Kapitel 73: Chapter 73 - The Night Haunters, Part 2
At the corner table was Murdo Mac Laghlan, the King of Thieves, who claimed to be an exiled prince from Shenlong High Council. He wore black clothing along with a large brimmed hat with a feather and had a long mustache; he had muscular arms tattooed in the style of the wood elves. He was surrounded by a group of adoring women, whom he entertained with stories of the beautiful mountains of his homeland. Elysia knew that Murdo's real name was Heinrik Schmidt, and that he had never left Bergheim in his entire life.
Two hook-nosed men, Tarik and Hakim, sat at his permanently reserved table. Gold rings gleamed on their fingers, their earlobes were studded with gold earrings, their black leather waistcoats gleamed in the torchlight, and curved-bladed swords hung from the backs of their chairs. From time to time, strangers entered; sometimes street urchins and sometimes nobles; and they sat with them. Then the haggling would begin, money would change hands, and then, as suddenly and mysteriously as they had come, the visitors would get up and leave. The next day someone was found floating face down in the river. Rumor had it that these two men were the best assassins in Bergland.
Near the roaring fire, at a lonely table, sat Franz Beckenhof, who some said was a necromancer and others said he was a charlatan. No one had ever worked up the courage to sit next to the skull-faced man and ask him, even though there were always free seats at his table. He settled there each night with a leather-bound book before him and drank sparingly of his only glass of wine. Old Heinz never asked him to leave, either, even though he took up space that could have been used by other, more expensive customers. It was Heinz's motto that it was never a good thing to upset a necromancer.
Here and there, as out of place as peacocks in a chicken coop, nobles had come to visit the slums, laughing loudly and awkwardly. It was easy to identify them by their beautiful clothing and their firm, fresh meat; upper class fops, who had come out to see how the poor lived. Your personal guards; usually large, silent, watchful men with well-worn weapons were there to make sure their lords came to no harm during these nocturnal adventures. As Heinz always said, there was no point in going against the nobles, since they could get him shut down in the tavern and locked up in the Black Tower with a whisper directed in the right ear. It was better to fawn over them, care for them, and put up with their offensive ways.
By the fire, near the supposed necromancer, was a decadent poet, Armand le Fevre, son of the famous admiral of the Royal Fleet of the Kingdom of Lothal. He would sit alone and drink absinthe, his eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance, a fine trickle of saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth. Every night, at midnight, he would jump up to announce that the world was coming to an end, and then two cloaked servants would come in and take him to the palanquin outside and carry him to his house, where he composed a of his blasphemous poems. Elysia shuddered, because in that young man there was something that reminded her of Manfred Von Deyl, another sinister writer whom Elysia had known and whom she would have preferred to forget.
In addition to the exotics and libertines, there were the usual rowdy young men of merchants' sons and other Burghers who had come to the most dangerous part of town to prove their manhood to themselves and their friends. They were always the worst troublemakers, spoiled, rich young men who had to prove how tough they were in front of everyone's eyes. They moved in packs and were just as capable of malevolence when drunk as the shortest slasher on the docks. Perhaps they were even worse, because they considered themselves above the law and their victims less than vermin.
From where she stood, Elysia could see a group of young dandies, sated with everything, tugging at the dress of one of the tavern waitresses, who was struggling. She demanded a kiss, and the girl, a pretty girl named Elissa, recently arrived in the city from the country and not at all used to that kind of behavior, she resisted with all her soul. This fight only seemed to encourage the hooligans more, and two of them rose to their feet and began to drag the girl toward the alcoves. One had covered her mouth with a hand to block out her screams, while another brandished a sausage obscenely. Elysia stepped forward to stand between the youths and the alcoves.
"There's no need to do that," she said calmly.
The older boy gave him an indecent smile. Before speaking, she took a big bite of the sausage and swallowed it. Her face was flushed, and sweat glistened on her forehead and cheeks.
"She is a picky wench. Perhaps she likes the taste of an excellent Bergland sausage. Would you also like to try it?
The dandies roared with laughter at the joke. Encouraged, the young man brandished the sausage in the air like a general issuing orders to his troops.
"I don't think so," Elysia said, trying hard not to lose patience. She passionately detested these spoiled young aristocrats.
"This lady thinks she's strong, Dieter, I think she's your type of woman," said the younger of the two, a shaven-headed giant, bigger than Frey. She had the scarred face of a dueling student, someone who waged dueling to gain signs of injury and gain prestige.
Elysia turned her head for help. The other guards were trying to stop a fight between the Glaciers and the halberdiers. She could see Frey's imposing armor above that scum. So she wasn't going to get any help from him either.
She shrugged her shoulders. "It will be better to make the most of this bad situation." she thought. She looked the dueling fan square in the eye.
"Leave the girl alone..." she said with exaggerated softness. Then some demon that jumped from the back of her brain caused her to add. "And I promise not to hurt you."
"Do you promise not to hurt us?" The young man looked a little confused, and Elysia realized that she was trying to figure out if it was possible that the poor scrawny girl was making fun of him. The burgher's friends were beginning to gather around her, eager to start a fight.
"I think we should teach this bitch a lesson, Rupert," Dieter said. "We should show her that she's not as tough as she thinks."
Elissa chose that moment to bite Dieter's hand, who squealed in pain and slapped her almost absently. Elissa fell as if her neck had been broken.
"That bitch took a bite out of me!"
Suddenly, without further ado, Elysia's patience ran out. She had traveled hundreds of miles; she had fought beasts, monsters, and men; she had seen the dead rise from the grave, and she had slain worshipers of evil. She had killed the very chief of Bergheim's secret police for being in cahoots with the ratfolks, and she had no need to put up with the insolence of those spoiled pups, any more than she had to watch impassively as an innocent girl was beaten.
Grabbing Rupert by the lapels, he jerked his head forward and smashed his forehead into his nose. There was a nasty crack, and the burly young man fell back as he covered his face. Next, Elysia grabbed Dieter by the neck and slapped him a couple of times as she ripped his face with her claws, just to make things clear; She then smashed the student's face into the heavy table top. There was another crack, and mugs were knocked over.
The spectators pushed back their chairs to avoid being stained by drink. Elysia kicked Dieter in the legs to knock him off his feet, and after she hit the ground, she kicked him in the head a couple of times. There was nothing pretty or elegant about that, but Elysia was in no mood to put up with these people any longer. Suddenly, they disgusted her deeply, and she was glad to have a chance to vent the anger she felt on her.
As Dieter's friends charged at her, Elysia drew her sword, the razor-sharp blade gleaming in the torchlight. The furious students froze as if they had heard the hissing of a deadly snake.
Suddenly, there was a deathly silence in the room. Elysia rested the blade of the sword on the side of Dieter's head.
"One more step and I'll chop off his head." Elysia's threat was real, each of her words as tangible as the edge of her sword. Killing, for her, had become a natural part of her life.
"He's serious," one of them muttered, and suddenly they didn't look as menacing as before; they had become just a bunch of drunken young idiots, who had found themselves in much more trouble than they bargained for.
Elysia swung her sword so that it cut into the skin of Dieter's ear, which bled, and the young man groaned and writhed under his boot.
Rupert wailed as he held his nose with a meaty hand; from his fingers flowed a red river.
"You broke my nose," he said in a tone of plaintive accusation. He spoke as if he couldn't believe someone was capable of doing something so horribly cruel.
"If you say one more word, I'll break your fingers too," Elysia retorted. She hoped no one would try to find out how she was going to do it, since she wasn't quite sure herself; but she didn't have to worry because they all took it very seriously. "The rest of you, pick up your friends and get the hell out of here before I really lose my temper."
She pushed away from Dieter's recumbent body, though she kept the sword between herself and her louts. They ran to help her injured friends, and hurried to the door. A few did not take their terrified eyes from Elysia as they walked. The cat girl walked over to Elissa and helped her up.
"Are you okay?" she asked her.
"Pretty good, thank you," the girl replied, at the same time that she raised her eyes to Elysia with a grateful expression. Not for the first time, Elysia realized how pretty she was. She smiled at him. Tight black curls framed her round face and her lips pouted. Elysia reached out a hand and slipped one of the jet-black curls behind her ear.
"You'd better go talk to Mr. Heinz and tell him what happened." The girl hurried away.
"That was a good technique. You are learning, Elysia" Frey's voice said from behind her.
Elysia turned and was surprised to find Frey lowering his face towards her with a malevolent smile behind her helm.
"I guess so." she answered herself, though at the time she was feeling a bit shaky. It was time to drink something.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein