Unholy Empire begins with The Burning of Saint-Gilles in the year 1126 and culminates with Jonathan Harker’s visit to Transylvania in the 1890s. Across the series, Dracula’s fictional arc is woven through real historical events — the Black Plague, the Great Famine, the Inquisition, the Friday the 13th massacre, the Fall of Constantinople.
History, it turns out, required very little embellishment.
The genesis of Unholy Empire traces back to a single figure: Peter the Venerable.
In 1130, Peter — abbot of Cluny — wrote the following:
“O ye masters of errors, and blind leaders of the blind, the dregs of heresies, and the relics of schismatics. In your parts, the people are re-baptised, the churches profaned, the altars overthrown, crosses burnt, and flesh eaten on the very day of our Savior’s passion. Priests are whipped, monks are imprisoned and forced by terrors and torments to marry. The heads of which contagion, ye have indeed, by the divine assistance, and by the help of Catholic princes, driven out of your country; but as I have already said, the members yet remain amongst you, infected with this deadly poison, as I myself lately perceived.”
Peter was not, to my knowledge, a vampire hunter. But he may as well have been auditioning.
Burning crosses. Re-baptisms. Flesh eaten on Good Friday. Whipped priests. Forced marriages. Arch-heretics.
Naturally, I followed the thread.
Peter’s accusations were aimed at the Petrobrusians, followers of Peter of Bruys — another Peter, and a problem for the Church. Peter of Bruys publicly burned crosses in Saint-Gilles around 1130 and rejected infant baptism, the Mass, church buildings, prayers for the dead, the veneration of the Cross, and the authority of the Church itself. For this, Rome branded him a heresiarch — an arch-heretic.
An arch-heretic known for burning crosses. A revered monk accusing him of ritual flesh-eating.
It was too good to ignore.
Given their enmity, the imagery, and the rhetoric of contagion and corruption, inserting Dracula into this fracture point in history felt less like invention and more like excavation.
But the scandal didn’t stop there.
Dig a little deeper into 1130, and you’ll find something even more destabilizing: a papal coup.


Pope Honorius II died in February of that year. As he lay dying, six cardinals conducted a late-night election, naming Gregorio Papareschi Pope Innocent II. The palace gates were sealed. Honorius was buried hastily, without ceremony.
The remaining cardinals refused to recognize Innocent II. They elected their own pope — Anacletus II — and declared Innocent the Antipope. For eight years, the Church fractured. Allegiances split. Authority blurred.
When Anacletus II died, Innocent prevailed — and history followed the victor. Anacletus became the Antipope.
History, after all, belongs to whoever survives it.
Honorius II, Innocent II, and Anacletus II appear in The Burning of Saint-Gilles, alongside Arnaud de Lévézou, Archbishop of Narbonne. The Knights Templar also play a central role — including two of their earliest Grandmasters: Hugues de Payens and Everard des Barres.
The story moves through Medieval France, the Kingdom of Alba, the Kingdom of Bohemia, the Papal States, and the Holy Roman Empire. Multiple languages appear on the page — Romanian, French, Latin, Arabic, Hungarian, and Scots English — with translations woven into the text.
Because immersion matters.
Because history was already volatile.
And because sometimes the truth is more gothic than the fiction built around it.
Trinkets for historical treasure-hunters
Direct link to quote by Peter the Venerable. Adam Blair. History of the Waldenses: With an Introductory Sketch of the History of the Christian Churches in the South of France and North of Italy, Till These Churches Submitted to the Pope, when the Waldenses Continued as Formerly Independent of the Papal See, Volume 1. (1832).
The Oxford dictionary of the Christian Church: Peter de Bruys