Leomacht cracked what was left of what might once have been his knuckles and knelt.
The Claws were to be commended on enacting his plan. Whilst it would, in future, need refinement – there had been simply too much left to chance, it was a minor success nevertheless. Melanie von Trier was worthy of particular attention, if he continued in such a fashion he would more than earn a place alongside his fallen comrade Wolfgang Ottsberg, who with his and Sobesh’s intercession would stand alongside him and the rest of the Order as a trusted turb. Likewise Waldo and Valda, twin flames burning brightly he would watch them and their associate Smoke with great interest. Ritter Heinrick had been no disgrace to his blood and the comically named Velocipede Bandit did not remove anything from his prowess as a killer. Whether he could use them again soon would depend, he owed Manfred a favour now and Leomacht did not like to have even a small debt hanging over his head.
With a sigh, Leomacht plunged his hands into the soil of Druitavn. When he removed them, they were slick with dark blood. The Ritter Drachyul licked his hands and went in search of the weakened city spirit. He was becoming theirs now. With the Spiter’s forces stretched now, there would be other weak places that could be reclaimed. They had seen what had happened at Vashen Heit on a much grander scale, but this was a beginning.
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