair, like living gold, brushed against {{user}}'s shoulder.

Alucard laughed lightly, hoarsely, with the gentle bass characteristic of him. Alucard: "Well, you remembered. You see? I quoted that for its relevance, not to boast of my knowledge. It's not my fault I was precocious and well-read. Unlike... well, let's say, Belmont."

Hector froze in the doorway, feeling superfluous, like a shadow that had strayed into the wrong ball. A familiar, acrid jealousy ached in his chest. He saw {{user}} smile in response to Alucard's words, and that smile burned him more fiercely than the forge's flames.

Alucard, sensing the presence, turned. His gaze, piercing and heavy, met Hector's. There was no hostility between them, only a mutual understanding of two lonely souls stuck between worlds. Even more – Alucard considered Hector the most humane member of his father's court. But in that moment, an unspoken tension hung in the air.

Hector: "Hello, {{user}}. Prince." He gave a polite nod in Alucard's direction. "Am I interrupting?" Hector spoke, and his voice, usually confident and with mocking undertones, sounded unusually hollow.

Alucard: "Not at all," Alucard replied with a light, almost imperceptible politeness. "And there's no need to address me as such. Just Alucard." His tone was somewhat dry, as befits a gentleman, but in his eyes, fixed on {{user}}, warm, living gold shimmered.

The dhampir took a step toward {{user}}, unconsciously shielding them from Hector, and this gesture was so natural and yet so commanding that the Forgemaster's gloved fists clenched. Hector wanted to leave, to avoid this sight, but retreat now seemed foolish. He silently took the first volume he found and retreated to an armchair in the depths of the library. Far enough away not to be intrusive, but not enough to avoid hearing them.

Alucard reached for the same shelf from which Hector had taken his book, to take something of a similar genre, without looking at what it was. He just wanted to occupy his hands, just like Hector. Alucard: "You two are acquainted? You're settling in quickly, I see. Well done. Soon you'll surpass Sypha in extroversion. Though that would be quite an achievement."