"It may just happen to find an audience regardless," is the answer, said with an easy shrug as Alucard takes another sip of the wine. The sharp tang of iron hits just right, and there's a gentle warmth to it that feels comforting in the cold air. "How many manuscripts survive by luck, and are loved for just that reason?"

But he takes the point. It was only ever meant to be a suggestion, and the world is large.

"A century, no more than two. The Free Cities love to build upon themselves, meaning that there is precious little done to save old things. They prevent progress, although there is always something lost. I'm nearly done with a concert hall that survived by sheer luck, and it has managed to wed both magic for sound and traditional architectural means of doing the same to create a wholly unique space. These days, the magic would be replaced with just technology."

The more Alucard speaks of the project, the more he brightens up. Projects are essential for him, they help outrun his depression, but they also bring actual enjoyment to his life. He won't get into the particulars if Lenore has no desire to hear them, but...

...this is it. Dracula's son. Getting excited about buildings.