Futility - The Hagiography of Ecclesia's Master, as Recounted by Lucila Fortner
Chapter Two: The Absence
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“The words of the wise are like goads, and the anthologies of the masters are like firmly embedded nails driven by a single Shepherd. And by these, my son, be further warned: There is no end to the making of many books, and much study wearies the body.”
A few decades had passed since that fateful night, and sadly Dracula’s full resurrection was thwarted by his traitorous son before he could truly be birthed. It was not that this period of time, the beginnings of the nineteenth century, was uneventful- far from it, as Barlowe had quickly found himself becoming a well-respected member of the clergy, taking up leadership of Aljiba’s church after Tera left, supposedly to meet with an old friend. It seemed as though everyone was leaving, after the “second coming”. However, this story is not about every single aspect of his religious and scholarly pursuits, so these decades shall be unfortunately excised. But the world as a whole, in the regards of Dracula’s cycle, had been quiet, incredibly so.
So, too, had the Belmonts. Even in typical peacetimes, the church kept tabs on the sacred family. However, following Richter’s flee from Aljiba, they had disappeared, and even the church itself could not find them. It was as if they had never existed at all.
Barlowe saw this, too, as fate. Following Richter’s enlightenment, the Belmonts need not continue offering their protection, or so he assumed- thusly, Dracula’s punishment of the sinful could continue unburdened. He kept this secret knowledge to himself throughout his years of preaching, though, as even he knew that the truth could be hard to swallow for some. Even the bitterest of medicine could be swallowed, though. They’d accept it in time, he made sure of that. Every idea can be allowed to flourish with time. One such idea that he had also been cultivating, though less secretly, was his growing interest in magic, something that would prove quite invaluable in the future. He became absorbed in spellbooks, and he had become certain that the magic of light and darkness could be used for his ultimate goal.
It had been a long while, and he had taken up leadership at the same church he once had been adopted by. It pleased him greatly to be referred to as ‘Father Barlowe’ by his churchgoers, though he would soon learn that he found ‘Master’ even more preferable. Still, I always and still do think of him as my Father.
It was a mid-April morning like any other, and he was looking out over the distant Carpathian mountains from the wood-slatted windows of the chapel that was now his after Tera’s departure, the blinds pushed outward so he could see the quiet vista. Despite his secret devotion to the night-king, that he had been nursing for quite some time, he still loved the morning sunlight and the pale bright sky. However, this silence would be broken by the greatest of excitements very soon.
“Father Barlowe, there is a letter addressed to you. It’s from the Vatican, of all places!” A young man whose name he could not recall now ran into his quarters, quivering with nerves. “It seems those in higher standing have taken notice of you...”
“Well, I should hope so, with all the philanthropy I have set into motion,” Barlowe replied, dryly, though he too was quite ecstatic at this news. The Vatican! He could scarcely believe it. “Hand it over, my boy.”
He did, and Barlowe read aloud:
Dear Sir,
We have heard much of your efforts as a priest in the old country, and you have gained much respect from those who have come to know you. Now your efforts have seemingly paid off, as this praise has indeed travelled upstream. As you likely know, the Belmonts have gone missing, following their heir's seeming fall to evil, leaving humanity without its line of resistance against the darkness. The Pope has called for the summons of several respected members of the church and other vampire hunters, so that we might seek a new solution to the centennial problem (I am sure you know what I am referring to). Your scholarly knowledge, of Christian magic and texts, may prove useful for these efforts- faith indeed is our strongest resistance against the darkness. Please attend our planned meeting on May the third, so that we might discuss these plans, or forever hold your peace. You need not reply to this letter.
May God be with you, Augustus Barlowe.
Amen.
He thought, then, that they needn't wish it upon him, as surely Christ was already close by his side, to give him such a thrilling opportunity. And thrilling indeed! To know he was considered in high standing by the church. He almost thought to present his controversial theories on a wider scale, but thought better of it. It would be difficult to change beliefs that had set in over hundreds upon hundreds of years. The populace believed Dracula to be an unholy servant of the devil. Only Barlowe knew the truth of it. Never had his belief wavered, even years after that fateful night.
This meeting provided quite the opportunity, though, to pull the strings in his favour, with such a responsibility. He collected his things as soon as he could- the trip would be long and he had only half a month to make it. But he felt sure of the importance of it, and the inconvenient and sudden timing was hardly a hurdle to him.
He never told me much of his time in Italy, so I presume it was uneventful apart from the meeting, which he described to me in great detail.
The small crowd of men gathered at about six in the morning within the grant halls of the Sistine Chapel, lead by a cardinal in crimson robes (the very same cardinal who had in fact wrote the letters) to an ornate table of dark polished oak that seemed to stretch a mile wide to accommodate each chair. Everyone took their seats in respectful silence, heads bowing low.
Things preceded with the usually orderly manner, everyone introducing themselves one by one. The flow in conversation was the typical one, something Barlowe was quite used to. But his attention was caught up by the sudden mention of a magical Vessel.
“...This Vessel, you see, was a containment for Dracula’s soul, that seems to have been created by dark magics. No one is certain by whom it was created, but it fell into our care regardless,” the cardinal explained. “Given to us by an anonymous donor.”
“And how can you verify those claims, sir? Does it truly contain Dracula?” Another of the summoned guests, an older man named Morris Baldwin, asked.
“Had you been in its presence... You would have no doubt.” The cardinal’s eyes widened, as though full of awe and fear.
Barlowe had no doubt either, he could feel the recognizable darkness flickering through the massive chapel, like the stinking hot breath of the wyvern that had nearly killed him when he was but an infant. It made his hackles raise, though not with fear. The holy presence, somewhere deep within. With him.
“And what do we do with this Vessel?” He spoke up, finally.
“It is a manifestation of Dracula’s very soul. Some among us believe that leaving it be will solve the issue- Dracula will be contained forever, but I find there is too much uncertainty in that. No, the prevailing hypothesis among our acolytes is that breaking it... will destroy Him for eternity. Should we all contribute to this work, we could all be free. Humanity would be saved, and the absence of the Belmonts and their Vampire Killer would be a non-issue,” the cardinal answered, and the whole room fell silent.
“So break it, then. I don’t see why you can’t just go at it with a hammer, then,” a burly hunter replied with a self satisfied snort.
“With all due respect, sir, we have attempted this many times. It is sealed by magic, and the weapons of mortality hold no governance over it. We need research! We need you... All of you.”
Murmurs reverberated through the room, and Baldwin was the first to speak: “The Vampire Killer would be able to break it, I am certain. So my first thought is perhaps to replicate its power- a Hunter’s Whip, perhaps.”
“The arts of alchemy that had created it are lost to time, no?” Barlowe responded, rubbing his chin contemplatively.
“It would require time, but I am certain it could be done. Mayhaps I could even create something greater- a similar whip, but enhanced with magic. Enchanted objects, or something, though how to focus that power I have no clue. Do you have any ideas, Barlowe? Your expertise is magic, is it not?” he replied.
“Oh, certainly. Magic is in all things, after all, it merely needs something to focus it. Say, for example, the Belnades witches of old, who used their staves to call upon that ever-present energy, chaotic as it may be. Magic is something that one must call through you, as nothing comes from nothing, but it is difficult to control. That is where enchanted objects like crosses, tomes and spellbooks provide an advantage, but I have been considering creating such a system of magic that would merely require arcane symbols to be engraved into the soul itself- thus, the spellcaster would need no such conduit and have much more focus as to the results. Undiluted. Do you understand?”
“An interesting possibility,” the cardinal replied. “Though I’m not sure I understand what you mean by engraving a soul.”
“Ah, I suppose what I mean is that... Human souls, themselves, are magic, and I believe that optimising one’s soul for spellcasting could allow for someone to harness power enough to break the Vessel, as well as eliminate the buffer-time for recharging magical energy. Near-instant casting, even! Indeed, it would result in more power than any other sorcerer before, without needing to dilute the magic energy through a middle man, so to speak. However, the process of a metaphysical ‘engraving’ is something I have not even begun to figure out- that is what I intend to research.”
To his surprise, applause erupted around the table, and everyone looked upon him with delight and respect. However, he hoped upon hopes that suggesting this had been the right idea. Should the hypothesis be correct, and Dracula would be destroyed, that would mean that there would be no force to contain the darkness that festered in the heart of man. Still, it felt right, like some greater power had encouraged him to share his findings, and he did indeed need to gain the respect and trust of this small council. Thus, he would be able to manipulate the outcome, or so he hoped.
The meeting continued, excitement thrilling through the room after Barlowe’s genius theory, and every other presented hypothesis felt pale and weak in comparison- an agency of highly trained undercover vampire hunters (but no clue on the seal), binding spells, etcetera. It was clear: the master’s ideas were the clear favourite, alongside Baldwin’s.
“I shall permit thee to visit the infernal Vessel, as to begin your research you will need to have some idea of its nature. It is locked away in the most heavily guarded part of our catacombs. Only I and the Pope himself are permitted to visit. Come along!” The cardinal clapped his hands expectantly.
Everyone shuffled after him, through the halls and down a secret staircase unknown to most anyone. The catacombs, as one might expect, were piled high and crowded in the little walls where the dead slept. Barlowe was at once overcome with the smell of death, as deeply visceral as those old days of his childhood when he woke to piles of bodies in the street. And there, in that place of decay, at the centre of that below-ground labyrinth, slumbered Dracula himself.
The Vessel looked as though it was carved from onyx, shaped like a coffin but surrounded with nearly organic-looking growths that seemed to almost twitch, though that may have been a trick of the flickering candle-light. What a fitting place for his God to sleep! A gentle coffin to hold Him til birth.
“We do not know what the true nature of the Vessel is, just that that is where He was contained,” the cardinal explained. “But I trust we shall come up with a solution... You may touch it, sir; we have proven that it’s safe.”
Barlowe lay a hand upon its ebon-black surface, shimmering with compelling, hypnotic light. Oh, but he knew exactly what this was.
The papacy was more stupid than he thought.
The Vessel was a seal, a prison, an eggshell, and there was something bright and powerful thrumming and flickering inside of it, sending tingles reverberating through his body from his palm where it made contact with the holy thing. Breaking the Vessel would surely set Him free, not destroy Him! It was too perfect, as though every element of this was set in motion by divinity. He silently gave his thanks to God for allowing him the opportunity of carrying out the black mass. Ah, but I can only imagine what it was like to finally be in His presence after having worshipped Him in secret for so long. Master never permitted most of his followers near the Vessel except if it was especially vital, so I have sadly never been so close except in spirit.
He tells me he forgets the rest of what was said, deep down there, his attention enraptured by the thing. I do not press him further to remember, as I understand the compulsion. However, the meeting did conclude with this: the guests would each be provided handsome funding by the church, and reconvene in a years’ time. The one who had come up with the best solution would then be allowed to take the Vessel under their care for further research. He knew then it was of the utmost importance that he impress them- should the Vessel fall into the hands of others, they may discover its true nature as a prison, and then Dracula would never be let loose upon the world.
He was not fooling, or manipulating them. To manipulate implies a maliciousness to his purpose, when he was only altruistic. It was to further humanity, above all else, and lift them from what was holding them back through a cleansing burn in the forge of Chaos. Only the virtuous would be left.
To aid in his research, he assembled an order of other like minded people invested in the occult. Finding those who shared in his ideals was not difficult, surprisingly, though not all of them had ever heard before of the idea of Dracula and God being eternally linked. But that mattered not, as he was always eager to share his enlightened knowledge; they too shared with him, bringing old texts from those with the same goals on their own summoning rituals. Still more, who had been a part of his church joined, trusting his judgment after having heard him preach for so many years, and that he understood the path ahead, as he had instilled great trust and loyalty in them throughout the years he spent as their priest. Indeed, he had been subtly hinting at his theological theories for years. He, of all people, would understand God’s intent, and many are want to turn to a greater guidance in times of uncertainty. Any initial hesitance soon shrank away as Barlowe continued to gradually and subtly introduce his ideas, until they became quite natural and accepted within their ranks. Within their dialogues, they soon fell into philisophical agreement.
Everyone agreed upon these beliefs sooner or later, with their master’s gentle persuasion and normalisation of the truth once thought radical and unheard of. Then, in a grand cathedral in the mountains of Transylvania that once lay abandoned, they created their first, and most important, base of operations. This place was chosen for its relative seclusion, far from prying eyes while his swiftly-growing Order worked towards the greatest wishes of mankind- and far from places to run to, should anyone try to leak their secret knowledge. He named this order ‘Ecclesia’, an old word for church, so that he may always harken back to his first loyalty to Christ. He still encouraged his followers to continue his philanthropic work, but it was there in Ecclesia that the first Glyphs would be created. The cathedral was like a paradise, away from the toils of the world; everyone was expected to live there, and together his followers would become a tightly knit, inseparable family. Together, they would shape the future with revolutionary thought and research.
He did not expect his followers to be able to conjure from their bodies alone at first. No, that would take work and years of training. So, he set first upon refining object-based inscriptions; he painted sigil after sigil until he had the rawest and most undiluted form of its power, at least at this stage. To summon without a conduit, was, of course, the eventual goal, but these Glyphs were immediately revolutionary compared to other forms of magic. Unlike typical sorcerers, limited to a few spells at a time, a Glyph user could potentially know many at the same time and swap between them at will. Inscribing this magical intent upon an object, absorbing it within- a weapon, perhaps, or a spellbook, as was traditional- would be the first step towards an engraving of the soul.
But this would require time, to create something from nothing.
Holding his own spellbook in hands, Barlowe was in a state of contemplative meditation within the cathedral’s courtyard, mind almost utterly clear in this holy trance. However, to his surprise, during a routine casting of Ignis, in this trance state, he had created something bizarrely more powerful, like a union of sorts. Ignis upon Ignis, what usually manifested as three small bursts of flame twisted into two burning, brilliant spirals of it that stretched across the length of the clearing.
“My God!” Barlowe gasped, jumping back from the burning, destructive power of it.
“Master! What has happened?” One of those early followers rushed to his side. “The light was enough to blind me, I am certain.”
“I am alright. No... I am more than that. Our careful study has produced the fruits of its labour. Greater power accessed through trance... This may be what allows us to conjure with only our thoughts and minds!” He threw his arms up with gleeful triumph. The way that energy had been rushing through his fingertips reminded him so much of when he touched the Vessel, and he knew then that the Dark Lord was still watching and guiding him, and I, too, do feel that thrill whenever I cast a Glyph Union.
More than the traditional spells, he then continued on to create summoning Glyphs, those that could create a weapon from nothing. Those proved even more difficult for his followers to take to, as most magic users are not summoners due to its high difficulty curve. But the sigils were streamlining this process remarkably, and that was most promising.
That first year was filled with wonderful little victories, he tells me. The Order was growing fast, keeping the outward appearance of a devoted little organization to defeating the Dark Lord, but within its walls reverberated the truth; there was no issue keeping that truth a well-kept secret, as this was their first opportunity to influence on such a wide scale, and everyone knew the gravity of this. Some were reluctant to worship Dracula at first, but Master Barlowe knew, more than anything else, how to convince them towards the light: that if they were to work in His favor and provide their efforts to the cause, they would be spared His inevitable wrath. His studious monks were making fast progress on this new magic system and school of religious thought, and he looked upon his group with the greatest of prides. They were his servants; his children; his Order. However, the visit from the church officials was looming ever closer, and his nerves were at an all-time high. That night was soon approaching, and he yearned desperately for the presence of the Vessel once more.
He had prepared a routine of sorts, and felt a bit like he was choreographing an intricate ballet like the ones in Russia. His warriors, each holding an inscribed sword, would show the power of the Glyph Unions between a weapon and the magical sigils that were engraved upon them, and he would show the magical conjuring of weapons himself, as he was best at it among his ranks (even though he preferred magic of the elemental kind for personal use). As these were the largest breakthroughs, he thought that would leave a grander impression than casting standard incantations such as basic light spells or needles of ice, and so on. You must understand, reader, that magic was much less refined or understood back then. Things that seem like a granted part of the common understanding of magic now were in fact created by my dear leader.
There were three guests sent by the church, and Barlowe thought he recognized the cardinal from the meeting a year prior, though he could not say for certain. Baldwin had also arrived, out of personal curiosity, and he had been writing to Barlowe frequently enough to want to witness the fruits of his labours. He had hardly any time to ponder this further, however, as the demonstration needed to begin. His warriors, who he had carefully trained, lined up and performed their roles diligently and with the utmost solemnity, each showing a different Glyph Union- the fiery sword of Mars; the crumbling rocky hammer of Saturnus; the sparking spear of Iuppiter. Applause erupted through the echoing halls of Ecclesia, and Barlowe explained:
“These Union Glyphs are more taxing upon one’s magical energy, as they come directly from the will of the user, as encouraged and distilled by the runes upon the sword, though my eventual goal here is to be able to summon such powers without the physical conduit, as I explained before. Indeed, with enough training we shall all soon be able to do... this.” He snapped his fingers, leafing through the pages of his tome, and a small throwing axe manifested in his hands. Shock reverberated like thunder through the room. It was as if he had bent the laws of nature to his whims.
As though he had created something from nothing.
“With the amount of concentrated power at our disposal, we will certainly be able to harness enough to break the Vessel at the conclusion of our research. That I am certain of. Magic is needed to break it, no? For that purpose, we shall create an ultimate weapon of a Glyph.”
“You’re... You’re a genius!” Baldwin exclaimed. “I would love to apply this magic system to my own research, though my attempts with the Hunter’s Whip have proved mostly unsuccessful... To perhaps use these sigils to make it into an enchanted ‘base’ of sorts for greater power...”
“Can one engrave a whip?” The cardinal asked.
“For now, I think using separate conduits will be fine... Though I could make them more portable. Magical cards, perhaps? And to combine the power of two at once... A dual setup system, of sorts. Why, Master Barlowe, you’ve set my thoughts alight with this demonstration!”
“I have been glad to inspire you, Sir Baldwin,” Barlowe smiled joylessly. Should Baldwin revolutionise his magic system, the Vessel would surely not end up in Ecclesia’s care, and that concerned him greatly. However, that worry was soon dissuaded.
“My own guild has disbanded, sadly, following our failures, so I won’t be focusing my own efforts towards this goal- rather, I’ll train my apprentices to use this... This DSS, to handle smaller threats of monsters. Even without Dracula’s presence, they still roam aimlessly.”
This took care of the issue, then. Preferably he would have liked to leave the monsters to their paths of righteous destruction, but it was better this than having the Vessel slip from his grasp.
“Ah. Right, right. Then I give you my permission. I shall send you a summary of our findings posthaste,” he nodded.
“I’ll contribute my own, though they’re not nearly as substantial.”
“It’s... curious, sir,” the cardinal said. “No one else had been able to provide a demonstration so impressive. They worked diligently, of course, but Ecclesia is by far the most promising of our organizations. Come to think of it... Almost all of them have already disbanded. We were growing quite desperate. We are grateful for your perseverance”
“And I am grateful for yours,” Barlowe bowed his head. He thought to ask about the Vessel, but thought against it. Perhaps appearing too eager would arouse suspicion. He told me that he puts a lot of thought into everything he says, so there would be no room to question or doubt him. He is a master of linguistics (among other things), and honed this skill of persuasion until it was as sharp as the edge of a blade. It is something I deeply respect, and wished that I could learn from him before his eventual passing.
Thankfully, he did not need to bring up the matter at all. He was promised, then and there, that Dracula’s Vessel would be delivered in secret by the next month, approximately. He gave the most grateful of praises to the Lord that night, deep in his secret sleeping quarters where only a single ray of moonlight shone through. But even in the darkness of his private room, he felt as though all had been illuminated.
Annotations
-I think Barlowe having some power/leadership over a group of people BEFORE starting Ecclesia would be vital to include. That way he was able to subtly introduce his ideas and beliefs over time, many years in fact (there would have to be a lot of time between SOTN and the Belmonts being noticed as absent, I think...) Ecclesia itself is just the more “realized” version of his church, where he could further isolate and control the lives of his followers. If God’s plan is all-holy and God speaks through his preacher Barlowe... Well, wouldn’t you follow him? Or maybe you wouldn’t. I think it’s still vital to emphasize that cult members are abuse victims above all else. Something that’s always bothered me a bit about Castlevania is that their use of cults as horror elements is very surface level... OOE is a bit of an exception though, since you play AS a cult survivor.
-Trying to come up with techno-babble for this universe’s very soft and underdeveloped magic systems is difficult but fun. Our characters are supposed to be experts in their field, so making them talk like experts was vital in selling that idea. The concepts of conduit objects and engravings and sigils and all that do have their root in canon, though- Shanoa is the only one who can cast with her flesh alone, and she is “engraved” via her tattoos. All other Glyph users have some sort of object with which to channel them (Agartha, Barlowe’s spellbooks, etc.) and magic users in general tend to have to use spellbooks, cards, staffs, etc. I think you need something like that to cast, if you’re human (vamps work on different rules I think), and Shanoa is an exception. You may be asking “What about Maria?” but her magic is a different beast (literally), I think it’s not necessarily innate to her, but she’s calling upon a blessing/promise that the celestial beasts had cast upon her- their magic, not hers. She’s blessed by minor deities, essentially, and those deities are set apart by their innate ability to cast.
-Only a small thing, but May third, the planned meeting date, is a reference to the first of Jonathan Harker’s entries in the original Dracula novel, which was on May third.
-Morris Baldwin’s appearance in the early chapters is a headcanon I’ve had for a while. There were other organizations mentioned in OOE, after all. I generally split the timeline into the canon timeline and the noncanon one, the splitting point being whether or not Dracula abandons his son (as explained in the manuals for Legends, Noncanon!Alucard didn't know his father and is seeking him out when he meets Sonia). Sonia still exists in the “canon” timeline to me and I do not give a shit about LOI outside of the context of Sara being cool and awesome, fyi. Anyway: Morris exists in the canon timeline, but COTM didn’t happen. I think Hugh probably had a similar struggle with feelings of abandonment and jealousy, but Nathan never fought Dracula. Maybe they just fought Carmilla?
-I think the Vessel can act as a sort of corrupting force for sure, but it’s not the root of Barlowe’s cruelty. That’s all him, babyyyy. Even still, I think having a horrible dark artifact at the center of the cathedral for years can’t be good for anyone’s health. I think it compels one closer, inspires obsessiveness. I think you would probably uncontrollably shake if you were too close. “You steal men’s souls”, and all. But I think you have to be open to it first. I always see possession (in the Richter sense) or corruption to require some feelings that were already there, metaphorical “seeds”- the corruption merely makes them sprout further. Nothing comes from nothing, as Albus says. That’s my understanding of CV magic at least.
-Here we also see our first mention of the trance state, which is part of my half-baked development of the magic systems. It’s sort of important to effective Glyph casting, a moment of serenity untouched by emotion or needless thought. Shanoa has to press “Up” and enter a specific pose to both absorb Glyphs and cast Unions, so I thought, well, what if that was an actual magical technique being used? So there ya go.
