Of a great rebellion they had dreamt. Many of them had given in to the illusion, even though they knew how limited their powers actually were. But this night had brought a rude awakening. Now haste was the order of the day. Lucius and a few of the men who had survived the demon emperor's attack were not just getting a move on now, no, they were literally racing to get back to camp as quickly as possible. The hooves of their horses thundered wildly over the rough tracks that led through this wooded area, the cold wind of a cloudless night blowing up against them. Lucius had been lucky today, unbelievably lucky. By pure chance, he had been standing outside the tavern when the devil Wenzel revealed himself inside. After that, he had hidden himself nearby, inconspicuously gathered some of the remaining escapees and made his way back to their headquarters with them.
The earth had already birthed the sun, and all sorts of activity could be observed throughout the camp. Suddenly, a small group of their men came galloping out of the forest. Among them was one that the fighters had always seen next to their leader lately. Lucius, however, looked stricken and harried. Sweat dripped down from him, and he was struggling for air. Eventually, however, he was able to draw a breath deep enough to call out and summon everyone over. The other soldiers immediately rushed through the crowd and in between the tents like hunted animals to call all the men together. What would it be? Would they finally, after all this time of training, make a push into Ordania?
“Quiet! Quiet!”, squealed the short man with messy hair. It took a little while, but relatively quickly the assembled people had been made as quiet as mice. Then came the announcement: “Free Lancers! The forces of the Holy Empire have tracked us down! They will probably be here fairly soon.”
Consequently, a loud groan went through the crowd and cries of, “Great God!”, could be heard. “But there's no need to panic. In this rugged country, it will probably take them a while to get to this exact place. So, let's not waste any time. We have a long march ahead of us. Our destination is Kasharovar. There we will join forces with the Kashar resistance to challenge the regime together. Pack up as quickly as possible! We are leaving!”
Many of the audience had felt a great deal of doubt when they learned that they were going to join those who were in fact also their enemies. Nevertheless, they obeyed and hurriedly began to dismantle the tents, load the wagons and prepare everything for their departure. The survivors of the previous night were putting a lot of pressure on them. “Leave everything behind that isn't absolutely essential! Come on, hurry up!”, the orders resounded. It still took a while. But when they were mostly finished, it happened.
From a distance, an ominous roar reached them, which seemed to steadily grow louder. Many of the drudges here were now overcome with great fear, including Lucius himself. Then, like a lightning strike, they suddenly were there! Akin to a raging torrent, the fourth regiment of the Holy Ordanian Army burst out of the thicket of the forest, as if not bothered by it at all, and charged the insurgents. Caught off guard, many of them began to flee, while others held their ground, drawing their weapons. Unfortunately, however, an ever-increasing number of mostly young soldiers poured in, seemingly with no end in sight. Full of energy, they let out their battle cries and attacked the Alethic forces on horseback and with spears. To all sides men were falling. Some of the attackers also took hits, of course, but things really didn't look so rosy for the rebels. Their own were dropping like flies.
In the meantime, there was no sign of the provisional commander, Lucius. It was almost as if he had been swallowed up by the earth. The number of enemy forces soon reached critical levels. Those who had stayed behind to stand up to the attackers no longer stood a chance and were cut down, while the remaining men from their side scrambled to escape. But Alexander's forces gave them no respite. They were immediately hot on their heels and would not let them go until they had either captured or otherwise defeated the pursued men. It was undoubtedly a resounding victory for this regiment of the Holy Army, but there were also a considerable number who managed to escape. They scattered in the wild, untrodden pine forests of Translimesia where they disappeared never to be seen again.
However, a man named Lucius Cornel was neither among the prisoners, nor would he be found among the fallen. After all the chaos, though, this fact would take some time to become known to the commander, Major General Kuhn. Meanwhile, said man rode up smugly, trudged across the battlefield and boasted to his companions how much this success was due to his good leadership. The Baron, who was standing nearby at the time, preferred not to say anything, instead rolling his eyes.
The brainchild, which had arisen from his own deliberations, left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. In self-doubt, Wenzel still sat on one of the “heart chairs”, ruminating. “No, I'm going to do it like this!”, he finally reached the decision. Mrs. Vogt was still nearby, guarded by a couple of Imperial Guardsmen, who had accompanied the troops on their mission here, in order to be able to stand by His Majesty's side. The prisoner Etzel, on the other hand, was already en route to the capital. The uncertainty about what awaited her now was killing Petra, and she sat there like on pins and needles, now and then trembling, with her hands folded. What would Wenzel do to her now? Was this really her demise? It would stand to reason, that this would be the case.
Thus, she pushed herself to speak to him: “Can I ask you what you intend to do with me now?” The Chosen One was a little puzzled, as she once again did not address him with the required courtesy. He then, nonetheless, gave her an answer, “I don't feel the slightest bit of sympathy for you. Having said that, there is no crime that I can prove you committed, and frankly, I believe that you are innocent in this matter.” Upon hearing this, the lady had to make an insane effort not to reveal her snide amusement over the emperor's conclusions.
“Consequently, I have decided to let you go.” This came as a huge surprise to her, and although it might have been counterproductive, she HAD to ask a follow-up question. “Don't you.... Doesn’t His Highness harbour any hatred towards me at all? Back then you framed August to get rid of him, after all!” - “I suppose, that's more of a personal matter on your part. As far as I'm concerned, something that happened in the year dot, is over and done,” her dialogue partner explained to her. His poignant statement had an exceptionally provocative effect on Petra, given how contemptuously he had just dismissed her feelings with it. She swallowed her anger over this, as she didn't want to jeopardize her position here, and preferred to feather her own nest for the time being. “Calm down! I can't allow myself to freak out here now,” she reminded herself in her thoughts.
But after that, already something new transpired. One of the guards came in and informed them, “God's Chosen, Major General Kuhn has returned!” - “So, have him summoned here!” The youngster stomped into the room at a brisk pace and stepped in front of His Holiness. For a moment, he seemed distracted by the ravages and the nasty traces of battle that could still be seen here. But then he immediately turned his attention back to Wenzel. Said person looked at him relatively emotionlessly and immediately asked him to report on their operation against the rebels. Alexander took a moment to collect himself and then made the following statement:
“We absolutely crushed the rebels. Most of them turned tail and tried to flee when they saw my men, with me personally leading them in the fore, charging at them! A few escaped, but all in all it was a devastating blow against the Alethics.” At this, the emperor once again ran his fingers through his beard. He contemplated the boy's words. His Highness quickly understood that this was probably a lot of self-laudation. But did it at least have some basis? “Come here a second!”, he ordered the Kuhn offspring. This was obediently followed, and the mage took a quick look at his memories. “Let me in, please,” Wenzel requested, and the boy complied. What was revealed to him here was, that Alexander had exaggerated his role in the battle -he hadn't led the troops in the front - but the claim that this pocket of resistance had been crushed was definitely correct. Although, untold numbers had also escaped them.
A little ashamed since he felt like he had been caught fibbing, the youth turned away. Then the Chosen One, however, wanted to ascertain something important: “And what about Lucius Cornel?” - “We've had all the bodies inspected. No one has seen him or been able to identify him,” the youngster answered in a flash. As was to be expected, His Majesty was not particularly pleased with such news. During all this, Petra was still sitting by and listening to everything the two of them were conversing about. Finally, Wenzel turned to her and said, “Are you still here? Didn't you hear what I told you before? You are dismissed. Leave!”
The lady was stunned for a moment, but then picked herself up and walked out the entrance. In disbelief, the young major general gawped after her, then back at his ruler. “Huh? You're just going to let the criminal go? Why?” Wenzel seemed annoyed by his question and gruffly retorted, “Because I've made that decision. And now hold your tongue! I'm certainly not going to discuss this matter with children!” After this, Alexander did not dare to speak back. The wizard then ordered him to get the soldiers ready for the return journey to Ordania as soon as possible. He said, “The Camenian Kingdom will not be happy, if we simply stay on their territory without asking first. And the population here would certainly not approve of this either. So, get a move on! Make sure you get back home!”
When the young soldier was about to set off again, he brought a last request to His Highness, “Are we actually already at the end of our undertaking with this, Your Majesty? The heretics surely are still hidden in many places. When I return home to Meglarsbruck, Ulrich will continue my fighting lessons, instead of letting me return to real combat. Please, let me keep fighting!” Wenzel did understand his supplicant's train of thought. “I actually don't need him here anymore, but....well, who cares! If he's looking for a purpose in life, I can offer him one.” Consequently, he replied to him, “There is one more thing that I could offer you to do for me." When he heard this, the boy's mood instantly brightened up.
At first, she had strolled away slowly, but when she got out of sight, she significantly picked up the pace. Although it would have been ridiculous to assume that Wenzel would suddenly change his mind and chase after her to recapture her once more, a small remnant of the fear, that had embedded itself inside her mind, still lingered. Minute after minute passed and she moved further and further away from the Ye Olde Fish Tavern. Then she reached the one-hour mark. Still, no one had tried to come for her. It seemed that the emperor was genuinely being earnest about her release.
“What an idiot!”, Petra began to vent about him in self-talk. “I was actually able to trick him. Phew! What a stroke of luck that was! If they had caught Lucius, I would have been in for it. Fortunately, Etzel and Fulco di Alduino's brother were clever enough to only divulge minimal information to the witcher, which was a lifesaver for me regarding the situation with Lucius. It didn't save Etzel's life, but at least it saved mine.” Then her nose itched, and she scratched it. Something still seemed to be bothering her. What could it possibly be?
“If the demon emperor has bought my lies, which it looks like he has at the moment, he might even stick around for a while to wait out the one who's to blame for the situation with his daughter. Ha, so, he can wait a long time! That's exactly what my trickery was intended to do.” It had been a wise decision on her part to acquiesce to the Chosen One and not act hostile towards him. Her joy at the positive outcome of this dramatic predicament for her, however, was again dampened by one major factor: the matter with Achaz. Now that she knew that her supposed accomplice had double-crossed her, she was keen to repay him for his deceit. He had taken her only son from her. Or let's put it this way, the probability that this had been the case was quite high.
She had loved her Achaz..... sort of, at least. Her reaction to Wenzel's conclusions concerning him had perhaps been a little contrived, but she had indeed been shocked by the revelations the ruler had discovered with his intellect. Mr. Cornel, on the other hand, had betrayed her trust, and he would pay for it! Her journey would take her to the Kashar Lands. If there was anywhere, she could find Lucius, it would be there. Hence, she continued onwards. Her horse had vanished in all the confusion, and it was probably pointless to start looking for it. On foot, she headed in a north-easterly direction. A long way lay ahead of her.
An hour later, calm had descended on this place. Only the emperor and his guard were still to be found in the devastated inn. Taciturn and lost in thought, Wenzel trundled over to the bar, poured himself a glass of water, as he usually didn't drink alcohol, and continued to ponder. “I suspect she's taken the bait,” he thought to himself. He continued to stare at the wooden wall panelling and fixtures, on shelves of which countless bottles of various spirits were on display. The Imperial Guards just stood idly by and didn't really know what was going on. But they didn't dare ask their master either.
“These scoundrels have actually managed to build up a whole army of irregulars right under our noses without anyone even suspecting a thing. They had simply wandered to the other side of the border to evade the strong arm of the Empire. Could the king of Camenia have allowed this, or at least turned a blind eye to it? No, probably not. It can be assumed that the largely autonomous Camenia is not particularly vindictive towards the heartland of the Holy Empire, and rather prefers peaceful coexistence with its overwhelmingly superior neighbour. This project can more likely be attributed to the reactionary remnants of the brief Alethian Interregnum.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
It is probably better to deal with its ringleaders individually and in a crafty manner. Etzel von Gellingen, the Field Marshal of the old regime, shall receive the death penalty. As for Lord Di Alduino, it is probably more advisable to be merciful with him, as a feud with a great Camenian noble house would inevitably have a destabilizing effect.”
Wisdom before emotion, that was the credo here. And the mage was dead serious about this. He had taken the same attitude towards Mrs. Vogt. He hated her so much, oh, how abominable his hatred for this woman was! And yet, he had controlled himself and suppressed all his surging feelings when talking to her.
“I have done all this to steer her where I want her, in order to achieve my goal. Followers of the Alethic tyranny have surely not only been recruited and trained here; I am one hundred percent sure of that. We can assume that they are gathering further forces in other countries outside of Ordania. And Petra certainly knows about it. In the belief of having pulled the wool over my eyes, she will now go and join her allies. And I will find her. There's no way I won't find her, regardless of what unfolds here.” As this was passing through his mind, he contentedly tapped the rucksack in which he had stowed all of his Holy Artifacts.
“I didn't let her get away, because she can't get away from me anyhow. I will use her to unwittingly lead me to more traitors and perhaps even to Lucius, or even to my little Victoria. Then, when she is no longer of any use to me, she'll die!”
His Highness was still sitting alone at the bar with a slight smirk on his face. That, however, was only of a fleeting nature, since he promptly recalled that he didn't have what really mattered to him: his daughter. Only afterwards did he instruct his guards, to stay with him in this place for at least a few days. According to His Majesty, they were waiting to see, if a man named Lucius Cornel might show up. He was supposedly a short man with unkempt black hair. It was a very vacuous personal description. Well, what good did it do them? His Holiness had decided on something, and he was beyond reproach. Hence, they settled down here for the time being. Soon, however, they began cleaning the premises of their own accord, as their disgusting condition was intolerable.
A vast, flat wasteland, whose sometimes snow-white, then dirty, greyish plains stretched out to the horizon. It was a patch of earth where nothing flourished, and which was unbelievably arid and hopeless: the Geächtetenpfann. Named after those on whom the imperial ban had been imposed and who, according to rumour, had often been driven out or abandoned here to meet their end. There were countless folk tales and horror stories about the spirits of those who had died in this inhospitable salt flat, but who still haunted all those who traversed it. Presumably, this was all just humbug.....yes, that's it! Almost ironically, this barren land was located directly on the South Sea, which should have meant that there was enough moisture there. Nevertheless, any precipitation soon evaporated in the endless salt pans of this landscape.
At the time of the snowmelt, which means in spring, a few drybed rivers and streams fed the pan with meltwater, which, as their name implies, carried no further water for the rest of the year. The source of this were, of course, the colossal glaciers of the Kashar highlands, which delimited this landscape from the north-east. Apart from a few adventurers or nomads, no one lived here. The imperial highway, which ran through the region in an east-west direction and ultimately led to Nargyosh, the capital of Kasharovar, was the only transport artery here and the only place where people could be found on a regular basis. Even on this road, however, it was an arduous journey through this desert.
A group of men were now gazing down on this very wasteland in sombre awe. They had just crested a small mound on which stood a well-known local landmark. It was the “Giant's Hand”, which was not too far from Freiburg, and in its shadow a number of travellers were now slowly making their way towards the "Outlaw's Pan". It was a rock formation made up of five basalt columns that solitarily jutted out of the area, and which resembled the shape of a larger than life-sized hand. There were several myths about its supposed origins, including one that told of a stone giant from the mountains who once tried to make his way into Ordania, but couldn't quite make it through the Geächtetenpfann, so his spirit left his body here at its very edge. Therefore, his hand traditionally marked the beginning of the salt desert.
Lucius and the survivors who had not given up after the raid on their camp had, without coordination and very much by happenstance, found each other and were now walking together towards their destination: The secret quarters of the Kashar Hordes beyond this wasteland. They were a meagre bunch. The dry, alienating smell of the salt reached their noses. Lucius only hoped that the water they had previously loaded onto their pack animals in the largest possible quantity would last them to the end. Whatever was in the air irritated his conk and he soon had to sneeze hard. As he wiped his sniffer with a handkerchief, he noticed how the sun's rays, which were falling on his back, cast a shadow on the ground in front of him. It was not that of the Giant's Hand, however, for it was moving!
With trepidation, he turned around promptly and looked up to see what he was dealing with here. But the bright star almost blinded him, and he turned away in a daze. Apart from some black outlines, he hadn't been able to make out anything. When Lucius' visual perception had halfway recovered, he took another look. The thing had grown considerably larger as it had come closer, and now they could see that it was a person. Its distance from them decreased even more and finally it got very close to them. Only now did the tousle-head see who it was. It turned out to be the girl with crimson hair. Mr. Cornel was filled with abject horror! All the other members of these leftovers of the Free Lancers also came to an immediate halt and, fitting with their surroundings, turned into pillars of salt.
For some inexplicable reason, Viktoria was wearing a dress embroidered with traditional rural motifs. The girl's sight was squarely fixed on Lucius. He didn't move, but he had a bad premonition. “Is she here for me? No, that's not possible. She doesn't even know my physical appearance. .....Or does she?” No less unsettling was the face she was making. With little red veins in the whites of her eyes, she looked frazzled and irritable. The young lady lowered herself down and landed on the ground in front of the one who had Achaz on his conscience. She looked at the man for a moment, but then turned and glanced at the Giant's Hand. After that, she spoke:
“I have seen this place here and this very moment right now in a dream. That's why I came here, to see what it's all about.” This immediately set Lucius' brain into overdrive. “So, she doesn't know who I am! Thank God!”, it immediately crossed the guy's mind. He instantly tried to come up with a new ploy to take advantage of the situation. So, after a short pause, he replied to her, “It's probably divine providence that we're meeting here, young lady. May I know your name?” The redhead turned towards him. The look on her face made one's blood run cold. “Just look at me. My hair colour alone should make it clear to you who I am,” she simply stated. The addressee pretended to realize this only now and gave her this response: “Oh, a magician! Wait, then you are, are you the princess?” - “If you want to look at it that way, yes.”
It so happened that Gabriela's son instantaneously read the correct thing out of the statement that had just been made. He returned the following, “I'm sure this will surprise you, but I've heard a bit more about you already.” Curious, Viktoria stared at him with a face that was still an emotional wreck. He elaborated, “My nephew has mentioned you to me on a few occasions. Achaz is his name. He has a lot of nice things to say about you. I'm called Bertram. Nice to meet you!” Her reaction to his extended hand was somewhat delayed, as she was obviously afflicted by his statements. In the end, however, she gave him a handshake and introduced herself using only her first name.
“There's something I want to tell you, but I don't know how to do it yet. Please, give me some time,” she said melancholically, almost in a whisper. Her counterpart immediately accommodated her there and said, “Of course. But we have to get going now, because we have somewhere to be. You can just accompany us through the salt desert, if you want.” Thus, she temporarily joined this band. As the girl was walking alongside Lucius, there was a huge sense of unease and fear in the ranks of the men here. This teenager terrified them.
It was a hot day, and the group of travellers was only making slow progress. After all, they had to take on the additional hardship of treading the gruelling trails through the Geächtetenpfann, since they, as anti-regime forces, were logically unable to simply take the main road. The little devil child also dragged herself forward, seemingly slowing down. For the entire time she was quiet, but then, from one moment to the next, something suddenly burst out of her that she had apparently not been able to express before: “Your nephew is dead. My father killed him. I'm really sorry.”
Aghast, “Bertram” returned, “What? Achaz is...dead? Is that true?” To which the girl gave only a barely perceptible nod of her head in reply. “Oh, pity me! He was still so young!”, the impostor said in a far too theatrical fashion. However, Viktoria's lack of any relevant reaction led him to conclude that she was buying his feigned dismay. Otherwise, she would probably have treated him with some form of enmity. Nevertheless, the man was very anxious. He had to be extremely careful with every statement, every countenance and gesture, if he wanted to manipulate events here in his favour. “Nothing less than my very life is at stake here!” Why did he believe such a thing? The impression the princess gave him was one of utmost tension, which was to such an extent, that one could be forgiven for thinking that at any moment her nerves would be getting the better of her.
Nevertheless, he continued to speak to her, but in an explicitly softer, more low-key tone. His aim now was to sway the teenager to his side, so that he could take advantage of her! This was a bold plan, considering that he was putting himself with one foot over the precipice. Lucius knew that very well, however. In his mind, he had been living on the edge for his entire existence anyway.
He knew how to get the child around. The only thing he needed to do was to take advantage of Viktoria's badly damaged relationship with her father to get her to do the things he wanted. On their journey through the wasteland, he would now have time to talk to her and slowly build up some trust in him. And then, when the right moment came, he would strike. “Is that why you're out here in this no man's land instead of a palace?”, the person pretending to be named Bertram then asked. After a short speaking pause, he then made this further point: “I can understand someone having disagreements with their own family, I really can. But your case seems a little..... out of proportion to me.” Viktoria's lips, concerning this, continued to be sealed. Mr. Cornel should have expected this.
Consequently, he preferred to move on to another topic and told her about nicer things for a while, such as a few pleasant stories from his childhood. Of course, these were all made up and hadn't actually happened. Evening slowly fell and they set up camp for the night. Here the first small success of his persistent work on the girl showed itself, as in the light of the campfire she told him about how she always liked to go and feed the ducks at the pond. It wasn't until the next day that he risked the step of informing her about the nature of their “travelling party” here. “At the risk of bringing about my own ruin here, I have to tell you something more about us. We are anti-Melgarist fighters. This means, we are enemies of the regime of which your father is the figurehead.” When the youth responded, “It's alright. I won't hurt you people,” the man was overjoyed. He had now overcome the first major obstacle with her.
The foul smell of the morass was wafting through the air. It was already dark, and the young warrior had to pay very close attention. The dampness and mustiness penetrated Alexander's nasal cavities as he brought his mount to a brief halt to light a torch. It was perhaps not the smartest idea, as his presence could be seen from afar that way, but what else could he do? He couldn't, no, he wasn't allowed to lose her. For some inscrutable reason, she hadn't called it a night and gone to sleep like she usually did. She just kept on walking and walking.
Was she not tired at all? What purpose did she pursue with something so pointless? Had she perhaps noticed that someone was stalking her? That might explain a change in her behaviour, but it still wouldn't make it logically comprehensible. Pulling an all-nighter wouldn't help her shake him off, that was for sure. What's more, she didn't even have a horse like he did. So, what was going on here now? The Kuhn offspring couldn't make any sense of it.
In the light of his torch, he continued trotting on. His Highness had tasked Alexander with the mission of chasing Petra Vogt, naturally without being discovered. She would lead him to another den of heretics, which the Holy Army would then be able to flush out. It was a good idea. But the young man was not very experienced in shadowing others. So far, he had found it extremely difficult not to lose the woman's trail. But he was still hot on her heels. The imprints in the mud were unmistakable and following them was a simple task. Here, where the branching arms of the Duhn, which formed its delta further east, created a marshland, it was easy to follow someone's tracks.
Much like the fanning arms of the great river, time passed unnoticeably yet ceaselessly here in this lonely corner of the world. Nothing seemed to exist outside the sphere created by the flame's cone of light, almost as if this was its own universe. The sound of frogs croaking reached him from quite close by. Alexander realized that he was getting slower in this monotony and then pushed onwards a little harder again. An indeterminate amount of time later, however, something startled him. Much too close in front of him, he suddenly made out a human figure to his left. “Oh, no! Have I messed up, because I wasn't paying close enough attention? Have I run into Mrs. Vogt now because she eventually decided on taking a break after all?”, he queried himself.
That turned out to not be the case. The little bit of illumination that reached the figure in the shadows of the night unveiled a middle-aged gentleman with a bucket hat on his head. It was clear, however, that the tracks the lad had followed came from this person, the footprints of which ended here with this man. Now he had a bad feeling, and Alexander immediately rode up to the wayfarer. “Good evening! Who are you and what are you doing here?”
A face marked by age then turned towards him. Now one could also see a few fishing hooks stuck in the hat the man was wearing. Seemingly miffed, the man replied, “I don't have to justify myself here, sonny! I live here! Never heard of night fishing, have you? Bream and even carp bite better when it's dark.” The young military man gritted his teeth. Without apologizing, he rode ahead first. When he saw that there were no further footprints in that direction, he turned around and rode back the same way, as if in a rush. It was a disaster! He had lost Petra's scent. Now he had to hurry, because the longer it took him to pick up her trail once more, the less chance he had of finding her again.
But unfortunately, it would be in vain. He spent the rest of the night and the next day trying to track down his target, but she had apparently vanished into thin air. Alexander was devastated. He was convinced that His Majesty would resent this failure of his. But most of all, it was himself who was affected by the matter. Once again, he had failed. He had not only disappointed others, but also himself. Why? Just why was he so useless!