Count Claudius von Brandt woke up at the crack of dawn. He was naked and alone as he pulled the sheets off of himself, rubbed the mucus out of his eyes, and sat up on his bed.
His bedroom was not unlike any other room in the castle. Its walls were bare stone and its furniture was made out of simple wood. The furniture consisted of nothing more than a simple bed, nightstand, a desk, a chair, a rack for storing weapons and armor, and a bookshelf.
In the dim morning light the count was able to look down and examine his body. Despite his frail appearance he had a slim, but muscular and toned physique; especially for a man of his age. The only exception to this was his right leg.
In the count’s current position, anyone could clearly see an asymmetry between his right and left legs. His left leg was just like the rest of his body, but his right leg barely looked human. It was unusually pale and all, but devoid of all muscle; not unlike what one would find on a chicken. Twisted and bulging veins ran up and down the length of the leg and it terminated in a foot with only three toes.
The count instinctively reached for two objects on his nightstand. The first was a strange contraption made out of metal rods and leather straps. The second was a small wooden rod no larger than a spoon.
Count Claudius placed the wooden rod in between his teeth before placing his leg into the leather and metal contraption, which was a leg brace designed and constructed by the count himself. The count inhaled as he prepared for the hard part.
The old man twisted his leg into the leg brace as though he was threading a needle. He bit down on the wooden rod as a sharp pain ran through his leg. He then tightened the brace and bit down on the wooden rod even harder. His eyes closed and his mind drifted towards happier times. There were still a number of complicated and painful actions that needed to be done in order to affix the leg brace to his leg, but that didn’t matter. It was all muscle memory now. After ten minutes of pain, the count let the wooden rod fall from his mouth. He then put it back on his nightstand and got up to begin his morning routine.
Once the count had put his leg brace on he began the day with his exercises. Every other day he would exercise by performing a list of ten or so exercises. He had three of these lists that he would cycle through regularly. Every single exercise consisted of three sets of twenty repetitions each. Today, the count would perform sixty push-ups, sixty sit-ups, sixty dips, sixty military presses, sixty bicep curls, sixty lateral raises, sixty upright rows, sixty bench presses, and sixty leg raises. One of his guards would supervise his bench presses and on the fifth day of the week he would perform a different set of exercises for his left leg.
When the count was done with his exercises, he would bathe, an action that would require him to remove his leg brace and reattach it when he was done.
Once the count had dressed himself and reattached his leg brace, there was one more activity he had to do before he would allow himself to have breakfast; one that he did every day.
“What do you mean he is praying? It’s the Day of Thunder1,” Alexandra asked. She was standing in the banquet hall of Brandt castle alongside Adrian and Ekkehardt.
“It’s just something he does every day,” Adrian said with a shrug, “He is rather religious.”
Alexandra looked at Adrian quizzically. She wasn’t as well-versed in all of the gossip of the imperial and Alemanian nobility as her brother was, but she knew that the nobility cared very little about religion or the church. Being ‘rather religious’ by the standards of the nobility really only meant going to church once a week and not cheating on your spouse at every given opportunity. Unlike the peasantry, they cared very little about the actual tenets of the faith. Alexandra figured that this was probably due to the fact that the nobility were far more aware of church internal politics and corruption.
“Oh. I wasn’t aware of that,” Alexandra responded. She tried not to sound like she was skeptical of Adrian’s claim, but she feared that she was unsuccessful.
“My liege isn’t like his ancestors, your highness,” Adrian remarked.
“I didn’t mean to imply that he was, sir,” Alexandra replied. Suddenly a voice chimed in from behind Alexandra.
“You didn’t mean to imply what?” it asked. Alexandra turned around to see Count Claudius standing behind her.
“Oh, it was nothing,” Adrian interjected, “His highness wanted to ask you some questions before he left for Weisshart.” The count turned his gaze to Alexandra.
“What did you want to ask me, your highness?” The count asked. Alexandra inhaled.
“I just wanted to know about your relationship with ‘Cedric of Sortpool’. I believe he is one of the people in that painting you have on the wall,” Alexandra explained as she pointed to the painting of Cedric and the count’s family.
A flash of confusion appeared on the count’s face, only to be quickly replaced by sadness. He turned away from Alexandra and towards the man in the painting. Alexandra joined him. She tried to memorize every little detail of the man, such as his sharp chin or short green cloak, but she could help, but gravitate towards his eyes.
“Cedric was… a friend of my family,” The count said, “He was originally a nobleman from Ivernistan2. He was supposedly from a very good family and was set up to marry a niece of the Ivernistani tanist3, but that all fell apart when the Jutticans4 invaded and he was forced to flee to Metrovingia. He then traveled to Reme with a small group of Ivernistani noblemen and tried to get patriarch Benevolent the eighth to help him retake his holdings and get the Jutticans out of his country. The patriarch refused, so Cedric got angry and called him an atheist, a homosexual, and a pedophile. All of those accusations were probably true, but that didn’t stop Benevolent from excommunicating Cedric. He ended up in my father’s court, because we were the only ones who would accept him. He had an Alemanian grandmother that he was close to while he was growing up, so he understood our language pretty well and we all got along. Eventually he asked for my sister’s hand in marriage and my father accepted. He was a good man,” Count Claudius explained.
“Was?” Alexandra repeated.
“He was killed during the Time of Red Snow,” The count answered. Alexandra scratched her chin.
“I don’t believe that I read anything about that event,” Alexandra inquired. The count’s voice became more morose as he continued to stare at the painting.
“Well, I can’t say that I am surprised that the scribes in the capital don’t write about it. It’s what we call a series of wars we had with the Bergman tribes fifty years ago. I wouldn’t be able to explain to you all of the nuance and minutia of Bergman culture, history, and politics if I had all day, but what you need to know is that there was some sort of upheaval among their people and there were several smaller tribes that ended up on the wrong side of it. They were systematically hunted out of their territory in the steppe and, with nowhere left to go, they tried to conquer Nordfell. We fought back and we won… eventually. As for what it was like to live through.. that’s… very difficult to describe to someone who wasn’t there,” Count Claudius responded.
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“I think I can understand. I’ve read my fair share of history,” Alexandra said.
“My liege, I…” Adrian interjected.
“Your highness, when was the last time you’ve eaten bark or moss?” The count asked. Alexandra was unsure how to respond.
“I… I can’t say I’ve ever done that…'' She remarked.
“I have, many times,” The count explained, “When the Bergmen invaded, they didn’t fight us in open battle like how a Yerbian or Osminite army would. Instead, they would hide in the forests, ambush small groups of soldiers and baggage trains, loot villages, and destroy or steal any crops or livestock they could find. Because of this (and a few bad harvests) we had to get creative when it came to food. We would dry out the soft, inner bark of trees, grind it down along with moss, and then add it to flour so that we could make more bread. The end result was a pale green bread that crumbled easily. It was one of the worst things I’ve ever tasted, but being able to eat it every day was an immense privilege; one that not everyone had.”
“I’m so sorry that you and your people had to go through that. I can’t believe that the scribes in Königsstadt never wrote about this.” Alexandra responded.
“That is probably because nobody in Königsstadt ever cared about what happened here,” The count lamented, “My father and I both formally requested aid from Emperor Arnold and we received no response.”
Alexandra felt a wave of what could only be described as second-hand remorse flow through her. Yes, Ostermania was waging a war with Metrovingia at the time, but surely they could have spared some food for Nordfell.
“Anyways, Cedric was killed during that time. My father, brother, and sister were killed as well,” The count said as he walked up to the painting. He placed his hand on the wall right next to the painting, “I had to finish what they started.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, sir,” Ekkehardt chimed in, “But, if you don’t mind me asking, your treatment of these people seems rather lenient. They were the cause of so much suffering, and yet we saw many of them milling about in Neustadt during our time here as though they were any other people of the empire. I think most people would have wiped out those heathens by now.” The count then turned to Ekkehardt.
“I don’t believe that the scripture would support such an endeavor. Furthermore, the Bergmen aren’t bad people. Their invasion of Nordfell was brought about by factors that were far beyond their control and many of them helped us rebuild after their defeat. Their men are some of the best light cavalry in the world and they serve me by patrolling the eastern pass. Many of their people have learned Alemanian and adopted our way of life. Some of them even accepted our religion and married into Yerbian families,” The count argued. Suddenly the door opened and two men entered the hall. They were both dressed like soldiers, but they had nothing else in common.
The first man was short, pale and had a rather prominent gut. A long scar ran down the right down side of his face and his right eye was covered with a black eyepatch. On the left side of his face a beady little blue eye examined Alexandra and Ekkehardt. Below that, Alexandra could see a small scar extending out from the corner of his mouth and into his left cheek. He was bald and carried a one-handed sword on his belt and a small crossbow on his back.
The man beside him was tall and in much better shape. His skin was tan and his hair, which was cut short, was black peppered with the occasional white hair. Alexandra could tell that he came somewhere from the south of Yerb, from one of the Samudaayian countries. Unlike his companion, who was clean-shaven, he sported a short, neatly trimmed beard. He was armed with a scimitar5 and carried four jarids6 on his back.
“Count Claudius, I am happy to report that, just as my calculations predicted, we’ve completed the final preparations on time. We are now ready to leave and join up with Mr. Schwartzbaum’s group in Weisshart,” the tan-skinned man said. Despite being a foreigner, he spoke Alemanian clearly and without a heavy accent.
“Excellent,” The count replied. The bald man then turned his eye to Alexandra and Ekkehardt.
“So, you’re the men we will be escorting to Weisshart?” he asked.
“Yes,” Ekkehardt answered, “I am Sir Ekkehardt Lowe and this is my associate Sir Alf Neuman,” He said as he gestured towards Alexandra. The bald man smiled showing a set of yellow crooked teeth.
“Ah. I am Mr. Schwartzbaum’s second in command, Robert of Greenshire, fifth son of Earl George of Greenshire in Juttica, but you can just call me Bob,” He said before turning and gesturing towards his companion, “...and this here is Fahim7 ibn Faruq8, our quartermaster.”
‘First ‘Cedric’ and now ‘Bob’? The people of the northwest islands have such strange names,’ Alexandra thought to herself.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Fahim said as he looked towards Alexandra and Ekkehardt. The two of them reciprocated his greeting and shook the hands of both Bob and Fahim.
“So, are we ready to go?” Bob asked. Alexandra was about to say ‘yes,’ when Count Claudius interjected.
“Actually, there is one thing I wanted to speak to these men about in private before they departed,” the count explained. The two men nodded their heads and left the room. Count Claudius then turned to Alexandra.
“Prince Alexander, there is something I need to explain to you before you leave,” The count began. Alexandra nodded her head.
“I said earlier that my family was killed during the Time of Red Snow, but the story isn’t as simple as that.”
“What do you mean?” Ekkehardt replied. The count cleared his throat. Alexandra could see a deep sadness in his eyes.
“When I told you about the Time of Red Snow, I spoke mostly about the famine and the Bergmen and while it is true that the Bergmen did kill my father, they weren’t responsible for killing Cedric or the rest of my family,” Claudius explained.
“Someone else killed your siblings?” Alexandra asked. The count looked her in the eyes.
“Not someone, something,” He answered, “I don’t know if it was something the Bergmen did, something we did, or if it was just - attracted to our collective misery, but somehow a moonman was summoned into Nordfell. The hunger, the violence, the terror; Nordfell during the Time of Red Snow must have been like some sort of paradise for it, though even a paradise wasn’t enough for it,” The count said before taking a brief pause.
“The moonman wasn’t satisfied by the suffering our little war could produce. Streams running red with blood, villages burning, emaciated children dying by the side of the road; it just wasn’t enough for it. The moonman wanted to make us suffer more - no; it wanted to make us suffer as much as possible. Not just us, but the Bergmen too. It treated human beings as its own play-things. One night it levitated a group of Bergman soldiers up in the air and impaled them on the trunk of a pine tree. A couple of days after that a hunter and his wife were found nailed to the ceiling of their cottage by dozens of crossbow bolts, knives, and fire pokers. Their bodies were later inspected by a dentist, who found that none of the objects used to puncture their bodies had actually hit a major organ or blood vessel,”
“If what you’re saying is true then it must have taken them days to die…” Ekkehardt said. He was partially responding to the count and partially thinking out loud. The count nodded his head.
“Indeed, but that isn’t the worst thing the moonman was capable of. You see, it was capable of hurting people in two ways: the first was by moving objects with its mind, but the second was… it is difficult to explain. This monster, he was able to change people by touching them.” Count Claudius explained.
“Change them in what way?” Alexandra asked. The count inhaled.
“When the moonman touched someone, it had the power to alter their physiology. With just a single touch it could turn someone into a writhing mass of flesh that no longer looked human. It didn’t matter who they were, once the process began their body would grow and contort in inhuman ways. First they would lose their ability to move and see, then their intelligence and memories. Soon after that they lost their speech. The only sound they could make once the transformation was complete was a scream. It was a scream without any words or rhythm, but somehow it was apparent to anyone who could hear it that the creature making it was in pain. This would last several hours before they would die,” The count explained. He then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
“This was the fate of Cedric of Sortpool… and of my sister…” The count concluded. Alexandra was at a loss for words.
“I…I’m…” She began. The count turned to her and stared straight into her eyes. Alexandra could feel his bright sapphire-blue eyes staring directly into her soul.
“You don’t need to say it, Prince Alexander. I just need you to promise me one thing…” He said. Alexandra nodded her head. With that signal given, the count began to speak.
“When you find that thing in the Frauenwald, kill it. Show it no mercy.”