Chapter 67 67: Witching Night

------------------------------ If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. ------------------------------- Brauzeit 22-Vorhexen-33 ,2488 IC I liked the dwarfs' efficiency. They were, without a doubt, the best thing that could have happened to me. Since it was already night, I found myself resting in a room they had permanently assigned to me for whenever I wished to visit them. Upon my departure, they gifted me a runic sword engraved with minor runes—one of the many swords stored in the vault—but they gave it to me, to my dynasty, as a gift for everything I had done. Not even under the usual condition of returning it upon death, which was fairly common for runic weapons or armor granted within the Empire. As I exited the mine tunnels, I saw nearly a hundred dwarven workers extracting rock, leveling the area, and expanding the flat ground for the laboratory's construction at a speed that was simply unnatural. That's why befriending the dwarfs was worth it: access to the best qualified labor force one could find. Even the most "useless" dwarf was a master in some craft, capable of doing it several times better than any human. The only difference was the time they took to create a piece—what would take a human a few days, they would spend weeks on, seeking perfection. But it didn't matter. I now had a laboratory under construction—and the best part: for free. I didn't have to invest anything in expensive construction teams, or pay them for silence, or silence them by force. The place would remain secret, as no one was allowed to negotiate with the clan except me. No one was to approach the tunnel entrance; only dwarfs could freely come and go. As the days went by, everything moved quickly—mainly because I was enjoying a peace I had almost forgotten existed. Migrants had stopped arriving. Winter had come, significantly reducing the flow. Anyone arriving now was from Reikland, which eased the burden on my architects, who were working at maximum capacity to house everyone, since many still lacked homes of their own. On the other hand, as the weeks passed swiftly, Otto had finally raised enough walls of the school to begin teaching the youngest ones. With the help of the Cult of Shallya, we provided hot meals to all the imperial youth attending the first classes, which mostly focused on reading books brought by the many priests of Sigmar. About the greatness of Sigmar, the greatness of the Empire, and the role Sigmar expected of them in the future. Simple stuff, but it reinforced the Sigmarite creed. And even though the school was far from what I envisioned for this place, I was pleased that nearly a thousand young people showed up to several classrooms—a number that would only grow as more parts of the school were finished. With that progressing well, things were even quieter in Reinsfeld. Everyone stayed inside their homes; few people ventured out as winter held firm. Most of the economy now took place indoors, where families spent time weaving or preserving food, which left the streets rather empty. Only the merchants from Marienburg and other imperial cities passed through the area, looking to buy goods to sell at the end of their trade routes. Rutger, it seemed, had finally found buyers in Nuln. It was more difficult to do business in that city—even though it was important, much of its economy was focused on the forges rather than the nobility. But he finally managed to establish contacts to sell in Nuln, using his Marienburger "magic" and tricking people until he got the desired outcome. Now he had a network of buyers in Nuln—not as profitable, and the turnaround time had doubled, but well... nothing I could do. I didn't want wizards bothering me, to be honest. From time to time, I visited the dwarfs' progress in the mountains. It was clear they were advancing rapidly. Often I brought carts loaded with supplies, as much of the work to rebuild their underground farms depended on materials that were still scarce. I made sure they lacked nothing, so they could focus entirely on building my laboratory. And honestly, it was coming along very well. Days passed and I never stopped working. I maintained a constant rhythm, making sure everything was in order. I especially handled Rutger's requests—he had managed to convince a few artisans from Nuln to move to my city. In exchange, they demanded workshops near the market, especially the glassblowers. i wanted greenhouses as soon as possible to grow food... and cotton, if possible. But as the days advanced, one finally came that most people fear: Witching Night. It marked the year's end, and the town's atmosphere changed completely. I quickly learned why. According to Reinsfeld's lector, it was common for cultists to roam more freely on that night. For that reason, most citizens preferred to lock themselves in their homes. Only the bravest—or those faithful to Morr—dared to go out. At the start of the day, I simply went out with a few priests of Shallya. We passed through several known homes, asking if they needed anything, delivering food directly to the neediest. The priests knew well who was suffering, so finding them was easy. But as soon as they finished, they locked themselves in their temples, waiting for the day to pass. Almost the entire town fell silent. Merchants holed up in the taverns. Farmers slept in their homes. Thankfully, all the settlers now had housing, although the guards were still somewhat cramped in the barracks. I didn't like one bit that everyone refused to work. No builders, no soapmakers, no blacksmiths, no one who made paper or clothes. No one showed up for their posts. Only the guards fulfilled their duty, and even then, only in large groups. Several times they asked to leave early, to spend the rest of the day locked inside their homes. Since there was no sign of immediate human danger, I accepted. I let them return to their homes or barracks. I didn't want them nervous. Then, I walked through the empty city with my bodyguards, observing the houses marked with symbols of Sigmar and Morr. The Sigmarite chapel, still under construction, remained guarded by its warrior-priests, alert for any sign. I eventually decided to go to my laboratory. It would be a quiet day. It didn't matter much that I wasn't patrolling the town. I started working alongside Hieronymus, preparing more gunpowder to stockpile reserves. Several calm hours passed... Until suddenly, a rancid smell hit my nose. "Do you feel it?" said Hieronymus, suddenly raising his head. "Yes... a rotten sensation... like decayed metal. Reminds me of Marienburg," I replied, frowning. "Something has entered your lands carrying an amulet linked to the Ruinous Powers. And considering the date... it's dangerous. It might be trying to attract daemons." "Shit... have you ever seen one of these cases actually work?" I asked tensely. "Several. Many of those rituals fade at the end of the night, since the bond isn't strong enough to keep them anchored. But on this date... on this night... someone with a corrupted object is dangerous. If they manage to cause enough harm, the portal might remain open even after sunrise. It's best to act now." "Scheiße... Scheiße... Scheiße..." I muttered as I removed my protective gear. "Go, my apprentice. I would only slow you down. Even going down the stairs takes me time now... I'll do what I can from here, but you must stop the ritual from being completed." I nodded without a word. I removed my apron, donned my armor, took the runic sword gifted to me by the dwarfs—one of the many that rested in their vault—and summoned all available men-at-arms. There was no time for full mobilization, but I needed a group ready and well-armed, even if small. "Listen to me! Deus Sigmar has sent me an emergency warning! My brave men... cultists will try to draw the eyes of the Empire's enemies by taking advantage of this unholy day. I know you are afraid... but the city depends on us. We must stop them from succeeding, even if we must fall to do so!" I shouted, my voice echoing across the castle courtyard. Only a group of ten men joined me immediately. The rest were arming themselves, but they would not be ready in time. We mounted our horses and rode at full gallop, though even the animals seemed to feel the weight of the night. Even my loyal mare was nervous, trying more than once to turn back on her own. We followed the sensation. It was like a signal burning on my skin, drawing us toward the woods. My men rode in silence, but it was clear they were nervous. They looked in all directions, flinching at every sound, as if every crack of a branch was a threat. The signal grew stronger, until we began to hear sounds. Something was moving among the trees. We dismounted. The forest was dense, and we did not want to give away our presence. We tied the horses, hoping they wouldn't flee. We moved on foot, swords drawn, sliding between the trunks. The silence was oppressive... until we found the source of the noise. I stopped when I saw the scene. On a large rock, hastily carved, lay a person torn open. Around it, a group of humanoid figures was eating the entrails and drinking the blood of the sacrifice, laughing and chanting gutturally. But they weren't only human. There were two... abominations. Androgynous figures, with deformed bodies: feminine traits on one half and a male torso on the other, with grotesque limbs. They had claws, crab-like pincers, and forked tongues that slowly slid along the necks of the cultists, who welcomed them with ecstasy and madness. The creatures saw us and smiled. They began to dance. They caressed themselves with their claws, ran their tongues over their deformed bodies, lifted their lone breast, and made obscene movements with their hips. All with a perverse rhythm that seemed to resonate in the blood. "By Sigmar... what beautiful women," one of my guards murmured, dropping his sword as he walked hypnotized toward them. It didn't take long for me to realize that all my men were falling under the trance, their eyes lost, jaws slack, breathing heavily. The damned dance continued. I jumped forward, shoving one of my soldiers away from the group. I couldn't let them fall. With the runic sword in hand, I advanced. I ran toward one of the creatures, and before it could react, I struck with a brutal, precise slash aimed at the neck. The runic blade glowed faintly as it cut into the flesh. the abominations scream as I severed its head with a single stroke. Its corrupted blood sprayed in all directions as the head rolled across the ground, leaving a bubbling purple trail through the grass. The second abomination hissed furiously at the scene. It lunged at me with unrestrained violence, its claws reaching for my throat, trying to rip me apart in a repugnant frenzy. I thrust my blade to force it back, but it dodged with unnatural agility. In a blink, it tried to impale me with its pincers. I barely managed to block them, crossing the runic blade at the last second. The pincers clamped down hard around the blade, screeching like a hellish vice. The creature tried to push me to the ground, opening the way to strike with its forked tongue. I immediately stopped resisting with my left arm, feigning weakness. The creature lost balance slightly, just enough for me to drive the pommel of the sword with all my right arm's strength directly into its face. One of the guards sank into its eye with a wet crunch. It howled in pain. Reflexively, it released the sword and covered its ruined eye. I didn't waste time. I twisted the blade, still firm in my hands, and launched an upward slash. The creature's left leg separated from its body with a sound of torn flesh and shattered bone. It fell to the ground, shrieking and writhing. Before it could counterattack, I launched a series of precise cuts, severing its arms one by one. I gave it no respite. When it was nothing more than a twitching torso full of smoldering stumps, I raised my sword once more and cut off its head. Silence fell like a slab of stone. My men collapsed to the ground, covering their heads with their hands, eyes wide in horror. The trance had broken... but the horror remained. The cultists, freed from the demonic influence, tried to flee. Humans deformed by corruption—if they could still be called that. They had horns, ulcerated skin, extra mouths... they were little more than beasts. I gave them no chance. My sword found their backs and bellies without hesitation. One by one, they fell, squealing like trapped rats. There was no mercy for the mutant. "Call the priest! I don't give a damn if this day is cursed... I want this place purified, NOW!" I shouted, my voice still trembling, trying to calm the burning adrenaline inside me. ------------------------------ If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. -------------------------------