"It is indeed fortunate that your servants and those ... people you hired were able to escape before that part of your manor collapsed," Perd the Wise said, shaking his head sadly and setting his long white beard to wagging back and forth. "Have you discovered why that wing of your ancestral manor collapsed?"

"Not yet. I have hired workers to begin digging out the wreckage but it collapsed near where Fraker the Axe was carousing," Lomdus answered, staring mournfully at the wreckage of what had been a finely decorated guest wing. Parties were the least of the memories surrounding what was now a pile of wreckage. He had watched his granddaughter marry the Arch-Duke of Alben in the ballroom of that very wing, had watched his great grandson take his very first steps in the Blue Drawing Room, and now all of those memories felt damaged and wounded.

"Lomdus, my fellow councilman, it is obvious that this has sorely rent your soul," Shro the Elder said, leaning heavily on his cane. Lomdus turned and looked at the other statesman, biting back a hasty retort as the other man continued. "If it would please you, I would be glad to lend you the use of my manor in the Arch-Duchy of Alben while the wreckage is cleared and your manor is restored to its former glory."

"My lady wife would appreciate that, Councilman Shro, she feels the loss of the guest wing most keenly," Lomdus replied truthfully.

"The Circle of Equals shall share in the financial burden of rebuilding your home, while you enjoy the luxuries of my manor," Shro continued. "I myself will oversee the repair and I will ensure that the rest of the Circle contributes equally."

"Thank you, Councilman Shro," Lomdus said, being careful not to stare at the other man. He had been a councilman long enough to know that Shro the Elder never did anything unless it benefited Shro the Elder, but for the life of him he could not figure out any benefit to the older man, unless it was a ploy to secure Lomdus' vote at critical future dates.

"It is of no moment," Shro the Elder murmured, staring at the ruins with a hungry expression on his ancient lined face. The raw need made the ancient stateman's face appear skull-like and with a chill Lomdus understood, for the first time in his life, that despite pious proclamations, the skull-like visage was the real face of those who ruled Gretlin.

Shro the Elder was unaware of his colleagues sudden epiphany, nor did he care.

Somewhere in that wreckage was the body of Fraker the Axe, Shro was sure of it. With Lomdus out of the way, he would be able to gather up the body without anyone else being the wiser. It was not quite according to plan but still according to Shro's will and his ends. The elderly statesman had to restrain himself from rubbing his hands with glee and anticipation as Lomdus quietly left to gather his family.

* * * * *

Shro the Elder heard the clicking of the dark wizard's boot heels as the cadaverous man slowly descended the stairs and the old man trembled in anticipation. Everything was going according to plan. Fraker was dead; Shro the Elder's servants had dug him out of the wreckage of that fool Lomdus' manor after only two days of work. They had removed the corpse's clothing and bathed him, then a quartet of them had brought the body down into the secret room and laid the corpse upon the bier, covering Fraker with a cloth of black silk embroidered with runes and sigils of death and life. The four servants now sat, trembling, inside of small runed circles as the door creaked open, but Shro paid them no heed, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of the necromancer as he slipped into the room and then slowly shut the door behind him.

"You called for me, milord?" the necromancer asked as he drew sigils of purple fire on the door. The necromancer knew the runes were impressive looking but that was all they were. They had no real power, however the rich fool who had commissioned the room, who had paid him vast amounts of wealth for an impossible task, would be easily impressed.

"Yes, I did. You told me that I would need the body of an immortal and I have acquired that body," Shro told the necromancer as he turned.

The necromancer arched one thin eyebrow in disbelief beneath the cowl of his robe as he turned toward the bier and noted that there was a large body beneath the cloth.

"Now that I have procured a slain immortal, I eagerly await your services to transfer his life essence to me; to restore my youth and vitality," Shro said, his voice shaking with greed and desire.

The necromancer, who went by the name Holvax Redeyes, stared for a moment at the black silk covered body, then turned his attention back to the ancient and shrunken man in the chair, resisting an urge to wipe his mouth.

Where had the fool gotten the body of an immortal? Everyone knew immortals were basically unkillable. They could be lessened like my mistress, could be bound like the Blossom of Death, but they could never be fully slain. I can feel the power in that body from here, even through the runes, even though the soul has gone on. Who could the fool have brought down here? Holvax wondered, feeling sweat prickle at the back of his bald scalp beneath the hood of his robe.

"If you have indeed brought me the slain body of an eternal, I can do as you have requested," Holvax answered, stepping through the rings of runes and sigils carefully. Like Shro the Elder, he ignored the weeping servants bound by chains of arcane fire, sampling their souls and vitality almost subconsciously and accepting that they would provide fuel enough for any ritual he had to perform within the room.

"It is the body of an immortal, brought low by powerful venom obtained at great cost," Shro corrected and Holvax pushed down an urge to sneer at the old fool. Great cost did not mean it would be effective, price and power had little to do with one another. Holvax reached forward and pulled aside the silk shroud, revealing Fraker the Axe's massive body.

With a cry of terror Holvax lunged backwards, falling to the floor and scrabbling away like a small child from a rabid dog. The brands and runes carved into Fraker's flesh burned themselves into Holvax's mind, the tattoos covering the man's arms screamed of a hundred lifetimes spent in the service of war and carnage, and worst of all, the sight of a skeletal handprint of burned and blackened flesh over where Fraker's heart would be sent a bolt of terror through Holvax.

Shro stared in confusion as the necromancer stumbled back and then scrambled away, screaming in fear as he did so, until the man collided with the wall and his terrorized scrambling lifted him up on his feet. Shro half expected the man to spin around and start clawing at the wall with his bare hands but instead the necromancer took a couple of deep breaths and turned away from Fraker to face Shro directly.

"ARE YOU STUPID?" the necromancer bellowed, pointing at Fraker's body. "Do you know who that is?"

"Of course I do, you fool. It's Fraker the Axe. What are you so afraid of, he is dead. His neck and back are broken, as well as his having consumed enough poison to drop a herd of bison in their tracks and poison the ground they fell upon," Shro replied.

"So what? That's Fraker the Axe! All he's doing is napping until he regains the strength to rape everyone in sight and devour your precious herd of poisoned bison!"

"He's dead. An immortal has fallen at my feet and I demand you carry out the services you promised you could."

"No," Holvax told the other man, turning away and passing his hand in front of the door. The runes flared brightly and then vanished.

"What did you just say, necromancer?" Shro snarled, leaning forward.

"No," Holvax repeated, glancing over his shoulder and shuddering at the sight of the burned and blackened flesh over Fraker's heart, that skeletal handprint burned into Fraker's skin which was visible proof of the favor of Holvax's undead mistress.

"Are you telling me that you refuse to transfer his essence into me?"

"He's not an immortal, you doddering idiot! He's Fraker the Axe, not some pathetic demi-god, moldy Lich King or jumped up demon lord!"

"I know who he is! You promised me that should I bring you the body of an immortal, you would transfer his essence into me! I paid you, you lousy spellworm, so transfer the essence of that barbarian into me!" Shro shouted, coming shakily to his feet. "His vitality, his essence, they belong to me now, and I demand that you transfer what made Fraker an immortal into me!"

"HE ISN'T AN IMMORTAL!" Holvax screamed back.

"Then take what makes Fraker what he is and transfer it into me!"

Holvax was darkly amused by the sudden image of Shro the Elder, Fraker's mighty axe held in his liver spotted hands, running down the street in a loincloth screaming 'Come back, I just want to hurt you!' that sprang unbidden into his mind when Shro demanded that Fraker's essence be transferred into him. The mental image of the scrawny, diminutive elderly statesman swinging Fraker's fearsome axe into a crowd of people while roaring out obscenities made Holvax ache to burst out laughing; that is until the mental image showed Holvax that the elderly statesman's chest had a blackened skeletal handprint burnt into the flesh over his heart.

His mirth vanished instantly. Holvax faced the other man and just simply said: "No."

Shro the Elder ground his non-existent teeth in fury as the other man left the room.

* * * * *

Vondelius the Wise and All Knowing, God of Judgment, Cataloger of the Sins and Triumphs of Mortals, Knower of All That Was Done, looked down from his golden throne atop the Dias of Judgment. His white robes were immaculate, his golden mask was set in an grave expression of severity, while he held a set of scales in his left hand and a massive tome in his right. Before him the soul of a mortal quaked as Vondelius weighed his Sins and Triumphs.

"And you touched yourself sinfully twelve hundred and thirty times," Vondelius intoned, before a small scattering of dust motes settled on the scale. The mortal's soul looked nervous for a moment, then relieved as the scale still didn't move.

"Despite your comfortable wealth, you never reached out to those in need within your community nor attempted to ease anyone else's mortal burden," Vondelius intoned again and several pebbles fell onto the scale from thin air. The scale tipped slightly.

At the back of the line, John the Baker stood and sighed. He'd been here for what seemed like an eternity already, watching as soul after soul approached the God of Judgment and was sent on to their eternal reward. His wife had poisoned him so that she could be with her young lover. John wished that she could have at least sent a book along with him.

"Aw no, not again," came a rumbling bass voice from behind him. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and John's started. Normally the dead were intangible; even to one another. He had discovered that when he tried to hold a small child's soul when it had arrived wailing in fear and loss, but he had been unable to touch the tiny soul. Thankfully cherubs arrived quickly to carry the child off but the memory of his solid appearing hands just sweeping through the child's solid seeming body still made him shudder.

"Excuse me, my good man, but would you be so kind as to get out of the way?" the voice rumbled. John turned around and felt his eyebrows rise with the sheer size of the man standing behind him. He looked up and up and up, until his eyes met the eyes of the stranger. It only took one look at the ugly, scarred and more than a little fearsome face the eyes were set in and John stepped aside.

"Go right ahead," John said, then watched as the stranger began moving toward the front of the line.

Vondelius looked up from where he was weighing the Sins and Triumphs of a soul when the Arch-Demon Yvreplix cleared his throat. The Arch-Demon stood on the right of Vondelius, while the Arch-Angel Gariel stood on his left, where they should when acting as arbiters of the powers of the heavens and the hells.

"What?" Vondelius asked the demon, staring into the burning yellow eyes that were set in a half-rotted face that appeared to be cross between a hound, a monkey and some sort of lizard. The demon merely raised one arm, pointing with a finger at the line that stretched out before the Dias of Judgment. Vondelius squinted as he realized something was happening, something was disturbing the line. No, not something, someone was pushing their way to the front of the line despite the strict rules not to. A cherub swooped in to restore order and then went sailing away with a small shriek as the who or what batted the angelic servant out of the air with one swipe of a hand. Vondelius' eyes widened when he finally recognized the figure rapidly approaching the Dias of Judgment and he was only peripherally aware of the demon and angel flanking him suddenly sucking in their collective breaths.

"I, uhhhh, need to, ummm, I think that I left, uhhhh, oh screw it, you're on your own, Vondy," the Arch-Demon blurted out before vanishing in a puff of brimstone.

The Arch-Angel Gariel raised his eyes to the heavens and cocked his head slightly. "What's that, My Lord God, you need my service right away? There are children or orphans or puppies or something like that in perilous danger of some type somewhere that isn't here? As you command, so I perform your will," the Arch-Angel intoned. He bowed his head, pressed his hands together and then vanished in a burst of shimmering sound and light.

"COWARDS!" Vondelius shouted after his two fleeing coworkers.

"Out of the way," the disturbance growled, shoving the soul that was being judged aside and stopping to face the Dias of Judgment. "Hey, Vondelius, who do I have to kill to get my eternal reward?"

Vondelius groaned internally. Of all the mortals to have to face judgment, why is Fraker the Axe here? Still, he drew himself up to his full height, gathering storm clouds, lightning and thunder, and an icy wind about himself.

"Have some respect, mortal, you address the God of Judgment," Vondelius thundered. Fraker looked at the storm around the God, obviously unimpressed, and Vondelius sighed, letting the visible aura of his irritation fade away.

"Then judge me already," Fraker said simply.

"No." Vondelius crossed his arms and leaned back.

"No? Why not?"

"The last time you were here, you hit me in the face with a virgin you were swinging by her hair," the God said, looking Fraker in the eyes.

"You were standing between me and the exit shouting something I didn't quite catch at the time." Fraker shrugged.

"It took me a long time to get the ass print off of my golden mask," the God rumbled, pointing at his magnificent golden mask that had a slight dent marring one cheek. "We originally sent you to the Meadows of Eternal Virgins and Endless Ambrosia. You are the one who left."

"Yeah, well, I kind of got bored. Eternally virginal and all that stuff."

"Get out." Vondelius pointed at the shimmering portal that led back to the mortal realms. It was normally guarded by demons and angels both, defenders that were now nowhere to be seen.

"But what about my eternal reward?"

"Get out!" Vondelius pointed at the portal again.

"No. I want my eternal reward," Fraker growled, planting his feet and putting his balled fists on his hips.

"Here," the God said, plucking an apple from thin air and tossing it to Fraker, who caught it and squinted at it suspiciously.

"An apple? Is it a magic apple?"

"Sure, why not?" the God said, thinking to himself: If it gets you the Twelve Hells out of here, it's a magic apple for me.

"A magic apple? What's it do?" Fraker asked over his shoulder, heading toward the portal.

"You can only find out on the mortal plane," Vondelius called out as Fraker stepped into the portal and vanished. Vondelius felt a surge of relief. At least the madman was gone back to the mortal plane, where nobody of any importance cared what or who he broke. Heaving a sigh, he looked down at the mortal soul he had been Judging, who stared upward in shock at Vondelius.

"You know what? Just go in," Vondelius said wearily and waved his arm at the entrance behind him. The mortal's soul stared in rapture as the Gates of the Heavens swung open.

The mortal didn't notice that the right hand gate sagged slightly and squeaked on its hinges.

Vondelius did.