“Weaving magic into matter is a tricky art. No matter the technique used, it requires specialized training, equipment, and materials. Most modern enchantments derive from the old Dwergaz Runic arts. With some hints of the Ochre and Bone techniques of ancient Humans complementing the… inflexible Dwarven traditions. But no matter the techniques used, enchantments require a power source. The magically talented can, of course, act as this source, using enchantments to cast complicated spells quickly and effectively. But for those lacking that talent or seeking to save energy, other sources are useful. Particularly gemstones, which by some quirk of their structure drink in ambient energy from the Aether.” - From chapter two of Johannes Steinruck's “So you want to be an Enchanter''

  :: Ten Days after Cole and Natalie met the Shohgard Pack ::

  An army of corpses marched off to war, and Dietrich Freymond wasn’t joining them. The Scarlet Knight and his thrall stood on a small outcrop overlooking the main Roloyo road. Below them, Eight Legions of the Zaubervold Duchy marched in a never-ending column of armored bones. The magic animating the Eternal Soldiers kept them in perfect lockstep. Eight thousand pairs of feet stepping in unison. Creating an echoing drumbeat that reverberated kilometers around.

  Dietrich frowned down at the marching legions. His missing fang, a phantom ache in his mouth. Worms of discontent stirred in his guts as he recognized numerous Battle Standards held up. Lesser warriors and commanders would be leading this force. While he was stuck chasing a cold trail.

  Yara, his thrall, watched the procession with eyes wide. The village girl had never seen anything of the like, and it filled her with awe and terror. Sparing a glance for his thrall, Dietrich noted she looked healthier. While still skinny, she’d gone from emaciated to willowy. Her red hair was less stringy, and the bags under her eyes had shrunken. Ironically her time as his sole thrall and blood source had been good for her. Mostly in part to the better food and rest Dietrich insisted she have. Yara was his property and had proved her devotion. Ensuring her health and well-being was Dietrich's responsibility.

  Fidgeting in the saddle of the skeletal horse she rode, Yara looked to her similarly mounted master and asked. “Where are they going, Master?”

  Looking towards the column head in the far distance, he answered. “The Southern Marches. Our destination.”

  Rage, as bitter as it was controlled, oozed from Dietrich's voice. The hunt for the Alukah and Paladin was not going well. The coming war would only make things worse. His prey was headed northwest into the Southern Marches and probably towards Vindabon. Full-scale conflict in the Marches would spread chaos and confusion. With the flow of refugees heading deeper into the Holy League being the perfect place for his quarry to hide. Dietrich needed to get ahead of the Army and make it deeper into the Southern Marches before the War started in earnest. Only then would he have any chance of catching his prey.

  The window of opportunity was shrinking every night. Once the Paladin made it to Vindabon or another major city, Dietrich's odds of success became negligible. Even a pitiful excuse for a Paladin like Cole Restbringer could call upon significant resources once in Vindabon. Squeezing his armored fists tight, Dietrich felt another surge of anger at remembering Cole. The Paladin had snuck into his jurisdiction, exposed and foiled a conspiracy Dietrich hadn’t even guessed at. Then had the gall to spare him and escape with one of the most powerful relics of Vampire-kind.

  With a thought, Dietrich commanded his Rattler horse and Yara’s to move. Yara clung to her saddle, a mere passenger instead of a rider. The undead horses padded down the trail on iron hooves. While ten Eternal Soldiers marched behind them. A token force, some of the scraps Dietrich had been afforded for his mission.

  As they rode, dark wings fluttered in the night. Yara flinched as a great Owl flew down and landed on Dietrich’s shoulder. Information flowed from the Owl into the Scarlet Knight. A collection of sights, sensations, and memories he’d grown used to deciphering. While he normally preferred Bats and Crows for this work, Dietrich was quickly recognizing the value of Owls. Less numerous than Bats, dumber than Crows, and incapable of long flights, they, on paper, made poor scouts. But a unique magical quirk made them invaluable. Owls can see magic. Their great reflective eyes pick up disturbances in the Aether as easily as they might a field mouse.

  A perfect tool to have when hunting a Primordial Vampire and a God-Touched Warrior. Even if they tried to cloak themselves magically, that would only make themselves even more visible to the Owl’s eyes. It took a very talented Illusionist to hide from Dietrich’s scout. Something he doubted a Vampire Fledgeling, or that hunk of scarred meat was capable of. So after weeks of searching, with the help of dozens of Owls and Crows; Dietrich had found his quarry’s trail.

  It had been faint, but between the Magical Sight of the Owls and the intelligence of the Crows, Dietrich had managed. Slowly but surely, Dietrich had been closing the distance. Each old campfire a little fresher than the last. But now with the Legions in play, his steady pace wasn’t sufficient. Battles, even without heavy magical use, would disturb the Aether for kilometers around. While scouts from both armies and fleeing peasants would make mundane tracking harder.

  Gritting his teeth, the socket where his fang had once been aching. Dietrich turned to Yara. “Hang on. We are going to push hard till morning.”

  The thrall swallowed nervously and started tying herself to the Rattling Horse's saddle. She’d learned from ugly experience what Dietrich meant by “pushing hard.” No sooner had she completed her bindings did both Horses shoot off at an incredible speed. Iron hooves thundered over snowy gravel while a squad of armored Rattlers followed behind. Yara looked back to see the Eternal Soldiers running over the ground at surprising speeds. Of course, none matched a horse (living or dead), but they were faster than any normal soldier had the right to be. As the Rattlers fell behind, Yara couldn’t help but smile. This was proof of her master's talent. Commanding an entire squad of soldiers like they were extensions of his own body.

  Dietrich shut his eyes as he rode. He didn’t need them to see. Witch-fire glowing in his Horse’s skull and the myriad Crows, Bats, and Owls flying over the surrounding fields were more than enough. He followed the information his Owls had given him. Their eyes told of a curdled knot in the Aether nearby. where something dark had happened. After an hour or so of riding, he reached his destination.

  A lonely stretch of country road, surrounded by snowy farm fields, awaited Dietrich. A trio of enthralled Crows circled a patch of the field off the road, cawing at him. Dismounting, Dietrich went to investigate. Gesturing for Yara to stay with the Horses with one hand, gripping Lex with his other.

  One of the crows fluttered down into the snow and pecked at a buried lump. Dietrich brushed it with his foot and found scorched metal. Leaning down, he brushed off ice and snow to reveal soot-stained armor and burnt bones. Continuing his investigation, Dietrich found more bones. Perhaps half a dozen corpses, each clad in crude armor. Dietrich’s Owl came down and landed on his shoulder. Borrowing the Bird’s eyes, Dietrich looked over the bones. The shine of consecration clung to the bones. A Priests work clearly. While something dark clung to two of the skeletons. An oily shadow like congealed blood. The mark of a Vampire feeding.

  Smiling, Dietrich stood up. He was on the right trail, and he was getting close. If he’d been more than two weeks behind his prey, the feeding would have been undetectable. Looking up at the cold night sky. Dietrich let his tongue trace his missing fang. Any night now, he would end this farce and return to Noct-Bucharos redeemed. Looking over the bones, Dietrich mused on how he’d accomplish his objectives.

  The Paladin would be tricky to eliminate but not impossible. From what Dietrich had seen, the Restbringer had limits to his power. Cole had been unwilling to use his strongest magic early on. He’d nearly died facing the Varcolac and then had to ambush Dietrich with that strange ice magic to win. Dietrich would hit him hard and fast before the Paladin could even respond. While killing Cole was preferred, keeping him alive for a time might have its uses. That depended on how strong the Alukah’s new host had grown.

  Dietrich hoped to subdue the Alukah with his troops. Ten undead in full plate armor commanded by someone with Dietrich's skill should be enough. But that was only if the Alukah’s strength hadn’t grown radically past what was expected of a Fledgling Vampire. Which the late Lord Glockmire had hinted at, but Dietrich didn’t know how trustworthy those words were.

  Using a crippeled Paladin as a hostage could maybe work. But that was a gamble Dietrich was reluctant to take for multiple reasons. The Paladin seemed the type to sacrifice himself if the need arose. While the Alukah’s influence might have already eroded any empathy the girl had for her protector. Looking back at Yara, Dietrich frowned. His thrall clung to the horse, blind in the deepening darkness. Winter storm clouds obscuring the moon and stars, robbing the snowy field of any light. Dietrich had brought Yara along for a number of reasons, blood ironically low on that list.

  If it came down to it, Dietrich could sire Yara as a Vampire and use her as a new container for the Alukah. A prospect that would be kept only as a last resort. Dietrich assumed the Alukah would be less ‘entrenched’ in the Innkeeper’s daughter than its ancient body. Perhaps it would be more pliable and willing to take a new host without all the messy preparation Lord Glockmire had been forced to go through. But that was only an educated guess, and not one Dietrich wanted to gamble with. Getting this Natalie girl intact would be preferable. Staking her should paralyze the stupid child, but that still might not be enough considering her resistance to the Old Banes.

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  Returning to his horse, Dietrich’s mind suddenly filled with the sound of tearing metal and cracking bones. Spinning to look down the road he unsheathed Lex. Someone or something was attacking his Troops. Cursing under his breath, he reached out to his minions and assessed the situation. Something massive had smashed into the squad's side. Tearing two of Rattlers to bits. Exploding with movement, Dietrich charged to confront the attacker. Cursing himself for the decision to let the Soldiers lag behind. He’d hoped to cover more ground unconstrained by them. Now someone was picking off his unsupported troops.

  The Eternal Soldiers fought valiantly, but whatever they faced was strong. As Dietrich ran, he caught flickers of the fight through the connection he shared with them. Dagger-sized talons tore through armor while the Soldiers tried to form up. Try as he might, Dietrich was too slow. Every second another Rattler fell, torn apart by the unknown enemy. Dietrich’s control was useless in the face of such an overwhelming onslaught. It wasn’t a minute before the last Rattler’s connection was cut. As soon as the ambush had started, it was over.

  Stopping mid-stride, Dietrich scanned the snowy fields around him. Red eyes gleamed in the dark. Slowly spinning in a circle, he held Lex in both hands, preparing for whatever came next. He saw nothing, no riders, no marching force. Then it occurred to him. Talons the enemy had talons. Dietrich looked up just as a great screech filled the night. The wings and claws of a titanic bird-of-prey hurtled towards Dietrich fast as the wind. The Scarlet Knight dived to the side as his foe struck. Rolling through the snow, Dietrich came to his feet, Sword at the ready.

  A mass of feathers and hate wheeled about on the ground and charged him again. Dietrich raised Lex high and prepared to kill his avian foe. Steel rang on steel as a blade intercepted him. Briefly surprised, Dietrich was unprepared for the massive talons to reach out and swipe at him. Spinning to avoid the brunt of the impact, Dietrich was still sent sprawling. Looking up at his foe, recognition dawned. He’d at first thought some Dire-Hawk or similar had been attacking him. But as his red eyes pierced the shadows, the truth became clear.

  A mighty Hippogryph reared up on its equine hind legs, flashing eagle talons lunging for Dietrich. Massive wings flared, and the beast's rider pointed his sword at Dietrich. Armored in white plate, with sword and shield in hand. A Knight of the Holy League atop his Beast of War faced Dietrich. As Dietrich dodged the talons and the Hippogryph came down onto all fours. The rider sneered at him.

  “Undead scum! Meet your doom!” The Knight had a thick Guyenne accent that echoed from his helmet.

  For the first time in a long time, Dietrich actually smiled. His foe was a Hippogryph Knight who’d been scouting the Eternal Legions for Harmas. Upon seeing Dietrich's detachment, the fool had sought to earn cheap glory at the cost of his mission. The typical arrogant disregard for discipline that plagued the upper ranks of any Holy League army. If this whelp made it back to Camp, he’d have his hide tanned for insubordination or cheered for his bravery. Depending on the Knights' breeding and his commander's skill. But as Dietrich gripped Lex tighter, the “If” in “If he made it back” became a very large one.

  The Hippogryph charged again, and Dietrich didn’t bother to dodge. He fed power to his flesh and let bones become steel, his muscles rock. Shoving his shoulder forward, Dietrich slammed Lex into the frozen ground. Using its buried length to keep him secure. The Hippogryph slammed into Dietrich like he was solid stone. The beast was sent sprawling, its rider tossed from its back.

  Tellingly the Hippogryph recovered first. Pulling itself up, one forelimb clearly injured. Shying away from Dietrich, it tried to reach its rider. The Scarlet Knight had no intention of letting it.

  Exploding forward with inhuman speed, Dietrich swung Lex high. Bringing its edge down onto the Hippogryph's neck. Warm blood sprayed out across the snow as the executioner’s sword did its work. Like a headless chicken, the War Beast stumbled forward a few steps before Dietrich landed a solid kick in its side. Reminding the corpse, it was already dead.

  The Knight let out a pained cry of grief at the sight. “You bastard! I’ll have your head!”

  Dietrich lazily spun to face his new opponent. On his feet, the Knight slammed his sword and shield together. With a hiss of arcane power, both came to light. Red flames danced along the sword's blade while silver runes glowed on the kite shield's face. Dietrich noticed fainter glowing patterns on the Knights' armor. Well, this explained the welp’s arrogance. Enchanted equipment was expensive. Even in the Holy League, where magical craftsmen were relatively common. Still, it wouldn’t change anything. Dietrich had been breaking arrogant young lordlings since before his death.

  As the two combatants circled each other, Dietrich growled. “Look at my armor Boy. I’m certain you will recognize the design.”

  The Knight did, and even under the visor of his helm, Dietrich could see the Knight’s eyes widen in shock. The Scarlet Knight’s signature blood-red armor was known wide and far. Dietrich could literally smell the boy’s sudden fear. Before the Boy-Knight could recover or piss himself, Dietrich charged. The full explosive power of a Vampire bringing Lex down on the Boy-Knight’s shield.

  A brilliant flash of light and a sharp snap cut through the night air, and Dietrich stumbled back, his eyes momentarily overwhelmed by the light. Quickly collecting himself, Dietrich couldn’t help but be impressed by the Shields artifice. It didn’t try and stop his blow but instead converted much of the strike to light. A light the wielder was protected from by the shield's own shadow. Dietrich wagered the shield was designed with Vampires in mind, exploiting their night vision against them. In the grip of a more capable foe, Dietrich might actually be worried by the shield.

  But instead of capitalizing on Dietrich’s momentary surprise, the Boy-Knight merely held his ground. Recovering from his surprise, Dietrich circled around, bringing Lex to bear. To the boy’s credit, he parried the strikes. His flaming sword and shining shield kept Dietrich at bay. Eyes shut, relying on his other senses, Dietrich worked to wear down the Boy-Knight. He didn’t bother to pursue killing or crippling strikes. Just keeping up a steady barrage of bone-cracking strikes. Never giving the Boy-Knight time to recover or reposition.

  With every parry or block, the Boy-Knights reaction time grew slower and slower. His equipment could only protect him so much from Dietrich's wrath. The Knight’s muscles were screaming, and his shield arm was numb. Every swipe with the fiery sword became clumsier and clumsier. Dietrich barely needed to put any effort into dodging. As the Boy-Knight let out a furious shriek and swung his sword in a great uncoordinated arc, Dietrich spun behind his foe. Bringing a great mailed fist down onto the Boy-Knight's back. Sending him sprawling to the ground.

  With shaky limbs, the Boy-Knight tried to get to his feet, but his own armor weighed him down. Stalking over, Dietrich glared down at his foe. “Get up,” he growled.

  The Boy-Knight struggled uselessly, his limbs shaking with exhaustion. Dietrich slammed an armored boot into the Boy’s side. Sending him skidding along the snowy ground. “I SAID GET UP!”

  A whimper came from the boy. Disgusted with the weakness before him. Dietrich leaned down and ripped the Boy-Knights helmet off. Below it was a pimply-faced teen with bright red hair. Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes. His lips trembled as he tried to speak. “P-p-please! H-have mercy! My-my father will pay my ransom, I swear!”

  Dietrich couldn’t help but smile. The sight brought back fond memories of his youth. “In another life, I’d take up your offer,” he growled. “But in this one, you're more use to me dead.”

  The Boy-Knight screamed as Dietrich bit into his neck. The taste of blood was ambrosia to the Vampire, and he drank it down eagerly. The oh-so-noble blood of the Knight tasted of rich meals and pampered living. Of an arrogant child, who if he’d lived, would have spent his life growing fat and doughy. While telling anyone who’d listen about his “glory days” during a war other men fought.

  As the last drop of blood was drained from the Boy-Knight. Dietrich stepped back from his kill. Crunching snow brought his attention to a worried-looking Yara. She’d left the horses to seek him out. Foolish but loyal. He wouldn’t punish her, but he would reprimand her later. Tentatively, his thrall approached Dietrich. Her eyes squinted in the darkness. A life spent serving Vampires had given her better night vision than most people, but even that had limits.

  “Sir? Are you alright?” she asked. Looking to the guttering flames of the Boy-Knights sword.

  Grunting in acknowledgment, Dietrich tossed the Boy-Knights helmet to her. A startled Yara caught the helmet with a yelp. “Put it on,” Dietrich commanded.

  She complied and looked around the snowy fields. “I…I can see? How is this possible?” Yara spun around, looking everywhere like a small child at the town fair.

  “Magic,” said Dietrich. “I figured the helmet was enchanted. No way this welp was keeping up with me blind.”

  Dietrich called the two horses and turned his attention back to the dead Knight. Putting his armored hands on either side of the Knight’s face, Dietrich started whispering dark words. An infernal incantation spoken in one of the Six hundred and Sixteen languages of Hell. Inky shadows bled from Dietrich's mouth and eyes and onto the Boy Knight’s corpse. The shadows slithered into the body, through his open mouth or shredded neck. Infesting the corpse with Dietrich’s spell.

  Twitching dead limbs came to life, and the Corpse-Knight started to thrash. Magical currents activating dead nerves and animating the corpse. Dietrich stepped away as his newest minion rose up. Sword and shield still gripped in death grips. Frowning slightly, Dietrich inspected his work. Like any Vampire warrior, he knew the quick and dirty spells of Battlefield reanimation. But his knowledge of more complex workings of necromancy was lacking. He’d need to experiment to make full use of the Corpse-Knight.

  Looking in the distance to where his fallen Soldiers lay and then looking back at the burned bones he’d discovered. A fell idea crossed Dietrich's mind. The taint of war and death was upon these lands. Its Aether would react to his magic easier than normal. He could perhaps punch through the crude consecration on the burned bones. Replenish or repair his forces before setting out.

  The blank-eyed Corpse-Knight shuffled after Dietrich as he walked. Gripping the Ghoul’s cloak, Dietrich tore off a piece and used it to clean Lex, then sheathed it. Looking at the enchanted armor and weapons the Ghoul carried. Dietrich mused on the possible uses for them. He’d let Yara keep the helmet. Actually, being able to see at night would help keep her alive. For the rest of it, well, information and influence among stupid Mortals had been bought for less.