The sun was setting in the distance, flooding the sky with different hues of red and orange, only interrupted by some dark clouds, a flock of black birds and the smoke rising from the burning castle. The ground was dipped in red as well, as I strode over scorched earth, trying to avoid all the arrows, swords and torn limbs lying around. There was no point in trying to avoid the blood. Might as well try to avoid the piss when swimming in a children's pool. My boots and half my pants were already suited to camouflage me on this post-battlefield when I finally found its owner. He didn't have any fans and followers around this time. Just a gruntled old man, who somehow managed to menacingly clean up this acre of mess.
"Lord Crage," I called out, waving my hands. Startled, he jerked his head around, with a wild and hunted look to his face. One of his eyes still had the embers of dark powers glowing behind its Iris, the other just stared at me, ashen and grey. It took him a second to recognize me and another to find his composure, but he subtly shifted his pose, rammed the ornate shovel into the ground with his remaining arm and waved back to me, some of his old arrogance returning to face and posture.
"I've been expecting you. Heard you coming a mile away and smelled your perfumes even before that," he said after just having shaken off the shock from being surprised by me.
"Not smelling of death, smoke and defeat kind of sets me apart from the place. Small wonder I'm sticking out." I chose to go along with his facade. Might get me some better answers from him. As I said that, a root came out of the ground and slithered up his leg like a snake. He eyed it for a second, as if weighing up different ways to violently get rid of it. In the end, he just sighed and shook his leg loose.
"So what was that thing you said about gardeners and warriors when I interviewed you?"
"I said that I wasn't preparing for fights against gardeners."
"You sure proved that point. That looked as unprepared as it gets."
The root came back, tugging at his foot. This time, he scorched it with flames from his hand. As he tried to beat out his burning robe, I looked at the remaints of battle around us.
"Is that Sardonyx over there?"
"No, that's the other gigantic bone dragon that got sacrificed against me." Sarcasm was dripping from his voice. He was obviously past the point of smalltalk.
"What did you think about his master, your first opponent?"
"He was good. Takes a lot of balls to summon the damn beast and even better judgement to get him out and actually have him be useful. Almost beat me, too."
"What about the other opponent you defeated? That ended on a knife's edge as well."
"Wizards are a tough bunch. He was pretty close to winning, but his concentration slipped near the end. I got to say I enjoyed crushing and suffocating him almost as much as I love to curse someone to a slow death."
"The other wizard was even tougher. Do you think you'd have won if..."
"If I didn't fuck myself square in the face by walking into his purge? I don't think we'll ever find out. It would have been less onesided and I'd sure make him suffer. Can't say if I'd win it though."
He looked to the horizon, towards the direction where the other battles would start soon. His ashen eye flared up, glowing red for a heartbeat and a look of regret and longing stole itself onto his face. I wanted to ask a question, but he answered it without me asking.
"I honestly don't think I could have survived being the thing that blocks Enti from entering the finals, much less blocking Juli from reaching Enti. Those two are going to crush all opposition. Juli's out for blood after having to stand on the sidelines at the end of the Sprudelhof battles. I pity his opponents. Most of the people who advanced so far don't have enough good books for their fights any more. Juli doesn't have enough fights left for his good books."
He grabbed the shovel and went back to his work. A small imp landed next to us, also carrying a shovel. As I looked across the battlefield, I noticed the carrion birds almost systematically working as if they were helping remove the corpses. A zombified Direwolf was literally digging its own grave and I could have sworn the scarred stump that reached out from Crage's shoulder had been shorter a few minutes ago. As he turned away to silently dismissed me, I asked a final question that had been nagging me.
"What burned your castle? None of your losses involved fire."
"That? Me. Place was overrun with lashers and Gremlins. I burned it all. I'll rebuild it even better and you bet I'll be there for the next battle. Write that into your damn report. Doesn't matter where they are, who they are or how strong they are. There's good days, there's bad days. Night follows day, lights fade to dark. And in that darkness, I'll wait. When my time comes, theirs is up."
