A horrible death descended upon a sleepy peasant village. He was an elderly man and his body was an infinite legion of killers. He strode into town and smelled ghastly. Stray chickens fled from his sight, horses kicked and panicked and one broke loose fleeing. Dogs barked but stayed away and cats hissed before fleeing. This frail old man paid them no mind. He walked into a tavern and took a seat in the furthest corner from the entrance and waited to ply his trade.
Soon enough a young man walked in and their eyes met. He walked over and quickly sat down, his body language betraying the grave crime he’d soon commit. Whispering cautiously he asked the old man, “So, do you have it?”
“Have what my son?”
“Don’t fuck with me!” the youth said before quieting his tone again. He must’ve been sixteen at best. “Do you have a way for me to take revenge?”
“Of course I do. But your revenge will come at a terrible price.”
“I have gold. Name your price.”
A hint of excitement played across the old man’s hidden face, “All of it. All on your person. Empty your pockets and place every last valuable on the table.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea-”
“It’s midday, no one of importance is here and those that are want to stay as hidden as you do. Now show me or I’ll find a better client.”
He stood up in the booth awkwardly and dug through everything, he placed on the table a bag of gold that he’d stolen from his father, along with a few trinkets. “There that’s everything.”
“The locket and the ring too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can see their glitter from here. Them too.”
“They have no value to you.”
“I won’t ask again.”
“Fine you damned demon take them!” he said as he took them off and threw them on the table. Pleased, the old man’s dry black lips peeled back revealing rotted teeth and open sores and an even more horrific odor wafted from him.
“So...” the young man said, swallowing his pride and trying to hold his breath. “Where is it?” He held out his hand.
“You requested a way to destroy your two families but you must be methodical. If you accept this bargain you must simply eat at their table. Within the week they will be no more.”
“That’s it?”
“You will also die.”
The young man trembled in fear and realization, “Will… Will it hurt?”
“Yes. I could arrange a more peaceful method if you’d prefer.”
“No! They have to suffer and my life is forfeit. Do your worst!”
The old man cackled and coughed, “Aaah. You are a brave one. It’s too bad I won’t see if you maintain that in the end...”
“Complete the bargain old man.”
“Of course of course come closer and kneel boy.”
The young man obeyed.
“Give me your hand.”
The young man reached his right hand out and the old man grasped it violently.
“You needn’t watch boy. But this is the last moment of hope for you. If you ran now you just might survive.”
“Do it scoundrel. And never question my resolve.”
“So be it.” The member of the Unholy 7 opened his mouth and a long rotted tongue slid out, longer than most would imagine for a human, covered in a putrid sticky slime with a cluster of pustules some barren, others leaking, and others still full to bursting with puss. Some of the holes in his tongue had some kinds of growths, fungus or parasites it was hard to tell. Ruprecht the Plague licked the young man’s hand and turned red and yellow and immediately breaking out in itching.
“Cover it with a glove. A man of your exuberance should survive for at least 3 days. Visit the homes of those you want to damn to suffer before that point. Most don’t open their doors to men like us.”
The youth put on his glove but was already struggling not to scratch it.
“At least I’ll never see you again.”
“The pleasure was all mine” Ruprecht the Plague rasped.
***
“Why won’t he move?” Alfso asked inquisitively.
“I don’t know. He did before.” Ribold replied earnestly.
Lord almighty I’m enthralled to an idiot. Draihan thought. While Ribold had been skilled enough to return Draihan to consciousness he wasn’t skilled enough to actually restore Draihan’s autonomous function. Draihan was essentially a comatose zombie. Fully conscious but incapable of interaction. As the boys discussed his ignoble fate Draihan wondered how long he’d be enslaved. To my own disciple no less. Draihan brooded. Trapped in my own corpse. This is why I avoided human thralls. Perhaps I should’ve done a better job discouraging him from using people, but considering most of us use people it’d be like teaching a lion to eat fruit. On the other hand I’ll see for myself how it will all play out.
“He took a step!” Ribold exclaimed excitedly.
“He did! Now try another!” Alfso said supportingly.
At least the son of Katharsis Merron has a friend he can rely upon, Draihan mused. Ribold is kinder and more open than his mother was. But I’m reluctant to assign the Twilight Witch any credit, no, it’s wrong of me. She either raised him well or did an excellent job of hiding whatever scars she gave him.
“I want to go fishing,” Ribold said.
“Let’s take Master Draihan with us!” Alfso said earnestly. “That way you can get used to commanding him.”
I take it back. I should’ve slapped that little shit while I still could. If I had any pride I’d be ashamed to be seen as a child’s half naked plaything. I was a feared member of the Unholy 7, the most wanted of men in the realm. Now he’s affixing a fishing net to me and making me carry his things.
“So, how does it feel to be a member of the Unholy 7?” Ribold asked, brushing sweat from his brow.
“It’s ok I guess, but there’s a lot of people looking at us who’ve trained for much longer who want the job I think.”
“Yeah.”
Alfso turned and smiled serenely, “How about you?”
“I shouldn’t be here.” Ribold said staring straight ahead. “I shouldn’t have become a member of the Unholy 7. I don’t have the skill.”
Internally Draihan chafed, Sure boy, you’re a far cry from our top warriors but you’ve always had the potential. It’s why you were assigned to me.
“But Ribold, you’re fantastic! You did so much. I just touched an orb and activated a massive ancient evil. Everything you have created. Even Draihan, you revived a member of the Unholy 7. I just picked up someone else’s creation. Magnus Bahamut isn’t really mine.”
“By that measure, Draihan isn’t really mine either. I just borrowed him.”
“Well...” Alfso said gently biting his lip, “Maybe that means we both belong after all!” His smile was as sweet as sunshine.
That little shit is too good for this world. Draihan thought.
“Later I’ll summon Magnus Bahamut and you can use Master Draihan to fight it!”
Draihan tried with all of his might but he was unable to utter the single instinctive word that appeared in his mind “Fuck!”
Ribold barely smirked back, “The Unholy 7 is convening soon to welcome us officially. We’ll have to get better. But first, food.”
“Alright let’s go!”
***
The nearby river had been flooding lately and the waters raced past quickly. Ribold took the net from Draihan’s barely articulate fingers and prepared to throw it.
Fool. The waters are too fast here. The net will catch. I should’ve taught you how to fish properly!
Ribold tied the net to his wrist and tossed it into the middle of the raging river. In seconds something snagged it and he was pulled off the shore below the river. Ribold panicked, water rushed up his nose as for a moment he remembered when he was a fish. However water in the lungs was different from water in the gills. He coughed and thrashed under the water.
“Ribold!” Alfso shouted, running. His reptilian pony emerged from the earth in its cage and it galloped forth into the raging river only to get swept away. It didn’t weigh nearly as much as a living creature and was easily washed away. The skeletal chimera kicked wildly and was slammed repeatedly into rocks. Alfso panicked. He was forbidden from calling Magnus Bahamut and even if he did it wouldn’t easily find Ribold. Even if Alfso could control the thing it’d take time for it to dredge the river with its claws.
Fucking children! I will not believe the son of Katharsis Merron would suffer the fate of a peasant child! Draihan reached into his own consciousness focusing deeply on the distant supernatural tether that bound him to Ribold. It was there wavering frantically between being as strong as steel and as weak as a spiderweb. There isn’t much time but what can I do?
Beneath the waves Ribold was caught under a rock, the water pushing down upon him flowing around him, the net broke from his wrist and was lost but Ribold was unable to swim out and up to the surface. He reached out, not for his mother but for his master.
Draihan dived into the river, following his invisible tether to Ribold, Draihan wrenched the boy out from under the rocks and with his unnatural strength catapulted him to the surface. Ribold broke the surface like a carp flailing ignominiously. He gasped the air before landing in the rapids and was washed further downstream. Ribold saw a fallen log that ran across the river and reached for its lowest hanging branch. However his hand merely slapped the little wet branch and he disappeared beneath the waters again. Ribold felt a traumatic jerk and his waste felt like he was going to break in half. He was pulled backwards against the current and rose from the water, his body entangled by rusted chains. Chakken stood astride the log.
“You’re really stupid aren’t you?” Chakken said arms crossed.
Ribold was suspended upside down and peered at Chakken with one eye gasping before the trickling water got in his eye and he winced, writhing in Chakken’s chains. From the water leapt Draihan who grasped Chakken by his face and tossed him into a nearby boulder on the side of the river. The chains went slack and Ribold fell head first into Draihan’s arms. Draihan carried his master safely across the log to shore. After carefully setting Ribold down he cracked his knuckles and moved on Chakken.
Shit! I’m not fully conscious after all? I guess my thrall instinct happened to match my intent. If this boy doesn’t run right now I’m going to kill him and I can’t stop, Draihan thought desperately.
Draihan’s fists were balled and he began moving towards the boulder that Chakken was embedded into.
“Stop!” Ribold gasped when he realized what was happening. Ribold tried to run after Draihan but fell and grasped onto his legs. “Stop!” he wheezed.
Draihan pulled free of him and continued. Ribold remembered Draihan was his thrall and willed Draihan to stop. Draihan slowed and turned. Ribold looked into the dead white eyes of his former master. There was no sign of life within him, none of his master’s body language either. Draihan moved like a thrall. Physically he hardly seemed different, Master Vol had told him that Draihan was essentially a self resurrecting corpse, more dead than alive even when Ribold knew him. Draihan stopped and just stared into Ribold’s soul blankly but his face was menacing even in the rest of death. His pale jaw clenched into his characteristic frown.
Ribold raised a hand slowly. “Disperse.” Ribold’s coffin rose from the ground and Draihan obediently stepped inside. The coffin lid closed with a wooden clack and sank beneath the black soil. Ribold let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m sorry Chakken. I didn’t mean for him to attack you.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Chakken pulled himself from the now crumbling boulder and grunted. “Next time I’ll let you sink and your pet warlock can save you.”
“I’ll get better at this. I promise,” Ribold replied.
Alfso emerged from the woods, “For now maybe you should start with something easier. We can’t really be Unholy 7 if we don’t have the basics down right?”
“Fair point,”Ribold replied.
“I came here worried about Ribold but maybe I should worry about you more too Chakken.” Alfso said regarding Chakken’s unnaturally durable body.
Chakken broke off a piece of his rusted chain and used it like a hook to peel stones from his flesh. Alfso winced and Ribold averted his eyes.
“Want some help with that?” Ribold asked reluctantly.
“I’ll get it.”
“I’d help Chakken but...” Alfso vomited from the smell of blood.
Chakken began to reach behind his back and scrape away which was riddled with stone shrapnel. Ribold forced himself to look at Chakken and was fascinated at watching these stones pop out of his flesh, it was both gross and mesmerizing.
Ribold looked at the boulder, fractured with a bloody human shaped imprint and asked, “I’m sorry Draihan almost killed you but… if you don’t mind me asking how are you still alive?”
“First,” Chakken said, wincing in pain, “Draihan didn’t almost kill me. You did. And second, don’t underestimate the strength of a slave.”
“I’m sorry about what Drai- what I did. But you’re no slave. Not anymore.”
“Shut up!” Chakken shouted while in pain, “I’m a slave!”
“No you’re not,” Ribold insisted.
“I was born in chains. I’ll die in chains. That’s what I am!” Chakken insisted.
“Chakken,” Alfso said softly, “You don’t have to be. Not anymore.”
“This is who I am! I am a slave.”
“Well then,” Ribold said, “Who’s your master?”
“Huh?” Chakken said calming just a bit.
“Who’s your master?” Ribold continued.
“My master?”
“Yes. You can’t be a slave without a master. That’s not how it works.”
“I… My masters died… You killed them… So, I… So you must be… You must be my master?! No! Too young… too weak… Much too weak… Like my last masters… I… I don’t… I just don’t...” Chakken said as tears began to roll down his face his voice increasingly panic stricken.
Alfso stepped over and hugged him. Chakken threw his arms around Alfso and wrapped them both in chains gently. Ribold stiffened into what he thought was a combat stance but Alfso waved him off. Chakken’s chains weren’t hurting him.
Alfso said gently, “There there, you’re safe now. It’ll be alright.” Chakken sobbed and nodded. Alfso patted his back gently but it wasn’t easy with Chakken’s chains restricting both of their movements. “Ok ok...” Alfso said encouragingly, “Let’s go.” Chakken nodded and the chains fell limp to the ground. Alfso gingerly stepped out of their radius and held out his hand. Chakken grasped it like it was the last handhold before falling into a great ravine. They walked together and Chakkens chains burrowed underground like rusted snakes.
“You good now?” Ribold asked no one in particular.
“I’m… I’ll be fine now. I...” Chakken grasped his head as if he had a splitting headache before scratching his filthy hair and letting go of Alfso to inspect a greasy patch that fell out.
Ribold turned to Alfso as Chakken absentmindedly continued down the path home, “How’d you learn to do that?”
“Do what?”
“You stopped him. You… comforted him.”
Alfso shrugged,“It’s nothing special. I just imagined what I would need in his position and gave it to him.”
“How’d you learn to do that? My mom would help me if I cried but I don’t do it for others,” Ribold said, filled with a mixture of curiosity and envy.
“I never had anyone. My father was a soldier and my mother was a whore. They both died before I could learn to talk. My grandfather raised me alone for a few years until one day he didn’t wake up anymore.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“Hey Ribold?”
“Yeah?”
“Is this what you really want? Being a member of the Unholy 7?”
“Why?”
“Aren’t you looking for your mom?”
“Not lately.”
“But why? I thought you loved her?”
“It’s not that I don’t love her. It’s that I’m powerless to protect her. It’s also likely that she’s dead. And if she is I need to be the best necromancer I can be so I can bring her back.”
“Oh...” Alfso said solemnly. “I didn’t realize it was that bad… But! If you knew she was alive you’d find her right?”
“Obviously.”
“Would you quit necromancy? Just go back to being a kid?”
“I’d probably still study it. Maybe I could convince her to live in Todt Stadt where it’s safe so she wouldn’t have to fear the church anymore.”
“That’d be nice eh? I sure hope I get to meet her. She must be an amazing lady to raise someone as strong as you!”
“Someone strong enough to drown himself in a river?”
“Someone strong enough to risk his life to save mine.”
***
Ribold and Alfso returned to Todt Stadt to eat and prepare their induction ceremony into the Unholy 7. Ribold’s belongings had been moved further up the dark tower to a place that didn’t smell of dirt and mice. Instead his living quarters were Draihan’s. The room was cold and barren. No pictures on the walls, only a handful of barely used candles. There were few books either. The handful on the shelf were a history of Catholic dissent, necromantic reference books, a book about strange inventions, a history of the Unholy 7, and a collection of theories about a White Witch in a leather satchel.
Ribold turned and opened Draihan’s closet to find a handful of sleeveless vests, trousers, and a chest of miscellaneous tools inside including a rusted dagger with a strange trigger. Ribold took the dagger and closed the chest. Also there was a new custom tailored black robe. It was warm velvet outside and a cool silk inside. Ribold had never worn luxurious clothes before. As he dressed he noticed a silver chain necklace hanging behind the door on an old nail. With all that was once Draihan’s now belonging to him Ribold tried it on. Some necromancers wore these silver necklaces for status and with each major accomplishment added more and more accessories to it. Some of the women necromancers crafted extremely elaborate designs. Draihan’s was very simple. A silver chain with metal tubes spaced around it. Many necromancers saw little point to flaunt their accomplishments and deliberately hid them. Others like Draihan found them to simply be a nuisance and never wore them at all.
Ribold came downstairs dressed to kill and Alfso appeared too. Alfso wore a similar robe but it was an extremely dark red. Like blood in the moonlight. His had thinly outlined silver embroidered chimera on his sleeves and seams.
“Ready?” Alfso said nervously.
“It’ll be fine.” Ribold replied.
“You sure?” Alfso said and reached out his hand.
Ribold stared for a moment and took Alfso’s hand as if to shake it before realizing Alfso planned to walk hand in hand to the ceremony. Well the Unholy 7 already think we’re children. May as well play into that. “Pretending we’re weak scared children huh? Good idea.” Ribold said and took the lead pushing the massive double doors of the academy forward. Behind Ribold who was feigning confidence Alfso only looked more discouraged.
Inside was not what they were expecting. Master Vol was there accompanied by a woman and her two children. The Unholy 7 seemed to have skipped out on the ceremony. Ribold felt discouraged at this while Alfso breathed a sigh of relief. It was a small ceremony, and upon the altar were two lambs. Around the large hall were many necromancers wearing their black robes and mostly hiding their faces.
“Welcome children to your special day!” Vol’s voice boomed like thunder aided by some form of arcane magic. All in the room but the woman and her children visibly winced. The boys approached.
“I’m sorry but the Unholy 7 are rather… independent thinkers. I had planned to introduce you in time but I never imagined you would become one, and so soon! Yet with the deaths of Draihan and Eriam the Wise I think it’s important to quickly assign new people.”
“I.. guess that makes sense,” Ribold replied, feeling many eyes living and dead analyzing his every move.
“Joining us here today is one generous member of the Unholy 7, gentlemen please allow me to introduce Frau Lange!”
The woman withdrew her hood revealing beautiful long hair that was somewhat frayed, her eyes piercing with dark circles underneath. She balanced an infant in swaddling clothes on her hip and held the hand of another boy staring at the floor. She carefully balanced her infant as she curtsied, “Pleased to meet you at last Master Ribold and Master Alfso. Welcome to the congregation of the damned.” Frau Lange nudged the boy and he didn’t respond, “This one is Oskar, he loved to play sports. And this one,” she said as she lifted the babe to her breast, “this hungry little one is my little pickle, Isidor.”
Ribold began to realize these children were dead and his mind raced, Who are they? Did she kill her children?!
Alfso however was completely unfazed by them, “Oh! They’re so cute! I hope we can be friends!” It was times like these Ribold realized Alfso for all his sweetness was for some reason completely unfazed at the sight of horror.
Vol cleared his throat and walked backwards making a grand gesture pointing to the two lambs. “I’m sorry we’ve never had time to give the lesson directly. So I’ll teach you now why these are here.”
“I know why.” Ribold said.
“Oh? How studious you are! Tell me then.”
Ribold drew the rusted dagger he took from Draihan and Vol’s eyes lit up with excitement. Ribold stared at the lamb on his side bleating cluelessly away. “Alfso, to be a member of the Unholy 7 you must sacrifice a baby lamb before all of the witnesses who are willing. It’s a ceremony commemorating the death of both our ignorance and innocence to welcome us into the darkness. By default the completion of this ceremony makes us excommunicated, however soon there will be a papal bull proclaiming our eternal damnation anyway regardless now.”
“But! But I don’t want to hurt the lamb!” Alfso protested squeamishly.
Vol began to speak but Ribold cut him off, “Alfso, you knew what you were getting involved with. You can quit if you want but our job is to control life and death.”
Vol walked past them and addressed the chamber, “Fellow necromancers! Today is a momentous occasion! Where Ribold the Curious and Alfso, the Splendid will demonstrate their natural talents by dispatching these little beasts to prove their muster as men of darkness!”
Ribold remembered Cardinal Della Rovere and the sight of Draihan exploding into gore, he remembered his mother’s frightened expression the last time he saw her, and all the fighting he had done to make it this far. “So be it,” Ribold walked up to the mewling lamb and grasped it’s lower jaw, his mind filled with how adorable and innocent it was. It’s little soft fuzzy jaw was warm to the touch. Ribold killed those thoughts in his mind and stabbed it in the throat with a single accurate thrust. It buckled and collapsed but Ribold didn’t let go. As it’s warm blood trickled into his hands Ribold summoned it back to life. The lamb looked perfectly normal aside from a massive wet red trail dripping down to the floor, however when Vol examined it closer the wound was closed. Vol touched it’s neck and could easily read Ribold’s ownership. It was a flawless resurrection. Ribold had grown immensely since he wandered the streets with his poor broken chicken.
Alfso watched and visibly squirmed. He never killed anything with his own hands before. Vol gave him a silver knife and nudged him forward. All eyes were on him, even Ribold’s which at the moment seemed cold and cruel, the lamb’s blood dripping off of his hands. Alfso walked to his lamb which sensed danger and began hopping and pulling at it’s rope restraint. Alfso stood there watching the poor thing mewling louder and louder trying to escape. But the lamb’s course, like Alfso’s was laid before him and there was nothing to do but play it out.
Alfso reached for it but it kept dancing about. Some necromancers sneered and Vol looked troubled. Alfso snapped, snatching the little beast by the leg and flipping it on it’s side. Alfso stabbed it in the gut and it cried out. Still kicking at Alfso he stabbed it again and again and again repeatedly until it finally went silent. Covered in red blood Alfso withdrew little glass bottles from his coat. He sprinkled small amounts of flakes and ash upon the gory scene and knelt in prayer. A demonic hiss echoed about and the lamb leapt to its feet. It’s head sprouted horns like a goat but these weren’t horns at all but venomous snakes. It’s wool fell out entirely and was replaced with deep blue and purple hairs that trailed to the floor. Vol went to touch it when Alfso grasped his arm stopping him.
“No need,” Alfso said softly and sadly, “I’ll explain it.” Alfso turned and looked at the crowd that had snicked and jeered him and his voice rose louder and angrier than Ribold realized he was capable of. “This lamb is now a new chimera! I killed it just as you expected! But I returned it my way! You wanted me to kill an innocent creature to prove a point?! For what? Tradition?! This lamb now has spitting cobras for horns and I replaced its wool with the tendrils of the Portuegese man o’ war. You sadists just want to watch blood get spilt. So I made it a new apex predator to spill the blood of sadists like you!”
Alfso was so upset he was shaking. Vol clapped theatrically and the rest of the chamber followed in applause. Frau Lange placed her hand on his back to comfort him and Alfso started weeping at the sight of his little monster. Alfso waved his hand and a little box rose from the ground and his Lamb o’ War obediently hopped inside and descended out of sight.
“And there you have it! Ribold the Curious and Alfso the Splendid!” Vol said. The chamber doors opened and the audience began to file out. Vol’s attendants came with buckets to clean the bloody altar and Ribold borrowed their buckets and sponges to clean his undead lamb. Vol knelt down next to Ribold as he washed his lamb and spoke quietly, “There is something I need you to do.”
“What’s that?” Ribold said coldly.
“One of the Unholy 7 may be slaughtering his way across the country right now.”
“It’s a dangerous world. Why’s that concern me?”
“Not even the Unholy 7 are permitted to commit genocide.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“I’m sending three of the Unholy 7 to investigate and stop him.”
“That’s why Frau Lange is here?”
“You’re a sharp boy. But watch out! The man you’re hunting is different from the necromancers you know.”
“Why do you say he’s different?”
“He’s an old colleague of mine. His skill and weapon is not as mundane as thralls and daggers. Nay, Ruprecht’s specialty is disease.”
“Disease?” Ribold asked. He’d never thought of sickness as anything beyond a natural phenomenon. He had little understanding as to how they worked. Many common folk saw disease as a curse. But Draihan had once told him that all people were just groups of tiny creatures working together. But the amount of delicate skill it took Draihan to resurrect his own dead tissue was far beyond Ribold’s skill level.
“Yes Ribold, disease. Ruprecht was always a difficult one; distant, vengeful, angry, with no sense of morality. It made him an excellent necromancer, one with many breakthroughs.”
Alfso stepped forward “What do you think he’s done?”
Master Vol stroked his beard and thought a moment, “Well, probably the same as he always does. But this time I suppose too much and too often.”
Frau Lange spoke up, “Ruprecht is a mercenary, he rarely ever shared his breakthroughs with the guild. Instead selling mass slaughter for coin and his own sadistic amusement.”
Ribold was thinking, “How do we know he’s guilty? And if he’s guilty how are we supposed to stop him?”
Frau Lange responded with a hint of anger as if she were insulted, “Guilty?” she said in an offended tone before looking Vol himself in the eye, “This is Ruprecht the Plague and Vol has covered for him for far too long. Of course he’s guilty! Furthermore I will stop him. You two will help me.”
Ribold had never seen anyone dare challenge Master Vol before. Yet when Frau Lange chastised Vol eye to eye he merely looked away - in what? Shame? Vol looked up again and cleared his throat, “Ruprecht’s plagues are not to be taken lightly. Even I’d have difficulty finishing him off which is why I’m sending three of you.”
“Why can’t you do it?” Ribold said, somewhat emboldened at the sight of Frau Lange’s rebellion. Master Vol was incredibly powerful but to Ribold’s knowledge rarely left Todt Stadt.
“He must maintain the maelstrom Ribold that’s why.” Frau Lange said, now defending Vol to Ribold’s surprise. He realized he really shouldn’t step between whatever their relationship was after all.
“What’s the Maelstrom again?” Alfso asked sheepishly, gauging the temperature of the room amongst everyone.
“The Maelstrom is my personal collection of thralls. Why I can’t even remember how many I have at my disposal now,” Vol pondered lost in thought, “Why, millions I suppose.”
“There’s a region hidden away by mountains and legends where Vol keeps them all. Legions upon legions of legendary warriors throughout history walking in a massive ringed path protecting what I don’t know,” Frau Lange added.
Vol chuckled, “Sometimes I forget myself!”
Frau Lange sighed, “Anyways boys back to the task at hand, where should we look for Ruprecht?” She turned to Vol, “Do you have any leads?”
Vol put a finger on his hairy chin in contemplation, “I have an inkling he’ll be in Cologne before too long.”