9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

J onathan Harker awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented by his unfamiliar surroundings. Sunlight streamed through the heavy curtains, casting a glow across the opulent bedroom. He found himself still fully clothed, sprawled atop the luxurious bedding. The previous night’s events came rushing back, a jumble of vivid and unsettling memories.

He groggily pushed himself up, noticing that the fire had died down to mere embers. A chill ran through him, prompting him to rise and stretch his stiff muscles. He then made his way to the window and threw open the curtains.

The sight that greeted him took his breath away. The Transylvanian countryside stretched out before him, a tapestry of autumnal colors. Golden leaves clung to ancient trees, their branches reaching toward a crisp blue sky. In the distance, snow-capped mountains pierced the horizon, it was such a wild and beautiful land.

“Fall is truly lovely in this part of the world,” Jonathan murmured, drinking in the view.

Turning back to the room, he noticed his luggage placed neatly in the entryway of his quarters. With a sigh, he began to unpack. The clothes he wore were wrinkled from having fallen asleep in them. The thought of a bath became increasingly appealing as he caught sight of himself in an ornate mirror – disheveled and travel-worn.

A knock sounded at the door as if on cue, followed by Vigo’s measured voice. “Mr. Harker? May I come in?”

“Yes, please do,” Jonathan called out, smoothing his hair self-consciously.

Vigo entered, his perpetual smile in place. “I trust you slept well, sir? I came by last night with your dinner, but you were already fast asleep.”

Jonathan felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. “I must apologize. I seem to have underestimated the effects of my journey. I was more exhausted than I realized.”

Vigo waved off the apology. “Think nothing of it, sir. I aim to ensure your utmost comfort during your stay. Speaking of which...”

He gestured, and two other servants entered the room, heading straight for the bathroom. The sound of running water soon came from the bathroom.

Jonathan’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “How did you know I was planning to bathe?”

Vigo’s smile widened. “As I said, sir, your comfort is our primary concern.”

A thought struck Jonathan: “There’s something rather curious I wanted to ask about. Last night, the fireplace lit up without anyone tending to it. Is there some sort of high-tech wonder at work in this castle? It just looks so old…”

Vigo’s expression remained impassive. “I can assure you, Mr. Harker, that your every wish and whim will be tended to during your stay. There’s no need to concern yourself with the details.”

Jonathan frowned, unsatisfied with the non-answer, but decided to let the matter drop for now. Instead, he changed the subject. “When might I expect to meet with Count Dracula? I am eager to begin our business discussions.”

“Ah,” Vigo said, a note of something indefinable in his voice. “The Count typically rests during daylight hours. He’ll be up and about come nightfall – that’s when you can expect your meeting. In the meantime, please enjoy the castle and its grounds. Now, would you prefer to have your breakfast served here in your rooms or at the dining table?”

“The dining table, I think,” Jonathan replied, needing to explore beyond these quarters, no matter how luxurious they might be.

Vigo bowed. “Very good, sir. Now, if you’ll allow us...”

After filling the bathtub, the other servants approached Jonathan and unbuttoned his shirt. Startled, he stepped back. “I... I can undress myself, thank you.”

Vigo tilted his head, a look of mild surprise on his face. “Are you certain, Mr. Harker? Here, you will be treated like a prince – bathed, dressed, your every need tended to.”

Jonathan swallowed hard, a flush creeping up his neck. “I rather doubt that all of my needs will be attended to,” he muttered, thinking of desires he dared not voice aloud. He added, “But I suppose while I’m here, I should attempt to live as my host insists. Very well.”

With a mixture of embarrassment and resignation, Jonathan allowed the servants to undress him. As he sank into the warm, rose-scented water of the bath, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease at being so exposed. The servants began to wash him with gentle, efficient movements.

“This is... something I’ll have to get used to,” Jonathan said, more to himself than to Vigo. “I wouldn’t want to offend the Count by refusing his hospitality.”

Vigo, who had been observing from a discreet distance, nodded approvingly. “A wise decision, Mr. Harker. The Count will be pleased to see you embracing the customs of his home.”

As the servants continued their ministrations, Jonathan found his mind wandering. What sort of man was Count Dracula to insist on such intimate care for his guests? And why did Jonathan feel simultaneously unnerved and oddly excited by it all?

“Vigo,” Jonathan said suddenly, “tell me more about the Count. What should I expect when we meet?”

Vigo’s lips parted strangely. “The Count is unique, Mr. Harker. He is a man of great passion and power. I think you’ll find him quite captivating.”

Something in Vigo’s tone sent a shiver down Jonathan’s spine, and it had nothing to do with the cooling bathwater. As he sank deeper into the tub, allowing the servants to rinse his hair, Jonathan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stepping into a world far more complex and dangerous than he had ever imagined.

Freshly bathed and dressed in crisp, clean clothes, Jonathan descended the grand staircase towards the dining area. As he entered the vast hall, he couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer magnificence of the space.

The dining hall was a cavernous room, its vaulted ceiling soaring high above, adorned with intricate frescoes depicting scenes from ancient myths and legends. Massive chandeliers hung from ornate chains, their countless crystal droplets catching and refracting the morning light that streamed through towering stained-glass windows. The effect was dazzling, casting prismatic patterns across the polished marble floor.

Along the walls, great tapestries depicting hunting scenes and royal feasts, their colors still vibrant despite their apparent age. Between them stood suits of armor, silent sentinels that seemed to watch Jonathan’s every move with their empty visors.

The centerpiece of the room was an enormous, dark, polished wood table that stretched nearly the entire length of the hall. It could easily seat a hundred guests, yet it stood mostly empty, save for an elaborate place setting at one end.

As Jonathan approached, the scent of freshly baked bread and aromatic spices wafted toward him, making his stomach growl. The table was laden with an astounding array of dishes – platters of glistening roasted meats, bowls of colorful fruits, baskets overflowing with various breads, and an assortment of pastries that made his mouth water.

“Is the spread to your liking, Mr. Harker?” Vigo’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“It’s... overwhelming,” Jonathan replied, taking a seat at the head of the table. A servant immediately appeared, filling his plate with the tempting dishes. “Surely this can’t all be for me? Will anyone else be joining us?”

Vigo shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “No, sir. All of this is for you alone. Please, eat as much as you like.”

Jonathan frowned, looking at the vast array of food before him. “This is really far too much. I’d hate to see such a large spread go to waste. Perhaps some of the servants could join me?”

Vigo’s face flashed with surprise, but his usual placid expression quickly replaced it. “You are very kind, Mr. Harker. No wonder the master has taken such a liking to you already. But there’s no need for that. The servants do not eat... at this time .“ He paused briefly before adding, “They will dine later tonight. They are not hungry now.”

Jonathan couldn’t help but notice the strange pause before Vigo’s explanation. It struck him as odd, but he decided not to press the issue. Instead, he turned his attention to the food before him, determined to at least make a dent in the lavish spread.

As he ate, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The empty hall seemed to press in around him, the suits of armor and painted figures in the tapestries almost seeming to move in his peripheral vision. Every clink of his fork against the fine china echoed in the cavernous space, emphasizing his solitude.

Despite the delicious flavors of the food, Jonathan found his appetite waning. The opulence of his surroundings, the overabundance of food, the strange behavior of the servants – it all heightened his sense of unease. He couldn’t help but feel like a small animal being fattened for slaughter, though he chided himself for such morbid thoughts.

As he set down his fork, having eaten far less than he would have liked, Jonathan’s gaze was drawn once again to the stained-glass windows. The sun had shifted, casting long shadows across the room. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw a dark figure silhouetted against one of the panes, watching him intently. But when he blinked and looked again, there was nothing there but colored glass and dancing motes of dust.

Jonathan rose from the table, shaking his head to clear it of such fanciful notions. “Thank you for the meal, Vigo. It was... most generous.”

Vigo bowed deeply. “It is our pleasure to serve you, Mr. Harker. Is there anything else you require?”

Jonathan hesitated, then shook his head. “No, thank you. I think I’d like to explore the castle a bit, if that’s allowed?”

“Of course, sir,” Vigo replied, his ever-present smile widening slightly. “The castle is at your disposal. However, I would advise against venturing into the eastern wing. Those areas are... under renovation.”