Franz Lohner’s Chronicle – Shadows on the Soul

An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

Got the keep to myself for a bit – I mean, if you don’t tally the spites into the mix.

Catrinne felt well enough to travel and wanted to head back into Altdorf. The Guild of Fine Artistic Endeavour are a skittish bunch – of course they are, they’re artists – and no amount of letter-writing would convince them that she hadn’t met a sticky end back during her brigand-themed encounter a month back. Seems one or two of the more enterprising souls in the guild have been selling her artwork as a ‘tribute’ and she’s understandably not very happy about it. Oh, that’ll be a fun conversation, mark my words.

Anyway, old Franz here isn’t one to not learn from past mistakes, so I asked the Ubersreik Five to toddle along with Catrinne, just in case history repeats itself. If the Pactsworn fancy making a play for our resident artist, well, they’re going to wish they’d stayed home pulling the wings off flies, or whatever it they do when not out pillaging.

Thing is, when I say I sent the Five along with her, I surely tried to. But old Saltzpyre? Well, he’s still lurking down in that chapel of his, muttering those interminable prayers. I’m not sure he’s said two words to Catrinne – or vice versa – since she left for Altdorf the first time. Not sure what’s going on. Could be she’s finally realised that the heroic fantasy she’s been nurturing about ‘Thumbscrews’ Victor is precisely that. Could be he finally caught a glimpse of that torch she’s been carrying and said something ill-advised. Blowed if I know, and I’m going to stay well out of it, thank you very much.

It’s something I just can’t figure out about Saltzpyre. Half the people who cross his path seem to take him as this tortured, noble soul. Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s an effective fellow and a good one to have at your side in a pinch, but Witch Hunters are many things, and ‘noble’ can’t be counted among them. It’s a mucky business, with as much innocent blood on your hands as wicked – more, probably, because the innocent do have this unhappy habit of thinking truth will out before the pyre catches light. Necessary, certainly, given the times in which we live, but it does require a certain hardness of heart that’d turn a truly noble soul to stone, sharpish.

The rest of the Five might like to pretend Saltzpyre’s an oblivious rube, but I’ve a feeling destiny marked him for a man sitting atop a pile of corpses long before he found the Order of the Silver Hammer. The badge just gives him permission.

Maybe Catrinne finally recognised that. Or maybe I’m wrong, and poor old kind-hearted Franz has started seeing shadows even where there ain’t none to be had. But all the signs point to an approaching time of crisis, and crisis has a way of making folk reveal their true selves, for good or for ill. So long as Saltzpyre’s still fighting on the right side, I don’t see that it matters.

Funny to see that written down, but it’s the truth. Though no one wants to admit it, the ends always justify the means, because in the kind of game we’re playing hereabouts, you only have to lose once for it all to be over.

Or it might just be that I’m as much a sociopath as Saltzpyre.