[IC] Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

[Penny]

The rest of they day passed quickly. For Camilla it seemed the first chance she had found to relax since they had fled the scene of the court in Ostland. She took an outrageously long bath, soaking until the water grew cold, she had scrubbed her hair and skin clean with the plain but smooth soap and toweled herself dry. Many of the bruises were beginning to fade and she found herself somewhere back near her former glory.

After a hearty meal and several more mugs of ale she and Cydric had fallen asleep without worrying about setting a watch for the first time in months. Although her sleep was dark and fathomless she found herself troubled by odd dreams of eyeless men, of strange places and fantastic beasts. Once she saw herself standing over a decapitated body, a blade of some sort of black glass in her hands. She awoke troubled in her mind but her body felt better than it had in weeks.

She and Cydric enjoyed a light breakfast of hard bread and wine and were just about to head out to try to convert some of the more exoitc pieces they had recovered from the horde in the mountains to cash when a cloaked figure approached their table. It took Camilla a second to recognize Osfurth, the Chamberlain. He was swathed in a heavy cloak and seemed to be going out of his way not to be recognized, although how he could hope that in an inn that catered to the Counts inner circle was hard to figure.

"Ah excellent, I had hoped I could catch you before you left on your business this morning," he said in a quiet but steady tone.

"I have some business I would like to discuss with you both... privately," he said, inclining his head in the directions of the room they shared momentously.

Camilla cast her eyes towards Cydric. The fellow clearly hadn't come to arrest the pair of them, he would have bought guards if that were his intent. She settled for a non comittal shrug of the shoulders.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cyrdic had finally had a chance to relax his weary muscles, and clean his scars. Not only that, but his shoulder length brown hair was now clean, something he'd been meaning to do for quite awhile. Along with his new clothing he had washed from Talabecland, he looked the epitome of a Middenland duke. A hint of uncouth northerner, yet an intense noble quality about his heroic frame and rugged features.

The plump, comely waitress had just left their table, her hips swaying for Cyrdic could admire, though for some strange reason Cyrdic felt a bit odd gazing with Camilla around. Still, his attention was immediately transfixed upon Osfurth, and he nodded to the man when asked to speak to he and Camilla privately. "Certainly," Cyrdic said, escorting him to their private room as if he were merely an old friend.

Once they closed the door, Cyrdic stood at the ready while the Chamberlain sat down. He removed the hood of his cloak, and gave them a helpless smile. "I do certainly hope you two have enjoyed yourselves here," he said. "I say, it's very few and far between when I see such good and trustworthy folk as you. I want you to understand that I do not come and ask things of you lightly..."

"We understand," Cyrdic said, gesturing for him to continue. "Yes, well...I have something very dangerous, yet important to ask of you two...You see, I do not want it broadcast to the city, nor even to Graf Boris just yet. I am hoping to rectify a terrible tragedy before it is known but...a month ago, our Knights discovered a cult of vile chaos worshipers within one of the old buildings uptown. They had a very large amount of that most vile substance."

"Warpstone?" Cyrdic asked, making the sign of the hammer. The Chamberlain nodded. "Yes, the Warpstone we discovered had seemingly come out of nowhere. And we took it into custody for our mages and priests to contain it within one of the Palace cellars. Only...now it is missing."

The edge of Osfurth's words had Cyrdic gripping his sword hilt until his knuckles were white. "And why do you come to us? What can we do?"

"You can look without scrutiny, unlike our guards and Knights. I realize this is a harrowing task I give to you. But I have nowhere else to turn."

"Ah yes, how forgetful of me. But here," he said, sliding his hand into his cloak and producing a letter. "You are invited to the Graf's ball in a matter of days. I don't know why the Graf throws them. He hardly shows his face. But there it is."
@Penny

[Penny]

Camilla's mind was on the waitress while Osfurth talked. The girl was clearly a little irritated that Cydric had rebuffed what she had clearly meant as an invitation. Why had she thought that such an invitation might succeed though. The girl was pretty enough but she wasn't on the same level that Camilla was. The Tilean had been taught that she was beautiful and as such didn't suffer the same pangs of uncertainty that other women seemed to about the matter. To her it was a resource, she had a sword, she had three days rations, she was beautiful, but that same awareness tended to blind her to the struggles of others. Did the girl fancy herself the queen of the tavern perhaps and want to make a show of tempting Cydric to ... the thought trailed off as she realised they had reached a lull in the conversation. Her mind obediently played back the last few seconds.

"A ball?" she said, her face lighting with enthusiasm at the notion of a formal get together. She would take Cydric of course, but they would need to get new clothes and find a dress maker. What was court fashion here in Middenheim and... she noticed that neither Osfurth or Cydric seemed to be sharing her enthusiasm and she stilled herself.

"Yes well, I trust the matter of the warpstone will remain confidential," Osfurth huffed. The emphasis he placed on the word suggested an or else that Camilla found strangely authoritative for such a non threatening looking man. He came to his feet and produced a parchment.

"This is an authorization for you to be in the palace at the Graf's behest. As far as the public story goes his niece is fond of you and wants to be regaled with tales of adventures for a few more days before you depart. Please dont use it unless you have to. If you need to contact me, leave word with the guards that you have to discuss the ball with me, that should make an adequate ruse don't you think."

Camilla nodded her head in acceptance. Osfurth pushed himself to his feet.

"I will leave you to it then, I cannot be absent long." And with that the strange man was gone from the room. Camilla listened to his footsteps as they went down the stairs.

"Reiner," she began, noticing the mans somber expression.Thoughts of dresses slowly bleeding from her mind.

"What is warp stone exactly?"

[POOHEAD189]

Cyrdic's incredulous face was comical when he noticed Camilla miles away when they were discussing what could shape the fate of Middenheim. He waited for the Chamberlain to be gone before he closed the door, and locked it. Her next question had him give a less than excited expression, and he sat Camilla down on the bed.

He tried to put it into words. He honestly knew very little himself, other than it was the last thing anyone not a servant of chaos ever wanted to be near. "It's..." he gestured with his callused hands. "The very raw stuff of chaos, made into a solid form." He explained, looking at the Tilean woman in the eyes. "I've seen it, once. A Norscan shaman had a staff with a rock of warpstone embedded atop it. It took good men and twisted them into mutants before my eyes. I'll never forget it."

Cyrdic seemed troubled just recalling it, but then he breathed out to calm himself. The normally ruddy, handsome face had seemed lined with experience for but a moment, but it was gone. He hardly let it show, but the young sergeant had been through much in his military service. "We'll search around the city. Maybe we can ask the city's layout from someone." In all honesty, Cyrdic was thinking of asking the maid. She seemed like she would be helpful, at least to him.

"I've never been to a ball before," he admitted. "I don't know how to dance, and I don't know how to, um, mingle."
@Penny

[Penny]

Camilla's high spirits waned as Cydric described the danger that warpstone represented. If it concerned Cydric so much it must be a potent threat indeed. Looked out the window of their large room for a moment to give herself time to digest what she had been told, taping a finger gently to one of her red lips.

"Oh don't worry about the ball," she said, waving a hand dismissively. She was addressing it because it was a topic she was familiar with and didn't seem to involve any pleasant risk of death or dismemberment at the hands of deranged cultists. Tilea had less of an issue with the Dark Gods, the attraction of the Chaos wastes was far away there, and the landscape to domesticated to allow for the infestations of beastmen and mutants which plagued its unhappy northern neighbors. Even on the sunny plains of Tilea though the rampages of the creatures of Chaos were not unknown.

"We will get you something in a millitary cut, perhaps some armor, then you can carry your sword and scowl a good deal," she explained, mentally fitting Cydric for a feathered hat.

"When a soldier dosen't want to be bothered he builds a wall of sharpened stakes. A scowl does the same thing in a social situation," she confided. Standing up she crossed the floor and took up her sword belt hefting its weight for a moment before fastining it around her waist at a jaunty angle down from one hip.

"He must think it is someone from the court," she speculated as she observed herself in the mirror, adjusting the set of her belt. Maybe she should get one of those polished leather chest pieces. They weren't too unlike a corset when tightly cinched and would give her some protection without sacrificing speed or, more importantly, style. Looking back over her shoulder she though Cydric looked a little puzzled by the comment.

"Well why else come to us? We are relative new comers, we have no connections here, he must have secret policemen who could make inquiries."

Crossing to the pitcher of water on the small table in the center of the room she poured herself a goblet and drank it down. It was nice to be back in civilization, even if it was this rather grim fortress town.

"Either he doesn't trust them, or he dosen't trust someone in their chain of command." As she said it an unpleasant though crossed into her mind. Unless it was Osfurth himself of course, and he figured that two bumbling adventurers were the perfect excuse in place of a real investigation.

"Any ideas where we can start?"

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cyrdic leaned back on his strong arms and watched his companion try to make even her common clothing stylish. Briefly, he wondered if he would ever get used to how beautiful she was. Though, all of the danger they'd been through, he'd never really had time to focus on it too much. "I have been wanting new armor, though I'd want it to be more functional than stylish. Maybe a tabard above it to make it...presentable?" He asked, almost not even knowing which word to use. By Sigmar, he'd never given thought to being presentable unless it was to impress a lady, and he'd not found one interested in him in awhile.

He winced, and felt his side. An old wound aching from the bath yesterday. Once his body had relaxed, he'd felt much better. But all of the running and fighting had made his muscles more sore than he cared to admit. He hopped up onto his feet behind her, strapping on his leather belt about his lean waist, his Ulrican sword sheathed along with it. He'd need to find out if the blade had a name. Perhaps the sorceress could tell him, if he ever had the misfortune of running into her again.

"I've no idea why he would contact us. Or I've many ideas, I should say. And none are an obvious right answer," As he finished his last sentence, he stretched and groaned audibly. He needed to be limber just in case there was trouble. "I say we try our luck on selling our treasures first. Once we're out and about, we'll see if there's any leads we can find. If not, I'm sure we can ask a local about the town, or find a map. I believe the Old section of the city is to the north."

He made it to the door, and placed his hand on the door knob. "Whatever we do, let's do it quickly. After the ball, I'm planning on us being much further south, if we can help it." he told her. "Let's begin at the marketplace."
@Penny

[Penny]

Camilla followed Cydric down the stairs to the common room. The barmaid gave him her usual simpering glance. It occurred to Camilla that the woman had a point. The Imperial soldier was handsome in a muscular strong sort of way and he moved with an assurance that any woman would find appealing. It helped immeasurably that he was scrubbed clean for the first time since she had met him of course. In her mind this seemed like a false Cydric though. When she pictured him it wasn't in clean clothes ordering an ale, it was charging into a goblin camp with his sword held in a death grip, or wincing as an enemies blow landed on his shield, laughing at some obsecene jest of Ivan's. She gave the girl a wan smile and flipped her a copper piece as she passed, the truth was always more complex than the fantasy.

Although it was early, the streets of Middenhiem were already bustling. Smoke rose from dozens of braziers and the smell of cooking meat and burning charcoal filled the morning air. Hawkers cried their wares as tradesmen and laborers hurried to their days work. Ragged beggars thrust bowls out at passers by begging for coins and alms. Here and there a prosperous noble on horse back forced his way impatiently through the crowd, or some rich merchants wife was carried by in a palanquin by sweating servants.

It took them nearly a water of an hour to reach the marketplace. The great roar of commerce filled the air as criers shouted their wares and merchants haggled over products of which Camilla could only identify a handful. Pickpocket too worked the crowd, here and there a quick fingered boy or 'blind' old man relieved passers by of their excess wealth. Having survived a few years on the street before her looks gave her the chance to escape Camilla could see the signs. She patted her small pouch of coins, securely stowed beneath her undershirt. It would take a surgeon to cut her purse out.

They headed towards the area where the jewelers seemed to be congregated. It would have been a mistake to suggest that the market was organized enough to have particular areas for particular trades, but it was human nature to group like with like. By the nature of their businesses jewelers tended to have shops, the better to discourage smash and grabs, and they usually employed strong looking men to make the prospect even more unappealing.

Camilla quickly convinced the tradesmen that she wasn't some rube who had won the few pieces she was willing to display in a card game and with the revelation of that knowledge the slimy aquesence vanished and serious haggling began. It took about another half hour to strike a bargain and reduce two bracelets into a very agreeable pile of gold Imperials. Camilla converted some of it into silver immedeately by purchasing several small sapphire pieces wrought in a more conventional style.

"If I know jewels but I don't by anything people will think I am a theif," she explained when Cydric asked her about the purchases.

"Plus I need something to wear for the ball don't I," she joked. To that end she was about to suggest they head for a dress maker when she caught some movement in the corner of her eye. A casual glance showed a nondescript grey glad man vanishing through a doorway. She pursed her lips and forced herself to look back to her new sapphire pendant before tucking it away in her pouch. She would have sworn she had seen that man before, back by the second goldsmith she had visited and then again by the wine merchant whose wagon had broken an axel.

"Alright, do we want to grab some food, or do you know where we can get started on our other business?" she inquired.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

He had no idea what had happened when Camilla tossed the comely waitress the copper piece. But he supposed he didn't need to know. Sometimes he did not know if Camilla confused him because she was Tilean, or because she was a woman. He supposed that was apart of what endeared him to her. He was experienced in many areas, and her in most things he most definitely was not. He kept his eyes off the buxom maid and strode outside into the morning sun.

As they walked, Cyrdic felt very much like Camilla took the lead. Though he was satisfied with that, truth be told. He seemed more like her vigilant guard, though they often shared jokes and coy smiles at references of their previous few weeks together. He bought a pair of apples and handed one to his traveling companion, enjoying the small treat, even if it didn't substitute a proper meal. All manner of citizens passed them by as the walked the streets, from an Estalian poet singing to the crowd, to a contingent of Knights of the White Wolf.

Soon they were at the jewelry section, and Cyrdic turned his back and simply gazed at the crowd while Camilla haggled. His cable-like muscles pronounced as his arms were crossed. He saw the tips of the Middenheim wall just past the buildings, always looking like it was a distant peak that surrounded a great stone valley. It made him feel at home, if he was being honest with him. Next, his eyes fell downward, and he spotted what Camilla had. Some grey cloaked figure at the edge of his vision, that suddenly disappeared.

He turned to her when she asked him what they should do next. "Food sounds good. I could eat an ox," he told her. She handed him the coin they had made and he strapped it to his belt tightly, before walking her out of the jewelry section of the market. "I think a street over we can-"

He was interrupted by a gout of flame, and they turned to see a raven haired woman juggling twirling sticks, their ends pitched in fire. Cyrdic grinned and nudged Camilla. "I was about to comment I'd never seen such a thing before, but I'm pretty certain you could pull that off," he joked. The twinkle in his eyes disappeared when he saw the grey-clad figure yet again, and so focused on it was he that he failed to notice the halfling that had snuck behind him and cut the cord of his coin purse.

He rested his hand on his hip as he often did, and suddenly realized the coins were gone. Cyrdic spun, and through the crowd he met the eyes of the thief. "By Ulric," he growled, and he sped off toward where he just saw the little thief. Cyrdic wasn't sure if the Halfling was a true one, or a child. He didn't rightly care, and both of the duo sped after the pickpocket. Luckily for them, their coin purse was quite heavy after Camilla's smart haggling, and three streets uptown later, they saw the Halfling break into an alleyway and speed inside an unmarked door. The door slammed shut just in front of Cyrdic's nose, and he attempted to open it.

Locked. He growled, and backed up. Squaring his legs, he bullrushed forward and shouldered the door so hard it burst into pieces. Kindling fell and splinters clung to Cyrdic's hair, but he was alright. In front of them was the Halfling, having opened their bag to see the coins within. It only took Cyrdic unsheathing his sword, and glaring at him with his iron eyes for the Halfling to flee with nothing (or very little) of their earnings, having left the coin purse behind.

Cyrdic sighed, and was about to step forward to grab their coins when he heard voices from the alleyway over, and something to him to hide as the voices grew closer.

"-The ceremony."
"Were you followed?"
"No, by Tzneetch. I think I would know, wouldn't I?"
"The master wants no mishaps. Not like last time."
@Penny

[Penny]

Camilla caught up with Cydric a few moments after he recovered the purse. She was smaller than Cydric and more nimble and normally she would have been ahead of him, but in the crowded street there was just no substitue for being big enough and strong enough that everyone else got the hell out of your way. Consequently by the time she had caught up the action was already over. She was about to make some joke about his Gods awful jerky and the stew she had tried to make with it when she heard the words and saw Cydric tense. Instinctively she froze as well listening to the by play.

Tzneetch? Was it some Reikspiel word she didn't know? The voices were coming closer but she risked a whisper.

"Cydric what does Tzn..." Suddenly she was laying on the ground. No she was falling, the world spinning drunkenly around her as her muscles locked. The ground hit her hard, she apparently had made no concious effort to brace herself against the fall. That was foolish, a part of her mind commented, another younger part giggled thinking it would make quite a pratt fall. Her cheek was in a pile of refuse. NOW she was laying on the ground, her eyes level with Cydric's boot.

"Tzz.. Tzzc... tzz," the bee buzzed. Not a bee, it was Camilla herself. That was odd, why was she doing that. Oh that was right she was trying to say the name. Her body still wasn't working, not even moving. Dimly she was aware she wasn't even breathing.

"Tzzn..." her lips tried again. That was a waste of air. Somehow she knew that if she could just say the name everything would be alright. Everything would be better than alright. She would have power, she and Cydric would be safe, she could protect them from the Count of Ostland and anyone that would threaten them. They could go to Tilea, she could become a queen and rule there. She could know her mother, be a child again. All she had to do was say the name again.

"Tznnn..." she stammered tasting blood in her mouth. Cydric was moving or doing something unimportant. Her vision began to dim to a red haze, her lips still frantically trying to wrap the alien word.

[Penny]

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cyrdic had tensed when he heard the word, and it had brought a terrible wariness to him. His breathing had grown shallow, and the Ostlander's fists clenched. Vaguely, he felt a pressure on his body, as if the warmth of everything wrong in the world was happening just down the alleyway on the otherside of the building. He'd felt this before, on the coast of Nordland. He could never forget it, and the insane visions it brought him.

Perhaps it was his anger that kept him less effected, or perhaps because he had dealt with it before. But other than visions flashing through his mind, those of torture and terrifying change, he felt able to move once he got a grip of himself. He gasped for air, and sweat beaded down his head. The man gripped the hilt of his sword, and instantly he felt more strong and sure of himself. Suddenly, the grip on his sword reached his mind.

Fjorlhaf.

The word had just entered his head. Was that the sword's name? He couldn't ponder it at the moment, seeing Camilla on the ground, continuing to mouth a word, and he saw the blood drip from her lips. Gods, her eyes are glazed over. His companion's seizure brought him back to reality like a Dwarf's punch, and he staggered over to her, lifting up Camilla's head. "Camilla," he breathed, patting her cheek. The blood oozed onto his hand, her lips barely moved, life leaving her from the lack of oxygen.

"Come on," he groaned, lifting her up. He held her cradled in his arms, nearly falling atop her when he stepped into the alleyway. "Camilla!" he called as loud as he dared. No one was around, but his mind wasn't on that right now. If she was gone, he'd truly be alone in the world. Oh, now you realize it.

His legs gave out, the last bit of his strength used to carry her not a dozen paces away. But he could no longer feel the intensity of the pressure of the warpstone, even without his sword. He breathed easier, and looked down at Camilla, who's eyes had rolled into the back of her head. Her chest didn't rise.

"Damn," he seethed, cupping her face and pressing his lips onto hers, breathing life into her lungs. "Come on!" He cried, and placed her on the ground, shoving his palm into her lower diaphragm before breathing into her again. "Thrice damn you, Camilla, just breathe," he growled, pressing into her lower chest again.
@Penny

[Penny]

Camilla lay in the darkness. Some part of her mind struggled to say the name but the terrible compulsion seemed to be fading. There was something near her then, a presence that warmed her somehow, it closed around her and she caught a vague impression of an animal, perhaps a lion or a wolf and then the light seemed to grow in pressure, enfolding and squeezing until she wanted to scream in pain.

With a convulsive jerk Camilla returned to consciousness, her hands grabbing hold of Cydrics chest. She felt his lips on hers and lay still for a moment unable to focus her scattered mind. Her chest rose suddenly in a gasping intake of breath. For a moment she just lay beneath him, looking up into his worried eyes, unable to move, scarcely able to breath. Her chest hurt like she had been beaten and her mouth tasted like blood.

"What... what happened," she asked in a dry cracked voice, making no move to extricate herself from beneath him. The fragmented pieces of the last several minutes swirled in her mind but refused to come together in any meaningful pattern. Someone had been saying something. It had been important or at least Cydric had thought so.

"Someone said something about a Tzn..." a painfully electrical buzzed burned through her skin and she almost yelped. It felt like a flash of heat from a fire complete with sparks.

"A word I didn't understand," she amended. It occurred to her belatedly that she was still laying beneath the Imperial. Reaching up she lay a hand on his cheek. Somehow she knew that he had saved her from something terrible, although what exactly remained unclear.

"What is going on?" she asked, shaking her head.

"That is an excellent question Frauline," came a response from an unexpected direction. Camilla pivoted her head and saw a tall man in an impressive black leather coat and a wide brimmed leather hat. He had lean craggy features, and his eyes glittered with intelligence. He wore some sort of armor, mostly concealed beneath the knee-length leather coat and an improbable number of pistols hung from several belts. One of his pistols was in his hand, he wasn't pointing it at Cydric but the hammer was clearly pulled back.

"What IS going on?" he repeated her words, altering the emphasis to suggest that he had best be pleased with their answer.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cyrdic's heartbeat thumped in his ears, and his chest heaved from his yelling and blowing, but his world seemed to calm when Camilla opened her eyes. He thanked Ulric, Sigmar, and Taal, and all the Tilean Gods, even if he knew none of their names. Suddenly he remembered he was cupping her cheek, and he removed his hand to brush some hair out of her face. He also realized it felt very nice holding her like this. "You were..." He shook his head, her hand on his cheek a good reminder that he'd actually saved her. He placed his hand atop her hand, his eyes not leaving Camilla's. "It's hard to explain." He replied. "I'll-"

They were interrupted by someone whom Cyrdic recognized as a member of the Holy Order of the Templars of Sigmar. He'd learned the name, having it drilled into him when he was a soldier, to refer to such men. Though of course, Witcher Hunter was the more common term. Cyrdic's soft gaze steeled again after seeing the weapon, but he calmed himself. Cyrdic stood up, and held a hand down to help Camilla up as well.

Cyrdic reached into his coat, only for the Witch Hunter to aim his pistol dead in Cyrdic's face. Slowly, Cyrdic removed Boris Todbringer's seal. "I'm Reiner Wulfhofen, and this is my companion Vivvienne Du Couronne of Brettonia." He was not one for accents, but he couldn't tell if Camilla had been using hers when she had just spoken. "Guests of the Graf and adventurers. My coinpurse was stolen, and we pursued a thief, only for an affliction to fall on us for a moment. We heard someone utter the word Tz-"

He glanced at Camilla, clenching his jaw. "We heard someone utter the name of a Chaos God, Herr Templar. That way," Cyrdic said, pointing to the otherside of the building they had just crashed out of. "There's a vileness there, mein herr. We barely escaped with our lives."
@Penny

[Penny]

The Witch Hunter seemed to consider the matter for a few moments, he made no move to lower the pistol while he did so. Camilla figured that if the man were good he could probably kill her, or Cydric but not both. Even if he were very quick, and he had the look of a man who relied on speed rather than strength it was a losing proposition. SHe wondered if he were making the same calculation.

Witch hunters were a staple of fiction and drama in the Empire, so Camilla understood that they were roaming fanatics and mutant hunters, bent on eradicating the spoor of Chaos wherever they found it, and whatever it cost. It was an admirable goal of course, but over zealous Witch Hunters were the only kind that lasted and they tended to take a fairly relaxed view on collateral damage.

“I suppose seeing you have the Count’s seal, I can take it on faith that you know what you are talking about, although you’ll find my ecumenical impulses only go so far when it comes to the Wolf Worshipers.” The witch hunter eased back the hammer on the pistol and slipped the weapon into a pocket.

“Did you see the faces of the heretics? See where they went?” he asked intently, taking a half step towards them. Camilla shook her head.

“No we just heard their voice and then…” she trailed of, realising she had no idea how to finish the sentence. The witch hunter arched any eyebrow.

“Decided it was a good time to lay in the middle of the street and shower you lover with your favors?” the man asked archly. It was a damned unfortunate scene for someone to walk in on. Camilla shrugged and made herself blush. It was an old trick, blushing on command.

“I’m afraid that when I heard the name I panicked, I must have fainted. Reiner was taking care of me,” she explained. The Witch Hunter looked skeptical but did not challenge the statement.

“Well I suppose I am grateful that you alerted me,” he did not sound particularly grateful, “Sigmar watches over his faithful. Although I suppose you worship the Lady of the Lake?”

“The Lady is for Knights she dosent care much for common folk,” Camilla responded, automatically, the lessons learned from hundreds of Brettonian romances coming to her mouth without thought. The Witch hunters mouth twitched into a smile. It had been a test. Perhaps her accent had slipped but he wanted to make sure she was really a Brettonian and he had done it so smoothly she hadn’t even noticed.

“I am Matis von Koneinswald,” he introduced himself, clicking his heels together in that odd way Imperials sometimes effected.

“Let us get out of the street and we will compare notes, as they say.”

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cyrdic didn't blush. He was more annoyed than anything, though he supposed the Witch Hunter hadn't seen all that had happened. Thankfully, while Cyrdic wasn't quite the actor that Camilla was, he was still quite used to being berated by a superior officer, and took the accusations with a stone faced visage.

He supposed Camilla's claim of her fainting and he helping her wasn't too far off the mark, but he'd need to tell her exactly what happened soon. Mostly to help her prepare for a next time, if they weren't burned at the stake beforehand that is.

The Osltlander almost snorted at his suspicion of the Witcher Hunter. He used to not question such men and their methods. Now he was the one in their sights. He guessed he figured if he remained a loyal sigmarite and soldier throughout his life, he'd not be targeted just like any truly good imperial.

"I am a Sigmarite, herr Koneinswald," he said. "I simply revere Ulric, as our Lord Sigmar did. And yes, we are free to discuss whatever you wish of us. If you please, me and my companion are quite famished. Shall we eat while we talk?" he asked. While that was the truth, he also wanted to make it seem like he and Camilla were not quite used to being treated like subordinates.

Matis von Koneinswald snorted, his nose in the air. He muttered something about impudence that Cyrdic didn't quite catch, but then conceded aloud.
@Penny

[Penny]

The Witch Hunter lead them through the streets at a brisk pace. The man had long legs and Camilla found she had to work to keep up. The man seemed to deliberately stay off the main boulevards, leading the way through several narrow alleys until he came to a non descript inn. The place was quiet and although it looked run down on the outside the inside was neat and clean. Camilla's mouth watered as the smell of roasting meat greeted her.

Tables cleared of patrons as the Witch Hunter headed for a large table in the corner. None of the men seemed particularly nervous which struck Camilla as odd. Matis took of his hat and laid it down on the table and gestured for them to join him. Camilla took a seat and within a moment a polite serving maid, middle aged and nondescript bustled over and laid bread and beer on the table without being asked.

"Bring us some of the roast Hilda," Matis in a tone of familiarity.

"I didn't really come to Middenheim to look into Chaos cults... well no more than usual of course. So tell me what is the Graf investigating that he hasn't chosen to share?"

Camilla looked at Cydric unsure of what they should say but von Koneinswald held up his hand for silence and then reached into a pouch, drawing out a pair of golden rimmed spectacles. He leaned back in his chair and set the spectacles on the bridge of his nose. It made him look improbably bookish, maybe a professor in early middle age. He made an expansive gesture with his hand.

"Go on..."

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Truth be told, Cyrdic was as hungry as a starving bear. The drama from earlier had made him forget his appetite, but now he was quite famished. As the serving maid made her way off, Cyrdic stopped her for a moment and asked for some trenchers for he and his companion. For some strange reason, the Witch Hunter seemed disapproving of his request, but said nothing of it further.

Moments later, Cyrdic had the distinct feeling that he didn't trust this Von Koneinswald. Nor the place they now resided, even if it was feeding his grumbling belly and looked quaint enough. There was something in the air, and the hairs on the end of his neck stood on end. He'd been ambushed before, and flashbacks of those terrifying memories threatened to shatter his reserve. He shook them away, and focused on the present.

"The Graf does not know," Cyrdic said, not wanting to bring suspicion on someone like Boris Todbringer. Personally, he had felt bad enough lying to the man's face, and he wouldn't dishonor him by making claims about him. Strategically however, he also did not want to be responsible for starting a conflict, or Sigmar forbid, a war, all under a misunderstanding. Honorable though he may be, Boris Todbringer also had a fearsome reputation.

Vivvienne and I are acting on our own. We've heard...disturbing rumors lately, of strange gatherings of men and women in the more abandoned parts of Middenheim. I've fought the Northmen before on campaign, and Vivvienne here is a capable swordswoman. We merely thought to have a look, before-" Cyrdic glanced at Camilla, and shrugged. "Well, that is when you showed up. But when we were struck in the building, I've not felt such a way since facing a sorcerer of the dark powers on the coast of Nordland. I cannot stress enough that I believe this is a serious infestation of heretics, herr Koneinswald."
@Penny

[Penny]

The Witch Hunter didn't say anything for long moments, instead he reached up and fiddled with the strange glasses, clicking another lens down into place as though working a jeweler magnifier. It didn't to anything the Camilla noticed other than to make the eye piece slightly opaque. Von Koneinswald took the glasses from his nose and slipped them into his pocket without comment. There was a sudden relaxation in the mans posture, so slight that Camilla didn't notice it except now that it was gone. The Witch Hunter had been preparing to attack them she realised but now, for whatever reason, had reconsidered. She wondered if the man might be made, though is eyes were clear and sane enough.

"There are often such rumors," he stated, his Reikland accent sharper than the local Middenheim one. Von Koneinswald picked up a flagon of ale and took a small unenthusiastic sip.

"And frequently enough they are true, though Sigmar knows I wish that it were not the case," he went on, his gaze shifting between the two of them.

"I am pleased to find citizens, and even.." he paused to nod his head at Camilla, "foreigners that are willing to take a stand against such things." Camilla nooded her head in a gesture of thanks before picking up a piece of bread and sopping it into the thick stew that the inn was serving and popping it into her mouth. Her head still buzzed from whatever had happend but the food seemed to be helping, at least a little.

"We are not in the habit of letting evil go unchallenged Herr Von Koneinswald... or sir Von Koneinswald if you are a knight as you say," Camilla's voice kept its Brettonian inflections perfectly. The Witch Hunter waved away the distinction.

"Von Koneinswald is fine Frau Du Couronne," he replied, the question bringing a slight smile to his lips.

"As is Vivvienne," she rejoined, "you mentioned something about sharing information outside?" The Reiklander nodded.

"Truthfully, I didn't come here to root out a cult, or at least no more than usual, I was looking into more... internal matters you might say, but I cannot shake the feeling that this might all be connected somehow." The Witch Hunter fished in a pocket and produced a small book with many improvised book marks and started flipping through pages. He frowned when he found what he was looking for.

"There are certain days, which the Ruinous Powers find auspicious Geheimnisnacht and Hexensnacht of course but there are others. Tomorrow night is such a night..."

Camilla looked over at Cydric with concern.

"Do you think that whatever this cult is planning will occur then?" she asked, trying not to think of Cyrdric's story of what this warpstone was capable of. Von Koneinswald closed the book with a sudden snap and then looked a little embarassed for having caused her to start.

"I do not find the actions of the agents of Chaos to frequently make sense Fra... that is to say Vivvienne but it does worry me yes."

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[POOHEAD189]

Cyrdic idly bit into his trencher. The bread, cheese, and meat was too enticing for the hungry soldier to not bite into. He'd been hungry enough to have the 'campaign hunger.' Often times when out marching, the lack of food made him believe (sometimes rightly so) that his muscled abdomen was shrinking, muscles and all. It was now hard wired into his mind for him to think of that whenever he was particularly hungry, unfortunately. He felt better with the solid food now, however.

"That is troubling," Cyrdic replied, stone face now mired in concentration. He should have guessed that such a night had been approaching. Of course, most people in the southern provinces worried about that, for most nights in the north were nights when chaos was about. But it always paid to pay attention to Morrsleibs and its cycles.

"And the...internal investigation?" Cyrdic asked, brow furrowed. Von Koneinswald raised an eyebrow, looking to Cyrdic. "That is for me to know, herr Reiner."

"I understand," Cyrdic replied. "Only, as guests of the Graf and privvy to his banquettes and counsel, I merely thought it would good to know what you meant, if you were implying what I think you were..."

The Witch Hunter bit his tongue, and looked between Camilla and Cyrdic, before clearing his throat...

---

When the meeting had broken, Cyrdic and Camilla decided it was best to merely stroll about for a bit before making it back to their Inn's room. They had some things to discuss without prying ears, after all. Apparently, there had been very heretical leaks from Boris Todbringer's inner circle, helping the heretics to evade capture. It was enough to distress the Witch Hunter, and the 'Wolf lovers' did not often give him much information to go by.

He had said he would continue to investigate throughout the day, and the two of them should retire for the evening. He would contact them if he needed help. He did implore them to ask around the courts, however.

Cyrdic would not sit idly by as Koneinswald searched alone within the city. But he knew it would be best to return back to the room for the night, for Camilla's sake if nothing else. She still seemed a bit out of it, and if he went out searching alone, she would likely follow no matter what.

Cyrdic set some water on the table beside her. The room was fairly big. Much bigger than most Inn rooms at least. A large bed, a desk, a table with two chairs, and a fireplace just next to it.

Cyrdic had undone his vest and unlaced his boots, leaving his linen shirt on his body as he leaned against his chair. The firelight played across his skin as he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Ulric and Sigmar, things kept getting worse and worse. But first things first.

"Are you ok?" he asked Camilla, iron eyes meeting hers. "You gave me a scare earlier. What exactly happened?"

He was nearly effected too. But with his sword, he had not received the full brunt of it. He hadn't felt it like her.
@Penny

[Penny]

Camilla sat back on the bed considering the question. She watched Cydric for a moment, his hard body lit by the firelight. Her mind was still swimming from the conversation with Von Koneinswald. The Witch Hunters fears had been wide ranging and he had spoken of them in a matter of fact tone which had chilled her blood. She didn't pretend to be an expert on the faith of Sigmar but if it made a killer like Von Koneinswald nervous it was enough to have her try to climb out of her skin.

Picking up the hairbrush she began to brush her long black hair in slow smooth strokes. You were supposed to give it a hundred strokes everyday to keep it shining and she tried to follow the advice. After a moment it dawned on her that she was avoiding the question. She had taken off her vest and boots but was still dressed in her undershirt and trousers. Placing the brush down she crossed the room to Cydric and sat down in the other chair with a sigh.

"It was the name," she began, rising irritabley to pour herself a glass of the apple brandy in a bottle on the hearth. She drank it too fast, the liqour burning her throat as she tossed it off.

"I didn't know what the word was in Reikspiel so I tried to ask you, but when I tried to speak it..." her voice trailed off as she shivered.

"Suddenly I was on the ground and I couldn't breathe. I knew if I could just say the name everything would be ok," she frowned realizing that wasn't quite true.

"Better than ok, like somehow if I spoke the words I could be the Duchess of Pavona that all the wealth and security I wanted could be mine..." she trailed off again, knowing how insane it sounded.

"I know it sounds strange. Anyway I couldn't make myself say it. I tried and tried but I couldn't breath and I couldn't make my mouth move. I guess I blacked out then." She looked down, embarrassed. Then she lay her hand on Cydric's. It was surprisingly warm, though why such a thing should surprise her she didn't know.

"Thank you for saving my life," she murmured.

Their eyes locked for a long moment and it grew unexpectedly intense. Just as she felt her body begin to move they were interrupted by a loud and frantic banging at the door.

"Open up you Ostlander Bastard!" someone roared and there was the jangle of keys, "I swear Ill kill you!"

@POOHEAD189