Ernst Kreuger cursed the cold.
It had been three years since he’d taken up
residence in the ruins of Castle Drachenfels and he still wasn’t any closer to
his goal than when he’d arrived. No matter how often he delved, his searches
had turned up nothing of Drachenfels’ work. He felt he could hear the laughter
of the ancient necromancer taunting him. Not for the first time, he cursed the
circumstances that brought that damned book into his possession, though it was his most prized belonging.
Kreuger idly wondered what had ever become of
the town guard that had brought the tome to a young priest of Morr so many
years ago. Had it really been 8 years since he’d started down this dark path? A
moment of curiosity and a few experiments were all it took to instill in him a
desire to abandon mortality. A moment of curiosity. All it took to send him
into a life of hiding from the priesthood and their Black Guard hunters. The
book had taught him much since then, but not nearly enough.
The book had sent him into the wilderness, but
legends had brought him to the castle. Legends of a necromancer who had defied death
since before even Sigmar himself had walked the world. Kreuger hoped to find
the secret somewhere in the castle, hoped that some secret library had survived
the ages.
Krueger grimaced as a horrendous noise ripped
him from his ruminations. Wearily glancing around, he noticed Gévaudan,
the Beast of Parravon, amusing itself with a number of zombies. The Varghulf was
pouncing on them one by one and carrying them into a pile only to release them
and repeat the process once they’d shambled back to where they were originally
working. Kreuger yelled at it and received a look that was at once both
sheepish and threatening.
“He’s bored,” offered a sibilant voice to
Kreuger’s left, “and he’s not the only one. This digging is getting us nowhere.”
Lisbeth floated over until she came to rest
next to him. Always the look of disdain. The Banshee’s features seemed to be in
constant flux, as though she couldn’t maintain what form she had left. One
moment as beautiful as she had been in life, the next as beautiful as the death
currently surrounding him.
“The ancients who rest in these lands are vital
to our plans, my dear,” he stated. “We’ll be done here soon and with new forces
to further the revenge you desire.”
He pulled his cloak tighter around him and
shouted at the zombies moving the stones from the cairns to hurry, forgetting
for a moment that they were mere extensions of his will and not actual living
workers. Lisbeth narrowed her eyes at him and floated away as Kreuger felt his
cheeks burn. Always that damned look.
Ernst Kreuger cursed the cold.
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