Original subtitles

Who's a pretty girl, then?

Who's a pretty girl?

That's right.

You are.

What are you looking at?

He told us to place possessions

to aid later identification if need be.

I needed to see if it still worked.

I'm going to see Isaac.

No!

I'm not taking it with me.

May I ask you a question?

Of course.

What are we doing here?

That is a very broad question.

Be more specific.

Sit.

I do not need to tell you

what night creatures are, forgemaster.

You can call me Isaac.

Would you like a berry?

Case in point.

I am a night creature.

I eat blood and meat.

A berry would probably not kill you.

Night creatures kill,

destroy and despoil.

It is our pleasure.

Night creatures do the will of their forgemasters.

Then perhaps I simply don't understand your will.

You have us burying people.

The city was littered with dead.

Too many of them were too decayed

to be converted by magic.

So?

So they need to be buried.

You are not a fool.

Insects and diseases would breed.

And I would remind you that everyone here was a victim.

They deserve a burial.

Then why do we care

about insects and diseases?

Ask your question.

We kill, destroy and despoil.

You have us burying the rotten dead

and rebuilding and repairing this place.

Why do you have us going against our nature?

Your nature is fluid.

You believe you are tools of destruction

only because this is how your kind have always been used.

Have a berry.

Memories.

It's not blood or meat,

but you don't appear to have died from it.

I'll answer your question.

This city was once home to many hundreds of people,

perhaps more.

It could be resettled,

once the bodies are buried,

the debris is disposed of and the structures are repaired.

We will be moving on soon.

After we are gone,

the city will be here for people to find

and make homes in.

Would you like another berry?

I think so.

Take one.

You see, you can use a hammer to build a house

or crack a skull.

You are returned to earth as tools,

and I will use tools as I wish.

So many memories.

I can also choose, in the end,

to recognize that you are not tools at all.

For no tool would taste a berry

and remember the time in its first life

when it encountered them.

But we are creatures of hell...

to be commanded to fight.

One day, hell will be emptied

and its doors will rattle in the wind.

What?

Through my hand,

God lifts the damned from hell in his mercy

to enact their penance on the Earth as my soldiers.

- Yes. - Should their penance on Earth

be eternal too?

I...

do not know.

Neither do I.

We should find out together.

In the meantime,

we can both do a little more

than what we were intended for.

May I make an observation?

You may.

You are changing.

There is still revenge in you, I think.

But other things, too.

Perhaps.

Are we still fighting, Isaac?

We're always fighting for something.

But I take your meaning.

Soon.

He might have a point.

What do you think?

It took me a few weeks

to transform the viable bodies in the city.

Weeks more to effect repairs and bury those

too destroyed to convert.

Is it so bad to take my time

and think for a moment?

Have I changed?

Go on, say something.

I killed you, old wizard.

You must have an opinion on that.

No?

I have killed many people, old wizard, for many reasons.

But killing you felt just.

It felt like repairing the world a little.

I liked that feeling.

For a long time,

I was content to be the knife that others wielded.

But lately, old wizard,

I have felt more like the hand than the knife.

My whole life, I have reacted to things.

Rarely acted.

So, yes,

I have changed.

I have agency in this world.

I can create futures.

And, happily, I could create a future

and end yours at the same time.

God is good.

I wonder what I will do next.

Mirror.

What is this?

Sir Mirror.

What are you doing?

And who might you be?

Do you not remember me?

You do not look memorable.

Varney.

Varney of Dracula's original cohort.

I left for Targoviste early in the campaign.

Why are you connecting to my mirror, Varney?

I have spoken with people who marked your passage

across the land.

You have done great work, sir.

My question is pending.

I am working to bring about

Dracula's return from the dead, Isaac Forgemaster.

How very interesting.

It's more than that.

I've been speaking with magicians and scholars

across the land.

Both vampire and human.

Working together to collect ancient spells and lore.

Constructing a system

with which to pluck Dracula from hell

and reinstall him in the world with power.

To what end?

He has unfinished business, sir.

He owes us death.

Death in volumes unprecedented.

His great work remains incomplete.

So does mine, Varney.

Well, is yours as important

as the extinction of the race that killed his wife?

The race that you yourself hate?

It is to me.

Afterwards, we will see.

I expected better than that of Dracula's favored forgemaster.

Then, come daylight,

you can wriggle in your little coffin with disappointment.

But do it quietly, as I do not wish to hear your voice again

until my own task is complete.

Sir Mirror,

do not allow this one to call me again,

and go to sleep.

Fuck you...

Ugh! He cut me off!

I think you bored him.

Doesn't he know who I am?

Oh, for God's sake.

I'm Varney. Varney of London. Since before it was London.

I was mighty when London was a Roman ghost town

and we still marked our borders out with human skulls.

Fuck him.

We'll do it without him.

I changed my mind.

Have soldiers carry me around the countryside on a bed.

I was making a joke.

I don't care. Do it.

Everything hurts.

Well, this isn't so bad.

We've been out here for weeks.

I don't want to know how it can get worse.

- Well, it... - I said I don't want to know.

I don't want to hear any more of your stories

about saddle boils and eating rats.

All right, all right, but did I tell you about the time

I saw 18 squirrels murder a dog?

Stop.

In the name of God, stop.

Here. Dull the pain.

This is all wrong.

I love you, but, really,

I'm ready to put you on a wagon home.

No.

This.

We've been touring...

Not even the entire territory Camilla marked out,

just a piece of it.

...for weeks.

And this is all wrong.

All right.

Explain yourself, woman.

I have no particular love for humans.

There's a food chain, and we're on top.

Humans are pigs with shoes,

and they don't cry when they want bacon.

I am not sad when I turn humans into food.

Understood?

Spit it out, Morana.

Directly say what you're thinking,

or you'll tie yourself up in knots.

God.

I have lived with you for too long.

Okay, is there a swift and merciful way

for us to take control of all the designated territory

between the castle and the sea?

You mean, snap my fingers and it's all done?

No, of course not.

Of course not.

It will be hard-fought, mile by mile, right?

Well, let's not make it sound desperate.

But it won't be simple.

No.

There will be suffering.

It's war, Morana. There's always suffering.

It's not war.

There are no two sides to this.

It's a rolling invasion

and entrapment of hundreds of thousands of humans.

Humans who are, sadly, cleverer than pigs

and will fight and suffer and fear and run.

Then I choose a different word.

It's "battle."

I came out here with you

because I wanted to see for myself

the logistical challenges to the plan.

And I told you, you didn't have to.

I'd survey the theater of combat

and let you know what I needed.

Also...

you're the one who asked me

if I wanted to command an empire.

Yes. I know.

It made a lot more sense back home.

Focus, Morana.

Don't talk down to me because I am not a soldier.

This is going to be a horrifying mess

that we will be dealing with till the end of our days,

and it will cause more suffering than history has yet seen!

Don't condescend to me because I am a soldier.

I win wars.

Are you suddenly doubting me after all this time,

because your legs are sore from living my life?

Are you ready to fight the same war over and over again

for the rest of your life?

You want to know what I think?

Always.

I think that whatever we achieve,

we achieve it together.

You and me.

Carmilla throws a crazy plan at us,

and it's us who make it work.

Or, put another way,

we make it work despite Carmilla.

And Lenore's never any bloody help.

She's off with the fairies most of the time.

It's us.

And the crazy plan makes sense back home because,

I don't know,

Carmilla has this magic reality distortion spell,

and we pride ourselves on making things work.

But we've been out here for weeks,

away from her and her madness, and I'm telling you...

What's happening?

It's an attack.

At dawn.

They know what we are.

And apparently they're not stupid.

I need to get to my trunk.

That one?

You never open that.

What's in it?

Day armor.

Get in the trunk.

No.

Arrows can't pierce it and light can't get in.

Get in the damn trunk, love.

Come on!

Burn them alive!

Right.

Come on!

Bring them out!

Over here, dogfuckers!

That's right!

Idiot fucking livestock.

Soldiers of Styria!

Armor up and cover your skin!

I take it we won.

Yes.

Good. I want to kill you myself.

Do you know what this thing smells like?

They weren't fighters.

They were just people.

Villagers.

Farmers and the like.

I don't disagree with what you said about Carmilla.

She's my dear friend,

but we both know what she's like.

I did disagree about the war.

There's no battle I can't win when I put my back into it

and I have you and your mind beside me.

But...

I just fought fucking farmers.

Saw the fear in their eyes.

Not fear of dying.

Fear of not having fought.

Fear of not saving their people.

And we're in the middle of a fucking field.

A hopeless battle theater.

Except this whole land

is nothing but fields and forests.

But they did it anyway.

We'd never stop, would we?

Victory condition is just fighting and holding

the whole insane structure of her empire together

until I die of old age.

I want to be wrong.

I want you to be wrong.

- We could do it. - We could.

But we'd be doing it forever.

You'd be out here fighting forever.

I'd be back at Styria

trying to keep supply lines intact forever.

And we'd never see each other again.

I am sorry.

I want to be wrong.

We're in the cold light of day, ha!

And Carmilla's grand plan...

The humans are going to fight for their place in the world.

Constantly.

In the cold light of day,

I have to ask myself this.

Do I want this?

Do we want this...

when we can do so much else together?

Sisters.

Hector is finally ready

to start making night creatures.

Come home. It begins.

It's worse than I could have imagined.

And I've seen more than a few wrecked towns in my life.

What I don't understand is...

Dracula hit it first, when his wife died here, right?

But it's still infested with vampires and night creatures.

What's their endgame here, hm?

What do they get?

These people never had a chance to recover and rebuild.

It's awful.

And everything has led us here.

Which means we are here for a reason.

Not sure how we fit into this.

Fit.

Hm.

Huh.

Hold on.

What is that thing?

Well, it can't be what I think it is, but...

Ah, there you are.

Getting a good look at our fine city?

I'd rather get a good look at your Underground Court.

Not yet.

I want to be certain you can be trusted first.

That's good, because we want to make sure

we can trust you first.

You forget who you're speaking to.

We'd like some time to look around.

You can find us again later, I'm sure.

But we have important matters to discuss.

Saving the city. Restoring the throne.

Imposing order.

We have important matters to discuss too.

In the meantime, we're going to take a good long look

at how you've failed to do any of that so far.

And whether we're going to choose to help you.

She does need our help.

But I am sick of being a bit player in someone else's story.

Walk away.