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Thelan Capitol
August 31st Midday to Sunset | From his inn to the King's Court | Matthias, his past, Ellinor
"No, no, you reeled it in too fast!"
"Da', come on, I got the fish."
"That's not the point. You got to be patient, pull it in too fast and it'll get loose and you'll have wasted a worm."
"...Alright."
"That's me boy."
Donk-donk-donk
The dream of a life that never was - yet could easily have been - escaped the Hunter of Witches, who rolled over to cover his head with his pillow.
Donk-donk-donk. "You got to be out of the room ten minutes ago."
The man cursed.
"Just a second!" he called out, standing up slowly and listening to the sound of angry muttering punctuating footsteps. What day was it? Feast Day, August 31st, departure soon. Wolf mentally thanked his educator for having taught him the method de loci, the technique helping him quite a lot in this sort of groggy moment as now. He emptied about half of a waterskin on his face before drinking what remained. Wolfgang took a seat on his bed, removing a small mirror from one of his bags. After a few moments of thought he removed the small pellets in his cheeks to change the shape of his face. He also trimmed his beard, before getting to the arduous task of unbraiding his hair. He was going to assume a new identity, and the full degree of it he didn't even know himself.
"Sir Dietrich Lotheringai." he said aloud, thinking back to how he was to be introduced. For this journey his masquerade would be as one of Thelan's more rare Knights, as he kept an eye out for the arcane villainies of the unknown, but also for treacheries that defined Witches - and Alovia as a whole - that might appear from Wolf's supposed comrades. After a moment of thought it was decided Dietrich had a short but not wholly kempt beard, and long hair of a off blond colour. For once, perhaps the first time in decades, Wolfgang would go somewhere looking as himself. Ironic perhaps, given just how few would recognize him as such. Wolf wondered if his brothers would be there. Probably not, last he heard they were far south overseeing construction of roads to facilitate more trade with the Baldori. Truly, a family international. This wasn't entirely a blessing of course, it ended up encouraging his Sister to marry an Alovian, a thought that sickened Wolf to his very core. But this wasn't the time for that, he had to get in character, he had to trick his very own mind into fully engrossing itself in being this Dietrich character.
While going through those mental motions he went on to take inventory of what he had brought along. He raised up the modified Burgonet with Buffet helmet his persona was to wear, turning it this way and that before placing it in its rightful bag along with its accompanying suit of full plate. The large sword he brought along was momentarily unsheathed and oiled before also being put away. Crossbow, shield, sidearm, this, that, and Dietrich's things were packed. There were then his real things, of course. The lighter duelling blade, the hand crossbows, the little blades to hide, and of course all the little tools he might need for the death of his nemeses. Ah, he could already hear the cries of pain as music. Well, it was time to get dressed. He forewent his usual leather variation of nobleman's dress for an actual version of it, masterfully tying his headdress and the rest of his outfit to conceal a few sharp implements. Yes, weapons weren't allowed. But in the presence of those that could sling spells one could never be too careful.
Wolf was about to exit the room, but he paused, realizing he had one more thing to do. He had to actually change his attitude, his mindset, and his thought processes to finally become Dietrich. He had to get a sense of honour, and forget that the best way to kill a shiny bastard was to snap his neck in the night. He had to forget the necks snapped and his incandescent hatreds, he had to forget that very often in life "up yours" was a very valid response to various propositions. Confidently, the man that was now Dietrich looked outside of his window to find his stabled horse. A wonderful beast by the name of Billy, he wasn't typical for a real Knight. The animal wasn't a purebred, nor was he very fast or bearing a glossy coat. Billy was a working man's horse, and that was what Dietrich needed. Billy was massive, the type of horse which made you feel unnerved when you remembered the old wives tales of man eating horses which now seemed to have potential credence. He wouldn't win races, but far more importantly Billy would win marathons. Besides, with a little dye, grooming, and cloth barding with a hidden layer of chainmail he looked very presentable, his height making anyone atop his back appear oh so chivalrous.
Wol–… Dietrich jumped out of the window leaving his pay on the bed to make sure nobody saw him in his transformed appearance. He legged it to the stables, mounted Billy and rode off to an address memorized long ago. It wasn't too far, and as he dismounted upon arrival he wasn't too surprised to see a face waiting for him.
"You're late."
"Matter of fact, I'm not."
"Maybe. Worth a shot with you though. Come on then, I'm baking in the sun. Get your lazy arse over here and push me to the feast. I have a longing for a good champagne, they really know how to pick them there."
Dietrich walked over, and began to push the man along in his wheelchair to the feast. "Mmmm."
"Something on your mind, boy?"
"Yes, actually. The people I'm to go with? It is them that you can really call boy. All of them in their twenties, sometimes thirties if lucky. As it stands, I'm the only true veteran among them. They're all children, Sire. Not one of them truly tasted war, to the last man they're wannabe heroes that think stabbing a few bandits makes them some sort of bad arses. If worst comes to worst… Well, the ones on our side won't remember what Alovians really are, what they stand for. Even a week could be enough for their young minds to develop enough camaraderie with the foe's representatives to not crack their skulls while they sleep.
Matthias, the now extremely aged former mentor of a man named Wolfgang cackled evilly before striking Dietrich in the eye with his cane. "You know you're getting soft yourself. The Alpha I worked with before would have blocked that. The peace years made you exactly like them, don't complain!"
Dietrich chuckled, leaning in after a moment to whisper in Matthias's ear: "The Alpha you knew would keep his calm in a situation his disguise might be compromised. Right now he is a Thelanian Knight performing Noblesse Oblige to an elderly hero of his country, he would not make a scene."
"Perhaps. But certainly he wouldn't have complained. Tell me, do you remember the first person you killed?"
"Yes." Dietrich replied, thinking back to that early morning, the stake, and the girl he burned upon it.
"Good. What about the first person you killed by yourself? Without any help whatsoever, without any prompt, alone." Matthias continued, having been there for the scenario Alpha had just thought of.
Yes; Wolfgang remembered it very, very vividly. It was a cold night, just before winter such that one's breath was visible in the air. He had run away from a patrol of Alovians following a failed attempt at assassinating a Witch, now at the no man's land between the two warring sides. He and Matthias had split up so that if one was caught the other might yet have hope. But young Wolfgang had gotten caught by an Alovian Knight, the man on horseback having jumped off and landed on the boy. They struggled, and eventually parted with both drawing their swords. Wolf was very skilled with his rapier, but though such a weapon was reliant on finesse he had in abundance the fact he was fighting a man twice his age meant he was promptly disarmed.
The Witch Hunter's apprentice looked side to side, and knew the Knight was too close for him to try to run away. Instead he cried and dropped to his knees with either hand on his head protectively while bursts of snot came from his nose. "I'm so sorry sir please I'm not even fifteen oh God mother please help oh God…" he wailed, looking up to the sky. The Knight looked at the boy, and his chivalry overtook him. He couldn't kill a surrendering child, and so he informed Wolfgang he was now a prisoner of war assuming the boy was too frightened to do anything else. The Knight turned, going to his horse for some rope to bind his new prisoner.
Wolfgang wasted no time, retrieving a stiletto sewn into his collar and as quietly as he could rushing over to the Alovian after his feigned surrender. In the very last moment the Knight heard him, and spun with a swing of his sword. But it didn't save him, for Wolfgang was prepared for this. He kept low, stabbing the Knight in the exposed side of his knee, twisting the blade as it entered flesh and forcing it down to the ground with a wet noise. With yet another vile twist he removed it, rising up to tear a gash in the Knight's throat and push him down on the ground with his whole body's force placed into a shoulder strike.
Wolfgang pushed off of the falling man into an upright position, chuckling mockingly. "You're one of the famous Knights? Honour didn't do you much good, I'd say. Really you're not much to speak of if you got down by just a boy!"
The Knight gurgled before clutching his throat and managing some words. "Please… Wife… daughter, son, baby… I want to see them… Love them…." These words certainly gave the young Wolfgang pause, and seeing the pleading look in the man's eyes he almost went to give him first aid. But then he thought back to his own family, to the people he was protecting and to the many families of Thelan, Moore and Baldori that wouldn't see their fathers and sons once more thanks to the hideous efforts of creatures such as this bleeding aggressor. Smiling, Wolf leaned in to the man to speak to him face to face. "They will grow up fatherless, save whatever scum defiles your whore wife while you're off here doing evil." Wolf thrusted his fingers in the man's wound to spread it wider and make sure it was beyond any treatment, before spitting on the fading Knight's face and continuing his escape.
"I said, do you remember your first personal kill?"
"Yes, yes I do." Dietrich replied, snapping out of his stupor.
"All these people you're going with? They had a similar moment. They might not know why they're fighting but they know what they're fighting for. Do your duty, all will turn out for the best. Now stop being pissy, you have to smile to all the Alovians, be the charming Knight your ugly soul stopped you from becoming."
"I hope so." the former pupil said, pushing along a soon snoring Matthias until he reached the Palace. "We're here." he said, helping the old man collapse his wheelchair and get him walking on the cane. They entered the scene, making sure the Witch Hunter was announced as the Knight Dietrich Lotheringai to any who inquired. Dietrich scanned the room, finding allocated seats before sitting down. While Matthias looked here and there to make sure there wasn't anybody to recognize his student from the past, Dietrich gorged himself. With but a swipe a turkey's leg would find itself devoid of any meat, though the bone would appear on Matthias's plate, the old fellow doing his best to accommodate Dietrich by eating voraciously too in hopes of making others believe he committed this minor genocide of turkeys rather than Dietrich. In a flash he downed a glass of wine, but it really wasn't enough. He searched about the area until his eyes settled upon a woman clearly from Moore, overhearing her name as Elly. He sidled over before leaning in with a whisper.
"Pssst, got anything stronger than this grape juice they're serving? Maybe a bit of Mjod?" the 'Knight' said in Moorish, brushing aside a hanging line of his head dress thinking back to distant memories of that sweet but head smashing drink.