Promise... promise you will be nice to your siblings.
The voices echoed in the knight's mind. Out of all things he could remember, that one was precisely what came to his mind. The gates had welcomed him already. He had not been the sort of brigand or fiendish monster these Red Hoods were infamous for rounding up and putting them into servitude. They had called. He had answered. The rumours had never ceased though.
He had been marked. Mistrust and deceit followed, very much like the stench of death followed an all but living corpse. A once proud youth, grown now into a fully broken bitter man. He steeled his resolve as he crossed the threshold, clad in the armor of a hundred battles, and denying others a peek into his inner thought, as his helm dominated his presence.
Still, he would be lying if he had said he felt nothing at the sight. There it was. The sea of banners. The eerie feeling of unity among soldiers. One mind. One soul. At the center, the embers that kept such a fire alive. The commander. This Blanchette Rouge. She seemed a cut above the rest, at least in tough appearance. Far from posh and spoilt lords who more than often, claimed his sword as theirs and sent him to die only for them to get fat. He spotted some of those,too. Fendrel.
Such an elite family. Such a knave fate upon the individual. Unsurprising. The brighter the light, the greater the shades. That family was known for their renown and prowess in the field... but what price would the vassals shoulder for the blood-fueled dreams of men greater than life? That he did not know.
He clenched his yellow hood in his hand, and draped it around his armor, as the metallic sounds of the plate announced his movement. It was then when he noticed one of the fiends. The poor beasts who dreamt to be men among the Red Hoods and had been put under their trust. Sooner or later, they all lost their humanity. Gottfried had no love for vampires, for it was a fate he wished not to the worst of his enemies. And here it was one of them, in the flesh.
Besides him there was a youth, in the garbs of a heathen. His hand reached for his blade at the hilt when catching sight of the vampire, and it stood there for what they seemed eternal moments. His sight then rested on the youth. "Heathen or not, this is no place for kids. Go home." He addressed Edwin, before his words choked in a grunt as his eyes met that that of the vampire.