Guul'Zaroth Ch.6 - In The Shadow Of Giants

A wet sucking noise filled Rolf's ears as he pulled his boot free from the sinking mud pit under his feet. "So, princess, if I'm stuck ferrying you around, I'll need some direction. Where are we going?" Rolf spoke to seemingly no one. That was until a reply came from the hefty trunk in his hand.

"I don't know, precisely. I find myself rather out of sorts." Laurelei's muffled voice replied from inside the box. "I would very much like to see a human city. Rudolf, could you take me to one?"

"Rudolf?" Rolf asked, shooting the trunk a curious glance.

"That is your name, is it not?" she replied.

"Do I look like a ruffle-necked Southerner to you? My family hails from the North of Vaterland, my name is Hrodwulf. Hrodwulf Von Ziegel."

"Never discount the inherent appeals of ruffles," said the princess.

"I hate ruffles," Rolf grumbled while trudging through the mud.

"I wouldn't expect a ruffian such as yourself to appreciate elegant finery."

"Ya know, you're awfully mouthy for a brat in a box. What the hell are even doing in there? It's night time."

The forest grew eerily quiet in the brief moments between Rolf's questions and Laurelei's response. "... There is mud out there," she said in a matter of fact tone.

"Really!?" Rolf roared, aggressively shaking Laurelei's carrier around. "You're lucky I don't dump you into the nearest pigpen while you're sleeping!"

"Do not shake me!" Laurelei protested as she kicked the inside of the box. "That is a direct order."

Rolf rolled his eyes and continued to navigate a path through the trees. The surrounding forest was mostly mucky undergrowth and twisted roots. The trees were crooked, with knotted branches that extended from the trunks like cloying hands. "You want to see a human village? Fine. Ettinvale isn't far from here. I'll take you there."

"Ettinvale?" Laurelei repeated. She'd had an idea of where she was, but hearing it out loud made her realize exactly how far from home she'd come.

"Yeah, it's a little town on the other side of the Wolfwood. Nothing special, just your average Dravich village. The old Ettinkeep nearby used to be the capital before it fell and the vampires established Castle Golodomor. These days the only thing special about it is the rumour that Slayer Graveth was born there a long time ago."

"Hardly an accolade worth boasting over," Laurelei muttered.

Rolf raised a brow quizzically. "Graveth is one of the greatest warriors in human history. He'd attack vampire strongholds head-on, in the dead of night. Legend is that he could raze three towers in one evening and was undefeated in single combat."

"I am fully aware of our kingdom's greatest serial killer's combat prowess, thank you very much," the vampire retorted in a haughty voice. "Graveth was a butcher who slaughtered vampires indiscriminately."

While Laurelei argued back at Rolf, he continued to forge his way through the mass of roots and low hanging branches that intruded on his path. "Maybe we could finish this conversation with you outside of the box? If anyone spots me, I'll look like a lunatic talking to his luggage."

"That depends, is there still mud outside?"

"Welcome to the world beyond the palace. There's mud everywhere. Still feeling adventurous?"

The two continued to bicker as Rolf traversed the forest, Laurelei in tow. The trees grew progressively more sparse, eventually giving way to open fields dotted with grey stone formations.

Ahead was the edges of Ettinvale, signified by a small outpost. Behind it sat a long, thin village, built along the edges of the dual rivers that cut across the plains. They started as one river and split into two at the city's edge, joining together once more at the other side.

Most of the houses were built of cobbled masonry with wooden supports. The moon hung in the sky and the sun was threatening to rise soon, yet the village was tireless. Men fished from the riverbank, guards stood on duty and the local tavern had its doors open and ready for business.

The outpost was manned by a middle aged guard with a thick physique. He sat at a small desk inside a little pavilion, his work space littered with scraps of parchment and empty ink bottles. He studied Rolf's face and held out his lantern to examine him in the light. "A necronom?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "You have any business in the city?"

Rolf shook his head. "Just passing through."

"Not often you see a necronom traveling alone. Where's your master?" the guard asked, fingers drumming on the edge of his desk.

"Alright Rolf, no need to draw attention to yourself by admitting that you've got the vampire princess in your luggage. Just say anything but, inside this box," he thought to himself. "At Castle Golodomor, this is a delivery for her," he replied. His response came almost a moment too late to sound entirely natural and he stuttered through the sentence a little more than he'd have liked.

"Alright, go on through," said the guard. "Oh, and if you're heading toward Golodomor, try to go around the ruins of the old Ettinkeep. Rumour is there's some wolves holed up in there."

Rolf stopped in his path and tilted his head toward the guard, his blank white eyes curious. "Wolves?"

The guard nodded, absentmindedly scratching his beard. "We don't see them this side of the wolf-wood all too often, but people are talking. They say a couple of the beasts got separated from their pack and found their way up here. Just keep an eye out, those things are dangerous. Even for a necronom like you."

Talk of werewolves drew Rolf's hand toward the hilt of his blade and his fingers unconsciously wrapped themselves around the grip. "... Thanks for the warning," he said after a long pause.

His back turned to the guard post, Rolf began a trek up the road. The dirt path was gradually replaced by cobblestone streets as Ettinvale grew closer. The inky black sky and roiling clouds above stood stark against the white moonlight.

A low wind swept across the plains, brushing past Rolf's cheek, it's high whistle cutting through the sounds of the gently coursing water of the river.

"Fine work Rolf. Your intellectual capacity has far surpassed what I believed you capable of," said Laurelei.

"Are you always such a brat?" Rolf replied with a growl.

"That was a compliment. Did you not understand me? Deepest apologies. I shall make every effort to accommodate your lack of proper education."

Rolf's fist trembled in anger and he ground his teeth together. "I swear, I am so very close to dumping you in the river and relishing the brief moments of silence until you drown and we both die."

"For all your barking you only appear less confident to others," said Laurelei in a chastising voice. "You ought to be less aggressive if you hope to intimidate me."

"I am not about to start taking advice on intimidation from a little girl dressed in frills and lace."

Growing closer to she city, Ettinvale's namesake came into view. Most of the city's larger and older structures were decorated with gargantuan bones. Great humanoid remains, cracked and covered in creeping moss. Ribs formed the frames of bridges, huge fingers stood as a skeletal archway and a colossal skull sat atop the city hall.

"Here we are," said Rolf.

"Let me out," Laurelei chirped excitedly. "I want to see it."

Rolf lowered Laurelei's trunk to the ground and lifted the latches. The girl rose from her hand-held carriage, lifting her skirts and stepping onto the stone streets. She peered about the city curiously, a faint smile forming on the princess's face. "Oh, how delightfully humble," she said in a soft, bemused voice. Her face lit up while she surveyed the world around her. "Rolf, are all human cities like this one?"

He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and gazed up at the twinkling stars overhead. "Well, they're not all built out of giant’s bones, if that's what you're asking."

Laurelei shook her head and laced her fingers together. "No, I mean the noise. There isn't any. It's well into the night and yet it's so very quiet."

"Humans sleep at night," Rolf said with a shrug.

"I know, of course I know that. It's just, I never imagined the night could be so peaceful." Laurelei took a deep breath into her petite form and exhaled. Hurriedly she reached into her trunk and retrieved an elegant black cloak, embroidered with silver patterns. Garment donned, and hood pulled up over her head, Laurelei walked deeper into the city. "Rolf, could you gather my things?"

He grumbled at being treated like a servant, but did as he was told regardless.

Laurelei looked upon her surroundings with curiosity. She traveled up and down the streets of Ettinvale, trailing her fingertips along the masonry and relishing the breeze on her face.

"I wasn't permitted to leave the castle very often," she mused. "Small walks around the courtyard, occasional political trips," the little vampire lowered her gaze and smiled to herself. "Now I can go wherever I like."

Her stroll took her to the edge of the river. She watched the fish darting around just below the surface of the water. Reaching up, Laurelei slid a white glove off of her hand. Slowly she kneeled down and placed the tips of her fingers against the flow of the river.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself," said Rolf, tapping his foot against the ground.

"Hm? Oh don't be ridiculous." Laurelei rose to her feet, pulled her glove back on and shot Rolf a haughty glare, her nose turned up at him. "I am no foolish simpleton. I have no patience for such frivolities. Don't let it slip your attention that this journey is for the purposes of study. Nothing else."

"Yeah, I'll bet," he muttered, slouching and returning Laurelei's glare in equal measure. "So what's the plan, princess?"

Her attention turned to the sky, Laurelei appraised it's hue, the darkness fading faster and faster. "I suppose that with night waning as it is, we should retire for the evening. Come along Rolf, we're on our way to the nearest inn."

Rolf turned his attention across the short, arched wooden bridge and toward a wide stone building. A sign was posted outside, it read 'Titan's Rest'.

"Let's go then," he said as he took his first step onto the bridge.

"Wait, where are you going?" she asked, anxiousness creeping into her voice.

"To-the-inn?"

"Across the deathtrap!?"

"You mean the bridge?" Rolf then gave it a hard kick and proceeded to stomp his foot good and hard on one of its sturdy planks. "It's fine."

"What if it's not? If the bridge gives way beneath me, do you know what could happen?"

Rolf scoffed. "You really think you scrawny ass is gonna go through through this thing?"

Her eyes narrowed to a glare and she clenched her fangs together. "Do not talk about my backside, you crass, foul-mouthed, loutish, barbarian!"

"Alright, settle down! This is a running water thing, isn't it?"

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes but said nothing.

"Look, it's a sturdy bridge. It's fine, just cross. The sun is coming up, so you don't have all day."

"I will. Do not, rush me."

"You die, I die, so I will drag you across if I have to."

"You will not put your hands me, fiend!"

"This is intolerable! Just go across damnit!"

Nodding, Laurelei took a step closer, tapping her foot against the first plank and recoiling. "I could cross if I wanted to... I just do not want to."

"It was only a couple hours ago that you killed me and resurrected my corpse. You're not a helpless little kid, you'll be just fine."

Lowering her brow, Laurelei and dismissed him with a small wave. "Are you still prattling on about that most unfortunate business? The more you linger on it, the worse you'll feel."

"Last chance, princess. Cross. Now."

The grim look on Rolf's face said he was serious and the creeping sunlight became ever more prevalent.

She took a deep breath and single stride forward. The moment she stepped onto the bridge, she began to stumble left and right, her balance eluding her as if she were a drunkard of sorts. "Ohhh no," she mumbled as her arms flailed for balance. Then, she bolted, dashing ahead as fast as her tiny legs and ruffled skirts would allow, suppressing the urge to scream the whole way across. Within moments, she cleared the bridge and stood on solid ground once more, clutching at her heart and heaving in sharp, panicked breaths.

"How do you feel?" Rolf asked as he stepped up behind her.

"Dreaful! I could have perished, I hope you know!"

"I'm sure," Rolf grumbled. "Come on, let's get inside."

Rolf lead the way, with Laurelei slipping in after him. They found themselves in a small lobby and tavern, lit by a scarce smattering of candles.

A dreary looking man sat behind the front counter, looking on with vague interest as Rolf stepped into the building. Interest turned to shock when he spied the child standing behind the necronom. The man straightened up as if he'd just received an electric jolt. He lowered his head in a bow when Laurelei approached. "My lady," he murmured under his breath. "I apologize for my ignorance miss, but who do I have the honour of serving this evening."

She stood with practised poise, hands pulling her hood back as she spoke. "Lady Charlotte Vanalay, daughter of Lord Silas Vanalay, minister on the council of Traska." Out of her cloak, Laurelei withdrew a pair of silver coins and offered them up to the man behind the desk.

His face was wrought with shock and beads of sweat formed on his brow, "Oh, no my lady. I couldn't possibly accept payment for the privilege of having one of your status stay in my establishment."

A bright smile spread across Laurelei’s face, rather shortly accompanied by a very prominent pink blush on her stark white features.

Rolf however shook his head, but remained reticent.

"Our finest room," said the innkeeper, holding out a key, "No charge."

"How pleasant it is to find one so respectful of their superiors. You are an exceptionally well behaved human. Come along Rolf..To my quarters."

The innkeeper exhaled a great sigh of relief the moment she was alone.

Key in the door, Rolf and Laurelei came to stand inside a rustic little room with finely crafted furnishings and while comfortable, it lacked the extravagance Laurelei was accustomed to.
"Rolf, my coffin."

Uncaringly, the necronom dropped the trunk with a thud. Laurelei pushed it open and climbed inside. "Now, put me under the bed," she directed in a muffled voice.

"Why?"

"What a ridiculous questions. A vampire cannot possibly sleep in comfort without as many layers between herself and the sunlight as possible. I don't cherish the idea of being incinerated in my sleep and I'm positive that you would be rather displeased with the result as well. Now, if I've adequately explained this most basic principle to you, put me under the bed."

"Alright, alright. Maybe if you're asleep you'll finally stop talking," Rolf said as he shuffled Laurelei beneath the bed.

After removing his gear and coat, Rolf dropped back first onto the mattress. It was large, with soft sheets and comfortable pillows. He stretched out his arms, trying to work out muscle strain and fatigue after the long journey. However, he came to find that there was none. He'd literally walked off death itself and spent the whole night trudging through the forest with a heavy trunk in his hand. His undead body was tireless, Laurelei's magic powering him like a machine of flesh and bone.

He let his his hand fall to the mattress and stared at the ceiling, unblinking. After a long moment, he muttered a question. "Hey, Laurelei. You said this body doesn't need sleep, right?"

The question hung in the air unanswered for a time. "No, I am afraid not," she replied.

Rolf's empty eyes narrowed and he knit his brows together. "Well, I guess there is an upside to this," he said as he got to his feet. His sword lay against the wall and with a hand wrapped around its hilt, he pulled it from its sheath. "Sleep always felt like a wasted time to me."

In a small field outside the inn, Rolf stood alone against the gradually rising sun. Sword in hand, he began to sweep the blade from left to right. His body swayed with the weapon and his strokes grew progressively more complex. He hefted the heavy cleaver around with more ease than ever before. "If I don't get tired," he thought to himself while his sword whirled about in a quickening flurry. "I don't ever need to hold back."

His footwork picked up as he was no longer exhausted after a short sortie. "Hm, a sparring partner would help," he said to himself after several minutes of practice swings.

A cool breeze brushed across the back of his neck and he turned to face it. "Good to see you, dad," he said to thin air. "Looking to oblige me? Too bad you don't have a body anymore." Rolf turned his gaze up to the sky, vibrant sunrise chasing away the deep purple hue of the night.

"Yeah, I guess I've got some explaining to do huh? Not like you're one to talk, you were killed by a wolf too!" he growled while running a hand through his hair. "You, mom and now me. Must run in the family. The Ziegel clan aren't exactly the great wolf hunters they say we are. First damn beast I ever fight brings me down. You must be embarrassed." Rolf took a deep breath and glared at the ground, a sombre expression taking over his face. "I know I am." Rolf spoke to the empty space around him, kicking stray stones around and furrowing his brow.

"Now I'm a slave to that little princess in there." There was a long span of silence while Rolf stared at his boots before casting a glare at nothing and jamming his sword point first into the earth. "It wasn't my fault!" he barked. "If Edwin had just given me Wulfsever, I'd have killed that thing and been done with it!"

No sooner did he finish his sentence than a pained expression appeared on his face. "I-... I'll make this better. I'm going to become human again, alright dad? Don't worry about me, I'll figure something out."

His back turned, Rolf pulled his sword from the ground and rested it against his shoulder. "Well, if I'm gonna be dead I may as well make the most of it. I got into this situation because I wasn't good enough. It's safe to say that if I'm going to get out of it, I'll need to get better. The upside is, I've got eight more hours a day to become the greatest swordsman in the world."