DIETRICH

Dietrich looked at the one for whom he had betrayed his vows, his people and all of humanity. She looked back at him, with her eerie eyes. For a moment he thought that they were yellow, but they couldn't. He had never seen her before, and the mere sight of the lady made him tremble. It was her who broke the silence: "You have it?"

"My lady, I have the texts.", he answered after a pause. It was hard to speak to such a being. The one who could give him his greatest desire, eternity.

"But my ring. Do you have my ring?"

"I cannot retrieve it. It has to be done by a true heir of the owner. The tome is very exact on that matter."

"Then give the books to my servant. She will prepare for the ritual."

"And my reward?"

"You will have it when I have my inheritance."

Dietrich smiled to himself as he handed the books to a wretched woman standing behind him. Finally. It had taken him ages to track down one of that family, and even establishing contact was difficult. But finally he had achieved it, and he had found something to trade. Something that this self-styled countess desired above all other things. A ring. A simple black iron ring. He knew the story, of course he knew. Every boy knew the tale of the thief who had thwarted the vampire count, leading him to his eternal death. And he knew that the ring had been lost ever since.

And he knew that such a gift would entice any of the great lords of Sylvania. Because he had always had a dream, a dream of never dying. He had thought long and hard about it, but he believed that he could deal with such a being. He had studied those bloodthirsty monsters for many years, all hidden behind his studies at the Celestial Order. He knew that he would need one with great power, to be granted power, but at the same time one whose power was not so great that he could simply be cast aside, his knowledge torn from his head. And that led him to delve ever deeper into the ways of the undead, until he found mention of a small number who would meet his needs.

And one of them was this lady in black. Sybille was her name, used throughout the ages. But that was not the name he was after. O no, that was her family name. The name that had terrified people for centuries, that had driven men into blizzards to die from exposure rather than being taken alive. A name that every child knew, and feared, even more than they would fear the elves. Von Carstein.

He talked for a while with the hideous woman, who seemingly had schooled herself in the Arts. Of course, her knowledge was far inferior to his own, and certainly her power was nothing compared to his, but a third mage would be an aid in what must be done, his last night alive. The ritual would take place on the top of the tower, culminating on the stroke of midnight, with the dark green Morrslieb in ascendance.

Everything was ready. She stood in the circle, carrying the treasures that the ritual required. His heart beat in his throat, because what he was about to do would see every witch hunter in the Empire trying to burn him at the stake. Even the circle was a hazard, sprinkled with crushed warpstone and eight lines running towards the center, and the vampire. He and the witch were standing at opposite ends from her, elevated above the proceedings.

A cold wind was starting to blow as his eyes turned towards the hardest part of all this. Eight young men and women, children almost, forced to their knees at each of the lines leading towards the center. Behind them stood silent forms, mere bones animated by the will of von Carstein. Further away stood a few more forms, dressed in various armours. He did not know why they were there, but he guessed that they were here to protect their mistress should anything happen. One of them was dressed as a knight from Bretonnia, carrying a huge sword in his hands. Besides him stood what clearly was a member of one of the great orders of the Empire, wearing gilded armour and carrying a deadly hammer. The third was another knight of the Empire, but wearing more old-fashioned armour, showing hints of rust. He carried a great furled banner, which Dietrich considered to be strange. Why carry a banner outside a battle? Finally there stood a fourth warrior, dressed as the guard of a count. One of the greatswords.

He thought about one day commanding such warriors himself as well, but not such small groups, no. One day he would have a great army of the dead to keep him safe to study, until the future held no more secrets from him than the past or present. It might involve the end of this Sybille, but that was a price that he would gladly pay once he had what he wanted. All he would need to do was to steal her ring from her.

He was shaken from his thoughts by her imperious voice: "Is everything ready? Then let us proceed?"

For hours they chanted, and the vampire drew in a mixture of warpstone and blood. Hundreds of arcane runes, of a kind that made the eyes hurt. His own throat hurt from the syllables that he spoke, when at last the time was there. After an unspoken command eight throats were slit, and blood flowed over the circle, and then inwards, towards von Carstein. She placed her open hand in the center, and the stream of blood met.

At that moment a great bolt of green lightning struck the hand, and he could not see for a few moments. But he could hear. He heard a laugh, terrifying him to the bone. Slowly his vision returned, and he could see. He saw Sybille von Carstein holding a black ring, and placing it over her pale finger. It had been done, and now she would grant him the greatest of all gifts!

But then he heard a cry. And the witch shouted: "My lady! The castle! It is gone!"

"What? Don't speak nonsense child!", he interrupted, heading over to her. She must have lost her mind to the spells. And then he looked around, in the darkness, and he could see the lights of torches and fires, which couldn't be there. There had been no light outside the central tower.