Valshügel was one of the famous free imperial cities in the Steiffan Empire, a neighbouring realm of both Tritania and Lacreau. Maintained by mercantile and trade guilds, a locally-elected magistrate, and client to a great mercenary company, the city was proudly independent of the influence of the Steiffan High Emperor and stretched on for what seemed to be forever. Ulvor would have been in awe of its majesty this evening as it was washed by the red filter of sunset. Would have, if the city wasn’t being raped by those he pretended to serve.

Screaming had been the ambient backdrop since the moment Ulvor arrived with his crew of excavators. Gaping holes had been smashed through the immense stone walls. By what, the woodsman didn’t know. There were no trebuchets in sight and even then, the damage was far beyond anything they could inflict.

Anyone who refused to accept the doctrine of the Clthic Assembly was disembowelled and dismembered. If you did see the light, you would become one with the Assembly.

The Clthics had no rules of sanctity for the dead, as to die one must first be alive. Ulvor still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it; he found it easier to mull this over than confront the brutality that drowned the city. If life is an illusion, then a person is no different to a tree or a boulder. Those two things are harvested for resources and there is no disgust, no remorse. The Clthics looked on humans in this same fashion. People were torn apart, their organs harvested for black magic rituals, their bones fashioned into the ornaments worn by witches, and the meat used as food.

All around him, as people were carved up while they pleaded and screeched, Ulvor was barely managing to keep himself under control. He was surprised that he hadn’t vomited. The horror was almost too much to bear.

Next to him on the horse-drawn carriage was Allison who blankly gazed about without any real reaction. Ulvor was more afraid of her than he was of Mythar Tehreem. I saw madness in her eyes. Madness.

“This is awfully convenient. He’s ‘ere, in tha same place we just ‘appened to be needed at? I dunno about this,” Ulvor muttered to her.

Allison smiled. “Don’t worry, mate. I know he’s here. Trust me, alright?”

The more Ulvor thought about it, the more his bones trembled. Is he that mess of blood an’ meat on the ground? Is he that impaled bastard on tha battlements? God…there’s no tellin’.

The horses passed by a church. It would be an important place to seize; raising a child to believe in this dribble was much easier than convincing a devout servant of a real religion to throw it all away. Clthic Nuns had the clergy lined up in front of the chapel as they chanted in deep, gravelly breaths. One by one, the Nuns slit the throats of the priests, monks, sisters, and laymen who did not surrender to the doctrine. A handful of Church servants stood a few paces removed, shame on their faces. It was clear that they had renounced God in order to live.

As the church disappeared behind them, crowds of the Assembly’s army were settling down in the courtyards and plazas of Valshügel. Ulvor had never seen so many cultures mixed together in one place before. Tritans, Lacron, desert-dwelling Quraics, and proud Steiffans composed the patchwork army. They must’ve conquered the city very recently; most of them were still dressed in their equipment and armour.

The soldiers simply sat or stood there, resting. Ulvor expected to see much harsher pillaging from the Clthics…but he supposed it wasn’t wealth they were after. They wanted to spread their influence as far as possible before initiating the Enlightenment. It was to be, essentially, syncronised ritual suicide of an unbelievable scale.

Not far from the plaza was a staging area established in a stone mason's lodge. In the courtyard beside it, Ulvor saw a few dozen soldiers led in meditation by a Tethspeaker. Low, throaty chanting swallowed the sounds of doom that only moments ago consumed the air.

At the mason's lodge, a noble lord was discussing matters with several of his knights, men-at-arms, and a Clthic Nun. They all seemed intimidated by the witch's presence. Like all her Nun sisters and Tethspeaker brothers, not much covered her body. The skin of this one in particular was lathered with tiny words that had been etched into her flesh with a blade. There wasn’t a single patch of her skin that wasn’t graced by the words of the Mythar. She wore a tattered mantle hanging from her left shoulder, covering some of the left side of her body but exposing the rest. She also wore footwraps adorned with bones from a human foot. Her face was covered by a mask crafted from the skulls of wolves.

Ulvor followed Allison as she dismounted the wagon and approached the group of leaders.

The Nun was the first to acknowledge the presence of Allison and Ulvor. Ulvor was not the tallest man in the world, so this one also towered over him. Within the blackness of the wolf skull's eye sockets were two motes of yellow, the Nun's own unblinking eyes.

"Mother Xal'tn. I'm here with my team of excavators," reported Allison.

Xal'tn nodded at Allison. "We leave for the site in the morning." Her voice, much too deep for any person, chilled Ulvor's spine to its core.

Then came the noble. With a smile as welcoming as he could muster, the man crossed his arms. "Welcome to Valshügel, mein freunde. I am Duke Klaus von Talhoffen. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Ulvor had to admit, he never would have expected a noble to introduce himself to commoners like that. The Clthics, although absolutely mental, were striking down the barriers between classes.

"Milord, accordin’ ta disciple records in tha archives in Mystan, my son is in yer service," stated Ulvor bluntly. “His name is Havar Vilulf.”

Many of the men-at-arms nervously glanced at each other. Klaus, on the other hand, was thrilled to hear the name. More worryingly to Ulvor, Xal'tn's eyes seemed to spark for a moment and her posture straightened. "You are Vilulf's father? Why, then you are a great friend of ours," replied Klaus. The dull tone of his voice did not compliment the content of his speech.

"Where is he? I need ta see him," Ulvor asked rather aggressively.

"He is with his…'cattle'. Laszlo, show him the way."

A man-at-arms huffed in reluctance but ultimately walked away from the lodge.

Allison rested a hand on Ulvor's shoulder. "What are you waiting for, mate? Go on!"

Something was not right. Ulvor couldn’t tell what…but it made him pause for a moment before he hurried after Lazslo, who just kept walking without worrying whether Ulvor was with him or not. When the woodsman caught up with the man-at-arms, he asked with shallow breaths, "My son...ya know ‘im?"

Laszlo kept his eyes about. "He's...wild. Dangerous."

"My boy? No, he's a kind young man."

"He fights with...unnatural vigour. And what he does with the conquered… Well, just know that most of my men fear him more than they fear the Nuns. Perhaps he has changed from the man you once knew."

This was too good ta be true, wasn’t it…? It’s probably some other random fool with tha same name.

A cobbled-together pen on the edge of the city held at least fifty tired people. They were mainly civilians with a few injured soldiers littered in between. They were all supplied with food and water. Ulvor’s brow tensed. “What are these people doin’ out ‘ere? ‘ave they been given a chance ta convert?”

Lazslo came to a halt before the pen and pointed at a stone building next to it. All its windows were shut.

"I won't go any further," admitted Lazslo.

Ulvor shook his head and trudged forward.

The rickety door creaked like a crying dog when Ulvor pushed it open. Inside, darkness smothered everything. Only several candles dotted the vast emptiness. As the door shut behind him, Ulvor was plunged into the void.

Eventually his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He squinted, managing to make out a misty figure hunched over a desk. It simply sat there, staring at the wall.

A sharp inhale broke the silence. The figure shot to its feet. It crept away from the table and the candlelight that bathed it. As footsteps hit the floorboards, Ulvor couldn't see the figure for a full five seconds. His hands trembled. He could feel breaths on his face.

"Father?"

Ulvor could barely make out the outline of the man that spoke to him. “Issat you, Havar?” he asked forcefully.

There was a brief pause. Suddenly, Ulvor was seized by the man who enveloped him in a tight embrace. “What the bloody Hell are you doing here, old man?”

Ulvor’s hand slowly and shakily clasped itself onto Havar’s back. "I-I…I don’t understand. Why did you leave?"

The woodsman’s eyes were now more adjusted to the darkness once he pulled out from the hug. He could see the unmistakable features of his son’s face as he answered, “I planned on coming back. I did. Something…happened, though. I couldn’t.”

Ulvor clasped a hand on his son’s face and sighed. "Are they makin’ ya stay ‘ere? Are ya a slave like tha ones outside?”

Havar laughed. “No. Not at all. I very much want to be here.”

Swallowing, Ulvor looked to the ground. “It’s true, then. You’ve been fightin’ fer them? Yer a…a soldier now?”

He started to feel like maybe he was going to leave alone. That he came all this way, that he murdered someone in a church, for nothing.

"Yes. I’ve been given a gift and this is how I’m meant to use it," replied Havar. He sounded distant. Detached. It was still his voice...but he used to have the same accent Ulvor had. It was gone now. He almost sounded like a properly educated man.

"Havar...yer not makin' any sense."

Havar leaned closer to Ulvor. "Would you like to join me? Our ancestors were mighty warriors, feared as sea raiders across the land. Are you content with being a peasant when you could be more?"

"Havar, stop speakin’ dribble and let me see ya." Ulvor made for the nearest window and pushed it open.

The window flew open and light filled the room. Only then did Ulvor lay eyes upon what he stood in. Naked corpses of both men and women were thrown about the hut like pieces of trash. Dozens upon dozens of them. Each one had a single stab wound to the forehead. Not a single drop of blood stained the flooring. There was a bed in the corner of the room and upon it was a naked man, alive, terrified. His face was hugged tightly by a mask that blinded him and was chained to the wall.

Ulvor's eyes then turned to Havar. He stared into the open window, his skin sparking. Smoke trailed from his body like he was slowly cooking in the sunlight. Ulvor frantically seized the window shutters and pulled them shut, plunging the room into darkness once more. With the light spoiling his eyes’ adjustment to the low light, Ulvor once again couldn't see a thing.

He didnt know what to scream about first, the dead bodies or the fact that Havar was just sizzling in the sunlight like a slice of meat on a pan. “Y-You…you killed all those people?”

"Pain is so...pleasing. It excites me," whispered Havar. "Please...do it again," he gasped.

"H-Havar..."

There was a pause. "She sent you to me, didn't she? As a test."

Ulvor backpedalled. He could feel the heat radiating from Havar’s body as he came closer. "I-I don't know what you're talkin' about," said the woodsman. "Get back!"

They now stood close to the candlelight on the desk. Ulvor saw his son's faint red eyes peering through the darkness. They gazed at him, lifeless. Soulless. His skin was crackled and darkened but Ulvor swore he could see it healing.

Havar grasped the side of his father's head. The young man's face pulsated. Lines appeared on it. With a bone-trembling grinding, the lines darkened and Havar's face unfurled like a sheet of folded parchment. The bones beneath were chrome silver, shimmering in the candlelight.

Ulvor was paralysed. His lip quivered and he urinated in fear.

Thank you for coming to me. I thought that I stopped feeling things. But here...with you...I feel...something. I can’t disappoint her. She sent you here so I could prove myself.

Havar's skull split into quarters and from behind it, a six-inch-long spike slowly extended. Ulvor's brain was much too slow to perceive it jamming itself into his forehead and ending his existence.

--

Vilulf pushed the door open and stepped into the moonlight. He secured the laces on his doublet and glanced at the pen full of food to his right. They were all frozen in terror as he stared at them, perhaps in light of the desperate screams of his father as he sucked his body dry.

Their faces, the tears, the tantalising fear, it all made Vilulf shudder in ecstasy. With a chuckle, he moved on toward the staging area.

Seeing as it was the middle of the night, the plaza was as empty as a graveyard. In the distance, Vilulf could see that a portion of the inner-bailey wall had been reduced to rubble. The only two souls who dared walk the night were waiting in the stonemason’s lodge; Mother Xal’tn and Duke Klaus. As Vilulf approached, the Steiffan lord glanced over his shoulder as if he were looking for someone.

"Mein Gott...you didn't drain your own father did you?"

Vilulf strolled into the lodge and leant onto one of the supports with a sly smirk. "Maybe I did."

Klaus massaged his brow and muttered to himself in his native tongue.

Vilulf gave the Clthic Nun a very obvious ogle, hopeful that she would notice. His eyes scoured each and every inch of her scarred body. When his gaze rose to her face, Vilulf gleefully realised that her eyes were locked onto his.

With a curt nod, Vilulf suddenly blurted, "Writing things on that magnificent body of yours as an excuse to make people stare at every inch of you. You’re such a whore."

Klaus slammed his palm into his face.

Xal’tn was not affected by Vilulf’s words. It only made her even more intoxicating to him. It was a shame that her arcane skill protected her from his influence…otherwise, he would’ve taken her many times already. She replied, "You vampires are all the same. Slave to the illusion, slave to your precious 'emotion'. Accept reality. You are nothing, we are all nothing. I grace my insignificant form with the words of truth.”

Clearly fed up with the chatter, Klaus dropped a clenched fist onto the table before them. "Please, I would like to have this settled. Some of us need to sleep."

Xal'tn approached the table and pointed to the map spread upon its surface. "Our forces are in the process of securing Nernthandil, the only defensible position close to the site. S’teinel does not have enough eldritch energy left to burn the fort to the ground, so our ground forces will take it."

Vilulf was a little annoyed that this was the first he had heard of the siege. He loved witnessing the ridiculous things that those religious nuts would do and say. What he loved more was watching them turn into frightened, mewling children before his vampiric might. More often than not, his actions on the battlefield were enough to convince them of the truth; that God was a fairytale.

Klaus swallowed. "We...have laid siege to a Thestor monastery? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

Vilulf cocked his head inquisitively as he waited for Xal'tn's reply.

"We did not inform you because your job was to seize Valshügel. Are you afraid of God, Klaus?" she asked lowly.

"N-No...the Thestors are simply a formidable foe. S’teinel should’ve been directed to incinerate their castles first."

"Worry not. The report I received several days ago indicated that the defenders are mere days from defeat. They are running out of food and our siege has all but cut off their methods of supply," said Xal'tn defiantly. "Once Nernthandil is ours, we can safely move the additional miners and Tethspeakers to the site."

Klaus planted his hands onto his hips. "You still haven't told me what you plan on digging up."

"A demon. A live one," Vilulf said with a charming smile.

Xal'tn suddenly unleashed a glare of a thousand suns onto him.

Klaus's face was overcome with wonder. "Really…?"

"We are not yet certain what lies there, simply that there is something of import," Xalt'n clarified. “Quell your expectations.”

With a cough, Klaus ran a hand along the top of his scalp. "Are...are the Mythar and Lady Viktoria going to make themselves present for such an occasion?"

Only just then spotting a comfortable looking chair to plant himself in despite his enhanced senses, Vilulf paced over, lowered himself into it, and tossed his feet up onto the table. “My Lady Viktoria is preoccupied. The emergence of our Clthic band has unfortunately had the side effect of forcing the Church-worshipping kingdoms together. In light of our offensive in Tritan territory, Roger IV is negotiating with Claude II of Lacreau and Steiffan High Emperor Gerhard to discuss an alliance against us. I hear the Pope is muttering about declaring a crusade.”

Klaus seemed quite amused. “All it took to bring unity was for a common foe, it seems.”

“Yes, as lovely as it is, it simply will not do. Lady Viktoria is going to ensure that there will be no one left to organise the secular armies. They will be primed for conversion,” concluded Vilulf. “As for the military orders of the Church, they will be dispatched easily once we properly organise our plethora of demonic artefacts.”

“What of Mythar Tehreem, then?”

Mother Xal’tn cracked the joints in her neck by rolling her head about. “He is gathering more followers and preparing our relics, but to be frank, he does not want to get his hopes up. If he is present, he feels he is more likely to be disappointed by the findings.”

Approaching footsteps snatched Vilulf’s attention long before the two others in his company could hear. “We have a guest,” he warned, jerking his head toward the sound’s origin.

Klaus’s hand reflexively wrapped around the handle of his longsword and Xal’tn tightened her grip on her staff.

A woman walked into the lodge, clothes and face sullied with dirt. “Mother, my lord. I’m sorry to bother you again but I haven’t heard from one of my men since the sun was up.”

Vilulf tilted his head with a charming smile. “You must be speaking of my father, Ulvor.”

Alison’s eyes sparked. “You’re Havar? He found you, then!”

“Oh he certainly did. He is…resting now.”

Vilulf adjusted his posture as he gave her a once over. My, my. What a specimen you are. Strong, muscular. Your shape is even more beautiful than Xalt’n’s. Why keep all of that covered up, my love? If I were a king, I would deem it a crime for you to ever wear a scrap of clothing. Go on. Show it to us. Show us how glorious you are.

His thoughts wafted through the air and slipped into the woman’s mind. She suddenly became flustered as she looked at Vilulf. Her lip quivered. She started feverishly clutching the fabric of her dirty work tunic. Vilulf liked keeping them aware, seeing them conscious as their bodies moved on their own and did things that horrified them. He watched her eyes flicker and listened to her breath as it fluctuated as she lifted the shirt.

In tones much too faint for Alison to hear but not beyond Vilulf’s senses, Klaus whispered, “Vilulf…cease.”

With a reluctant sigh, he ceased his control over her. Alison released her tunic, letting it fall back into place with a confused gasp. This fool is no fun at all.

Klaus then leant over to Xal’tn and asked, “Do you need her?”

“No. Mining foremen are easy enough to replace.”

Klaus then nodded at Vilulf, granting him permission to have his way. “Just not here. Keep your twisted perversions to yourself.”

The vampire pushed to his feet. Considering the fact that he had just engaged in a meal, he wasn’t particularly hungry. Playing with his food was always so much more fun, though. “Come with me, my love. Let us frolic in the pen with my cattle.”

As Vilulf took Alison’s hand and walked with her into the pitch black of night, he could hear Xal’tn scoff, “Such power and they choose to waste it on bedding everything and toying with the unenlightened.”

Klaus replied, “Give any man enough power and he will become an animal.”