"Before I unburden my soul, pray tell me why you revealed your identity to master Stefan in the first place?"

Echser glared at his interrogator, who sat in what could only have been the chair of the old inquisitor. How fitting. This was the first time Craven had invited him to his partition of their shared travel wagon. From the looks of it, the former owner obviously had liked his creature comforts. Compact and comfortable were the words: there was a bed accessible over a short ladder with a working desk built into the front, shelves for books, weapons, storage units... There was even a small bar filled with all sorts of bulbous crystal bottles. Very nice indeed – and utterly wasted on a man who could no longer enjoy such things.

Echser leaned back in his own indecently comfortable armchair, frowning for all he was worth, ignoring the drink Craven had placed on the low table between them. "I have nothing to say to you, lich hunter."

Craven smiled and took a sip from his own heavy crystal glass, closing his eyes and holding the amber liquid in his mouth as if enjoying the taste. It was a farce, a charade to put people at ease.

Like a spider mimicking a human...

When Craven opened his eyes – if you could call those two soulless pits eyes – an equally fake smile appeared on his features. "By all means, let us make a game of it then." He swirled the liquor in its glass. "I shall disclose my theories and try to deduce from your body language if I am correct. After all, what people do is always more reliable than what they say."

Echser retorted with the frostiest of glares.

"Ah, I see you are positively smitten by my proposal. Very well, let us begin... So tell me, might that casual revelation of your dark past be a product of guilt? Born from the suffering you have inflicted on the citizen of this fair city that dreadful winter two years past. Could it be that you are still seeking for atonement – or if that fails punishment?"

Echser remained calm, even though deep inside, he was feeling anything but. Mind games – that's all they were. He wouldn't give the bounty killer anything to play with.

"Yes, I think you hoped for redemption. Clemency for the calamity your actions have caused – and who better to exonerate you of your sins than young Stefan, a poor soul who has lost so much and in such wicket a way?"

Echser said nothing, but his heart was hammering in his chest, sweat popping on his brow, even though he was soaked to the bone.

Craven smiled. "Yes, I can see that I am right."

Bastard...

"Be that as it may, old friend, as I have pointed out, there will be no restitution for your deeds, at least not tonight."

Echser ground his teeth, forced to talk at last. "The boy, what did you do to him?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, damn it! Why else would I be sitting here and endure your insufferable presence."

All pretense of emotion fell from Craven's face. "As you wish... I have put your secret and Stefan to rest in the dark below the cemetery and chopped him up as bait for the ghoul traps." He idly swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "They usually prefer their meat spoiled, but he will do the trick just as well and as an added boon, it shall prevent him from returning as one of the undead. A shame, truly, for I had a fondness for the boy..." He let out a sigh. "Alas, I had to protect my interests – I had to protect you. Think of that whenever you feel the need to unburden your soul in the future."

It shouldn't have come as a shock, not after seeing firsthand what the bounty killer was capable of, but it did. Echser just stared at Craven, feeling as if a great abyss had opened up below his feet and he was falling, falling, falling. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, guilt and shame crushing him, threatening to—

Craven cracked a smile. "By the gods, you are such an easy mark! Relax, old friend, Stefan is... well, he is not fine considering what he went through, but he is certainly not dead either. I saw him storming away after your little exchange, and I reckoned you had done something, well, shall we call it ill-advised? I caught up with him before he could do something equally unwise."

"What..." croaked Echser, "what did you say to him?"

Craven waved his hand. "Oh, nothing too dramatic, I assure you. First and foremost, the truth, which I am fond of above all else, whatever you might think – after all, nothing can hurt you more."

"What did you say to him?"

"I told him that old sins are best left buried, for when you start digging them up, one never knows what one might unearth."

Echser blinked. "That's... that's all?"

"Well, it was the start of our conversation. Sadly, our headstrong friend did not seem inclined to see the wisdom of my words, so I also told him that I would kill him, then wait until he came back as a ghoul, take his head, and collect the bounty on it. After all, the sins of his past have stained his soul just as black as your deeds have yours."

"What?!"

"Funny, that is precisely what he said." Craven leaned forward, a sick smile on his face. "Do you know how ghouls are created? There are the Risings, of course, and as we so recently learned, a matriarch's black milk may also turn a living soul to the darkness, but apart from that, well..."

"You can't mean..."

"Yes... Cannibalism."

The word hung in the air like the stench of burned flesh.

Echser shook his head. "But ... but these are just... legends, merely tales to scare the uneducated."

Craven's smile grew a tooth wider. "Perhaps. What I do know is that food was scarce during that dreadful winter two years ago when your little pests ran amuck. Desperate times breed desperate people and considering the number of amputees that wander these streets... Well, I would wager things have been particularly hopeless in the Dawnward district. Yet still, young Stefan managed to provide for his family and save them from starvation. You met that old rascal Hornbach... Did he look like a man so lavish with his coin that Stefan could have afforded the food his mother talked about? Or was it more likely he got paid in pounds of mystery meat, likely taken from those poor souls they were sworn to put to rest in this graveyard?"

"No." Echser swallowed hard. "No, I can't believe it. I won't."

Craven took a sip from his glass, still smiling. "Stefan did. Our oh-so-moral comrade actually paled when I put these questions to him. He even went a bit green in the face when I asked him if the meat had tasted like pork and yet was still different somehow."

"By Science..."

Craven leaned forward, his eyes like freshly dug graves. "You see, that is the thing with guilt: it is such a destructive emotion. Stefan was all fury and retribution when you confessed your sins, but once I forced him to face his own, things changed. It put things into perspective. Actions have consequences but often no one can foresee their good or ill. Such is life." Craven took another sip from his glass and then, almost like an afterthought, added, "Oh, and to sweeten the pot, I also gave him my honest word I would not mention the riches down there in the ghoul warren to anybody. Nor would I collapse the tunnel – which means a way to a better life lies waiting there in the dark if he plays his cards right."

Echser shook his head. "He wouldn't do this. The lad is honorable. He'll do the right thing."

There it was again, that villain's smile. "We will see about that..."

"Even if you're right," Echser hissed, suddenly angry. "You destroyed the boy's life! Guilt will haunt him for the rest of his days!"

Craven shook his head. "Wrong again. There is always a chance for redemption. Stefan might turn his life to greatness in order to appease his daemons. He could become a force for good; make this world a better place."

A wave of insane hatred almost choked Echser. He had to squeeze the words out. "Like I intended to before your actions led to the destruction of my Magnus Opus! Perhaps I could have saved an entire race from distinction if you had not thrown my book into that grave, an entire race, damn it!"

"I did no such thing."

It was too much.

"How dare you!" Echser jumped out of his seat and would have toppled the small table had it not been fastened to the floor. "How dare you, you—"

Craven raised a hand. "I took one of your notebooks – an empty one. I never claimed it was that most precious of your treasures." There was that villain's smile again. "You just filled in the blanks."

Echser stared at him. Speechless.

"If you do not believe me, my friend, go on and see for yourself. Your volume should be exactly where you have left it." Craven winked. "Well, maybe not exactly, but in close proximity no less. Go on. Have a look."

Echser stared at him, then whirled around, half running into the wall as he cast the door between their compartments open, storming into his laboratory. A lie. It has to be a lie, has to be – but what if it was not? He rummaged through the shelf, groping behind the board crafted at its bottom to prevent any books from spilling out while traveling.

Nothing...

"You damn mons—"

His fingers brushed against a toppled book, hidden by the board. Hand trembling, body shaking, and hope choking him, he retrieved it. He couldn't see. To dark. Too damn dark. He almost tripped as he rushed to a dimmed Everglow, brought the book up, opening it, staring, staring... Eyes wide, heart aching, he sank to his knees, sobbing as tears gushed forth.

It really was his beloved book.

It was all there: his notes on the various experiments, the parameters he used, the documented genetic changes on his wamsters, the concoctions he fed his creatures, the calculated exposure to radiation emitted by the machina artifact. He could hardly breathe, pressed the volume against his chest as if his life depended on it, shaking like an aspen in a hurricane, sobbing with a mix of delight and guilt.

After a while, Craven came into the laboratory, holding Echser's glass in his hand. He wordlessly handed it to the alchemist, then left without a word. Echser gulped its content down – sweet honey liquor – then pressed the book once again against his chest. He didn't know how long he sat there, the wild thump-thump-thump of his heart only gradually calming. Eventually, he managed to get back onto his feet, the book still tight against his chest. He stumbled towards Craven's quarters, looking at him through the open door. The bounty killer once again sat in his chair, a large leather-bound volume on his lap, reading and occasionally sipping from his glass.

"Why?" Echser asked eventually. "Why did you put me through all this?"

Craven looked up, tilting his head. "Have you not deduced this for yourself?"

Echser shook his head.

Craven smiled, not quite as villainous or as fake as usual. He looked almost... friendly. "You are a scientist, my friend; you will figure it out eventually." He gently closed his book, and then rose. "It is late, and we have to leave early in the morrow. Best rest while you can."

"W... Where will we go?"

"South... far, far to the south. Sleep well, my friend." Craven gently closed the door.

Echser stared at the dark wood for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, he nodded and stumbled to the bed, somehow managing to strip off his damp garments before he crawled under the blankets. He still held the book pressed against his chest, close to his heart, too numb even to get up and take a gulp from his Redflower sleeping potion. Instead, he just closed his eyes, wondering what Craven meant by his cryptic words. Eventually, he drifted into sleep. A deep, dreamless sleep...

And for the first time in two years, it was devoid of any nightmares.

**************************************************

The End?

Yes - but only for this story. It took quite some keyboard kung-fu in order to meet the deadline for the ONC, mostly because the story just wanted to be 32,000 words long.

But, well, we made it, yeah!

I hope you enjoyed this latest and chronologically first tale of Craven and Echser. The beginning of a truly d̶i̶s̶f̶u̶n̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶a̶l̶ epic bromance. I think it came together quite nicely and gave me a good chance to shed some light on the beginnings of the Skulltakers in general and on Echser's history in particular. 

As usual, I welcome any and all feedback.

Your eldritch entertainer,

M.