And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
— George Gordon Byron
Saturday, June 24 .::. Just before sunrise
Stealth, secrecy: these were the necessary tools for entering a new world — or one which had last been walked so long ago that nothing they had known of it could be trusted.
Vasily in his heart preferred outright conquest, the thunder of the hooves of the warband as the Slaugh descended upon their enemies. The thrill of the Great Hunt: flashing claws and blades, booming horns, streaming blood.
He was just as skilled in the other, however, and so no one in the village noticed when a shadowy form slipped from a well in a park.
Keen eyes inspected the what the 21st century had wrought. Different, yes, but not impossibly so; not for the High Fae to navigate.
With a twist of his lips as he vanished from sight and began to head north, toward the ancient seat of power.
The castle stood, still young in fact, still nearly palpable with strength. The grounds were quiet, very little motion was indicated in the windows.
The King and Queen will be pleased.
Vasily stood on a quiet meadow east of the castle and called forth the Court.