The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 27: Cold and Cruel

“In life, we were weak; in death, we find strength

In red steel, we are clad; in war, we are tested.

In our hearts is loyalty; in battle, we prove it.

In the day, we sleep; in the night, we serve.

I am a Knight of the Scarlet Song. From now until eternity.” - Sword Oath of the Scarlet Knights.

Cole and Natalie left the guard tower. Leaving a worried Mina and confused Alia behind them. Cole answered their questions as the couple left. “This isn’t something I want you to get involved with unless strictly necessary.”

Natalie walked down the city streets, a slightly glazed look in her eyes. A current of power tugged on her, a faint sensation she focused on. It was fading rapidly, and Natalie moved faster, trying to keep up with the feeling. Cole trailed behind her, hand on his axe, eyes darting around the city. It was mid-morning, and Vindabon was alive and well. Horse-drawn wagons and pedestrians competing for space on cobblestone streets. A nervous Vampire and her Paladin escort just two more drops in a stream of people.

They walked for a long time, reaching the city's eastern part. Natalie never stopped, just following the pull of blood. As they approached one of Vindabon’s great gates, Cole felt a cold tingle in his chest. A God's touch caressing his soul. Frowning, Cole drummed his fingers on Requiem’s head. The dwarven metal cold in the winter weather. Looking up at the eastern gate, Natalie stopped and let out an annoyed sigh. Glancing back at Cole, she took his hand and led him to a secluded spot off the main thoroughfare.

“I lost it. Whatever that was, it’s too faded for me to detect.”

Looking east towards the gate, Cole whispered. “I think Master Time is asking me to pick up the trail.”

Confused, Natalie was about to ask when Cole tapped his chest and gestured east. “I can feel it. Something requires my attention outside the city.”

Letting out a nervous breath, Natalie asked. “Should we check it out then?”

Jerking his head in a noncommittal way, Cole answered, “I will alone.” Before Natalie could protest, he explained his reasoning. “This feels like a trap for you. A scent laid out to lead you from the city into someone’s clutches.”

Natalie frowned. “You are probably right, but that doesn’t mean you should stick your foot into the bear trap for me.”

Cole actually smiled. “It does, in fact, mean that. My God guides me forward. I’m obliged to follow that command.”

Opening her mouth, Natalie almost said something but realized it was pointless. In his own way, Cole could be frightfully stubborn. “Let's at least let the Temple know before you head out.”

Cole accepted that and turned to leave. Natalie squeezed his hand hard. “Just be careful.” She tapped Requiem in its sheath. “And don’t stick your foot into the bear trap; try sticking that instead.”

Smiling, Cole bent down and kissed her. After a long moment, Natalie broke it with a sigh. “Let's let the Girls know and then return to the Temple.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Cole mused. “The girls? I doubt either of them would like to be referred to as such.”

Chuckling, Natalie shrugged. “Yeah, well, too bad.”

The ‘girls’ accepted Cole’s explanation that he had Paladin business outside the city. While agreeing, it was better for Natalie to stay at the Temple and repay Nyami’s favor instead of tying Mina or someone else down with escort duty.

Back at the Temple, Cole assembled his equipment. Emma’s first armor set was in bad condition but usable. (If not presentable.) While Cole’s restocked bandolier carried everything he’d need for a quick scouting mission.

Wrinkling her nose at Cole’s stinking armor, Natalie asked for the fifth time. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to let Morri send someone with you?”

Buckling his cloak into place, Cole shook his head. “The Temple is overwhelmed as is. Besides, it will be safer if I’m by myself.”

Seeing the look of concern on Natalie’s face, Cole offered. “If I’m not back by the morning or haven’t sent word, you should send someone after me. Preferably a lot of someones.” That did little to assuage her worry, so Cole fished something out of his pack. A strip of black cloth. Nicking his forearm, Cole let a few drops of his blood fall onto the strong fabric. It was instantly animated. Pulling towards him with a gentle tug. Handing it to Natalie, Cole explained. “This is how Barnabas found me that night. A little magic poured into it, and the scrap will point towards my cloak.”

Barely comforted by the tracking charm, Natalie let her fangs nip her lower lip. “I don’t like playing fair maid in the forbidden mansion. So come back quickly and safely.”

Cole hugged her then. Natalie demonstrating her love by letting him, even with his corpse-stained armor. “I will,” he whispered and let his head rest against hers. Breaking the embrace, Cole left to hunt a monster. Leaving Natalie to her meeting with Nyami.

Flexing his hands in his gauntlets, Cole ignored the reverent looks he got from passing Priests as he exited the Temple. Heading east, Cole did as he had for a decade, following the cold tug of a God’s guiding hand. People on the streets parted for him. Some instinct (or more likely his smell) kept them from obstructing him. Reaching the Sun Gate, Cole left Vindabon proper. His amulet and a slight glow of power were enough to get the Guards to let him pass through quickly.

Cole heard whispers from the stunned crowd leaving and exiting the city.

“That was him? That was the Paladin?”

“Fire and Iron, they weren’t lying about the scars.”

“Big one, ain’t he? How many monsters do you reckon he’s killed?”

“Ya tink its true? What happened under ta city?”

“That’s the Tattered Man?”

“The what?”

Cole ignored the whispers and slipped down a sidestreet in Walltown as quickly as he could. Notoriety was always something he’d tried to avoid. But now he faced something even worse than that. He was famous. Grimacing at the idea, Cole pulled his hood up and headed east. Passing through the town that hung in the lee of the city. Walltown was a relatively young section of Vindabon. While not technically part of the city, it had grown up in the last century or so. Peace and prosperity had allowed and even necessitated the creation of the new community. The walls of Vindabon could stop armies and withstand the most horrific magic. But they couldn’t exactly move according to the growing city's needs.

It took Cole the better part of three hours to make his way from the Temple to the edge of Walltown. Noon had come and gone. Cole only stopped to grab food from a seller before pushing into the farms surrounding Vindabon. Snow-covered and broken up by copses and cottages, the rolling farmland stretched on for kilometers. The road was surprisingly empty. Cole only passed one or two wagons on his way. Leaving the Paladin alone on the road.

Low wind and the crunch of armored footfalls were the only sound as Cole walked. It was strangely pleasant to return to this old pattern. Just him, the road, and a mission. Not that Cole had any desire to make the experience regular. But it was a reminder of what he’d gained and how he’d lived. Like tasting an old food once loved, now only enjoyed.

Looking up, Cole saw black wings flapping in the distance. A few crows were flying over a nearby field. They are not circling like you’d expect them to over carrion. But darting from one stand of trees towards another. Something about that made Cole uneasy, and he let his hand settle on his axe. Years of facing Vampires had taught him a healthy dislike of crows and other dark flyers. A murder of crows magically compelled to mob a man could be lethal. Something Cole could, unfortunately, attest to.

Following the cold pull of a Master Time, Cole kept walking. Leaving the shadow of Vindabon and entering the rural region proper. It was maybe four in the afternoon when Cole stopped for the first time. A faint discomfort tingled at the edges of his awareness. Some itch in the Aether his honed senses were picking up. His recent experimentation and practice with his powers were bearing early fruit.

The sense of wrongness increased with every step, and by five, Cole knew he was getting close. As the sun dipped to the horizon, carried low by the upcoming solstice, Cole pulled his amulet into the open. Ready to create light with it. In the gathering twilight, a single shape stuck out from the farm fields. A half-ruined barn.

Its roof collapsed under years of heavy snowfall and no maintenance. Creating a great cavern of splintered wood and old snow. The sight vaguely reminded Cole of a giant’s mouth. Sighing, Cole unsheathed Requiem and turned it into a halberd. Holding his weapon ready, Cole approached the ruined barn.

:: A Few Hours Earlier ::

Dietrich opened his eyes, cutting the connection with the crows he’d dominated. Looking at his companion, he hissed. “We are being followed.”

Scapin frowned. “By who?”

Thinking of the snippets of crow-sight he’d stolen, Dietrich hesitated. “I don’t know, but he was tall and cloaked.”

Scapin paused for the barest moment. The closest to surprised Dietrich had ever seen him. “Do… do you think it’s him?”

Glancing back in the direction they’d come, Dietrich bared his fangs. “The Paladin? Possibly. But how would he have found us?”

The carved grin on Scapin’s face became even more wooden. “The Gods do love to meddle.”

Reaching for his absent sword, Dietrich cursed and found his pitiful longsword. “We should turn back and confront him. This would be a good opportunity to end this.”

Shaking his head, Scapin said. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. The Alukah’s blood isn’t reliable in small doses. Fighting a Paladin while the Sun is up would be unreasonably dangerous.”

Thinking of the fight in the Alukah’s tomb, Dietrich scoffed. “He isn’t much of a Paladin. We could kill him quickly and be done with it.”

Giving Dietrich a heavy-lidded stare, Scapin asked. “Didn’t he leave you a frozen corpse the last time you fought?”

Dietrich growled and started to rise to the bait. Scapin held up a calming hand. “The night is our time. Let's lead him into a trap and take him, then. Why not use your little security measure properly?”

Forcing his choler to fade, Dietrich nodded. “That might work. We will beat him to the farm by a few hours. I can prepare, and then we can find somewhere to hide.”

Scapin smiled, or more accurately, intensified his existing smile. “Yes, that sounds perfect.”

Cole found the barn’s entrance. A large number of tracks led in and out of it. Enough to indicate heavy passage by a fair number of people. Cole glanced at some of the tracks leading toward a nearby forest. Noting them for later, he circled around the barn. Looking for other entrances or dangers. The Aetheric itch was almost painful this close, and Cole kept his Halberd ready to strike.

Some instinct had him leery of the used entrance, so Cole decided on another option. Finding a rotting sideboard, Cole cut a new door into the barn. Peering in, he summoned light from his amulet. Managing this without holding the metal hourglass brought him a tiny surge of pride. Putting that feeling aside, Cole let the pale blue light shine into the barn's interior. Piles of disturbed snow covered much of the barn floor. They lay unnatural in their size in distribution. Frowning, Cole poked his halberd into the nearest pile. The steel met resistance a few centimeters below the snow.

Using Requiem to brush away the snow, Cole found the buried object. It was a corpse. Black and withered from the cold. A surge in the aetheric buzzing got Cole to step back from the barn entrance just in time for the corpse to start moving. A horrible cracking noise escaped the body as its frozen joints forced themselves to work. Barely visible in the twilight, the other piles of snow started to move. Shifting as frost-blackened hands pulled free and empty eyes looked for Cole. Eye sockets that started to burn with green witchfire.

At least thirty of the Ghouls were in the process of freeing themselves. Cole didn’t waste the time he had. Running through the snow, Cole reached the corner of the barn and swung Requiem with all his formidable might. Cold wood exploded in a shower of splinters as Cole smashed apart a support beam. Creaking and cracking wood filled the winter twilight.

Moving quickly, Cole repeated the act, smashing his halberd into any beam or post close to the rotting wall. The shabby sideboards let him spot and splinter his targets quickly. By the fourth one, the creaking of the barn turned into a low groan. Trotting backward, careful to keep his eyes peeled. Cole nicked his hand and threw a stream of blood onto the collapsing barn.

“Fire crackle and snap. Ignite this scrap,” a crude little incantation buoyed by the spark-stone. Flames shot out from Cole’s palm and along his splatter of blood. Where the fire connected with the barn, it spread. Magic helping it chew through damp wood.

Focusing on the flames, Cole fed it from his bleeding hand and watched as the barn collapsed. Folding in on itself in a roar of breaking wood and displaced snow. A cloud of icy powder and splinters filled the darkening sky as Cole quickly stepped back. All while keeping the fire going through magical fuel. As the plume of snow and debris settled, Cole watched as a few figures pulled themselves from the wreckage. Maybe half a dozen instead of the nearly six times that he’d seen in the barn.

Keeping his halberd ready, Cole let them come to him. The more intact ones moved fast. Their bodies jerked forward with almost mechanical movements. Ice-logged limbs lacking in dexterity. The first reached Cole, its arms outstretched, bloated black hands grasping the air, searching for his throat.

Requiem sang as it cut, parting head and shoulders in a single clean blow. As the Ghoul's head toppled to the ground, it kept coming, stumbling blindly towards the Paladin. Eyes widening in surprise, Cole moved backward while bringing the haft of Requiem around. It smashed into cold-hardened flesh and sent the ghoul sprawling.

Looking at the severed head, Cole saw witchfire still glowed in its empty sockets. A smashing strike pulped the skull and snuffed out the flames. The first ghoul, which had been trying to right itself, slumped down. The magic animating it extinguished. As five more ghouls approached, each sporting injuries from the barn collapse, Cole grit his teeth. There was Necromancy at work. These ghouls were being enhanced and protected by dark magic.

Striding towards the two closest ghouls, Cole brought Requiem down and split the ghoul head to chest. Frozen innards stuck to the halberd, lodging it in the animated corpse. Cursing, Cole spun, dragging the corpse with his weapon as the second ghoul lunged. Bringing his foot down in a low kick, Cole tripped the ghoul and managed to dislodge Requiem in a single fluid motion. Coming back to the stumbling Undead, Cole slammed the halberd’s butt into the ghoul’s skull. Brains and rotting blood sprayed over the snow in a grotesque fountain.

By now, the three remaining ghouls had closed the distance. The trio were all ragged things, less intact than their forebears. One was missing an arm, while another had a wooden plank impaled through its midsection. Cole was faster than them, and he used this to his advantage. Striding to the left, the three ghouls were forced to change directions and follow him in something close to a line.

The primitive instincts guiding the ghouls pushed them forward with new vigor. They thought Cole was trying to escape. Three corpses jerked forward on blood-swollen legs. Each seeking warm flesh to devour. None would taste any. Cole cut the first one’s head in half. Hitting right at the eye line and smashing the skull apart. Spinning his halberd, Cole used its haft to shove the second ghoul back into the third. The one with the wooden debris lodged in it. They toppled to the ground, both stuck on the same piece of crossbeam, unable to get up. Requiem ended their clumsy struggles and their suffering.

Cole looked down at the ruined corpses. He was surprised by how easy the fight had been. Frozen Ghouls were tough, especially ones enhanced by necromancy. He’d cut through six without much effort. Going to the ghouls, Cole released each of their souls before returning to the barn's ruin. Smoldering flames puffed out thick streams of smoke. Even magical fire struggled to ignite the damp wood. Pulling a clay bottle from his bandolier, Cole tossed it into the flames.

A crack of breaking pottery was drowned out by the woosh of growing fire. The flammable mixture helped tip the balance, and the barn became a proper pyre for the ghouls. Pulling his attention from the growing flames, Cole looked towards the tracks. He needed to follow them. These ghouls weren’t the result of some tragedy. They were victims turned into a trap for anyone who might investigate the barn. Grimacing, Cole admitted to himself if he’d entered the barn properly and gotten surrounded by the ghouls, it wouldn’t have gone well.

Thirty enhanced ghouls in a closed space? Cole wouldn’t have died, but he would have had some injuries. A curious wanderer or even guard investigating the barn? They wouldn’t stand a chance. Cole rolled his neck and prepared to follow the trail. Before he could resume the hunt, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and twilight turned to night

The crunch of snow and clatter of mail was the only warning Cole got. Spinning to the sound, Cole caught a bone-creaking blow on Requiem’s shaft. Sliding along the slushy snow, barely keeping his balance, Cole forced a pulse of light from his amulet. A pained hiss escaped the receding darkness as Cole caught a glimpse of his opponent.

Red eyes glowed in the dark, and pale blue soul light reflected off worn armor. While a corpse-white face cut into a predatory snarl sizzled with a holy burn. A face Cole recognized. Holding out Requiem in a far guard, Cole growled. “What are you doing here, Vampire?”

Dietrich held his longsword in both hands, squeezing the leather handle hard enough to dent wood. “Killing you, Paladin.”

Cole pushed more power into his amulet, creating a brighter silver glow. Charging forward, Cole moved to strike Dietrich. Ignoring the pain of his smoking skin, Dietrich met Cole’s charge with one of his own. Halberd and sword clashed in a shower of sparks. To Dietrich’s utter shock, their strength was equal.

Eyes wide with surprise, Dietrich ducked under a halberd swing and lunged out with a probing thrust. Cole sidestepped it and whispered something in Saint-speech. The cold winter air suddenly bit Dietrich. His undead flesh feeling proper cold for the first time since… since the tunnels. Leaping back, Dietrich muttered his own incantation. Raucous caws filled the early evening as dozens of crows descended upon Cole. The Paladin spun, right hand outstretched. A stream of fire erupted from Cole’s palm as he twirled.

The smell of burning feathers filled the night as crows died or fled. Scowling at the act of cruelty he’d been forced to commit, Cole looked to his foe. “Why are you hunting us, Dietrich?”

Icy vapor streamed from the Paladin’s mouth and flowed from the edges of his cloak. The Cold of Entropy called up and ready to be unleashed. Keeping his distance, wary of the sinister ice magic, Dietrich answered. “You and the fledgling stole something belonging to the Archduke. I’m here to retrieve it.”

Slowly circling each other, weapons drawn, gathering their respective power, the warriors faced each other. Eyes hard, Cole growled. “That isn’t going to happen. Master Time has placed Natalie under his protection. I suggest you return to your liege with that news and end this madness.”

Dietrich exploded forward, pouring bloody power into his legs. Lunging for Cole with his longsword. The Paladin barely dodged, his cloak gaining a new tear as Dietrich swept by. Cursing, Dietrich spun around, his two-handed grip ready to split Cole in half. For the second time, Cole caught a full blow from Dietrich on Requiem. It pushed the Paladin back, but he held his ground.

Cold coalesced around Cole, swirling in a cloak of entropic frost. “I’m glad you aren’t doing the smart thing, Scarlet Knight.” Cole snarled as hoarfrost crept from his hands and along Requiem. “I can place thirty stolen lives on you, but I suspect the true number is much higher. A debt of time needs to be settled.”

Exploding forward, Cole tried to catch Dietrich’s legs with a low cut. Dietrich literally leaped over the blow and brought his longsword down toward Cole’s shoulder. The Paladin pulled back a little too late, and a line of distant pain opened along his chest. The strike had split the leather and licked his skin. The blood froze as quickly as it came from the wound. A black scar of obsidian armored Cole’s flesh as he let the Cold flow through him. He’d never tried channeling it through his body and weapon simultaneously. But if he was to face a Scarlet Knight and win, then new heights must be reached.

Retreating back from Cole’s retaliatory lunge, Dietrich licked his blade. “First blood to me.”

Pointing his blade at Cole, the Scarlet Knight asked. “ When we last met, you weren’t this strong. You lack a smell, and your blood tastes strange. What strange gifts has the Tenth lain upon you?”

Cole almost stumbled in surprise. Dietrich didn’t know what he was? The Scarlet Knight didn’t hesitate to pounce on his misstep. Cole barely parried the blows coming his way. As the steel storm came down on him, Cole realized something about Dietrich’s fighting style. The Vampire was incredibly strong. Even missing a fang, he could chain together stone-pulping blows with ease. But he lacked creativity or versatility in his strikes. Dietrich used the same dueling forms over and over again. The blows were nearly perfect and held power enough to snap bone. But they lacked the flow you’d see from a true Swordmaster.

As he barely dodged a strike that would have decapitated him, Cole understood what he was facing. Dietrich was a creature of the battlefield and dueling ring. Utilitarian and practical were his watchwords. He used what worked and saw little reason to change from it. That was a flaw Cole could exploit.

A kick of iron smashing into Cole’s side forced him to reconsider. Dietrich spun a leg into Cole’s side as the Paladin batted his longsword away. Stumbling, Cole felt his icy flesh groan in protest. Looking, he saw a cruel smile on Dietrich's face. “I felt your ribs creak from that. You are tough, Paladin; I’ll give you that. I’ve pulped men with a kick like that.”

Sucking in a breath, Cole retorted, “Maybe once, when you had both your fangs.”

Snarling, Dietrich brought his longsword down in an arc seeking Cole’s neck. The Paladin caught it on Requiem’s haft, but the strike forced him to one knee. Cole had miscalculated. Dietrich didn’t fight without flourish, not because he couldn’t. But because he normally didn’t need anything else.

Steel ground on steel as the two weapons clashed. Recovering, Cole let some of the cold in Requiem flow into Dietrich’s blade. The metal fogged with frost, and Dietrich pulled back when he saw what was happening to his weapon. Cole took the opportunity to rise and lash out in a vicious low strike. Dietrich caught the blow on his blade, exactly as Cole hoped.

The longsword shattered. Arcane cold turning good steel into so much brittle slag. Shrapnel exploded as Cole’s blow struck. Dietrich roared in pain, and Requiem cut through armor and muscle. Only stopped by the Vampire's reinforced bones. Yanking the halberd back, Cole spun to repeat the strike. As Dietrich stumbled, Cole put the axe head of Requiem into the Vampire's arm. This time the blow cut fully through the bone. Dietrich's arm fell to the ground, and Requiem lodged itself in his armor.

The furious Vampire was maimed but not finished. Wild-eyed, Dietrich clamped what was left of his arm over Requiem. Trapping the weapon between armor and stump. Lunging forward, Dietrich wrapped his other hand over Cole’s elbow. Then he started to squeeze. It was Cole’s turn to scream as flesh tore and bone cracked under the boulder-crushing grip.

Trying to free himself, Cole put his boot on Dietrich’s chest and pushed. It did little but make the pain worse. Cruel triumph shone in Dietrich's red eyes. “A limb is a paltry price for a Vampire to pay for victory. I doubt you feel the same way, mortal.”

In response, Cole released Requiem and grabbed his hunting knife from his belt. Cole rammed the blade into his arm without hesitation and pushed off Dietrich’s chest. The sound of tearing muscle was hidden under Cole’s scream as he lost his left forearm. Dietrich fell back, his remaining hand clutching Cole’s limb. Dropping his knife, Cole spat a gout of fire at Dietrich from his remaining hand and grabbed Requiem from where it had fallen.

Hot wet blood sprayed from Cole’s arm as he turned to run. Dietrich lunged after him but failed to grab him. The Vampire collapsed into the snow as the Cold of Entropy devoured his leg. Hissing in fury, Dietrich grabbed the dropped hunting knife and got to the grim work of cutting the magical poison from his flesh.

Cole ran for his life. Requiem shrunk into an axe clutched in his remaining hand. Already blood loss was making him dizzy. Sheathing his weapon, Cole summoned up fire from the spark stone strapped to his right palm. Sucking in a breath, Cole cauterized his stump. A horrible noise of pain escaped Cole, but he didn’t stop running. Dietrich was strong, Cole doubted he could win if the clash continued. So he threw everything he had into that final attack. Hoping to cripple the Vampire and escape. Distant roars of pain and howled curses told Cole he’d been at least marginally successful.

“I WILL TAKE YOUR HEAD, PALADIN!”

Delirious with pain, Cole almost laughed. Answering Dietrich’s wrath with whispered words, he said, “Better have tried. Some even succeeded.”

Dietrich watched as the Paladin fled. He never took his red eyes off his foe, even as he finished cutting off his leg. Moving to the frosted stump of his arm, Dietrich excised the tainted flesh and pulled off the touched armor. Dietrich wanted to scream in frustration while lying in the ash and blood-stained snow. It would take him time to heal. Regrowing two limbs and cleaning any traces of the ice magic from his body would take hours. Just then, a voice spoke from behind him.

“That did not go well.”

A furious Dietrich glared up at the arrived Scapin. “Pursue him! He’s injured! Even you should be able to take his head.”

Scapin went over to a red lump in the snow and picked it up. The Paladin’s severed forearm. “I’d rather not risk a Paladin’s last stand. Who knows what desperate tricks he might hold for such a moment? Besides, blood loss and shock will finish what you started. We’ll wait till you heal, then recover the corpse.”

A crunch of hoofs pulled Dietrich's attention to a scared-looking Yara. She led the Rattler Horses up to them. Slung over one's back were Dietrich's proper weapons and armor. Glaring at his Greatsword, Dietrich let out a pained hiss. If he’d had better gear, this fight would have gone differently. He’d approached this as a Vampire fighting a human warrior. That had been a mistake. The Paladin’s power had grown rapidly in the past three or so months. Next time Dietrich wouldn’t underestimate him.

Slung over the second horse's back was a dead deer. Its body still steaming in the cold. Scapin helped Yara bring it to Dietrich and let him feed. The blood was weak but tasted like ambrosia to Dietrich’s ruined body. Scapin gestured to the drained deer. “I dominated it in case you were injured. I… expected you to take a few ugly blows, but nothing like this.”

Frowning up at Scapin, Dietrich opened his mouth to rebuke the Agent for not helping but stopped himself. Dietrich had insisted on facing the Paladin alone. Partially to reclaim his honor and partially to preserve what little he had left. Scapin had accepted that request even when it miscast spectacularly. Dietrich couldn’t rebuke Scapin for that.

Grabbing the terrified-looking Yara, Dietrich sunk his fangs into her neck. Pumping her full of venom, he took enough blood to knock her out. Wrapping the unconscious girl in a fur cloak, he’d looted. Dietrich set her next to the dead deer. Its remaining warmth would help her.

Scapin was staring at the burning barn. The growing pyre cast long shadows in the night. “He’s more powerful than I thought. So he really is a Paladin?”

Dietrich spat. “Of course he is!”

Glancing back at Dietrich, Scapin cocked an eyebrow. “Truly? Then… well, that is surprising.”

Glaring up at his ‘colleague,’ Dietrich growled. “What is that supposed to imply?”

Scapin just shook his head. “Nothing important. Some facts are fitting together and making an interesting puzzle picture.”

There was more to it, but Dietrich sensed Scapin would not be sharing it. So the two Vampires sat in silence for five hours. As Dietrich struggled to regrow his arm and leg. While he’d cut out most of the Cold, its lingering presence had stunted his regeneration. Turning a three-hour process into a five-hour ordeal. But at last, Dietrich's leg and arm had returned. Leaving the sleeping Yara with the horses, Dietrich and Scapin pursued their prey.

The footsteps and blood weren’t hard to follow. A steady trail that went towards Vindabon. The splatter of blood decreased at one point but never fully stopped. Cole must have found a way to bind his wound. But it wouldn’t be enough. Losing an arm without a Priest or Healer skilled in medicine nearby was a death sentence. Their quarry would bleed out sooner rather than later.

Still, Dietrich was surprised by how far the Paladin had gone. He was made of stern steel, which Dietrich realized was to be expected. The Scarlet Knight had made the mistake of underestimating Cole yet again. A pattern that needed to end here and now.

After perhaps an hour of following the trail, the two Vampires found something strange. A patch of disturbed snow soaked in frozen blood. A lot of frozen blood. Frowning, Dietrich leaned down to inspect the patch of red-black snow. It was large, clearly where the Paladin’s body had finally given up. Dietrich knew the signs of a collapsed person and their lifeblood flowing free. This is where the Paladin should have died. So where was his body?

Looking up, Dietrich started to look for drag marks and stopped mid-stride. Finding what Scapin was looking at. New prints leading away from bloodstain. Not drag marks or stumbling strides, but long even steps. Scapin leaned down next to where the bloodstained ended and the new tracks began. Pointing down at the snow, Scapin muttered. “Now that is curious.”

There was a handprint in the snow, like where someone would press off the ground to get to their feet. It was from the left hand. The same hand Dietrich had torn off. Shocked and confused, Dietrich looked for a second set of tracks. He couldn’t find any.

Turning to Scapin, Dietrich stopped when he saw the Agent was frowning. An expression he’d never seen on his face. Looking at Dietrich with anomalous worry, Scapin asked. “Tell me, Dietrich, have you ever heard of the Homunculus Knight.”

The Sun Gate of Vindabon stayed open even at night. Only during times of war or crisis did it shut. A gesture partially symbolic of Vindabon’s relationship with Sister Sun. Partially the result of bureaucratic squabbles. Something Cole was more than grateful for. Clutching his regrown arm to his chest, the Paladin trudged through Walltown and towards the gate.

Cold, exhausted, and utterly rattled by his fight, Cole would be glad to be back in Vindabon. Patches of frostbite burned on his skin where his magic had shown its double-edge. While his body struggled to replace all the blood, he’d lost in the fight. Reaching the Sun Gate, Cole was stopped by a startled-looking watchman. Even if the Gate was open, it wasn’t unguarded.

“Hey, you! What are-” the Guard trailed off when he saw the dried blood covering Cole’s cloak and face.

Holding up his Amulet, Cole growled. “I’m a Paladin of the Tenth Temple. I need to report an incident to the City.”

Face blanching, the Guard asked. “What in the Fixed-Stars happened?”

Glancing back in the direction he’d come, Cole said. “A Vampire.”