Welcome to the Round Table of Bretonnia!

Martrim Fauch jumped in his seat, and turned his attention from the arcane writings, as the door bust open, sending wooden splinters flying across the office.

The young warlock quickly gathered his wits and began to chant an incantation, as a man dressed in black walked into the room.

The sight of the large black great coat, and the characteristic wide hat that the intruder wore, was for Matrim like staring into the eyes of death himself.

He found himself stopping his incantation to issue a prayer to what powers might listen. 

“Wretched filth…” 

That was the last Matrim heard, as the leather gloved fist of the intruder was firmly placed in his face, and the world turned as dark as the gods he worshipped. 

*

“Give me the name!”

Marcus frowned as he watched the heretic strapped up on the rack before him, with Brother Theodor standing at its head, with his hands on the handle of the roller.

“Absolve yourself, by giving up your master.” 

The prisoner remained silent, and Marcus slowly strode over the hay covered stone floor and towered over the secured subject. 

“You are tainted, both in body and mind and I am glad you did not give up quickly. As such taint as yours will take a lot of work to rid. And rest assured that I take pride in doing a thorough job in saving the souls of the wicked.” 

Marcus smiled softly, as he motioned for the young Sigmar cleric under his employ to turn the wheel.

The soft clatter as the chain tightened up, drowned in the wailing screams of Matrim as his body stretched. 

“Now shall we expose your taint for the gods to see?” 

Marcus turned to his tool bench and ran his fingers over the numerous tools he used in his trade. His fingers stopped over his fathers’ old skinning knife and a soft smile played over his lips. As he took up the knife, and started to cut open Matrim’s silk clothing, he thought back on when he had burned his own father at the stake for witchcraft. 

“Give me the name of the source Matrim, or I will have you scream for eternity.” Marcus hissed, as he removed the girdle Matrim wore to conceal his mutation. As the girdle came loose, it revealed a mouth that stretched all over the young magicians abdomen. A bloodthirsty mouth, with razor sharp teeth, that hissed and spurted out obscenities. 

A single glance over towards Theodor, produced yet another scream now from two mouths, as the priest pulled the roller another turn.

Marcus could see how sweat had begun to form on the priest’s forehead as he tended to the roller whilst chanting protective prayers to keep the foul powers at bay. 

There was a knock on the door, and a voice from outside followed.

“Marcus, the Burgomeister needs your council.” 

Marcus ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply, and walked over to open up the door.

As he passed the servant outside, he called over his shoulder. “Fetch Karl and have him continue my work.”

As he began to stride up the stone laid stairs, he could hear the soft clatter of the servant as he ran to fetch the junior Witchhunter. 

                                                                                                                                                                        *          

Night time was quickly approaching, and Marcus was tending to his evening meal in the great hall. The matter of the Burgomeister was as always tedious and time consuming, and Marcus almost longed to be back in the dungeons hunting the truth from the heretic’s lips.

 “What did the fat bastard want this time? See if his cats were the pawns of chaos did he?”

Karl made his way over to the table and, once he had wiped his hands dry with a finely embroidered handkerchief, pulled out a chair to take a seat.

“No this time he wanted me to burn his daughter’s personal teacher for cursing her. According to him, he had used witchcraft to cause her ill.” Marcus said with a soft laugh as he helped himself to some more wine.

“And?” 

“Well as long as she does not give birth to a mutant, I told him a midwife can give better advice then I can about her condition.” 

Karl laughed softly as he filled his plate with the food on the table. “Can’t blame the Burgomeister for lack of vigilance, but he sees chaos behind even corners that does not exist.” 

“If he wasn’t related to the Lector of Nuln, I would have burned him for his folly. But things are as they are.” Marcus said, before he sipped on his wine and arched an eyebrow as he focused on his junior colleague. “Did your labour carry fruit?” 

“I did not get the name no, whom ever is teaching these runaway magicians is still unclear. But I managed to get some information about a prize their master is after.” 

Marcus leaned back in his chair and tilted his head ever so slightly. “The girl?” 

Karl gave a nod as he chewed his food. “Yes, we got her name and a location.” 

Finally some good news, and Marcus gave a predatory smile as he rose from his seat.

“Prepare for departure. Tell Brother Theodor that we will be leaving at dawn.”

*