He was not looking to end the many dozens of men and women gathered around him.
He had still need of them as his nemesis was rapidly approaching their city, looking to purge all within its walls from Rein history.
All he had needed to do was show them.
Show them the dark dream that his childhood self fell victim to, trapped under the thick, ungiving ice.
The forbidden face of God, the horrific visage of despair which would bring forth the inevitable end of all things, as per its original, horrible design.
The shared nightmare had served his purpose well.
He stood in the center of a great, decorated hall, leading to the perished Thane’s throne.
All the influentials around them stood idle as their white eyes blindly gazed upwards, their faces revealing their dread, their horrific wonder, their shock, the very emotions that made moot their futile attempts at escaping the dreamscape prison enveloped around their trapped minds.
Their quiet, muttered voices filled the hall as they questioned, begged, talked, thought to themselves, and to God.
Dieter walked towards the throne, gently shoving aside the occupied, blinded steward warming its former master’s seat.
There were kings nor emperors in most city-states, least of all the Niedling, so the thrones found here were not meant to impress, nor to intimidate.
They were those of servants.
Still, the stone-carved, gold-laced throne would make do.
Dieter crossed one leg over the other as he casually slouched down on the cold stone, stretching his arms backwards in relaxation.
Below the throne’s stairs stood Richter, still bloodied from their fight at the entrance of the city hall.
A minor injury, nothing Fernand could not heal in time.
He was quietly muttering to himself as he used one of his socks to cover the still bleeding cut in his arm.
But something was off about him.
Sure, he was reasonably scared, but it was as if he bore different levels of fear all at once.
Dieter could not quite place it.
Regardless, he had done very well in their ascent to the upper city, and bravely stood his ground when enemy soldiers had rushed at him, spears and shields in hand and murder in their eyes.
It had impressed him.
‘You lacked the usual terror that other crow-keepers carry with them when challenged by hostile blades,’ Dieter remarked.
‘Especially when the arms that hold them are much bigger, stronger and better trained than yours.
Where did you find your courage?’ The keeper paused the work on his arm, and thoughtfully looked upwards at him, proudly, almost zealously, until there were only traces of any fear left in the small, malformed man.
‘In our cause, Lord.
I am painfully aware of my shorter stature and my ill-fit body, and know that the glories found in combat have never been meant for me, nor do I presume to feel at home on the battlefield.
But I would be proud to die in the service of our great dream.
Even if it was a minor thing, even if my death would merely hinder a single enemy soldier for the briefest of moments while he hacks and stabs away at my inept body, I would die satisfied knowing that my sacrifice will contribute to the eventual end of New Beginnings.
I, along with all of our fallen comrades before me, would die a martyr.
I could meet with them shoulder to shoulder in God’s Heaven, unashamed.
I could meet with them as an equal.
Forgive me, but where does the terror lie in having the privilege to experience such an end?’
The response amused Dieter, who recognized the partial boast for what it was.
Still, looking at the prideful man before him, there rang a certain truth to his words.
In another lifetime, with another body, he too could have been a warrior.
‘Good answer.
I respect it,’ Dieter spoke.
‘You are of value.’
Undoubtedly well aware of how rare his compliments were, Richter turned slightly awkward, but also visibly happy.
‘Thank you, Lord.
I will endeavour to make it true as such.
On my heart and soul I swear, my final contribution will be of worth.’
Dieter smiled contently.
As he scrutinized the contents and the people of the great hall, a vile urge slowly corrupted his smile into something more disturbing.
‘You spoke of the terror that exists in one’s end, did you not?
Now, I will have you observe exactly where it lies.’ And with those words, Dieter waved his arms as the many men and women gathered before him fell to the ground, alive but disturbed, screaming in horror and despair, flailing and wetting themselves as some threw up on the ground while others cried their eyes out, begging for clarity or their own end.
Dieter snapped his fingers, but the crowd before him spared him no attention.
He sighed, irritated.
He hated having to raise his voice.
‘Silence!
Those that spoil our quietude I will grant another audience with God Almighty,’ he roared.
He did not have the proper vocals for loudness like Lukk did, but it worked regardless.
The city hall rapidly grew quiet, as the only sounds remaining were of silent sobs and whispered prayers.
‘The situation is simple,’ Dieter commandingly spoke.
‘As I’m sure all of you have loved ones in the city, I will tell you this once, and only once.
Any disobedience, from anyone, and I will have them see what you have seen.
Now, you will instruct the city guard to close the exterior gates immediately, no one is to enter or leave the city.
Not one soul.’
They bore frightened faces, unsure what to do, and when to start.
They needed more guidance.
He spoke again.
‘As for the raveniers, I will have you come forward.
I am already well aware of your presence, as you have been of mine.’
A lie, but they would not be in the right mind to see through it, Dieter considered.
And surely, a handful of men stepped forward until they were separated from the group.
Still smiling, Dieter nodded at Richter to look at his city-state counterparts.
With another gesture, they too were slaughtered by their own shades, breaking the silence with their screams of terror and pain.
He could feel the dread oozing from his servant, and it delighted him to no end.
‘Excellent,’ Dieter mocked in the midst of all the panicked screams.
‘Let the great work begin.’