SCAR GANG

by Matt Gibbs

First published in the Dark Harvest: Tales of Promethea (2012) horror anthology, based on the award-winning Dark Harvest: Legacy of Frankenstein roleplaying game created by Iain Lowson.

Content Warning: horror-themes, bullying, scarification

Mud splattered and soaked, Ana tried to keep pace with Elisabeta, her former maid. The woman’s thin legs carried her over the worst of the puddles, even as the rain turned the dirt lane into a mire. Scurrying behind, Ana had to take two paces for every one of hers and, try as she might, her skirt and petticoats trailed in the wet. Huddled in her coat, it wasn’t her clothes that concerned her though, but their destination.

As they reached Botosani the rain eased, but did not stop. Ana tried to shake the mud from her shoes and stockings as they trudged through the cobbled streets. By the time they reached the large, wooden gate to a dour three-storey building, she’d managed to clean very little off.

Elisabeta knocked loudly on the gate’s wicket door. Several moments later, the sound of a lock tumbling and a heavy bolt grating could be heard. The door swung inwards and an elderly man, with greying, patchy stubble and a heavy ring of keys clutched to his chest, scowled out at them.

‘I’m here with the girl,’ said Elisabeta.

Without a word he stepped aside, letting Elisabeta and Ana through into a large courtyard, surrounded on all sides by the building, and closed the door behind them. As they stood in the drizzling rain, Ana became keenly aware of the sensation of being watched, as the elderly man crossed the stones and entered the building to announce their arrival.

A minute later he stepped back out and began ambling back to his post. In the doorway behind him stood a pale woman with hard features, wearing an austere, black dress and starched, white apron. In her shadow was a wiry girl, dressed in plain, homespun work clothes. She said something to the girl, who remained in the doorway. Unfurling an umbrella, the woman clacked across the stones towards them.

‘Now remember what I said, don’t be rude to the Matron, alright?’ said Elisabeta under her breath, curtseying and glancing at Ana to follow her lead.

Ana didn’t move, but lowered her head as the woman—the Matron—stood before her and looked her up and down.

‘So Elisabeta, this is the girl then? She is as pretty as you said, and she doesn’t have any family you say?’

‘Yes… I mean, no… No, she doesn’t have any family, Matron. There could be distant kin, from her mother’s side, over the border, but it was just her father and he’s—’

‘He’s not dead!’ voiced Ana, glancing up quickly.

The Matron’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where is your father then, girl?’

Ana couldn’t meet her eyes, instead she looked back down at her mud caked shoes.

‘Well, what’s the matter? Devil taken your tongue?’

‘I…’

Ana fought back tears and the wrenching sensation welling up in her stomach. It had been more than two months since her father had disappeared. At first the neighbours and servants had helped her search, but as the days went by and no word of him was heard, whispers had begun to circulate.

As the weeks passed and the rumours spread, the neighbours stopped helping. Then one morning, a pale faced Lieutenant, huddled in the thick wolfskin cloak of the new Promethean Hussars, arrived at the house. Sick with worry, Ana had feared the worst, but the young man was only delivering a message and could offer no news of her father’s whereabouts.

His message however was stark. In the desertion of his duties, her father had been court-martialed and found to be a traitor. All his pay and property were forfeit. For the majority, the whispers were now confirmed. In the following days, as the last of their pay dwindled, so did the servants, until only Elisabeta remained.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ana, quietly.

‘Well, alive or dead, he hasn’t provided for you as I understand. You will have to work for your board here.’ Turning back to Elisabeta, the Matron said, ‘What skills does the girl have?’

‘She can sew, Matron. She’s also good at needlepoint.’

‘Good, I’ll take her.’ The Matron’s eyes flicked back to Ana, as she said, ‘Well, what do you say, girl?’

Ana paled and looked to Elisabeta for support, but she only nodded in encouragement.

‘It is this or starving on the streets. Which will it be?’ said the Matron.

‘I’d…’ said Ana.

‘Spit it out, girl!’

‘I’d like to stay. Please, if I may?’

‘Good. As you asked so nicely, you may,’ said the Matron, breaking into a thin smile.

She motioned with her free hand and from the entrance the other girl, who looked to be several years older than Ana, quickly scurried across the courtyard to the Matron’s side. Bobbing her head, the girl looked to the Matron for instruction.

‘Vica, take the new girl inside, through the scullery, and see that she’s scrubbed and changed. Then take her to the dormitory.’

‘Yes, Matron,’ said the girl, bobbing her head again.

In a daze, her thoughts tumbling, Ana followed Vica across the cobbles. Hesitating at the threshold of a side door, she looked back to Elisabeta and saw that the Matron was counting pennies into her hand.

###

’Come on, don’t dawdle! This way,’ urged Vica.

Stepping inside, Ana started to follow Vica into the spartan interior. She’d only taken a few steps, when the girl’s piercing grey-green eyes stopped her dead. ‘What are you doing?’

Muddy footprints trailed across the scrubbed, grey flagstones, but Ana clearly hadn’t registered them. Bewildered, she said, ’Pardon? Excuse me?’

‘Excuse you? You’re messing up the floor, and Matron will as likely take it out on me as you! Take off your shoes. Anything that’s going to make a mess.’

As Ana pulled off her shoes and stockings, Vica stood watching her.

‘Leave the shoes by the door, but bring the rest.’

Barefoot, Ana shadowed Vica along the cold corridor, past several rooms that appeared to be used for laundry. At the far end of the corridor, light spilled from under a door at the top of three, deep steps. They stopped just before it and Vica motioned Ana into the last side room. Inside, there was a small fireplace and along one wall a wooden workbench with a deep basin and hand pump set into it.

‘Heat some water and wash yourself. I’ll be back with new clothes for you,’ said Vica, and, not waiting for a reply, walked out.

For a second Ana stood still, staring into space, shivering slightly. Taking a deep breath, she drew herself up and began busying herself.

Careful not to get mud anywhere, Ana hung her stockings over the lip of the basin. Selecting wood from a pile in the corner, she fed the embers of the fire, and taking a large black kettle from its crane, filled it from the pump, and hung it back over the heat.

What little light coming through from the small, high window was fading fast by the time the kettle was beginning to boil, but she was no longer so cold or wet having kept close by the fire.

‘Here, once you’ve washed, put these on,’ said Vica. She stood in the doorway holding out a pile of clothes like the ones she wore, and a folded, thin blanket.

Ana took them. Feeling the coarse linen shift and drawers, and rough-spun dress, which was more like an old fashioned bodice and skirt, she said, ’Thank you, but my own clothes are fine. Once they’re washed and cleaned they’ll—‘

‘Once they’re washed, they’ll be sold. If they’re any good. Everyone wears the same here.’

Ana bit her lip as she turned, so Vica wouldn’t see her red, flushed cheeks in the glow of the fire, and mumbled, ‘I didn’t mean… Of course…’

Placing her new garments on the side, Ana filled the basin from the pump and, using her coat sleeve, poured hot water from the kettle into it. Removing her coat, she began to strip down to her own shift and wash herself.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Anastasia, but everyone calls me Ana. You’re Vica, right?’

Vica grunted, and said, ‘That’s Russian isn’t it?’

‘My mother was Russian.’ Seeing the look on Vica’s face, Ana quickly added, ‘But my father is Hungarian… I mean Promethean. He’s a Captain in the army.’

‘He must have done alright for himself,’ said Vica, picking up Ana’s dress and examining it by the firelight.

‘He’s…’ Anna started, but trailed off.

‘Same story for all of us here,’ said Vica, misunderstanding. ‘You’re like the rest of us now, we’ve got to work for our keep.’

‘What kind of work?’

‘Nothing you won’t get used to. Cleaning, laundry, sewing, spinning… that kind of thing. Anything to stop wicked, idle hands as our Matron would say. Are you done?’

‘Yes,’ said Ana. ‘What can I use to dry myself?’

Vica barked a short laugh, and said, ‘You’re a proper little princess aren’t you? Use the fire and your new clothes. Pass me the rest of the old ones.’

Ana scooped up her muddied clothes and handed them to Vica.

‘Can I keep my own shift?’

‘I don’t—‘

‘Please? I’ll keep it hidden, under the other, and the bodice.’

Vica thought for a second, looking Ana in the eye, and said, ‘Fine… but if you’re caught, you don’t mention I let you keep it, right?’

‘I won’t. I promise.’

‘You’d better. Matron keeps strict rules. You start completely new here, leave everything behind. Come on now, get dressed.’

Standing near to the fire, Ana quickly towelled herself down with her skirt and pulled on her new, homespun garments.

‘Hand me the coat too,’ said Vica and, seeing Ana’s quizzical expression, added, ‘You won’t be needing it anymore. We’re allowed in the courtyard, when its not pouring with rain, and that’s all.’

‘You mean we’re not allowed out?’

‘Do you even know where you are, girl? No, we’re not allowed out. Not until we’re of an age and the Matron can find work for us. As a maid for one of the patrons if we’re lucky.’

Ana fumbled clumsily with her coat, darting her hand into the pocket. As she handed it over, she prayed Vica had not seen what she’d palmed.

‘Now follow me and bring the blanket.’

Vica led Ana up the steps and through the kitchen, the lingering smells of an evening meal making her stomach grumble. As they walked through the room, a surly looking, rotund woman, who’s domain it appeared to be, watched them both like a hawk.

They walked through what seemed like a maze of corridors to Ana and up two flights of stairs, until they reached a door at the top of the last flight.

‘Go on in and find yourself a cot. Tomorrow you’ll start work with the rest of us,’ said Vica, and, indicating the clothes she’d been carrying, added, ‘I’ve got to take these to Matron.’

As Vica slunk back down the stairs, Ana turned the handle and opened the door.

###

Ana stepped through into a long, attic-like space running the length of the wing, the roof supported by a framework of exposed beams overhead. At the end where she stood, was a fire burning in a chimney place, while wooden beds ran the length of the low walls into the darkness of the dancing shadows at the other end.

A group of older girls stood beside or sat on beds near the fire, their conversation had stopped and all were now intent on Ana. A dark haired girl, slightly taller and older than the rest stepped forward, the pockmarked skin of her face exaggerated by the flickering light.

Taking a breath, Ana said, ‘I’ve been told to find a cot?’

‘Babies sleep at the back,’ said the dark haired girl, motioning with her head towards the shadows. Sneering, she turned back to the group for effect.

Laughter broke out all around Ana. She didn’t know what to say or do. In a daze she walked towards the far end of the room, their words ringing in her ears.

‘That was good, Mara.’

‘Did you hear her accent, a bit funny sounding.’

‘Sounds like an aristo-brat to me.’

‘I think she’s Russian, it’s got that…’

‘Did you see her face?’

She kept walking. At the far end of the room, Ana found an empty bed close to another fireplace. It was a mirror of the one at the other end of the room, apart from its lack of use. Sitting down, she wrapped herself in the thin blanket, but it provided little comfort this far from the fire.

She opened her hand and looked down at the medal she’d saved from her coat pocket, had been holding all this time. The Promethean Star, depicting a fist clasping a flame, its colourful ribbon the blue, yellow and red of the new flag. It had been awarded to her father for his bravery in the fight for independence.

Standing, Ana walked back towards the group of girls and the fire, who once more stopped talking and watched her as she approached.

‘Well?’ said the dark haired girl.

Ana held the medal tightly in her hand, and said, ‘Can I have some wood please? For the fire at the other end of the room?’

‘Do you see how much wood we have?’

‘Yes, but—‘

‘Go away, before I make—’

‘What’s going on here?’ said the Matron. Her voice was like ice down everyone’s spine, making them instantly snap up straight. She clacked into the room, Vica following in her wake. ‘Trouble, Mara?’

‘No trouble, Matron,’ said Mara, the dark haired girl, bobbing her head. ‘No trouble at all. Just getting to know the new girl.’

‘Good…’ said Matron, letting the silence hang as she quickly swept the room with her gaze. ‘You should all be in bed. Now!’

On command all the girls moved, Mara and Vica to beds near the fire. Ana hesitated for a second, then quickly returned to the spot she’d found.

From under her blanket, in the heavy silence that followed, Ana could hear the Matron locking the dormitory door. Unfolding her hand she looked at the medal again. Its five points had dug into her, one of them breaking the skin and causing her to bleed a little. As she clutched the medal to her, she finally allowed herself to cry.

###

Routine led to resignation for Ana in the days that followed. It wasn’t the work. Even though at first she’d been clumsy and slow with cleaning and laundry duties, she’d made up for it sewing, her nimble fingers quickly repairing garments or stitching new ones. It wasn’t the long hours. Although, rising at dawn and finishing at sunset was murder to begin with, leaving her feeling permanently tired. Nor was it the food. Even if calling it bland was being charitable. No, it was the isolation.

Growing up she’d not had many friends her own age, but she’d always been surrounded by adults, whether friends of her father, her tutors, or servants. In contrast, she was now among girls and boys of roughly her own age, but ever since that first night she’d been clearly marked out as a joke by Mara, even a foe, and the girls kept their distance in case that taint spread to them.

It was no better with the boys. Under the vigilance of the Matron they were kept apart most of the time. They lived and worked in the other wing, learning trades as carpenters or cobblers, and were only allowed to really mix in the courtyard, during their brief breaks to get fresh air.

At those times, Ana found herself between both sides and part of no group within either. She sat apart and tried to keep herself as unseen, as uninvolved as possible, but it didn’t always work. She was aware of the others talking about her, mostly Mara and the older girls. It’s then she’d slip her hand into a secret pocket she’d sewn in her dress, turn the medal over in her hand, and remember her father. Remember to be brave.

As the weeks passed, she noticed one of the boys, a lithe lad with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sharp nose, kept looking her way. She’d been mortified when one day he’d walked towards her and asked her name, and told her he was called Cornelius. Mara had jeered loudly then before she could reply, calling out, asking whether he was her lover? Turning bright red, Ana had mumbled no and scurried away from both of them.

‘What have you got there?’

Too late Ana realised she’d been absent-mindedly looking at the medal, dreaming about the day her father had been presented with it, recalling how excited, how proud she’d been. Sitting at the side of the courtyard, she must have taken it from her pocket. Now Mara loomed over her.

‘It’s nothing…’ said Ana, quickly standing up and trying to jam the medal back in her pocket, but she already knew it was futile.

Mara grabbed her arm. ‘Show me. Open your hand.’

Ana hesitantly, withdrew her hand, opened up her palm. The others, boys and girls, started to crowd round, joining Mara and her gang.

‘Where did you get that?’

‘It-It’s my father’s… He was given it for fighting in the Liberation.’

‘My father and my brother fought in that. They didn’t get nothing. Didn’t get anything for it,’ said Mara. ‘What’s so special about yours?’

‘He was a Captain, he organised an attack.’ Before she could stop herself, Ana said, ‘He was even promoted afterwards for—‘

‘Promoted? Both my father and brother died, and yours got promoted? It’s always us doing the fighting, while the aristocrats play at soldiers.’

‘It’s not like that! He was a hero!’

Mara laughed, and said, ‘A hero? Did you all hear that?’

There was a general murmur from the others, but all Ana could hear now was her heart pounding in her ears. Her world narrowed to herself, to Mara, and to the medal.

‘Real heroes gave their lives for this country. Give it to me,’ said Mara, her fingers digging deeper into Ana’s arm.

Ana’s hand tightened on the medal, she heard herself mumbling, ‘Please…’

A voice cut through the rising noise in her ears, Ana thought she heard Vica, heard the girl saying, ‘Let her keep it, Mara. What do you want it for anyway?’ Ana’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Because I deserve it more than she does,’ said Mara. ‘Give it to me!’

Ana felt her arm being yanked forcefully and her hand being prised open by the older girl’s fingers, but she felt no pain, felt too numb to react. As the medal was wrenched from her grasp, her world exploded.

Knocked backwards by Mara’s savage elbow, Ana stumbled, but didn’t fall. Everything snapped clearly into focus then. Mara standing, holding the medal, smugly victorious. Vica scowling, throwing daggers with her grey-green eyes at her dark haired peer. The others still crowded around, some laughing, some jeering, some alarmed.

Ana launched herself at Mara. Expecting her to have gone down, Mara was completely blindsided by Ana’s assault. The ferocity knocked both of them to the floor, as Ana flailed with her fists, thrashing at Mara’s face. She found her hand’s sinking into the older girl’s hair, pulled forwards, and dashed her head back against the cobbles. Scrabbling, fending her off, Mara grabbed Ana’s throat with one hand and, clawing against her face, hooked the thumb of her other hand into the younger girl’s mouth. Feeling Mara start to pull against her cheek, Ana bit down hard, tasting blood. Mara wrenched back her hand, but as they continued to struggle, Ana realised she couldn’t win, that she didn’t have Mara’s strength.

Freezing cold water drenched them both. Matron stood over them, Vica by her side, an empty bucket in the girl’s hand. The pale woman didn’t say anything, but just glared, her jaw muscle twitching slightly, as Ana and Mara pulled themselves apart.

As Ana found her feet, she noticed the others had all withdrawn a few paces, fearful of being found guilty through association.

‘She star—‘

That was as far as Mara got, the Matron’s slap was like a viper’s strike, and she held up her finger for silence. Mara was instantly cowed.

‘Both of you inside, now!’

Walking side by side, Matron behind them, Ana chanced a look back as Mara stepped indoors. She saw the blonde haired lad, Cornelius, bend down and scoop something from the floor—a flash of bright blue, yellow and red material—but she couldn’t judge his expression in the second before Matron pushed her firmly through the door.

###

Ana carefully turned over in her bed. She was still very tender, but the pain was bearable now as long as she didn’t lay on her back. It was keeping her awake however, even as the embers of the fire at the other end of the dormitory, where Mara must be feeling the same, grew dim.

Much to her relief, Mara had not brought up the medal and Matron had not pressed them as to the cause of their fight. Both girls had received the cane as punishment, before being ordered to stand in silence at either end of the dining hall facing the wall.

Although the pain of the beating had been bad, Ana found standing for hours with the sting of it worse. Especially when their evening meal was served and they had to continue standing in front of everyone, unable to join the long tables to eat.

Ana’s stomach growled, but over the noise she thought she heard something else. Wincing a little as she raised her head, she peered into the shadows.

From the darkness, a voice quietly whispered, ‘Hello…’

Ana jumped, sitting up slightly, far more alert, she cast around searching the nearby beds, scanning the dormitory. In the silence that followed everyone seemed to be asleep.

‘Yes, you,’ said the hushed voice, more urgently. ‘Can you get the new girl? Ana? I need to talk to her.’ Ana realised the voice was coming from behind her, but there was nothing there, just the wall and the cold, disused fireplace.

‘What do you want her for?’ said Ana in a whisper, addressing the night.

‘I’ve got something of hers,’ said the voice, from somewhere near floor level.

Ana glanced around again and, sure that nobody was watching, slipped out of her bed and padded towards the source. ‘It’s me. What do you want?’

‘I wanted to see you,’ said the voice, a boy’s voice, from the fireplace.

Ana paled, nervously looking back at the other girls. In a quiet, but insistent tone, she said, ‘What are you doing? You can’t be here!’

‘I’ve got your medal.’

Ana was sure now that the voice was coming from the fireplace somehow. She looked back at her bed, then back at the dark fireplace. Making up her mind, she knelt down and quietly crawled forwards.

‘You should go, now, we’ll be in so much trouble with—‘

‘Do you want your medal or not?’

‘Yes. Of course I do, but…’ said Ana. ‘Where are you?’

A hand pushed up and through the grate at the back of the fireplace. Ana reached out, their fingers meeting, and took the medal.

‘Thank you…’

‘It’s Cornelius.’

‘I know, I saw you pick it up,’ said Ana, cradling the medal in one hand to her chest, while supporting herself with the other. ‘But why? I thought… Why didn’t you wait, you could have given it back in our next break?’

‘The others would see you’ve got it back then, wouldn’t they? Mara would try to take it again. This way I thought, it seems lost, that someone took it and isn’t saying, right?’

‘I guess, but if we’re… If you’re caught…’

‘It’s fine. I do this all the time.’

Ana shook her head.

‘No, honestly…’

‘You can see me?’ said Ana, suddenly self-conscious in her shift. ‘I can’t see you.’

‘Hardly in this light.’

Realising what he’d said, Cornelius quickly added, ‘What I mean is, I move about all the time at night. The room below isn’t used, lots of them aren’t, and this chimney shares the flue or did. Surprised it’s not fallen down…’

‘So you can come and go as you please?’ said Ana.

‘I’ve still not found a way out…’

In the pause that followed, Ana could hear the steady, rhythmic breathing of the girls sleeping nearby. ‘That’s the Promethean Star? At least that’s what it says on it, I think?’ said Cornelius.

‘Yes…’

‘I wanted to be a soldier, before… Wanted to fight for our Liberation—’

A heavy cough hacked through the silence, coming from one of the beds at the far end of the room. Ana’s heart leapt into her throat and lodged there. Seconds passed.

‘Why have you—’

‘Shush’ said Ana, straining to hear, dreading what might happen next, but only silence followed. ‘You’ve got to go. If we’re caught…’

‘Fine…’ Then blurting out, Cornelius said, ‘But I can come see you again?’

‘I…’ Ana looked down at the medal in her hand, she couldn’t see it clearly, but could feel its weight, and said, ‘Yes… Yes, I’d like that.’

‘Tomorrow then. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

As she heard him slip quietly away in the darkness, Ana smiled to herself and whispered, ‘Thank you, Cornelius.’

###

Ana feared a reprisal from Mara over the next few days and tried hard to keep herself as inconspicuous as possible, but the dreaded attack never came. Instead, she comforted herself with the knowledge that she’d found an ally and a friend in Cornelius, who, true to his word, had come back to visit her the night after.

They’d whispered in the shadows until the early hours of the morning, Cornelius keen to hear stories of life in the army. Ana knew very little of the gory details of her father’s military career, but recounted as best she could what snippets of conversations she’d overheard. She realised at times that her claims were perhaps a little grand, overly embellished, as her pride got the better of her, but Cornelius never interrupted or derided her for it.

The pain of her beating had lessened by the end of the week and she began to hope that Mara, perhaps frightened of a harsher punishment from Matron, would now leave her alone.

As Ana set her washboard, ready to begin scrubbing the pile of linen beside her, she noticed the other laundry girls had all stopped. Mara was standing in the doorway to the scullery corridor. ‘All of you, come on, outside.’

Ana’s heart sank as the other girls, glancing between Mara and her, abandoned their tubs and sheepishly ducked past the older girl and left the room. Ana gazed up at Mara and slowly got to her feet, meeting her challenging stare.

To her surprise Mara took a step back, and said, ‘Come on, you too.’

Ana’s confusion was met with a scowl from Mara. ‘Matron wants us outside.’

Following her out, Ana saw that all of the girls working in the scullery were heading outside and, as she stepped out herself, found that the boys were also assembling in the courtyard in front of Matron.

‘Line up, all of you. Boys on the left. Girls on the right,’ said Matron, her stern voice commanding silence. ‘In rows of six… Not so clustered together, leave a space between you.’

Ana darted a questioning glance at Cornelius, who was lining up amongst the boys, but he gave her a troubled look that did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Trying to find the cause of the growing tension in the courtyard she noticed Belascu, the old gatekeeper, standing in front of the wicket door with two men dressed in red footman’s outfits.

‘You here,’ said Matron, bodily moving one of the younger girls into place. ‘You here. And you here. The rest of you line up to them. Hurry up.’

Ana moved to join the forming lines. Instinctively keeping away from Mara, she found herself at the front. ‘Make sure they look presentable,’ said Matron to Vica, who as always had been diligently shadowing her footsteps.

Quickly bobbing her head, Vica walked along the lines, quietly giving instructions as Matron continued to address them.

‘We have important guests, benefactors of our establishment visiting us,’ said the Matron. ‘You will be respectful and show good manners. Do not talk unless spoken to first, and make sure you curtsey or bow before you reply—politely. I’ll be watching and listening. Does anyone not understand?’

There was silence throughout the courtyard, apart from Vica quietly telling one of the younger boys to tuck his shirt in. Under Matron’s gaze the boy went bright red, but managed to get his escaping shirt under control. Satisfied, Vica nodded to Matron that she’d finished.

‘Good,’ said the Matron and, pivoting swiftly on her heels, walked inside through the main door.

Vica hurriedly joined the end of Ana’s line. They did not have to wait long. From the doorway emerged a slender Lady, followed by a teenage Boy and Girl, who from their dark hair and chiselled, haughty looks could only be her children. They were all immaculately dressed, the Lady in deep red satins, the Boy in a fashionable coat of the same rich colour, and the Girl in an emerald green dress that complimented her mother’s. Matron emerged last at a respectful distance.

‘So many of them,’ said the Lady. ‘I didn’t realise quite how extensive your work had become.’

‘Yes, Madam,’ said Matron. ‘Thanks to your generosity we’ve been able to take in more children this year. Sadly, Liberation didn’t come without a price, so many were made orphans.’

‘A price worth paying though,’ said the Lady, not even glancing back at Matron.

‘Yes, Madam. Of course.’

As the Lady questioned Matron regarding the nature of the skills that were being taught, the Boy and Girl began to move along the lines. Whether it was curiosity or just a quirk of their upper class, they showed no hint of shame or uncertainty in studying those arrayed before them. Ana watched as the Boy, puffing up his chest, sized himself against one of the older lads and, seemingly disinterested, moved on along the line.

‘Mother, come see,’ said the Girl, who’d stopped in front of Ana and was studying her face. ‘This one is very pretty.’

Ana had already began to blush under the Girl’s gaze by the time her mother joined them. As she looked her up and down, Ana felt sure her cheeks were turning as red as the woman’s dress.

‘Indeed, what a beautiful face,’ said the Lady. ‘What is your name, girl?’

Ana curtseyed, and said, ‘Ana, Madam.’

As she straightened, before she knew what was happening, the Lady took Ana’s chin in one gloved hand. The woman’s grip was firm, but not rough. Ana flinched, but only for a second, and tried to smile.

‘What a charming little thing you are,’ said the Lady, turning Ana’s head from side to side. ‘But too young I fear to serve for you, my dear.’

’Yes, you’re right, Mama.’

‘Look, here’s a girl more your age,’ said the Lady, releasing Ana and moving away.

Ana watched, completely forgotten, as both of them moved to the end of the line.

‘Lift your head, girl, let us see your face.’

‘Oh! What striking eyes, Mama. The green and the grey are so unusual.’

‘Yes, they’re quite delightful,’ said the Lady. ‘What’s your name, girl?’

‘Vica, Madam.’

‘Well, what do you think?’ said the Lady, turning to her daughter, ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure, Mama.’

‘I’m sorry, Madam, I think… I think there’s been some mistake with…’ said Matron, who suddenly looked more pale than ever.

‘What mistake could that possibly be?’

‘This girl is my aid, she helps me with—‘

‘Ah, I see. She’s not only well schooled in household duties like the others, but is also intelligent and reliable. What I don’t see is what difference that makes?’

‘But…’ said Matron.

‘But what? My daughter has taken an interest in this girl and there is no comparable substitute here. She has… unique qualities. Qualities that will serve my daughter well.’

‘Yes, of course, Madam,’ said Matron, curtseying herself. ‘My apologies. The girl has been a most trusted servant to me. I forgot myself.’

‘Your loyalty for your charges does you credit, but I’m glad we’re in agreement. Have her made ready. I’ll send my man tonight.’ The conversation apparently ended, the Lady turned back to her Daughter and, after another look at Vica, said, ‘Yes, you’re quite right, they are most delightful… Come along, it is time for us to leave.’

Sweeping towards the wicket gate, the Lady stepped out without another word or glance back, her children and footmen following, as Matron held a long curtsey. Underneath her deference though, Ana could see anger flare in Matron’s eyes.

As Belascu closed the gate after the visitors, Matron jerked back straight, and shouted, ‘What are you all gawping at? Back to work! All of you! Now!’

As Ana ducked back inside the scullery door, she saw the Matron round on Vica and heard her snap, ‘You! Come with me.’

###

Vica didn’t return to the dormitory that night. As Ana lay in her bed, she listened to the whispers of the older girls at the other end of the room by the fire.

‘Do you think she’s alright?’

‘She’s probably already sleeping in a proper bed, the lucky bitch,’ said Mara, Ana easily picking her voice out from the rest.

‘They wouldn’t… You know… Would they?’

‘What? No. None of that’s true anyway… Is it?’

‘You sure? Emil says—‘

‘Emil’s an idiot, good for nothing—’

‘Catalena doesn’t think so!’

‘It’s not true.’

‘I’m not so sure…’

‘Come on, we’ve all seen you and him.’

‘Catelena’s in love.’

‘I’m not!’ said Catelena, more loudly than she intended.

‘Hah! She is, look… Her face has gone bright red!’

‘They liked the aristo-brat’s face. Did you see the way they peered at her?’

‘Fine then! What’s wrong with Emil anyway?’

‘Yes. Yes, they did…’ said Mara.

The conversation rolled on about Emil, a couple of the others baiting Catelena about him, but in the background a hushed discussion had started. Ana strained to hear what was being said, mainly by Mara it seemed, but she couldn’t make it out. As the teasing of Catelena petered out, the others began to listen and join in the secretive debate. Soon there was silence throughout the dormitory and the older girls slunk back to their beds to sleep.

Ana rolled over in bed to face the cold fireplace, hopeful that Cornelius might be able to slip away tonight to see her. She had questions and hoped he might know the answers.

As she began to doze, her thoughts tumbling together, she heard a whisper in the dark and broke into a smile. As she raised herself to move towards the fireplace, a hand clamped over her mouth and hands seized her from behind.

Struggling, she tried to lash out and free herself, but there were too many hands and all of them were stronger than her. Pulled back, she was forcefully pushed down onto her bed. In the firelight of the dying embers, she could make out the older girls surrounding her. Mara loomed over her head, holding a smouldering switch of wood from the fire, and said, ’Gag her.’

As the girl holding her mouth released her hand, Ana found herself crying, ‘No! Please no! I’m sorry—‘

‘Quick. Shut her up.’

As Ana protested a rough strip of cloth, the middle tied into a large knot, was forced into her mouth and held so that it pinned her head against the bed. With her free hand Mara dragged back Ana’s hair from her face and grasped her forehead.

Ana renewed her struggle, thrashing more forcefully than ever, but there were just too many of them. She heard Mara say something, but the words made no sense, and felt another girl grab either side of her head. Between Mara, the gag being pulled down into her mouth, and the third girl, Ana’s head was pinned helplessly in place.

As the switch of wood was held against her skin, Ana blacked out.

###

Ana took to hiding her face, keeping her head forward and her hair down. The pain was worse, far worse, than the thrashing she’d received from Matron. She’d washed and cleaned the wound as best she could, but the burn had left an angry and swollen welt that would forever scar her left cheek and jaw.

She tried to make herself even more of a recluse, but it was impossible to ignore the other girls when she was working. They didn’t tease and catcall though. Instead Ana received sympathetic looks when she met their eyes, even from the older girls. Far from comforting her, this just fuelled her anger.

She was also resolutely trying to avoid Cornelius. He had of course come to see her the next evening, full of concern, but she had pretended to be asleep and after many whispered attempts to get her attention he had slunk away. He’d tried the next night too, but, unable to face another night of him calling, she’d hissed at him to leave her alone.

Leaning her back against the wall of the scullery corridor, she sat listening to the sounds of her peers at break in the courtyard outside, her hair pulled forwards, down over her face. She knew she would be in trouble if found, but she couldn’t face the looks and whispers that followed her.

She jumped as the courtyard door closed. Cornelius was standing there, at the end of the corridor. Horrified, Ana lurched to her feet as he walked towards her. ‘Are you okay? I heard what—’

‘Go away!’ Ana took a step backwards, turning her face from him, and said, ‘Please, just go away. Leave me alone.’

‘Why won’t you talk to me?’

‘Please…’ said Ana, taking another step back. Looking over her shoulder she could see the closed door to the kitchen, the sounds and smells of cooking from beyond it, and realised there could be no retreat through Cook’s domain.

‘I want to help.’

‘Help? How can you help? I’m…’

Standing before her, Cornelius reached out gently to brush her hair from her face, but Ana jerked her head away before his touch, her body trembling.

Cornelius faltered, stepped back as if he’d been slapped, and said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t—’

‘Just go away!’

‘They did it because you—‘

‘What! You think I deserved this? Do you?’

‘No, it’s just…’

They both heard the latch move and dived into one of the washrooms, just before the door flung open and Cook barked, ‘Who’s there?’

Pressed against the wall, holding their breath, they heard the woman lumber down the steps and call out again. Dreading that she’d enter their room at any moment, Cornelius silently watched Ana as she still kept her face hidden, turned away from him, on the other side of the washroom doorway.

Eventually they heard her muttering, puffing her way back up the few steps, and closing the kitchen door. Silence followed.

‘You must go,’ said Ana, once she was sure the woman had gone. ‘I don’t want… I don’t want to get you in trouble.’

Cornelius hesitated, looking at her, and said, ‘You need to understand…’

‘Understand what? Understand that they hate me? I know—’

‘No. Why they did it. Come with me.’

‘Are you mad? We were nearly just caught by Cook.’

‘I need to show you something. Please… Please, come with me. Trust me.’

Through her hair, Ana looked into Cornelius’ eyes, saw the earnestness there, and said, ‘I—’

At that moment, at the other end of the corridor, the door to the courtyard opened and two of the younger girls bustled inside. Break had ended.

The decision made for her, Ana said, ‘I can’t! I’d be missed. You will too.’

Quickly glancing over his shoulder at the two stunned girls, Cornelius turned back to Ana looking defeated, and said, ‘Later then? Tonight? You’ll come with me and I can show you… This is important.’

Taking a breath, she nodded, and said, ‘Later then. Now go.’

Cornelius half smiled, half nodded back in reassurance, then hurried out, passing the whispering girls who were gawking at him. In his wake, they turned to stare at Ana, who pushed more hair in front of her face and went back to work.

###

That night Ana lay in bed, waiting, turning over the events of the last few days in her thoughts. She could not fathom what Cornelius wanted to show her or how he would be able to do so tonight.

Long after the light from the fire, at the far end of the room, had died down to the glow of embers, she heard him whispering from the disused fireplace. After a quick check of the room, she quietly swung herself out of bed and padded over to him in the dark.

‘You ready?’ said Cornelius, whispering from below.

‘What are you going to do?’ said Ana, scowling into the dark.

‘I’m going to lift this grate.’

‘What? But that will make a noise.’

‘Not if I’m slow and careful. I’ve thought it through. Do you have a cloth or a blanket? Something I can slide it onto?’

‘Yes… Yes, wait a moment.’

Ana slunk back to her bed and, after quickly slipping on her homespun clothes, her hand briefly straying to the medal in its secret pocket, she stripped the thin blanket from it as quietly as she could. Returning to the fireplace, she said, ‘I’ve got a blanket. What do you want me to do?’

‘Great, double it up and put it in front. I’ll lift, slowly, but I need you to steady the grate, guide it onto the blanket.’

Ana folded the blanket up and slipped it in front of the fireplace, and said, ‘That’s done. I’m ready.’

‘On three then… One. Two. Three…’

The grate moved, making a scraping sound, but Ana instantly steadied it and they stopped. Her heart pounding she listened for any sign that they’d been heard. ‘It’s good. Keep going.’

Cornelius pushed up again and between them they steered the grate onto the blanket with barely another sound. Ana stared down into the gap, she could just see Cornelius’ retreating outline in the dark below.

‘Swing yourself down, legs first. I can guide your feet.’ Ana lowered her legs into the gap, felt Cornelius’ hand take her right foot and guide it to a ledge in the brickwork. Taking her weight on her arms she lowered herself into the small gap, contorting and squeezing her body through, as Cornelius helped her down.

She didn’t have far to climb in the damaged and tumbled fireplace, and soon found herself standing in one of the disused rooms beneath the girls dormitory. In the moonlight from the barred windows, she could clearly see Cornelius grinning at her.

‘What did you want to show me?’

‘Come on.’

Cornelius padded to the door and led Ana into another room much like the last, only it was piled high with tables, chairs and beds in various states of disrepair. Closing the door behind her, they stood awkwardly, only a couple of paces apart, looking at each other, Ana still hiding her face behind her hair.

Cornelius started to unbutton his shirt.

‘What are you doing?’ said Ana, trying to take a step back, but bumping into a chair.

As he opened his shirt, Ana saw that a web of old scars criss-crossed his chest. She reached out her hand as if to touch them, paused, left it hanging in the air between them.

Seeing her expression, Cornelius said, ‘It was the others, the older lads, they did this to me.’

‘Why?’

‘To save me.’

‘To save you? I don’t… I don’t understand.’

‘Last summer, one of our benefactors came with his son. He wanted a companion for him, a whipping boy, as his son was scrawny and ill. Just like the other day, we were told to get in lines, but we had to take off our shirts, as they walked up and down. They chose me. I was to go the next day… That night the others did this.’

‘But? But that’s horrible!’

‘Is it? There’s worse than scars,’ said Cornelius.

‘It must have hurt?’ said Ana, her eyes searching his, seeking permission, before touching his chest. Her fingers feeling the marks more clearly than her eyes could see them in the moonlight.

‘When Matron found out she was furious. Furious that I’d been spoilt she said, and so I wasn’t sent away, none of us where. None of the others were suitable she’d raved at me. It saved me. Like it will save you.’

Ana removed her hand, turned her face away.

‘Let me look, please.’

Lifting her head, she let Cornelius gently brush the hair from her face. Ana studied his eyes and saw no trace of repulsion, only concern, as he looked at her.

‘Are you alright?’

She nodded, tears welling up, and said, ‘Yes… but I still don’t understand. Save me? Save me how?’

‘They didn’t want a whipping boy. Same as they didn’t want a maid the other day. They just want some part of you.’

Ana laughed suddenly, surprising herself, and said, ‘What? No? No, that’s… Some part of you? What are you—’

‘I can show you, come on.’

Frowning for a second, Ana followed Cornelius through the junk to a second door. He bent down, opened it a crack, and looked out into the corridor beyond. ‘Just follow me and stay quiet.’

###

Cornelius led Ana through the dark maze of rooms and corridors, many of which were ruled out of bounds by Matron and were thick with dust from lack of use. Eventually, they reached what once must have been a grand dining room before the house had been turned into an orphanage.

‘We’re going to have to climb down,’ said Cornelius, carefully sliding back a wooden panel to reveal a dumbwaiter set into the wall. Illustrating with his arms and back, he added, ‘You can brace yourself. Like this.’

Ana looked into the dark hole in the wall, and said, ‘How far?’

‘Past the kitchen, down into the cellar. Do you want me to go first?’

She nodded and Cornelius climbed up, sliding his legs in and lowering his body through, and said, ‘We need to be quiet. Cook falls asleep by the fire sometimes.’

Once inside the wood lined shaft, Ana found it tough going, but she managed to slowly lower herself down. At the very bottom, Cornelius guided her through another hatch and out into the pitch black of the cellar.

‘Here,’ said Cornelius and, fumbling in the dark for a moment, he struck a match and lit the small stub of candle he’d taken from his pocket.

As Ana’s eyes adjusted, the flickering candle revealed a rough stone cellar with a low, barrel vaulted ceiling. Shelves contained an assortment of old and new tins, while baskets and sacks of foodstuffs were stacked against the walls.

‘It is this way.’

As Cornelius led them farther into the cellar, the candle light made shifting shadows play across the ceiling. A couple of archways led off into another room running parallel with the one they were in, but they kept going straight, heading for a door at the far end.

It opened into a short corridor and, passing stairs that Ana guessed led up to the locked door in the scullery above, they crept through into another room. It was much wider than the kitchen cellar and was divided into walled partitions along its length, some of which held supplies of wood for the fires. They headed on, through another door at the far end.

This room was also partitioned, but, unlike the last, the alcoves were piled high with barrels, more wood, and even a supply of coal. Ana didn’t take this in though, her attention was fixed on the wooden table that stood in the middle of the floor, upon which rested something crudely mummified, bundled and wrapped in old sacks.

‘Is that?’ said Ana, her eyes flicking briefly to Cornelius, who nodded.

Without realising, Ana slipped one hand into her pocket. Clutching the medal tightly, as she stepped into the room. Standing before the table, she reached for a flap of the sacking. She felt herself squeezing the medal more tightly and, hesitating for a second, pulled back the sack.

Vica’s empty sockets looked up at her. The girl’s eyes had been removed.

Disgusted, unable to tear her gaze away, but unable to look into those empty holes, Ana’s eyes danced over the girl’s blue-grey face and down her neck, where she noticed a thin, angry line cut deeply into the bruised flesh there.

Ana didn’t know how long she stood there, gazing down at Vica. But it wasn’t Vica anymore, just a body that had once been her. She felt a hand on her shoulder, turned to look up at Cornelius, and gently let him guide her away.

As they stepped back through the doorway, Ana said, ‘It’s… They can’t be allowed to do this. If someone knew.’

‘I’m not sure anyone cares, who would…‘

They both froze, rooted to the spot. Light illuminated the corridor leading back the way they’d come, cutting them off. It bobbed and weaved, growing stronger, as it came down the stairs.

‘Back,’ whispered Ana, dragging Cornelius into the room with Vica’s body and closing the door behind them.

She cast around for somewhere to hide, spotted a stack of barrels in the corner, near the coal, and pointed and pushed Cornelius towards them. As they hunkered down behind them, Cornelius blew out the candle, plunging them into darkness.

They could hear footsteps and voices approaching. Moments later light streamed into the room as the door opened.

‘…I said, gentlemen,’ said Matron, and several people walked into the room.

Ana held her breath, hardly daring to breathe. Next to her, Cornelius did the same. She hunkered on the floor, her back against a barrel, looking up the steep slope of the coal chute, fearful that if she tried to see she’d be spotted.

‘What happened to her eyes and neck?’ said a rasping, male voice.

There was a long pause, all they could hear was Matron’s heels click across the floor towards the table, as the light from the lantern moved across the room.

’The Countess’ Surgeon collected them, her daughter wanted new eyes, and the neck… I assume that isn’t going to be a problem?’

‘Well…’

‘It wasn’t the last time,’ said Matron.

‘No, it’s fine,’ said a second, much deeper, male voice. ‘They don’t ask questions. What with all those students paying to watch as they cut them up, the university can’t get enough bodies.’

‘Same arrangement then?’

Another pause, shorter this time, then the rasping man said, ‘Agreed.’

‘Get the feet,’ said the other, and Ana heard the men lift Vica’s body and follow Matron out, plunging her and Cornelius back into darkness.

As the minutes passed, she realised that silent tears had been running down her face, but couldn’t recall when she’d started crying. In the dark, she found herself holding Cornelius’ hand.

‘Let’s go,’ whispered Cornelius, reluctantly withdrawing his hand from hers and relighting the candle stub. Without a word, they carefully crept back through the cellar. Even after climbing up to the dining room, as they retraced their steps to the chimney, they didn’t speak. Once Cornelius had quietly replaced the grate, their goodbye was simply a lingering touch.

###

In the weeks that followed, Ana and Cornelius plotted their escape. Cornelius knew his way around the building, better than anyone, but it was Ana who eventually suggested that they might climb out into the street through the cellar’s coal chute.

Venturing back down one night, they found they’d have no difficulty climbing up the steep incline, but discovered the hatch at the other end of the chute was chained shut from the outside and there was, as far as they could tell, a heavy padlock keeping it in place. Neither of them were surprised, but it did force them to rethink their plans.

They slowly, so as not to draw suspicion, began to collect the things they’d need. Cornelius began to take tools from the workshop, sneaking out a file, a broken saw blade and an awl to use on the chain, while both of them tried to gather extra clothes. They didn’t worry about food, instead planning on taking it from the cellar rooms as they left.

It took weeks, weeks that felt like an eternity to Ana, to steal everything they might need, but they did not dare rush or be too blatant. Although neither of them had said it, they both knew they’d only get one chance and dreaded what the punishment would be if they were caught.

###

Eventually, the day came when they were ready. They waited until it was late, until they were sure that everyone was asleep, then quietly made their way down to the room that had housed Vica’s body, stopping only to gather food in the cellar.

As Cornelius worked at the chain with the tools he’d scavenged, Ana bent low at the bottom of the coal chute, holding the stub of a lit candle, watching him work.

Minutes seemed to turn into hours as he attacked the chain, but Ana’s heart soared as Cornelius reported, ‘Nearly there!’

Too late, Ana heard the telltale click-clack on the stone floor behind her and gasped as her head was wrenched back by her hair.

‘I knew it!’

Ana struggled to turn round, dropping the candle and the food she’d been carrying, wrapped up in her blanket, and tried to grab hold of the hand seizing her hair.

‘You little bitch!’ snarled Matron, releasing Ana and striking her across the face. ‘I knew someone had been down here!’

Ana reeled from the savage blow. Dazed, she found herself looking up at Matron, as the woman towered over her, the hooded lantern she was carrying swinging crazily in one hand.

Matron lunged forwards, grabbing Ana by the scruff of her neck, half carrying, half dragging her across the coals, and said, ‘Not clever enough to leave things as you found them, were you? What did you see?’

‘Nothing. I saw—‘

Ana fell backwards as Matron pushed her, sprawling on the coals as they turned underfoot, and the pale woman said, ‘Liar! I know you were down here. I know what you saw.’

Even with her blood pounding, with Matron looming over her, Ana could hear or somehow sense that Cornelius was quietly edging his way down the coal chute behind her, and said, ‘Yes. Yes… I saw what you did. How could you? How could you do that to Vica? Let her be murdered like that? Sell her like that! Sell her to the Countess? To those two men?’

‘You were in the room?’ said Matron, snorting a short laugh. ‘Well, I caught you at last. Caught you prying. Caught you stealing… Get up.’

Ana lay motionless on the coals, and said, ‘I won’t let you get—‘

‘I said get up!’ shouted Matron, screeching over her.

Pulling herself to her feet, Ana said, ‘You won’t get away with this. I’ll tell everyone.’

‘And what will you tell them?’

‘That you’re murdering us. That you’re selling parts of bodies… Parts of bodies to be used by others!’

Matron scowled, her eye’s narrowing and, indicating the door, said, ‘Move!’

Ana stumbled towards the door, drawing the pale woman away from the coal chute, and said, ‘Where are we going? What are you going to do to me?’

‘Stop!’

They both spun round to see Cornelius, the pointed awl in his hand, standing where they’d been moments before.

‘Two of you! I should have—’

‘Shut up!’ said Cornelius. ‘Ana, get behind me.’

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘We’re walking out of here. First, you’re going to give us your keys, then we’re going to tie you up.’ Matron’s eyes narrowed, went to the metal spike in Cornelius’ hand. Seeing her look, he added, ‘Don’t try anything. I have enough reason.’

‘Fine…’ Putting the lantern down on the table, Matron began unhooking the set of keys from her belt, and said, ‘It won’t get you far. Where can you go?’

‘Away from here,’ said Ana, and, thinking quickly, added, ‘All you need know is, should you come after us, we’ll let everyone know. Let them know what you’ve done here.’

As Matron threw the keys to Ana, Cornelius half turned to look at her, and said, ‘Find something to tie her—‘

In the next instant, Cornelius was choking, his hands clawing at his own throat before he knew what was happening. Ana’s warning had been a second too late, died on her lips—as Matron, lunging to Cornelius’ blindside, had whipped a length of wire around his neck from behind. Her hard mouth twisting in a sneer, Matron began to pull tight on the two wooden handles at either end of the wire.

Ana didn’t hesitate, dashing forwards she snatched the lantern from the table and swung it at Matron, screaming as she did. It hit the woman’s head with a satisfying crack, breaking the glass, and sent all of them staggering backwards. Cornelius, released from the garrotte, pitched forwards onto his knees, gasping for breath.

Ana swung again, hitting Matron across her back, and the spilt oil from her first strike ignited. With a howl of rage and pain, Matron’s hair and clothes, the skin on her face and neck, went up in flames.

As the woman howled, turning this way and that, Ana pulled Cornelius away just as Matron overturned the table. Writhing, the flames intensifying as her apron and skirt caught fire, she stumbled and collapsed against a pile of wood, overcome by pain and shock.

In the cavorting devil light from the growing flames, Ana ripped a piece of fabric from her shift and pressed it against Cornelius’ bleeding neck, guiding his hand to hold it, before ordering him to, ‘Come on. We have to go.’

In the minutes that followed, Ana moved as if in a dream. Quickly, but calmly, collecting the keys and their stolen supplies, she then helped Cornelius to his feet and guided him up the stairs and out through the scullery.

In the confusion of the spreading fire, as Belascu abandoned his gatehouse to raise the alarm, they quietly moved to the wicket door and unlocked it.

They were gone before anyone knew they were missing, gone before the fire, that ravaged the entire kitchen wing, was finally brought under control. At the outskirts of Botosani, they finally stopped and looked back. A column of black smoke hung above the town and a single star was visible in the pre-dawn gloom.

‘What—‘ croaked Cornelius, ‘What do we do now?’

Ana slipped her hand from her pocket, where she’d been clutching her medal, and took Cornelius’ hand in hers.

‘I’m never going back. Not to that life… But, I want to make them pay. All of them. This isn’t what my father fought for.’

Dark Harvest: Tales of Promethea anthology via DriveThru Fiction

Dark Harvest: Legacy of Frankenstein RPG via DriveThru RPG

What if Victor Frankenstein had embraced his discoveries rather than seeking to destroy them?

Dark Harvest: Legacy of Frankenstein is a gothic horror fantasy, a terrifyingly plausible alternative history roleplaying game. Carved out of the Balkan conflicts of the mid-1800’s, Victor Frankenstein hijacks the unification of Romania and creates his own country: Promethea. Established on high ideals of equality and scientific advancement for the good of all, the reality is very different.

A standalone product, Dark Harvest: Legacy of Frankenstein uses a version of the Heresy Engine system and is fully compatible with the Victoriana 2nd Edition, by Cubicle 7 Entertainment.