Chapter 9

Plans for Demise

Inside of the spacious dinette which was positioned within the mansion of Lord De Buhr, we find the elegant tyrant sitting at the table while enjoying a modest breakfast of eggs and sausages. He scarcely ate what was before him despite it being in such high quantity. For he was an individual who was not so much a glutton as he was narcissistic and wished to be in a state of constant remembrance to his wealth.

Aside from his own highly esteemed opinion of himself, De Buhr had in his hand a large notebook which had many rows and columns that were littered with numbers. His ever so peering eyes scanned the script work with the utmost scrutiny.

With a profound respire, he resigned the burden of the album from his hand and ladened it upon the table. He then ordered for an ink well and quill be brought to him. It was done so by his servants who dared not ask if he wished for the food to be removed. For if the master desired something it would be requested, otherwise it was to be left alone.

It was then that the attention of De Buhr was censored out by the presence of his most valued and advantageous associates, Cyrus Aswadi, who had just entered the dinette.

Jurgen made no oral acquiescence upon his arrival, he merely extended his quill hand to the empty seat beside him as an invitation to sit.

As Cyrus had done so, De Buhr extended his hospitality with an allurement to indulge upon the contents of the counter. "You may finish what is left." said he.

Inclined yet satisfied, the man answered when noticing the activities of the other, "The way I see you carrying on I daresay that you are the one in need of nourishment. For if you have not your health what have you?"

Jurgen lifted his brows and nodded with a persisting glare while keeping his eyes upon the the parchments and jotting down more characters.

"You look rather unwell." commented Cyrus when taking into account the vexed composure of his associate's face that could only come about by a hassled mind.

Dropping the quill Jurgen let off, "Oh it is nothing. Only that the money I have put into this campaign has been rather consequential for my likings, especially when the first few go's were dissatisfactory in my favor."

The brow of Cyrus tinged with a look of intelligence and better judgment, "I know you better man, for it is the solution to your predicaments that have brought upon you this perplexity, yes?"

One of the creases on Jurgen's cheek morphed, "Well I have discovered that the answer to my fruitlessness is not that of quantity but of quality."

"You mean to expand the horizons from meager mercenaries?" inquired Cyrus with a tone as to say he knew well what was being spoken for.

"Aye,' rejoined De Buhr, 'it is time to move towards more 'capable' individuals. For the blunders in the past have put the wolf on guard, therefore stealth and precision are key in this endeavor."

"Such capability would be thus more consequential…?" hinted Cyrus.

The blonde nodded before retorting with a hint of bitterness, "It will be at least threefold than what has already been invested, and that is not including what Stephano has exhausted for the cause."

Aswadi was silent upon the words just pronounced by his comrade. Jurgen took note of his contemplative reticence and inquired willfully while still keeping his eyes affixed upon the parchments, "Is there something on your mind yet to be informed of me?"

Shifting his posture to one that held a slight nib of defeat Cyrus said, "I have just received word from Nyohhira."

Straightening his back while lifting himself up, Jurgen delighted with some hope, "Ah, my two undercover guards."

"It is one undercover guard now." returned Cyrus.

De Buhr put wholly his focus on the man communing with him, "What has happened?"

Cyrus kept his face solemn as he went onto inform with displeasure, "I am still in the process of extracting all the finer details, however, what I can tell you is this. One of the sergeants had grown weary of the situation involving the wolf girl and began to pry, as a result an identity was compromised and laid to rest, that's all I can say."

"What of the other one?"

"He has said that things have changed and that he is no longer in a position of influence and that is all. To make matters worse, the sergeant is still at large and heaven knows were he is."

Jurgen caressed his facade with taxing frustration, "Don't you ever bring me good news?" he inquired with an air crossed with morbid sarcasm and mature whining.

"On that note,' rejoined Cyrus with sympathy of that request, 'you may be happy to know that our mission in cutting off any hope for our delinquents was mostly successful."

"Define to me 'mostly successful.'" returned Jurgen with a tone of subtle upheaval.

"There is a small outpost we had discovered the rangers were planning on moving the inn keepers to. It was a checkpoint in which aid could be sent for, money given and provisions restocked. I have just received word that this outpost has been raided and whatever hope it was to provide has been stilled. The Wolf girl and the swordsman will be left alone and isolated."

"It does warm my soul with some cheer, however how does this gain the results we need?"

With astounding surety Cyrus went on, "Two things. The warrior is a hard hearted and stiff necked sort and the likelihood that he will work in harmony with the kenrou trollop is relatively slim."

"And the other element to your game of success?"

Cyrus then gave him a rather eerie look of dark pleasure, "The town in which this outpost was in, is Valenfurt."

For the first time in during that whole conversation Jurgen's head perked up with a surprised complexion of morbid want. "Near the Dolan plains?"

"That is correct."

Rubbing his knuckles De Buhr pronounced with a pleased disposition, "I will contact Inola and Yonaguski personally and to have them deal with the matter."

"What loyalty have you won over the chieftain to have them desire to engage our enemies?"

"I will inform you of all the details later, but all they need know is that a chance to settle an old score has come to them. I shan't receive much opposition as I will cooperation."

Cyrus gave off an air off unconvinced worry, "It is still far from fool proof, you think they will attack knowing the swordsman has 'her' in his presence. They may be more reluctant to engage one of…."

He was cut off by a wave of the hand, "It is a bit of a sensitive matter however, believe it or not, they would have reason to kill both Holo and the swordsman."

"Will they…?"

"Oh fear not, they are sympathetic to our cause and have been awaiting it for some time."

Still equivocal and stiffed on the matter, Cyrus let out a huff before nearly pleading, "It still may not be enough, for his kind has been known to overpower their lot. Let me head the campaign I can surely…"

Once more his vocalizations were intervened, "I cannot risk anything that could be caused by your absence." returned Jurgen.

Aswadi lifted a brow in contemplation then offered, "Perhaps my pupils are ready."

Jurgen's mouth opened slightly, "You would be willing to reinforce the cause with your own little band of warriors?"

"They have been expertly prepared for this moment from their birth. The time for their ultimate test is at hand and I can think of no other way than this."

"How much do you want?" inquired De Buhr when taking into account the costliness of this campaign.

Then to his astonishment Cyrus refuted the notion of payment by saying, "Their reward will be knowing the full extent of their skills."

"And your reward?"

Cyrus gave a vengeful squint, "I only want the swordsmen's head."

With some light in his voice, Jurgen replied, "I'm sure that can be arranged. Let us plan our pursuits now for I am sure that this union will take at least three days to arrange and come to terms with."

With a heavy amount of faith in his own claim Cyrus said, "My disciples will do what I ask of them, you have my word."

"Splendid, now there are a few more matters that need to be settled."

Cyrus maintained his unbroken disposition, "Which are?"

Twiddling the quill in his fingers while staring up at the ceiling De Buhr proclaimed, "Nyohirra's time table has moved up, I will send a courier to Father Michilini to have him advocate to the church on my behalf."

"And the other?"

"If Inola and your apprentices are to succeed we need to prevent the girl from reverting to her wolf form for it proved effective against us in the past. I desire for Sir Lawrence to divulge such information to us."

Cyrus then abruptly put his hands on the table and arose, "You are in luck,' he then walked over to the door opposite the dinette and thrust them open. 'Your host demands an audience with you." said he to what lay on the other side.

Behind the door that was closed only recently, was the sight of three men, two behind who seemed to be escorting one in front who had a burlap sack over his head. Rudely did Cyrus grab the mistreated individual by the scruff and carelessly pull him into the dinette with the other two shoving to keep him in line.

Confused and delirious, the blinded man stumbled until abruptly halted by Cyrus and forced down into a chair beside Jurgen. Finally the burlap sack was lifted revealing the dingy face of the abused Kraft Lawrence. Quickly out of pain and reaction he squinted tightly and pulled his eyes away from the window pane, for the last day an a half were his eyes kept from the light, which now caused a burning sting throughout his ocular chasms.

"Enjoy your night?" asked Jurgen with a condescending tone as to falsely portray that he was oblivious to the treatment of the man, all while keeping his eyes affixed upon the parchments before him.

Lawrence, who was still adjusting to the burning light could only reply with a wince, "I've had worse."

"Hmm, indeed." returned De Buhr who neatly arranged the papers before him and motioned with his eyebrows towards the food, "Please have some, I insist."

As famished as he was, Lawrence would not partake, for giving his captor the satisfaction of fulfilling this sinister generosity was a moral crime against his very nature.

Seeing his refusal, Jurgen replied with convincing reason, "I would be more susceptible if I were you, for not only are these ingredients hard to find in such good quality in these parts, but who knows if you will ever have a decent meal again."

"Maybe I would,' returned Lawrence resentfully, 'if I knew were it was that I am."

Scratching underneath his chin, De Buhr answered defiantly, "Ah but you forget, it is not you who is in need of answers, but I. I have summoned you here to test your cooperation."

"If this is about telling you what I know about Holo, then your summon has been a waste of time." Said Lawrence.

With a deep sigh, Jurgen replied, "Must you be such a boob about this? I am willing to be cordial towards you, however in the end you will determine how well you are treated here."

Keeping a solemn face, Lawrence looked about then grimaced, "Where is Matthias? What have you done with….?"

His words were cut off when De Buhr motioned to Lawrence than addressed Aswadi, "Cyrus…"

Lawrence's scalp was then seized and his face was hurled into the table causing the table wares to rattle.

"I forgot,' coughed Lawrence with patronizing spite, 'I am not in need of answers."

"Well at least you learn quickly." concurred Jurgen.

It was then that Cyrus had a peculiar look across his face, as if to have a rather fool proof idea in regards to their captive's stubbornness. It was such a complexion that caught the attention of De Buhr which was cut off when Lawrence spoke.

"Torture me if you want, and secretly I hope you kill me…"

Jurgen was taken aback at this unusual desire, "And what makes you say that?" he cooed.

"Because there is one thing about Holo you should know."

"And what would that be?"

Lawrence shifted and continued on darkly, "Like any wolf, she is fiercely loyal to her companions, when we were only traveling, she would grow very jealous of any individual who would come in between us. Now that we're mates, she will stop at nothing to get to me, even if she has to do it alone. When she gets here and finds my abused and mangled body, there will be no money nor army that would ever save you from her wrath."

Surprisingly, Jurgen did not seem at all intimidated nor so much as moved to the realms of fear, he simply let out a tsk then said, "Your faith in your wife is touching and finding you of that I have no doubt, however that day is not this day, until then…" he then gave a command in which Lawrence was again raised up and his head covered and carried off with him squirming.

"He will talk eventually." said Cyrus has he watched them depart.

"I know that look from you." replied Jurgen.

Cyrus fumbled with his fingers for a moment, "He seems to have a greater concern for those around him other than himself. A rather good natured attribute that can be used against him."

"I believe I can see where you are going with this." voiced De Buhr with little doubt.

"Indeed,' returned Aswadi who said as he was removing himself from the dinette, 'I shall begin immediately."

It was not long until Lawrence found himself in the familiar dark and accursed atmosphere of the dungeon that held him. However, unlike what was experienced in the past, he heard a series of chains clanking and rattling which could only lead him to assume that he was in a different area of the dungeons.

The men then bent him over and held his arms behind his back, followed by a sensation of ropes sliding around his triceps. He started to fight back which was met with a hard brunt into the gut which left him haunched and coughing.

The attempt to tie the ropes around his arms was retried and this time succeeded, along with the wrists. Lawrence could then hear the chain shift once more, then felt the sensation of a heavy cord wrap around the ties which led him to assume he was to be tethered to the ceiling.

The burlap sack was removed once more and Lawrence's assumptions were proven correct. His limbs were bound behind him which were secured to a chain that was connected to the ceiling. Looking around a bit more, he came to make eye contact with Cyrus.

"Do you really think me such a security threat that it would take more than a locked door to keep me in?" asked the man with doubtful scrutiny.

Then with the same grin from Cyrus that either displayed panic in one or relief in the other, answered with a tenderly grin, "No…" which sent a surge of panic to disperse throughout the veins of Lawrence.

He then gave a nod to the other men to depart for only a moment. When they returned they had the sunken figure of Matthias in their grasp.

"What are you doing?" stammered Lawrence.

But the men went on as though they heard nothing. Lawrence could see the wound, which was delivered the day before, in Matthias' leg looking swollen and painful due to the lack of immediate treatment.

When taking into account the fuller knowledge of the room he found himself in, Lawrence saw elevated shackles on the wall in which Matthias had his hands bound to and raised up by, leaving him with his back to the crowd and rendering him incapable of moving.

Lawrence was unsure if the man was even aware of his presence but it would soon prove to be the least of his worries. The men, at the command of Cyrus, grabbed hold of the shirt of Matthias and tore it off until his back was made bare. Aswadi then came in view with a coiled whip in hand and pointed towards Lawrence.

"It seems that you two enjoy games, so I have one for you. The rules are simple, it is not only your comfort in your own hands,' then pointing it towards Matthias, 'but his as well."

"What…?" exhausted Lawrence.

With more aggression Cyrus shouted, "The pain both of you will endure will only persist based upon the endurance of your tongue!"

Looking back at the whip Matthias said weakly with a jape, "Oh thank god, I thought you were about to sodomize me…"

With a tinging brow that tightened like a bow, Cyrus swung the whip overhead and cracked it horizontally so loud that it nearly burst Lawrence's ear drums. Matthias' body was tense as a freshly cut, red line across his upper back was bleeding and evident of Cyrus's whipping power.

"As I was saying,' returned Aswadi, 'you can make this easier for the both of you. What is the essence of the wolf girl? Tell me and I may exercise a shred of generosity towards you."

"I would rather live the rest of my life being tortured than betray her for the sake of minuscule compassion from a wretch like you!"

Cyrus then coiled up the whip. "I was hoping you would say that." said he before saying to the other two, "Raise him up."

It was then that Lawrence realized that the chain that fettered him was operated by a pulley and crank. A series of metallic clanks were heard and Lawrence found himself being lifted up. He began to cry in agony when his feet dangled off the ground for the chain was anchored around the ropes tying his arms behind his back which put the dead weight of his body wholly on his shoulder blades.

He kicked and thrashed at the sensation of his joints feeling as though they would break free at any moment and tear our his chest cavity, all while he yelped out in tensile pain.

Handing the whip off, Cyrus said before leaving, "I will be sure to check on you in the next few days, hopefully you will be more receptive by that time."

The torturer then left the chamber and shut the door and could here the belts of the whip followed by the howls of human misery. However to which voice the owner was, could not be determined.

Cyrus was then reunited with Jurgen who was having one of his servants writing two letters.

De Buhr did not wait to be questioned, "I already have a coach awaiting to take me to see Inola and Yanaguski." Then handing him the letters said, "I need you to give these to our couriers on your way south, one is for Father Michilini and the other goes to Jacopo in Valenfurt, details are within."

"Very well." returned Cyrus before taking his leave.

His course was stopped however when Jurgen called out to him for an inquiry, "I am a bit curious my friend." said he.

Cyrus turned to face him.

"How is it that you know so much about this swordsman and what is your feud with him?"

Taking a deep breath and holding in a deep enmity that was deep in his blood, Cyrus responded, "It suffices me to say that we are cut from the same cloth."

Before De Buhr could inquire into the matter further, Aswadi had already departed.


A day's journey south of the loathsome settlement of Valenfurt was a small cabin that rested by the bank of the spacious river that was crossed by the ferry that Holo and Ranger were aboard on. The petite lodge was very still and at peace until a slight clatter disrupted the tranquility of the atmosphere.

A small and innocent little girl had thrown the door open and was making great haste along the river bank to were more shelters of the like nature of the one she departed from could scarcely be seen through the grid of the forrest. Her stride and complexion displayed both that of excitement, anxiety and seriousness all while she was frantically attempting to locate a single individual.

There was a congregation of frontiersmen gathered about, each speaking to one another in regards to their employ, which mainly was hunting and trading furs. The young girl pushed her way through the human wall and found a kindly old man sitting near an anvil while sharpening an axe upon a grindstone that was nearby.

"Grandfather!" she yelled out.

Breaking his eyes from his work, the cockney stopped what he was doing and faced the child. When seeing his face it should be pointed out to the reader that this is the same old man who begged for assistance from Holo and Ranger the night prior.

"Little Hanna.' said he with a kindly loving rebuke, 'how many times must I tell you to not come this close to my workshop?"

Accepting yet pressed, Hanna said, "But Grandpa he is awake!"

The old man's complexion changed and he quickly arose and almost demanded, "Show me child."

Together they made their way back to the cabin. However the return journey for the girl was slower for the fresh joints of the juvenile easily out performed the well worn ligaments of the elderly man who hobbled along at a pace only his long used body could allow.

Once at the door the old man inquired of his granddaughter, "Has he said anything?"

She shook her head in the negative.

"Very well then, Hanna why don't you run along now and let your grandfather take it from here?"

She kept her hands behind her back and portrayed an innocent reluctance which was fueled more by her curiosity, however she was far from a delinquent and honored the wishes of her guardian and gave a heavy nod. As the little girl departed the senior pushed the door open and entered the cabin.

He navigated his way to a small door that led to a petite bed chamber and cautiously entered. On the other side was a shirtless man who had a large tourniquet tied around his mid section with light brown hair and mustache. His left eye was swollen shut and he had many lumps and discolored bruises scattering across his face.

When noticing the old man enter, he went to sit up but let out a terrible moan as a impeding pain overtook his attempts. He glanced down and took into affect for the first time the wrap around his stomach.

The elderly man quickly came to his side and had him lay down while suggesting, "Easy son, you're in no condition for anything rigorous just yet."

Letting out a sigh the recovering man said in slight agony, "Where am I?"

"Just north of your hometown a day's journey on the bank of the Siakluk river."

Rubbing his forehead the patient furled his eyebrow and asked with suspicion, "Hometown?"

Maintaining his nerve the elderly returned, "The clothes I found you in were that of Nyohirra's uniform. You did originate from there yes?"

Grunting while coping with the discomfort, the man replied, "….yes…"

"I am almost afraid to ask. What happened to you?"

The man shifted and said pathetically, "An animal attacked me while on a scouting mission."

The old man grinned with disbelief and rejoined soundly, "Interesting animal. I've seen much in the course of my days as a hunter, perhaps you can tell me what really happened?"

Accepting the tangled weave of his own words, the recovering individual shut his eyes and said with remorse, "Would if I could." Then looking around and contemplating deeply the man then changed subjects, "How did this come to be?"

Pulling up a chair next to the bed side the cockney sat down and said with a grunt, "My granddaughter found you near the bank and sent for me immediately. However I must say that it is a miracle that we are even speaking with each other at all."

"Why is that?" returned the man with a gravely tone.

The older one gave him an indescribable look, "Though the cold water slowed the flow of your blood, you were suffering from the chills. Fortunately I had dressed you in dry clothes and raised your temperature but then you began to suffer from a fever that I couldn't break while the severity of your injuries were beyond that which I could treat, plus you are risking infection. And I had not the money for a doctor."

At this point the patient seemed more interested and gave him a gaze that seemed to beckon more to be divulged. "I know this story must have a happy ending, for after all, here I am."

"A ferry that carried travelers across the siakluk had arrived and I was left with no alternative except to beg anyone to spare a few coins to get you the aid you needed."

"Who was my savior then?"

"I do not know for sure, he was a rather mysterious fellow, with strong arms that had interesting ink about them, and an oddly curved sword. Far from what any official would be equipped with today."

The bed ridden made a burst of amusement, "Can you describe what he looked like?"

Stroking his long beard the codger was more hesitant to answer, "I had not seen his face for you see, he wore a mask and hood."

The patient struggled again to sit up but was reminded harshly by his afflictions to not do that which was beyond his capacity. "Was he with anyone?"

Glancing upwards, the old man replied inquisitively, "Now that you mention it, he was with a very young but very beautiful young woman…"

"With red eyes and brown hair?" finished the incapable sufferer.

Inclining his chin the elder voiced back, "You know these people?"

Wiping the perspiration from his temples, the man answered, "I recall them from Nyohirra." then frantically asking for more information he almost demanded, "Was there third individual with them?"

"Yes, now that I recall."

"Did he have gray hair?"

"No, his hair was a deep red complete with a light beard."

The patient sunk back down with a cross of dashed hopes and personal failure.

"Something on your mind?" inquired the old man.

"Oh, simply trying to put certain affairs in order." returned the bed ridden man.

With unconvinced sincerity the old man smiled and said, "Fair enough." then being taken in memory conveyed, "You know I was in Nyohirra two days ago after a fur delivery. Have you ever been in the hot springs of the 'Spice and Wolf Inn and Bathhouse?'"

"Once on occasion."

Nodding and being entranced with his own thoughts the elderly spoke, "I stayed there the afternoon and let me tell you those springs did wonders for these old joints of mine. Had a lovely conversation with two other patrons while there."

"Does anyone else know I'm here?" interjected the patient.

Having his trailing thoughts brought back to the situation at hand the codger replied, "Not that I know of unless you wish for me to send for the officials there and inform them of your presence here."

"Oh No that will not be necessary." quickly shot the man in an almost panicked tone.

Showing a bit more concern for his own safety, the cockney inquired, "Son are you in some sort of trouble?"

With a grim stare that could put anyone on the edge of anxiety, the injured one returned, "We all just may be…"

"Well,' replied the elder with an attitude to free himself of the predicament, 'I've lived a a long enough life, and there's nothing worse in life than old age."

The patient looked out the window and responded credulously, "You know there was time when I thought I would never have the privilege of growing old. Now I wonder if those days will be thrust upon me again."

Arising from his chair the old man reassured, "Until that time comes I can at least see you through your recovery here and now."

Putting his eyes back on his care taker, the patient accepted the generosity with a simple, "Well then I shall live a few more days onward and I have you to thank, sir…?"

When realizing the introductions where not exorcised during this whole encounter the old man extended his hands toward the patient and said, "I am Radovan Tenbrooke. However most people up here call me Old Man Trotter."

The bed ridden man slowly let himself to shake his and and replied, "Phillip, Phillip Bourgeois."