Durvald POV

Durvald walked angrily across the cobbled streets of Heimlenstadt. They had raided this town a month ago, and for some reason, the boss had decided to stay. He shook his head. It was all Buralag's fucking fault.

A shiver ran down his spine and he cursed silently for leaving his coat in the tavern. Buralag had chosen to winter in this bum fuck town on the hope that it was too far out to march an army through winter to fuck with them. Turned out the bastard was wrong, now they were all fucked.

"Bloody Hogenbachian winters!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands over his folded arms for warmth. It was dark, the streets were only lit by the light of the full moon and Durvald walked with purpose toward the inviting light of the tavern. It held a promise of companionship and respite from his troubles, God knew he needed both at the moment.

Durvald was one of the leading three members of the band of brothers, fat lot of good that did me! He fumed, that old bastard decides everything himself anyway.

He lengthened his stride, wanting to be out of the cold as fast as possible.

THUD!

Durvald whipped his head around, slowly edging his hand toward the sword sheathed at his waist. It wouldn't have been the first time the slaves had tried to take revenge.

Durvald walked toward the alley entrance he believed the sound to have come from, he would kill whoever had decided to fuck with him.

"Oi, ya prick come out 'ere now and we can put this behind us eh?" He called out invitationally, it never worked but there was always a first time for everything. Strangely enough, something did answer his call. Except it wasn't human.

A demon of sorts with stretched, leathery, red skin came bolting out of the shadows with an unnatural speed. It reached Durvald before he had time to draw his sword. It then proceeded to drive an elbow hard into the bridge of his nose, causing blood to fountain and Durvald to lose consciousness. The conflict had lasted shy of 10 seconds.

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Viktor POV

Viktor dragged the smaller man through the damp undergrowth while reciting a curse he had heard his brothers say from the tavern. This bastard was heavier than he looked!

Viktor and Homunculus dragged the robed man into a small woodland clearing wherein they propped him up against a gnarled oak tree and waited.

And waited.

The moon began to dip in the sky and as it lowered so did Viktor's patience, he didn't have all night. He backhanded the man heavily across the face in a bid to wake him, then when it failed he did it once more, harder this time.

Durvald began to sputter back to life, coughing up globs of bloody phlegm from within his throat. His eyes fluttered open and then focused on the monstrosity that sat in front of him.

"Ahhhh, the fucking gods and all their angels!" Needless to say, he was quite shocked. Viktor just sat back on his haunches and waited for the man to calm. He needed answers, and it would seem he would have to wait to get them.

"Who am I?" Rasped out Viktor through a poorly optimised voice box, sounding like a beast straight out of the seven hells. It matched his appearance.

"Look, mate, I've never met ya before." Laughed the man nervously, trying to inject levity into the beasts harsh demeanour, he failed.

"I am Viktor Grieswald! Who am I?!" He yelled into the man's face, extending his jaw and letting spittle fly everywhere. Durvald flinched back in terror, slamming his head against the tree before passing out again.

Viktor sighed before once more slapping the man into consciousness.

"Oh bugger me blind it wasn't a dream." Bemoaned Durvald as he opened his eyes, he then began to sob uncontrollably.

"I ask again, who am I?" Asked Viktor in a slightly more subdued manner. Inside however he was a tempest of rage, his animal instincts screaming at him to kill the weak man.

"Wait, are you the dungeon core?" Asked the man tentatively. Viktor just shrugged before screaming his question into the man's face once more.

"I don't know!" The man cried back before looking at Viktor's grim face and continuing. "I know who might though. Her name was Josefina, we met her back in Baganmeade, capital of this fine kingdom. She's an um, lady of the night, an expensive one mind. Cursac loved her, went as far as to break our policy of avoiding major cities just to be with her the old fool did. Anyway a week later we're getting chased out of the town and into this bumfuck little village and that old codger decides to change his last name to Grieswald. Please don't kill me, I don't know anymore." He was down to whimpering at the end and was only just able to squeeze out the final parts of his explanation.

Viktor looked down at the man, he had given him good information, a lead. The voices agreed with the man's explanation, screaming at Viktor to follow up and follow these breadcrumbs of identity. One thing was for sure, he couldn't stay here. Not after what he had just done, kidnapping Durvald and all.

Viktor stood, revelling briefly in the feeling of his knees releasing the pent-up pressure of squatting down for so long. He looked around and then back to the small man huddled against the tree, he was blue with the cold and even if Viktor did let him go he wouldn't get far. No harm in it then.

"You may leave, but tell no one of what transpired here." He hissed out ominously, watching as the man's face slowly rose into a smile that could seemingly melt the cold away.

"Thank you, sir, oh thank you. You won't regret thi- Gurgh!" He was cut short by an arrow to the throat before choking silently on his on lifeblood.

Viktor whipped his head around and saw that Heimlenstadt was smouldering like an old campfire. It appeared whatever had been chasing his brothers had finally caught up with them. He was proved right when three figures walked out of the tree line. They were armed. Fuck.