CHAPTER 2

He couldn’t have cared less that he was standing in the rain. 

His long hair -- so wet it was nearly black -- stuck to his neck uncomfortably. His scowling blue eyes looked more ominous than ever. The two soldiers he’d sent out as spies had returned, carrying the filthy body of the king"s advisor between them. His dirt-crusted cheeks were white as wax, like a corpse that had suffered a torturous death. 

"Is he dead?"

"No, it"s only suspended animation. It looks like he did it to himself so the arrow"s poison couldn’t spread."

"Understood."

Lord von Voltaire gestured towards the church with his chin before entering the shelter of the building himself.

On one of the benches his youngest brother and a girl were leaning on each other, shoulder to shoulder. 

"Gunter has been found."

Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld nodded; his hair glowed copper in the light of the torch he was holding too close to his body. Greta’s lips were clamped together tightly as she sat wrapped around Wolfram"s arm.

Gwendal went slowly to his knees.

"What happened?" he asked Greta in a quiet voice so that those of his people nearby wouldn’t be able to hear. 

"How should a child be able to answer that question?"

His expression closed, Wolfram spun the torch, which had become unnecessary by this point.

"Who else should I ask?"

"But she isn"t in any position to --"

"Yes, I am," the girl interrupted decisively.

"Then please explain it to us."

Greta began to speak in an agitated voice. She looked no one in the eyes or face. She didn"t stumble or pause even once and barely took a breath, as if she didn"t want to waste a single second. 

"Gunter and Conrad hadn"t expected the enemy to penetrate so far. We had to hurry like crazy to get to Yuri. n.o.body called him, but the highest priestess said it seemed like Yuri"s soul was on its way to this place. The time and location were exactly correct. It was so dangerous they didn"t even want to bring Yuri back to the castle first. They said that this was the only possible chance to meet up with him. That"s why I was allowed to come along. They planned to send Yuri directly back home again. Why was that?"

"Because this country is no longer secure."

"Is that because of the weird box thing?"

"Mhm..."

Finally Greta looked Gwendal in the eye. Her energetic eyebrows and long eyelashes shook as she sought something at which she could unleash her anger. She had swallowed down her emotions; now she was breathing out more air than she was taking in. 

"And then, then we went out the back door to get to the horses, and Gunter"s nose helped with that on the dark street. Then somebody shot at Gunter and Yuri with bows and arrows. And then Gunter fell off the horse. We fled to this church, only the three of us. And Conrad, over there..."

She pointed at the painting, whose middle section had melted away from the fire. 

"He said Yuri could travel through that painting that looks so much like Wolfram. But then there were these guys... Conrad defeated more than half of them, but... they had these fire-spewing pipe things, which they used to break down the door. It was so dangerous they made me hide, so I crawled under one of the chairs. Then Yuri kicked out the door over there. Maybe he escaped outside from there. But... maybe something went wrong... these guys... with the fire... they were shooting... at Yuri and Conrad."

Greta rubbed at her eyes with her small palms. "I got an eyelash in my eye."

"Greta..."

Wolfram held the torch higher and pulled the child to his shoulder. Gwendal laid his hand on her auburn curls. 

"Are they dead now? Yuri and Conrad? Like my mother? And like Hube?"

Greta had spoken the name of her comrade who didn’t seem to want to wake from his coma.

"Hube is definitely not dead."

"But he doesn"t wake up and he can"t talk. Is it my fault? Are all of them my fault?"

She stamped her feet against the stone floor. Her voice sounded like she was going to break out in tears any second. From the area where the doorway should have been, some soldiers gestured sharply with their arms. Thanks to the rain, the fire hadn’t been able to spread very far. Nonetheless, the parts of the church that had been constructed from wood had all been destroyed. Bodies, or the remnants of them, would probably be found in gruesome condition.

Lord von Voltaire raised himself up. His steps reverberated though the building. 

"If Yuri were here, would he say it"s your fault?"

"No, Yuri would never say that."

"So it cannot possibly be your fault, you see?"

The back door led directly to a steep cliff. The spring rain showers had weakened the subsurface. There, where the bedrock layer no longer consisted of stone, an avalanche had ripped away everything in its path. 

"I’ve sent out a troop," reported a soldier. "The civilians of this area and all our soldiers are being mobilized. The search operation will begin any moment."

"Fine, you have the command."

Whether they liked it or not, there was no other alternative -- they would have to dig up the entire area.

His youngest brother had come to stand silently next to Gwendal. Wolfram didn"t even flinch as the unpleasant stench of burned flesh reached their noses. A soldier was inspecting a charred black pile of cloth. "This is a human."

"Mhm..."

"That one there also seems to be a human. Judging from size, stature, and identifying characteristics, the body of His Majesty does not appear to be here. But if we a.s.sume there was an explosion, we really cannot say that with certainty."

"So there’s a possibility that he survived?"

Finally Wolfram had opened his mouth. Gwendal was surprised to hear him speak in such a deep, calm voice, which one never usually heard coming from Wolfram. 

"That’s very difficult to say."

The soldier hesitated. He seemed to be afraid of speaking further as he carefully turned over a long object that had been half charred to ashes. As a part on the underside which hadn’t been burnt came into view, the object became recognizable as an arm. 

"Do you recognize this cuff link, Your Excellence? Could this be something designed specially for the ruling n.o.bility?"

"It belonged to Lord Weller," was Gwendal"s reply. 

"That’s Conrad"s arm?" Wolfram pressed.

Again, his voice was quiet and cool. He noticed the strange look Gwendal was giving him.

"What is it?" Wolfram asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Don"t become like me."

"Excuse me? Where did that come from?"

"Oh, forget it." Gwendal shook his head. 

Then in a louder voice he called an order to the soldier: "Bring everything to the castle! Every tiny piece! All of the ashes, don"t leave a speck of dust behind! But don"t let them get mixed with the ashes of the humans under any circ.u.mstances!"

He grabbed his half-brother by the arm, ripped the cuff link from the wrist of the severed arm, and laid the blacked sh.e.l.l design into the younger man’s palm.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Wolfram began to howl as if a dam had broken inside him. Again and again he cried the names of his most beloved king and his apparently hated second-oldest brother, and he cursed the enemy. 

That’s good, thought Gwendal. At least you’re able to give free rein to your emotions, like always. If not, how will our people ever be able to withstand this, if we really have lost our king?