The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 9: Uncertain Times

“Today we march on the Leech’s Castle! Today we reclaim the night and our lives! People of Bistrita fight with me and take back what they stole from you!” - Recorded words of Bran the Smith, ringleader of the failed Bistrita revolt. Who infamously took three days to die while impaled on the spires of Castle Bistrita.

When Natalie left Cole a kilometer from town, she reviewed the events of the day and it became clear to her that Cole fully intended to kick the hornet’s nest by bringing back Felix’s body. This gave her extra motivation to get back to the Silly Goat as soon as possible. She had her fill of dangerous and foolhardy things for one day, and didn’t want to get stung by what was about to happen.

It was still an hour or two from dinner, and the Silly Goat was practically empty when Natalie returned, with only Wilhelm and Barnabas sitting at the bar, engaging in their usual back and forth. The two men looked up when they saw Natalie, and Wilhelm greeted his daughter with a smile. Natalie had been lost in thought. Stewing on her expedition with Cole, and did not think to hide the worry on her face.

“Natty, your back earlier than I expected. When you have a day off, I know not to expect you till dusk. Is something the matter? You look tense?” Like most parents, Wilhelm could tell much from just a glance at his daughter. He’d found her request for the day off odd, but not exceptionally so. Barnabas had spent a good part of the day postulating theories on what Natalie was up to. Most of them involved her sneaking off with other eligible young bachelors or bachelorettes. Wilhelm tried to refute these ideas, but then Barnabas would regale him with vivid descriptions of his daughter’s teenage antics and memories flooded in of the many broken hearts and calamitous romance that followed in Natalie’s wake. After Iona’s death, Natalie mellowed somewhat in that regard, but Wilhelm knew for a fact she’d entertained and ended multiple attempts to court her.

Before Natalie could respond to her father’s worries, Barnabas voiced his mind. “Gallivanting off with a boy, no doubt! Up to all sorts of mischief, I bet.”

Barnabas meant his comments in jest, he did not expect Natalie to stare at him with a strange mixture of surprise, shock, and a hint of guilt. The old merchant took this as confirmation he’d been right and snorted with laughter.

Sighing softly, Wilhelm chided his daughter gently. “Really Natty? Is this going to be more broken hearts like with Raddicks son and daughter? Look, I understand, youth is a time to explore and enjoy life. Believe me, before I met your mother, I found myself in similar situations. But I can also say from experience that it’s not good for anyone involved to continue this sort of thing. I’m not asking you to settle, but maybe consider how far you want to take a relationship before starting it? Just as a favor to me, so I can feel like you're utilizing at least some of my wisdom.”

Wilhelm ended his paternal if mildly patronizing speech with a chuckle and returned to the stovetop where that night’s dinner was cooking. Natalie wanted to defend herself, but couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If her father thought she was off having a tryst, it was better than him knowing what she’d been really up to. “It’s good advice, Father. I don’t think the relationship is going anywhere, but I want to see it through. Do you need my help with anything? Since I’m back early, I might as well make myself useful.”

To that, Wilhelm waved his daughter off with a smile. “No, no, I planned for you

to be away all day and won’t be needing anything. Enjoy the rest of your time off, but I will expect you for dinner. We haven’t eaten together in what feels like ages, and it would be nice to talk with you before the evening crowd arrives.”

“That sounds nice; I’ll see you then.” Now she’d have a few hours to unwind and process the ordeals of the day before having to face reality. And her father was right about dinner; it had been some time since the two of them had a proper meal together. In the wake of her mother’s death, they’d fallen out of the habit of family meals. A slight return to normalcy after the horrific sights she seen would be comforting.

Leaving Wilhelm and Barnabas behind, Natalie went upstairs and headed towards her room. After a moment’s thought, she took a slight detour and checked the door to Cole’s rented room. It was still locked, and there was no sign it’d been opened while she’d been out. Natalie let out a sigh of relief; things were complicated enough without her father finding the skull. Cole claimed the bag was hidden by enchantment, but if Natalie could discover it by accident, then maybe other people could as well. A little part of Natalie twinged at that chain of thought. She wanted to think it was an accident when she now knew it was anything but. The influence of the Gods is well known and even somewhat familiar in the world, but still, the words ‘divine intervention’ are powerful ones. Words that were scarily accurate to what had happened in the past week.

Shaking her head and moving towards her room, Natalie tried to put all such matters out of her head. She wasn’t foolish enough to think not thinking about something would solve the problem. But a few hours not focused on the disorienting and disconcerting knowledge she’d gained would be helpful. Slipping into her room, Natalie set down her pack. Thankfully neither her Father nor adopted Uncle had asked about it. Rummaging through the bag, she pulled out the unfinished sculpture of Stockings and her carving knife. Natalie set them on her dresser, stripped off her traveling gear, and tried to relax.

Grabbing her sculpture and tool, she slumped into her chair and got to work. Practiced hands started shaving away bits of wood freeing the image Natalie could see trapped in the wood. Bright cool autumn sun streamed into the room and provided plenty of light to work by. Dozens of finished carvings decorated the makeshift studio; some by Natalie, some by her mother, some a collaboration. The ones in her room were Natalies favorites with special meaning and memories attached to them. These and the others around the Silly Goat weren’t her only work. Maybe two dozen of her sculptures had been purchased by impressed patrons over the last few years.

Despite the gloomy appearance of Glockmire, almost every home kept a little bit of art inside of it. Art, happiness, joy, and all good things in life were kept private and secluded in Glockmire. That was just how things were; everyone had their personal pleasures and hid them just enough to not attract attention. As Natalie worked on the carving of a lounging cat, this Glockmirian habit struck her as odd for the first time in her life. Wasn’t happiness supposed to be shared? Something to be proud of? Why keep it clutched away like a magpie hoarding shiny trinkets?

The answer was, of course, fear. Fear of being noticed, fear of attracting attention, the fear of catching a predator’s eye. Unwelcome memories of Felix’s drained corpse and rictus of terror captured in death entered Natalie’s mind. A deep shiver passed through the young woman, and she stopped her carving. Absently she got up and went to the window. Craning her neck awkwardly, Natalie looked up at Castle Glockmire. She’d never really taken time to study the towering structure cut into the mountainside. Doing so now sent a lurch in her stomach. Some instinctual fear of what dwelled in that ornate lair bringing bile into her throat. As Natalie fought nervous revulsion, she understood she needed to get out of this town. She needed to be free, to not feel the oppressive shadow of the Vampires upon her.

A terrible realization came to Natalie; as she forced herself to stare up at the haunting Castle. She was livestock; protected and herded in by hungry undead unwilling to share their food. Of course, she had known this on some level for years; everyone in Glockmire understood the hell-bargain they made. Safety from monsters, demons, famine, and war; in exchange for their blood and freedom. Some would say it was a fair deal, but Natalie wanted no part of it. Really seeing Castle Glockmire for what it was, Natalie swore she’d leave its shadow by the coming Spring.

Returning to her seat and picking up her tools and unfinished work, Natalie started to make plans. While few people come to Glockmire unexpectedly as Cole had, several seasonal trade caravans come through the town every year. Using the mountain pass the town occupied to cross into Zaubervold proper. A large and well-defended group of merchants would be perfect for getting Natalie out of the Blood Duchies. She’d get Barnabas’s advice on where to go and who to trust. The old man was spending his elder years as a shop owner, but he’d traveled the trade routes much in his youth and still had plenty of connections. Leaving with one of the Caravans headed out of Zaubervold and towards the northwest in the spring would be her best option. It would give Natalie time to say her goodbyes, make more concrete plans.

The skeleton of a scheme was quickly coming into shape, but its most crucial part was still uncertain. Natalie did not know where she wanted to go. Glockmire sat at the northern edge of the Blood Duchy of Zaubervold. Its neighbors on all sides were also Blood Duchies. Leftover scraps of the Old Empire taken over by Vampires and loosely united under Archduke Drakovich. Beyond the neighboring Blood Duchy of Roloyo, in the northwest, was the Alidon River. She could follow it towards the great city of Vindabon. The City of Music and Dreams, one of the nine city-states of the Holy League.

Barnabas had visited the city once on his travels and had told Natalie stories of Vindabon. Despite his gruff and often sarcastic tone, Natalie knew the old merchant had been impressed by the city's sights. Baroque Opera houses where musically trained Mages wove song and spell into magnificent shows. Streets and buildings decorated by statues of Elected-Kings, and revered Saints. Plaza’s that bustled with thousands of people from all walks of life and corners of the world. Vindabon was a place where Elven merchants from across the Ocean could be found negotiating with Wyrm-blooded Nobles of the far East. A place where one might walk into a tavern and order a plate of Guyenneian food, listen to a Lusitanian Bard and share drinks with a Goblin rebel hiding from the Tzars wrath. The more Natalie thought about Vindabon, the better an option it seemed. Maybe not to settle, but most definitely to visit and get a taste of the wider world.

Natalie felt her attempt at planning slide into daydreaming as she thought about life beyond Glockmire. Till now, Natalie had thought such wondrous sights would be beyond her reach. Only tasted through stories but never actually seen. It had been a bitter truth she’d swallowed as a child but one that no longer needed to apply. A bit of that buried childhood excitement creeped into Natalie, and she found herself smiling. Yes, she was running from Glockmire and its horrors, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be heading towards something incredible.

Shouts and a clatter from downstairs pulled Natalie from her small moment of joy. Startled, she almost dropped her carving knife. Getting up quickly, setting down the statue she’d failed to put much of any work into, but keeping the knife ready, Natalie moved towards her bedroom door to investigate the source of the noise. She’d just opened the door when a voice called out, “Someone found Felix’s body! They’re taking him to the Temple now!”

Natalie stopped dead in her tracks. She’d almost forgotten about why she’d decided to leave Glockmire. What, or more accurately, who had given her that push. Cole had returned and apparently, with no subtlety. She’d foolishly assumed he’d bring Felix’s corpse to be interred discreetly. Considering the noise and shouts coming from the streets, he was doing the exact opposite. Cursing under her breath, Natalie opened the door and prepared to face whatever new challenges this would bring.

(An Hour or so earlier)

Cole sat where Natalie left him in the shadow of a great oak tree, maybe ten meters from the road to Glockmire. His only company the withered corpse of Felix. Looking down at the drained body, Cole mulled over how often he’d found himself in this situation; alone with just a corpse for company. At least Felix, unlike many other dead things he’d found himself with, had the decency not to try and kill him.

Away from Natalie and with a level of privacy, Cole thoroughly examined the body. What he found confirmed his decision to send the fiery young woman away even though stonewalling her left a bitter taste in Cole’s mouth. This entire situation had become far, far more dangerous than he anticipated. The unusual behavior of the Vryko-Ghouls had been his first hint that something was very wrong. So when he’d freed the trapped souls of those tragic undead, he’d looked for possible answers in the flames. The unnatural oily black flames and foul smoke confirmed his worst fears of Necromancy. In Glockmire, the only beings skilled in Necromancy would be the Vampires or their direct servants. Controlling a Vryko-Ghoul was also not an easy feat. Those hungry dead falling into a dangerous middle ground in terms of strength and intellect. Vryko-Ghouls are too powerful to be simply dominated like a throng of Skeletons and not smart enough to be negotiated with successfully. It requires special preparations and skill to control them properly. None of this boded well, and the discovery of Felix’s body only worsened the omens.

Congealed drops of Vampire Blood had been forced into the dead man’s mouth. Dried up and placed in a corpse, it wouldn’t turn Felix or raise him as a subservient Ghoul. It would, however, act as “poisoned bait.” When the Vryko-Ghouls ate Felix, they’d have consumed the blood in their gluttony. Forming a dark connection, a skilled Vampire could use it to control the Vryko-Ghouls. This painted a deadly picture of a Vampire capable of binding multiple powerful Undead to its will. Cole had accidentally discovered and taken off the board, four powerful game pieces. Potentially upsetting whatever balance of power existed here, and inviting all kinds of unintended consequences.

Looking over the corpse on the ground, Cole found a series of scratches and tears along Felix’s limbs. These were not the clean punctures of Vampire fangs nor the brutal rips of a scavenging Vryko-Ghoul. To a layperson, the injuries would blend in with the tapestry of pain that marked Felix’s corpse. Someone with knowledge of medicine and death might recognize the scratches were inflicted after Felix died. Cole knew enough to know that and reasonably guess the source of the injuries. A cauldron of Direbats carried the corpse through the night sky under orders of their Vampiric master.

On principle, Cole disliked bats. While he could logically appreciate their role in the world and the certain majesty a flying colony could provoke. He’d spent far, far, too much time stalking through dark caves and forests, being startled, harassed, or otherwise inconvenienced by bats. That’s not even mentioning what Vampires do to them. Many breeds of Vampire possess some magical talent in controlling nocturnal creatures. With Bats, Wolves, and Rats being some of the most favored species to use. Yet merely enslaving wild animals to their will is not enough for some Vampires. Bats breed quickly and can be easily cultivated into new forms by a patient Vampire. Many forms of twisted Bat-creatures have been created over centuries of unnatural selection and mutation brought upon by dark alchemy. While almost every colony of these abominations is different, they share a general label. Direbats, the hunting beasts and flying eyes of the Vampires

These were large specimens, judging by the claw marks on Felix, far removed from the insect-eating cave-dwelling creatures of countless generations previous. At least the size of a small hunting dog, perhaps larger.

Cole once faced a Vampire who owned a small cauldron of similar Direbats. This Vampire had been almost feral, a Strigoi living out in the far wilderness and using its pets to feed. Unlucky travelers would be literally picked off by a swarm of leather wings and sharp claws. Lifted into the sky and dropped into the Vampire's nest.

Which was exactly how Cole found the nest, letting the Direbats fly off with him. It was a gamble but one that paid off. The Strigoi was so used to panicked screaming villagers; it hesitated when a calm Cole dropped into the ravine it nested in. That hesitation cost it its head, and Cole ultimately had a more challenging time killing the Direbats as they tried to avenge their master. He doubted the Vampire behind this group of Direbats would be so easily killed.

Standing up and looking around him, Cole started to pace. He needed to wait longer, to give Natalie time to get into Glockmire. Being alone in the wilderness with a corpse is something Cole knew all too well, but waiting and doing nothing was not something he did well. Sure, if he was watching a potential lair and had to wait, he could do that. Waiting for another person and, by extension, being worried about that person had become almost alien to Cole. He’d been by himself for a decade and only made brief passing connections. He’d expected something similar with Natalie, just another local who he’d help. Instead, the young woman was stuck in his mind, and he found himself missing her company. Something about her just struck a chord with Cole, and it left the scarred man slightly wrong-footed.

Leaning against a tree Cole reached into his pack to fish out his usual source of comfort. He paused for a moment as he remembered it wasn’t with him. He’d left the skull back at the Silly Goat, something he now regretted. It was how he kept sane, being able to hold the skull and feel the presence inside of it. The slight spiritual touch of the skull’s owner reminded him of happier times; and why he did what he did. After a decade of service, he’d truly come to believe the creed of Master Time, but that hadn’t always been the case. He’d entered into this divine pact out of purely selfish desires, something that he still felt a twinge of shame for.

At first, he wanted something that was well within Master Time’s power to give. A self-centered and ultimately self-destructive boon that his god had been hesitant to give. Yet, the years of service and the good he’d done changed Cole. Moving him away from his original bitter path and eventually pushing him to where he was now. He’d almost given up on his original desire, but he still dreamed of a way to see the woman he loved again. To hold her in his arms, and to be able to look into her eyes, not just the empty eye-sockets of her skull.