Why in fuck's sake could things never go easy?

The thought tumbled through Brass' back brain as he pulled his old trusted stiletto-like short sword Shard from the mattress. The terrified wailing from under the bed had ceased and turned into a grunt when he drove the needle-pointed weapon down. He figured he had managed to hit the royal son of a bitch – the only question was if the blow had been a moral one.

He wanted very much to tear the mattress apart and use Cleave, the massive butcher's blade in his right to finish the job, yet the prince's bodyguards were almost upon him. At least none of the two had actually scurried off to call for reinforcements, probably too worried for the fate of the noble bastard they were sworn to protect, though the princes wailing likely had been heard anyway. Then again, the prick did scream like a girl and from what Brass had observed, making defenseless woman scream was a passion of his. Who knows, it might not even have alarmed anyone.

It might... though with his typical luck – all bad – Brass very much doubted it.

Then the first of the two guards, a huge bear-like warrior easily topping seven feet and clad all in plate mail wearing a Schaller helm that only left the lower half of his bearded face free was upon him. With a roar, he swung a massive double-bladed halberd in a wide ark with enough force to separate a horse's head from its neck. Brass jumped back, the heavy axe-blade chopping through one of the thick blackwood bedposts with horrific ease.

His companion, a head smaller but still taller than Brass, glided to the hulking warrior's right with serpentine grace, blocking the way to the broken mirror and the hidden passage beyond. As opposed to his heavily armored companion, he was clad only in leather and cloth in the fashion of a duelist and thin to the point of emaciation. He leered at Brass, showing a mouth devoid of teeth but for two incisors. The resemblance to a snake wearing a man's skin was uncanny. The ugly bastard also looked like he knew how to use the rapier and dagger in his hands.

Brass retreated the only way he could, throwing himself onto and rolling over the bed, the aged piece of furniture groaning in protest – or was it the prince down there who had made the noise. Shit, he could not flee with the prince alive, no matter what. Craven would have his hide and it might ruin their plans, especially now that he had been seen. There were not many men in the Grimhold with his physique and even though he had taken heed to never wear the Skullmask around the camp, others might still put one and one together.

The weapon master launched himself out of the bed, spinning around just in time to see the snake-faced one hurl his slender dagger at him. Brass hissed, "Shit!" bringing up Cleave in a desperate block, using the broad side of the blade as one would a shield, the dagger clattering away.

Snake-Face hissed, pulling a poniard from a sheath at his side. "Fassst, isssn't he, brother?"

"Aye," growled his companion, "fastest fuckin' corpse I ever saw."

The bear-like warrior moved slowly around the bed, halberd held before him, dark eyes glittering like dagger point in the dark through the slits of his Schaller helm. He really looked an awful lot like a smaller, meaner, and hairier version of Mountain. Come to think of it, the toothless bastard reminded him a lot of Draemaugh – the way he moved, the way he stood behind his huge brother, ready to protect and retaliate.

Awesome... thought Brass. Another pair of psycho brothers to make my life miserable.

The bear-like one roared as he swung the halberd in a wide arc that had Brass jump backward, the waved spear tip of the weapon hissing past his face mere inches away. Damn, the reach of that weapon was terrifying. Still, it left his hulking adversary wide open – or would have, if not for the man's brother who darted in behind the blow. Damn, the two even fought like Mountain and Draemaugh! Having seen the barbarian brother's in action and sparred them on occasion, this knowledge probably was the only thing that saved Brass from a hideous death. Quick as a viper, the rapier was hissing forward, the needle-tipped blade going for his throat.

In a defense much more desperate than Brass would have liked, he brought up Cleave, using the butcher blade as a shield once more. The thin rapier-blade did not break as he had hoped though, but screeched over the metal and almost sunk into his shoulder, instead scratching it ever so slightly.

The sudden agony that shot through Brass' arm almost made him drop Cleave.

Poison! The bastard must have applied poison to his rapier!

Brass growled, intent to skewer the cheating bastard on Shard, but then his bearded brother came to the rescue and stabbed for Brass guts with the butt of his halberd. Instead of driving Shard through the grinning snake's guts, he had to use it to turn the halberd aside, twisting the rest of the way, staggered by the brute force behind the blow, using his momentum to bring him away from the bed and deeper into the room.

A sofa and chair combination between him and the two bodyguards, Brass risked a quick glance to the door, half expecting to see another dagger fly towards his throat as he whipped his head back, but none came. Neither did the two formidable warriors follow.

They just grinned at him and understanding dawned. They had efficiently placed themselves between him and the prince as well as the passage, knowing full well that if he took the door, he would find himself in the middle of the part of the Grimhold controlled by Liegeland. Brass was good, he knew, but faced with such an overwhelming force, his chances of survival were about the same as that of a chicken thrown in a cage full of hungry wamsters.

Clever bastards...

Brass muttered a heartfelt, "Shit."

The glib smiles the two warriors gave him told him that he was right – and the sounds of shouting, the faint clattering of armor, and the noise of boots pounding the marble floor told him that help was on the way. Time was against him and they knew it.

"Throw down your weapons, you little piss-ant," the bear of a warrior growled.

"Aye, do ssso now, and you'll ssspare yourssself sssome sssuffering," his brother hissed.

Brass briefly considered following their advice – by hurling Shard and Cleave into their faces, of course. He did not doubt they would dodge it, but it might distract them long enough to head for the secret passage, then a faint moan from under the bed reminded him, that his work was not yet done here. It also gave him an idea and hope, tender as the first spark of a kindling fire, filled his chest.

Brass chuckled, pointing with Shard at the bed. "If there's suffering, I wager it will be for all of us. Did you hear that noise? That's your beloved prince bleeding out. I severed his arm you know, nasty wound, though not necessarily fatal as long as you staunch the flow of blood." Brass laughed again, the sound hollow and hard. "I guess the three of us will share the same fate – I may have mutilated him, but you were the ones trading blows with his would-be assassin instead of binding of the wound. Ironic, isn't it?"

The two warriors shared the briefest of glances.

It would have been a good moment to launch an attack of his own, but Brass let it pass, instead of adding. "I wonder if they throw us into the same cell. Hanging us side by side, torturing us... The three assassins – one by intent, the other two by stupidity."

The snake-faced one cast a glance over his shoulder.

Another good opportunity, Brass let it pass as well.

"Prince Bosssen," snake-face shouted. "My prince are you alive?"

This time, there was only silence.

Brass chuckled. He was pleased how calm and in control he sounded, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to do something. Reinforcements were near, very near...

The bearlike one growled. "Go and look, Martin."

"You realize he jussst wants to break usss up, right? Are you... are you sssure?"

"As sure as I am that the Spider will have our hides if we leave his son die. Now move, I got this."

Brass once again gave a hollow chuckle.

"Shut up, you filth!" the bearded giant growled, making a halfhearted stab for Brass' gut that the weapon master – quite on intent – narrowly avoided by stumbling over a footstool.

This seemed to be the last incentive snake-face needed and the warrior broke from combat, spinning around and hurrying for the bed. He placed poniard and rapier on the bloody sheets, crouching down to look under the bedstead. Brass briefly considered throwing Shard and sinking the weapon between the man's shoulder blades, but the bearded warrior quickly interposed himself between Brass and his brother. The reinforcements sounded damnably close now and Brass expected to see the first one burst into the room at any moment.

On an urge, Brass asked, "What's yer name, large fellow?"

"Shut up you little shit."

"Little? Well if I am little, I am gonna call you Tiny."

A sort of smile crept on the big man's bearded face – and died just as quickly as a scream erupted from behind him. Tiny half turned in surprise, allowing Brass a better view of what was going on. The snake-faced warrior lay on his back, struggling against Prince Nathaniel Bosen – naked and pale and covered in blood – who squirmed on top of him like an overzealous lover. Just as he watched, the Prince managed to sink his teeth into the struggling man's neck, then pulled his back away violently. Snake-face gave vent to a horrific screech as the skin of his neck stretched obscenely, then tore, a geyser of blood spurting more than ten feet over the marble floor, filling the air with a red mist.

The prince had torn the carotid artery – a mortal wound. Death was only a few heartbeats away, yet Liegeland's future ruler did not wait that long, instead, he bent down, biting, ripping, and widening the wound. He also utterly ignored the broad-bladed dagger snake-face had pulled from somewhere and which he was ramming into the prince's side over and over again.

Nathaniel Bosen, however, was beyond such things.

After all, the prince was dead.

Brass allowed himself a grin – save inside the Grimhold it was easy to forget that they were in the middle of an ongoing Rising – then kicked out with his right, sending the footstool he had so conveniently stumbled over at the big one's face. The giant warrior, still shocked by the sudden turn of events, swung back to Brass, bringing up his halberd in a block.

The footstool bounced away, but in his wake came Brass, bringing down Cleave in a heavy chopping blow that split the thick shaft of the pole weapon, leaving the giant momentarily defenseless. Up came Shard, the needle tip of the sword disappearing into the thick beard, through the soft tissue of the lower jaw, up and up, right through the brain and out through the cranium.

The sallet helm flew off and clattered to the ground, the bloody tip of Shard briefly visible like a flagpole on top of a mountain, then Brass pulled the weapon free and the huge warrior toppled backward, collapsing onto the bed – which in turn collapsed with a crash.

Heavy bastard...

Brass glanced over his shoulder, making sure there was nobody yet in sight, then hurried past the feeding undead prince and the snake-faced Martin, taking care not to step into the steadily spreading pool of blood. He was worried for a moment that the bodyguard might inform the reinforcements of what had happened here, but quickly dismissed the thought. Prince Nathaniel Bosen had torn out the man's throat and from the looks of it, the bodyguard was as good as gone anyway.

"Farewell, my prince," Brass uttered, then rushed past them both and into the hidden passage, pulling on the lever that would seal the secret passage.

Without any sound at all, yet with agonizing slowness, a slab of grey stone began sliding into place. Cursing under his breath, Brass waited in the dark, ready to run for his life if the guards arrived in time to see the secret passage close.

He need not have worried. He could hear when the guards stormed inside, heard their shocked gasps and outcries. The prince, his prey good and dead now, jerked around at their arrival then launched himself onto his feet and towards them, moving with that dreadful alacrity of the freshly undead. The last thing Brass saw before the black stone slid into place, was as the left hand of the bodyguard began twitching.

It seemed that the forces of Liegeland would have to deal with the battle of the undead tonight – if they wanted or not. As Brass picked up the lamp he had placed around the far corner, heart still hammering and hands slightly trembling from the adrenaline still rushing through his system, he hoped that the other's luck... wasn't all bad.    

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Hey guys.

Sorry for the recent wonky updates, but life is quite busy right now and on top of all I've come down with the flu... :/

Anyway, I hope you still enjoyed the update.

Also, Cheers and a good noe year! =)

M.