Memoirs of Anya Eisenjaeger
~ Behzaltag 30th Kaldezeit 2522 ~
So much for sleeping soundly in this comfortable bed. Over an hour ago I woke to the sounds of grinding stone against stone and voices.
I was bleary eyed from being awake longer than anyone else while writing here. Stefan strode past me quickly with something about ‘Who dares defile those who rest?’ with his sword in hand. A moment later I manage to get my heavy eyes open and focused. While pulling my boots on a loaded and heavy crossbow landed in my arms. “You’re with me Mouse. Just point that at whoever I'm shouting at and stay back." I had to dash to keep up with Grunnd.
Down at the mausoleum it all happened so quickly. The Baron was there with another man. I don’t even know who said what but it was quickly clear that they shouldn’t have been there. Grunnd stepped forward and after a short exchange, ordered the Baron to stand outside and for me to keep him in my line of sight of the crossbow. Then all within the same moment the other man made a move to presumably draw a weapon. Grunnd closed the distance between them in a blink and with complete devastation, brought his warhammer down on the mans skull to crush it into his chest.
I have never seen anything so vile in all my life.
My stomach agreed and I vomited violently. My innards felt as though they were trying to invert me. The smell of the man’s remains and my vomit made it all the more sickening. Time still moved quickly. Danielle and the cartboy were somehow there now as well, or were they there when Grunnd delivered that blow. I do not know. Danielle joined me in sickness and the cartboy heaved and dropped- passing out from the horror I think.
I looked up to make sure I still had the Baron in front of me. There was no cause to worry for he looked like he had seen his own death. Still panting and retching, I wiped the filth from my mouth with my sleeve. My eyes ran and my mouth watered.
“All right little mouse? Seen your first dead body, gets better here in.” Grunnd came forward and patted me on the back in a comforting way. Thoughtful, but little solace. He then moved into action. Whilst slapping the cartboy a few times to bring him round, he ordered Danielle off to find Verstohlen immediately.
I was vaguely aware of Stefan mumbling angrily about anyone else wanting to defile the sanctity of the dead with their stomach contents. No one answered. There were more important matters at stake than the half digested dinners of a few shocked individuals.
While Danielle ran away all in a trembling fluster, Grunnd demanded the Baron explain the meaning of all this. I don’t believe he got far enough because it wasn’t long before she returned with Pieter. The Witch Hunter looked grim. The dark mass of his tall buckled hat and dark coat made my stomach churn in warning. The flames reflected off the brass of his pistols. It looked like more than just anger that burned in his eyes, was it fervor? Possibly, when chaos is involved for these people I’d imagine it would be.
To cut it short, the Baron explained something about after his wife dying he was approached with the offer from a man that he could bring her back, and that all he would need would be some offerings- a few peasants. The Baron stupidly agreed in his grief, and the man returned with some cattle that he said the people could eat and that when they fell ill and died the bargain would be fulfilled. I do not know if anything else was said but no more will be given for Verstohlen blew the mans face off with a close range pistol shot.
Seeing his body collapse into another faceless mess on the floor didn’t seem to affect me the way the other did. Not that I could make out anything from the mess of gore in the half light of torches. I have seen the dead before, but not any taken in such violent circumstances. Corpses usually have a face.
Pieter turned on the cartboy and gave him almost the same ultimatum he gave me less than a week ago. Join us in silence or die. Luckily Hans, as I now know him to be, chose life. I can only imagine what he is going through. He said the Baron was almost a father to him. I guess we are now orphans together in the world, of a kind.
Stefan ordered a still shaking Danielle to fetch him a mop and a very large bucket, “I have Morr’s work to do.” Mundanity returns, how comforting. I could hear him talking to himself of all the mess; of all the blessings he would need to perform; that he’d get no more sleep this night; on how to perform a rite on a body without a head or face, where would he anoint the oil? He stopped at that thought and shouted after her to bring his book as well. “Much work of Morr.” he shook his head and tutted, rolling his sleeves up.
Still gathering my thoughts, I made a move to return to bed. I startled as the crossbow was snatched quickly out of my hands. Grunnd grinned widely up at me, a twinkle in his eye. “You get that in serious situations only." he looked a bit more serious "Now scat! Off to bed with ye.” he gestured with the bolt as he unarmed the weapon.
I couldn’t really think when I got back to this chamber. I just sat and stared at one of the cracks that ran from the ceiling to the small window frame. It was something easy to focus on in the dim. Cracked plaster and crumbling brickwork.
When Danielle came to bed she was still a bit shaky. I did my best to comfort her with a hug, which she accepted. As she curled up under her blankets I combed her hair with my fingers, shushing her mutterings of the horrors. I sang her one of the songs my mother used to sing to me when I was ill. I smoothed the hair from her forehead until her breathing lengthened into carefree sleep.
I wish I was so lucky. My mind is thrumming with thoughts now that the shock has faded.
I have had a very real awakening to the situation I am in now. Chaos is a visceral threat to my life and those I am bound to who stand against it. This isn’t just a forced potato-boat trip by gun point to see the wonderful world we live in. People will die. It won’t be pretty. They may be evil or innocent but in the end they will die just the same. I am going to be one of them very soon unless I stand up and prepare myself. Pieter Verstohlen’s pistol may be the least of my concerns now.
I have decided I will not be a passive victim in all this. I ran away from my future as a merchant's wife, if I had got to the temple that is what I would be now, I could even have been with child by now. Who knows? Instead I didn’t think very far ahead and ended up being a thieving vagrant for a matter of weeks. Hardly impressive. Now, through a poor choice of target I am in the company of a Witch Hunter on a crusade against chaos along with his right hand dwarf and ourselves: a rag-taggle band.
So, what can I do?
I will take Grunnd’s advice and guise myself as a boy. I shall now be known as Andreas. I can think of no more fitting a name than my brother’s. After all it is his clothes I wear; his dagger he gifted me that I carry; and he was the one who taught me this trade. I do so miss him it pains my heart but at least now he will be with me. I will have to find myself some more boys clothing: very base items so as not to attract attention. After I cut my hair I think I should find myself a hat to wear to dissuade anyone from looking too closely. Maybe a pair of gloves too, it is cold and will only get colder, my hands are small and delicate even for a boys.
As for surviving I will need to find myself better protection than the clothes I stand up in and my warm padded jerkin. Maybe I can find me a leather one to start with. I shall ask Grunnd what he thinks as he clearly seems to care for my well being and trusts me; he gave me his crossbow, for a time at least. I should like to learn to use it if he will teach me. A rapier would not go amiss either. I used to enjoy watching my brothers practice. Andreas would sometimes tutor me in private so I knew what to do. I miss our little adventures.
However, the past is gone now. I would like the future to go on for as long as possible if I can help it. If I am going to meet Morr I want to die fighting by my own choice. Not as a helpless bystander.
Let us see what the morning brings.
~ A ~
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