The Chronicle:

In my last letter to Melisandre, I did not mention what followed the hearty breakfast shared with Sergeant Wilhelm and his Roaring Drachen.  I suppose I did not want to get distracted from the topic of slavers, nor to alarm Meli with yet another of my impulsive decisions.

Almost as soon as they had gone down the gangplank and started to head out of the village of Liech am Roth, the Roaring Drachen were called to a halt by the sergeant.  Almost reluctantly, he gave orders in Eisen and the small squad turned around and marched back to the Maris Stella.  I was curious and a little worried: had Sergeant Wilhelm decided it was his duty to prevent foreigners from patrolling the Roth River?  I had no wish to get in a fight with my erstwhile guests – not the least because I suspected they could cut a bloody swath through my crew.  I watched with bemused wariness as he ordered his men to stay on the quay (or at least that is the effect his orders had) before climbing back on board.  He approached me again, looking somewhat hesitant; I signalled my interpreter, Gunter, to come to my rescue.

The sergeant explained that he and his men had been tasked with finding people "of brave heart and pure soul" and ask their help on behalf of Eisenfürst von Wische.  He could not tell me what this help involved; if I was interested, I would have to accompany him and his Roaring Drachen back to Siegsburg, capital of Wische, and meet with the Eisenfürst.  I questioned him about the Eisenfürst, but he was clearly quite uncomfortable discussing his master.  He did seem devoted to Reinhard Dieter von Wische, whom he thought was a good and just man; but he said the Eisenfürst had been ill for the last few months, although he would not explain what this illness was.  He could promise no payment or recompense beyond that of having the Eisenfürst's thanks for however much time I might be able to give.  It was clear he did not actually expect me to accept the offer, but felt it was his duty to try.

The sergeant looked at me intently while I pondered his invitation.  I could not have justified my interest if anyone had asked, but I was tempted.  Part of it was the allure of being recruited that way, for a mysterious task and an even more mysterious patron, to do unspecified but heroic deeds.  I admit I have read far too many romances for my own good!  Part of it too was the restlessness I felt at waiting a good three weeks or more for another chance to snap Die Zierlich on its next journey, while my passel of landlubbers drove me to insanity; such a combination of fawning and complaining as these men can produce, I have never heard!  I had taken a liking for the Roaring Drachen's frank and direct attitude, and I believed Sergeant Wilhelm was being truthful, although clearly he was not telling me all he knew.

I yielded to the temptation.  I nodded and told Sergeant Wilhelm I could give him three weeks.  It would take one just to reach Siegsburg, so I sincerely hoped this would be enough but was doubtful.  No matter, said the sergeant, completely unreadable; whatever time I could spare was greatly welcomed.  I turned to my bewildered officers and crew, and explained I would be travelling with the Roaring Drachen for the next three weeks, while they should take the Maris Stella downstream and give some training to the waisters.  We would meet here again in twenty-one days, and the Maris Stella should remain for a week waiting for me if I was late.  After that, if I had still not appeared, they were to return to Freiburg and give my cousins a letter I penned, explaining the situation.

I then selected half a dozen men to accompany me, as well as Gunter the interpreter, and ordered sufficient travel supplies to be prepared.  I asked Jemy and Volta if they would accompany me; they exchanged a few signs, and as I had expected Volta indicated that he would come along.  Finally, I went to my cabin and gathered some effects.  In relatively short order, my men and I were ready to follow the Roaring Drachen.

We had to travel on foot, since there there were no mounts to be had in these devastated lands.  The Roaring Drachen had a single mule to carry the bulkier equipment, and the poor, rail-thin, wretched beast was staggering under its load.  My men were less than ecstatic at the prospect of a week-long trek in frozen Eisen, loaded with supplies, but I had promised them ample compensation.

I had travelled through Eisen a year before almost to the day, when my cousins, our companions, and I had been following the aether compass's needle first east, then west, but we had travelled almost exclusively through the königreich of Heilgründ.  Although all of Eisen has been crippled by the thirty years-long War of the Cross, the worst of it was fought in Wische and nothing can compare to the devastation wrought here.  I have seen Occupied Castille, and the swath of destruction left behind the Montaigne armies in Ussura, but this is like nothing else.  Of course, the Eisen countryside must perforce look bleak in Nonus, but here there is no trace of hope, nothing but ruins.

The rare villages are collections of shacks where far too many people huddle, gaunt and livid.  Those few buildings still standing are horribly overcrowded with refugees.  No one seems to have attempted even the most basic repairs to the blasted towns and farms.  I do not think there has been any turning of the fields, planting, or harvest in the last year, and perhaps not in several years.  Occasionally, I see some peasants desperate enough to poke through the frozen soil of the abandoned fields, looking for tubers.  No animals are to be seen, domesticated or wild, save for crows.  Waisen, on the other hand, are frequently encountered.  Everything is so eerily silent.  We travellers make conversation for a while, until the mood of the land settles upon us and each is left alone with gloomy thoughts.  It occurred to me that should the war with Montaigne settle into a long-term conflict, this might be the future of Castille.

Nevertheless, the Roaring Drachen were good travel companions.  Although none of us could be very cheerful, we all did our best to show a brave face, and with the Drachen's presence, no bandits, however desperate, dared to disturb us.  After a week's quick march we finally reached the only settlement of any importance since our departure, Siegsburg, capital of the Wische königreich. It looks like a ghost town, refugees and dispossessed peasants clinging to the shadow of the buildings that are still standing while three times as many houses are left empty, their walls and roofs torn open and their contents picked clean.  I had never seen nor even imagined such a forlorn capital.
 

Despite the terrible state of the city, there was still a castle, though its ramparts were breached in many places, and only a few lonely soldiers still walked its battlements.  Sergeant Wilhelm escorted me inside, while his men scattered.  I saw that the interior of the castle reflected the same hardships as the exterior; most of the furnishings, tapestries, and even a lot of the wood panelling had disappeared.  What must have been quite grand a few decades ago was now but a shell.  My men and I were taken to guest quarters, sparsely furnished but clean, and welcome after a week of camping in the cold Eisen climate.  I noticed that the walls in my room still had their wood panelling, from which I concluded that this must be some of the best accommodations still available here.  But it was very cold and there was no firewood in sight.

Sergeant Wilhelm told me I should get refreshed, and prepare for supper with the Eisenfürst.  A few moment after his departure, there was a knock on the door.  I opened the door and faced a thin young Eisen woman in modest garb.  She curtsied and informed me, in accented but fluent Castillan, that her name was Helga and she was here to assist me.  She asked if I wished for a bath; reflecting on the quantity of wood that would be needed to heat bath water, I assured her that a basin of water and a sufficiency of towels would serve quite well.  She helped me wash my hair – ah, there is nothing quite so bracing as washing one's hair in cold water...  I survived the experience and put on the clothing I had brought with in mind this meeting with the Eisenfürst.

All the while, I questioned Helga on proper Eisen etiquette, as well as asking more personal questions.  I learned that she was Fraülein Gisela Hilda Inselhoffer's maid, and that Fraülein Inselhoffer herself was one of the Eisenfürst's advisors.  When I asked Helga how she had come to learn the Castillan language, she told me without the least self-consciousness that she had been a camp follower of the Castillan army.  I was embarrassed, thinking she must certainly have conceived a poor opinion of Castillans from that peculiar exposure, but she did not seem to harbour any resentment.  She was however very happy to have left this chapter behind and work for Fraülein Inselhoffer.  She spoke very highly of her mistress, although she assured me that I need not worry overly about points of etiquette in the advisor's presence since Fraülein Inselhoffer was not "of noble heritage."  Helga's wording struck me as interesting, since it might mean anything: Fraülein Inselhoffer might be a dispossessed noble, a bastard, a bourgeoise, another camp follower...

At last it was time for supper.  I had been told this would be an informal affair; Helga guided me to a small dining room where an oblong table was set for seven people.  The furniture was of good quality, but had seen much use.  The most remarkable piece of furnishing in the room was a large clock, and even that was not much better than what might be found in a wealthy merchant's house; yet it seemed like a great luxury when compared to the sobriety of the surroundings.  At one end of the table, one chair was raised slightly, presumably marking this as the Eisenfürst's place.  Helga bade me sit at the left hand of that spot.

For a few moments, I remained the only guest, while Helga remained to do the service and act as an interpreter.  Then Sergeant Wilhelm came in, for the first time without his zweihändig sword.  He bowed briskly, then sat across the table and one spot down.  He informed me that, regrettably, the Eisenfürst's health did not allow him to see me tonight, but I would receive some explanations from Fraülein Inselhoffer.  And after another moment the lady herself appeared.  She was quite beautiful, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a distinction and poise that reminded me a little of Queen Elaine of Avalon.

We were served a soup that was mostly barley, and it became clear that no one else would sit at the table.  It was an unusual meal, but I did my best to do honour to Castille and my family.  Fraülein Inselhoffer led the conversation with ease, with Helga's help in the translation.  She questioned me most thoroughly on my past and on my adventures, but with such diplomatic grace that it was impossible to find offence.  I have never liked to draw the conversation to my deeds, but she skilfully wormed the stories out of me, although she did not pry into matters that I was obviously skirting around, such as the matter of a certain pirate captain, or any mind-twisting stories of long-dead Fate Witches.

I noticed that through the meal, both Fraülein Inselhoffer and Sergeant Wilhelm kept glancing at the clock.  As dinner wound to its conclusion, Gisela Inselhoffer excused herself, and the sergeant suggested that we go outside for a walk in order to discuss the task for which I had been brought here.  I was a little surprised, but acquiesced; my hosts suddenly seemed eager to end the meal.  A look at the clock informed me it was getting near seven o'clock.  I followed Sergeant Wilhelm outside, still accompanied by Helga.  We strolled along the parapet walk, and the sergeant started explaining the situation in Siegsburg.

As if Eisen in general, and Wische in particular, didn't have enough problems with famine, hordes of refugees, waisen, maimed and crippled veterans, the lack of almost every basic comfort imaginable, looters, bandits, deeply entrenched enmities leftover from the wars, foreign incursions, and the occasional outbreak of White Plague, a new problem had arisen in Siegsburg lately: packs of ghouls thriving on the feast of easy victims.  The Eisenfürst's troops had long since disbanded because they hadn't been paid in over a year (I suspected it was in fact longer than that), and the remaining doppelsöldner (elite units) like the Roaring Drachen, while faithful, were spread much too thin to handle this new woe.

Before I could ask any questions, we were interrupted by the blood-curling sound of a long, drawn out animal cry coming from the castle.  Whatever pain caused it, the cry caused the hair to rise on the back of my neck; for a second or two, I forgot to breathe.  I was on the verge of running in search of the source, but a sidelong glance at Sergeant Wilhelm and Helga informed me that neither seemed surprised by the sound.  Both, however, were looking at me closely, watching my reaction.  I relaxed my stance as best I could and asked if they knew what caused this sound.

"The Eisenfürst's illness," Sergeant Wilhelm replied tersely.  "He screams this way four times a day."

I shuddered, and made an effort to recall where the conversation had stopped.  I asked a few questions regarding the ghouls, hoping that someone had investigated the matter already, but the sergeant had nothing to offer me in this regard.  No one had in fact studied the ghouls yet, and the ruined city was nothing but one big potential hive for the creatures, replete with hiding places and food sources.

I was left with the impression that there was something more I was not told, although I did not think that my hosts were being deceptive or treacherous; rather, I felt as if I was missing some pieces of a puzzle.  I toyed with the idea of starting a hunt for the ghouls that very night, but my men were already resting after the week-long trek, and fumbling around at night in an unknown city seemed like an invitation to become ghoul food myself.  I needed to reconnoitre the area, at least.  Sergeant Wilhelm said he would introduce me to the few people who had first-hand experience fighting off the ghouls.

I took my leave of my hosts and went to check on my men.  I explained briefly to them what our tasks would be and reassured them as best I could regarding the scream they had heard earlier, then went back to my room for the night.  I tossed and turned for a while, but finally fell asleep – only to be awakened in the middle of the night by the horrible cry I had heard the evening before.  I fumbled in the dark to light a candle, then checked my timepiece: it was exactly one o'clock.  After this it took me a long while to find sleep again.
 

The next morning, I was awakened by the echoes of the Eisenfürst's cry again.  I checked the time: seven o'clock sharp.  It seemed the Eisenfürst's seizures, or crises, were indeed regular as clockwork.  I dressed hurriedly and went to check on my men again.  They were extremely upset by the unsettling atmosphere, and Volta was pacing like a caged wolf.  He seemed a hair's breadth from hitting someone if anything else made him jump.  At least they were just as happy to get out and walk around.  We had breakfast and I explained what little I knew, giving strict orders regarding what would be acceptable behaviour.  Then we went out to examine the city, try to find some likely nests for ghouls and areas where they might feed most easily, and generally become better acquainted with the layout of Siegsburg.  I made several map sketches and indicated landmarks to help with memorization; I did not want to get lost at night with a pack of ghouls behind me.

Interviews with those who had encountered ghouls and lived, or tried to hunt them down, were sadly unhelpful.  As far as anyone could verify, the ghouls never showed any interest in victims that were already dead, always looking for live ones instead.  I learned that the creatures elicited some intelligence, or at least enough cunning to avoid the bait (animal or human!) that had been trolled around to attract them.  They were also bold enough by now to attack even in daytime if they could get away with it, and of course this late in the year daylight hours were short anyway.

We took to a variation of the shifts normally worked on shipboard, sleeping four or five hours at a time and hunting for ghouls at night.  I devised this system largely to take everyone away from the castle at the time of those awful cries that signalled the Eisenfürst's seizures.  During the crises, we patrolled the ruined streets of Siegsburg.  I had been told that the name of the city meant "Victory Castle" but apparently if a victory had been won here it was not by Wische.   For the first few nights, our search turned up nothing but human predators, all of which carefully avoided our well-armed party.

Finally, on the fourth night, we came across the remnants of a corpse that had clearly been gnawed on.  How I wished I had my friends with me; Meli would have easily told us how fresh the kill was, and Vlad would have read the monsters' tracks like an open book.  Motioning the men back, I overcame my disgust and examined what was left of the body.  Although I am no hunter, it seemed to me this attack must be recent, or the remains would have been frozen solid.  The ghouls must be nearby...  I bent down to look at the ground, the trampled mix of snow and frozen mud, the blood, trying to put together the story they told.  I thought I could see a trail.

I whispered orders to the men, and started following the faint tracks.  They led us to the shell of a house, where the caved-in roof had left a gaping wound.  We fanned out to try to prevent the monsters from escaping this shelter.  Suddenly, Volta bristled like a hunting dog catching scent of the prey.  He drew his heavy cutlass with a hiss of steel, and charged into the night.  The men, galvanized by Volta's attack, charged behind before I even had time to add a word.  In a matter of seconds, Volta had found a pack of half a dozen ghouls, and felled three of them all by himself; the men dispatched the rest of the pack.  The creatures had been trying to escape through a back route.

I examined the nauseating contents of the collapsed house: remnants of humans, dogs, and rats, their bones indiscriminately piled.  I estimated that at least twenty people had been dragged and devoured by the ghouls in this lair.  Fortunately, the cold kept the stench from becoming too strong.  While I was examining the gruesome remains, I felt the back of my neck prickle; something was moving in the dark nearby.  I motioned the men to silence and we skulked back out, but only to hear the vanishing sound of very light footsteps.  Some of the not quite dead ghouls had just been carried off.

We ran in pursuit behind what was almost certainly another pack of ghouls.  The chase led us to another half-collapsed house, in somewhat better shape this time since the roof was not completely caved in.   We made our way in just in time to see a flicker of movement in a hole in the floor.  I walked in and shone a lantern down the gaping hole, revealing a crudely dug tunnel that bent sharply to the right after only a few yards.  If we had had oil or powder we could have burned the ghouls out, but we carried neither in sufficient quantity and nothing resembling fuel was left here.  The tunnel was much too small to let us in, especially Volta, and I did not like the idea of crawling into this pit.  Instead, I raced to the next house on the right, hoping the tunnel would open there.

I found another damaged house, although in much better shape.  As soon as I tried the door, someone shoved a crude javelin, really just a sharpened stick, under my nose and a very thin, very angry man yelled at me in Eisen.  With the help of Gunter, I explained that we had just scared up some ghouls next door, but the man refused to let us in to check his house.  We checked the other nearby houses, and warned the neighbours that they should be alert to this danger.  Eventually I gave up for the night.  We stopped by the first lair to take another look, but the rest of the ghouls had been carried off and something or someone had rooted through the miserable remains in the lair.  Disgusted, I signalled our return to the castle for the night.  I gave the men a bonus for their successful hunting, restoring some good cheer.
 

In the morning, as soon as Sergeant Wilhelm was on duty, I went to tell him of our night's adventure.  He became very interested, and accompanied me to look at both lairs.  I explained how I would like to smoke or burn the ghouls out and he nodded; he could find some powder kegs to do the job.  We returned to the castle, where I passed the time by doing some rough calculations while the Sergeant rounded up the equipment necessary for our plan.  Assuming a pack of six ghouls ate perhaps one or two people a week, and based on the estimated number of people who might have fallen to them, I guessed that there might be as many as fifty to one hundred ghouls hunting in Siegsburg.  The numbers were very rough, because the conditions made any attempt at numbering the disappearances a very wild guess, but it gave an estimate, at least.  And assuming the pack we had destroyed had been typical in size, we might be looking at eight to twenty packs.  All the ghouls in that pack had seemed to be roughly the size of human adults, and I wondered how and when they reproduced.

Sergeant Wilhelm's return interrupted my musings.  He had commandeered a cart and a couple of powder kegs, and his Roaring Drachen marched down with us to the damaged house covering the ghouls' tunnel.  My men followed with gleeful anticipation.  Our parade attracted interest and a small crowd formed at a distance, while the Roaring Drachen cleared the neighbouring houses and deployed around the lair to prevent the ghouls' escape.  Mister Pointed Stick was much more co-operative than he had been for us the night before.  I showed the tunnel to the Sergeant, and he had a powder keg fitted with a fuse and rolled down while we took cover.  A splendid detonation accompanied the caving of the tunnel's entrance.

The Roaring Drachen then searched the debris and, finding a cavity in the torn-up ground, placed a second keg.  Another detonation, even more spectacular, sent a rain of debris, splinters of wood, dirt, and even body parts of ghouls onto the crowd.  The stench thus created was gagging, but all indications were that a second nest of ghouls had just been successfully destroyed.  The men cheered, while the crowd surged forward to grab the wood pieces as a valuable resource.  The Drachen had a difficult time restoring order, and my crew and I helped to the best of our abilities.

After a semblance of calm was re-established and the area cleaned up, I announced that I would like to buy a round or two for my men and the Roaring Drachen in celebration for this lucky hunt.  The Sergeant led us to an inn where another squad of off-duty Roaring Drachen were already sitting and drinking.  The place seemed to attract a crowd of mercenaries and adventurers of the "sturdier" kind.  We all sat down around a couple of tables pushed together and the host, at the Sergeant's request, brought us food and drink.  The food was plentiful and not at all bad, although it was thin fare by normal Castillan standards, with poor quality ingredients.  But sailors often have far worse and in any case we had grown used to the dietary restrictions in Wische over the last ten days or so.  We were in good cheer and the Drachen started telling stories of great deeds.  I only regret not understanding Eisen any better, but Gunter gave us a running translation.

The beer was rich and heady, although some of the Drachen complained that it was poor thin watery stuff.  But I found it to be startlingly strong, although I grew to appreciate it.  My men, for their part, had to make very little effort to show their appreciation.  For the most part, they stayed within the bounds of the rather informal decorum, but Volta drank like a very large fish.  When I signalled that it was time for us to return to the castle, I discovered that he was already having some trouble walking.  But then he looked at Sergeant Wilhelm, and with eloquent signs, pointing at the Sergeant's zweihänder and at his own cutlass, and miming his intent, indicated his desire to have a friendly bout.  I grimaced and tried to dissuade him, but I was too late: both my men and the Roaring Drachen applauded the idea with enthusiasm.

The Sergeant agreed with a fierce grin, and everyone stepped out for the match.  I considered objecting, but decided that it would be unwise; the men were now off duty and if Volta wanted to risk injury, it was his business.  I only prayed no one would be seriously damaged and Volta wouldn't get into one of his vengeful moods if the breeze didn't blow his way.

Both combatants shed their overcoats despite the cold, and drew their weapons.  The men formed a circle, cheering and exchanging bets without, it seems, the need to speak a common language.  Of course, being sailors my men are ever skilled at spending money, although so far only one had purchased the rights to a dracheneisen mine...  Volta and Sergeant Wilhelm measured up one another, Volta making rather unsteady but flashy passes with his weapon while the sergeant adopted a stance that tilted the big zweihänder low off to his side, ready to sweep in.  They exchanged a few passes that clanged loudly, to the great enjoyment of most spectators, who cheered for their respective champions.

Then the sergeant shifted his grip on his monumental sword, and quick as an asp, stepped into one of Volta's unsubtle charges and knocked him with a resounding blow of the pommel right between the eyes.  Volta fell face down and unconscious, although I wasn't sure whether from the blow or from alcohol, since he started snoring loudly.  The Roaring Drachen cheered, the Maris Stellas grumbled and paid up, and I ordered the men to carry Volta home.

As a last exchange of courtesies, Sergeant Wilhelm insisted that the meal was part of the Eisenfürst's hospitality, but I convinced him that in return he should let me pay for the rounds of drinks, as I had promised.  He hesitated for a second then acquiesced, and everyone's honour was satisfied.  I went back inside to pay the innkeeper, trying to evaluate an amount that would strike the midpoint between tight-fistedness and ostentation.  As soon as he realized I used actual currency, rather than the Wischen paper drafts, the innkeeper nearly stumbled over his own feet trying to offer his respects, so I grinned inwardly and figured we would at least be assured to get good service the next time we were here.  I went out and with my men returned to the castle for the night.  Another ghoul-hunting sortie was out of the question for the evening, in view of the various states of intoxication exhibited.
 

The Siegsburg Improvement Project