Vladimir Vulpesson crumpled the parchment into a tight ball of yellowish paper, his hands shaking with fury. That bastard. That rat bastard. Once again, James Holter threatened him. And this time, he held the entire North hostage to his thirst for war!

"Bastard!" Vlad shouted as he threw the chair he had been sitting on, the wooden thing clattering against the floor of his study. He cursed everything. Every god, every deity, every fucking man and woman who had failed in killing the bastard that was the Outlander.

Ivan was dead. Eilif had failed. And now the South belonged to the Raven and his allies.

"It would seem you're upset," a cold voice sounded out nearby. "Should I come back another time?"

Vladimir turned to look at the man who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He sat upon the Jarl's desk, purple eyes glowing in the dim room. His blond hair was swept back, revealing his sharp features and the pointed ears of an elf. He tilted his head in question.

"No," Vlad panted. "You… You stay. You are going to explain to me how this happened!" He picked up the crumpled parchment that held Holter's message and threw it. The elf watched him with a bored expression, his reflexes perfect as he caught the paper.

"Things get complicated sometimes," the elf said.

"Complicated?" Vlad asked. "You promised to kill him! To burn that shithole of a town to ash and break this curse on my son!"

"I do apologize for my colleagues' failure. My master himself sends his regards and apologies," the elf continued, almost as if ignoring the Jarl's shouts. "However, he never did promise you anything. I specifically told you that we'd only consider killing Holter should the opportunity arise. It simply never did."

"You lie!" Vlad shouted, wheezing as he coughed. He held his chest as he stumbled, his lungs aching with pain. He… He needed a healer. He needed one now.

"Oh dear," the elf muttered as he watched Vlad stagger and wheeze. He slid off the desk, hands behind his back as he stepped closer to the Jarl. "You're at death's door, aren't you?"

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"Stay away from me," Vlad breathed out. He leaned his weight against one of the standing chairs, his lungs feeling as if something was pressing against them. The elf just took another step, purple irises watching the Jarl with curiosity.

"Did you know that humanoids usually have three or more points of convergence on their body?" he asked randomly, his voice soft. "It depends sometimes. I've seen men with five, others with only three, and only one with none."

"What are you… talking about?" Vlad said in labored breaths.

"Opening them is hard enough on its own. But there is a faster way to open one of the convergences, dangerous as it may be," the elf whispered. He was close enough now that Vlad could see how his irises were shaped like four-pointed stars.

"Let me open one for you."

Vladimir never saw the knife. He only felt it as it twisted into his gut, the cold steel biting into his flesh. He gasped and stumbled away, hot blood leaking from the wound and staining his tunic and trousers. He didn't even manage two steps before he eventually fell to the ground, his lungs wheezing as he gulped for air.

The elf stepped closer to him before kneeling down to get a better look at the fallen Jarl. He watched him silently with those burning eyes, like some scion of death. Eventually, Vladimir felt something within him. It burned at his open wound, like tiny needles were stabbing into him from below. He twitched involuntarily, and the scent of rot filled his nostrils. He gagged, and the urge to vomit nearly overtook him. It never did.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," the elf muttered. "Sorry, Vladimir. But I needed someone I could trust."

Before Vlad could even curse the man, something took over his bodily functions.

"Aaah," a voice deep inside called through his lips. It brought about a chill to the old Jarl's bones, one that felt as if death itself was grabbing his soul.

"I've been wanting to speak with your kind," Vlad spoke suddenly, his words no longer belonging to him. He tried to scream, to beg, and to shout, but he went unheard. For his own soul was trapped within the chill that encompassed him. Vlad managed to catch a look of his hands, which twitched randomly as frostbite began to take them over.

'Just what have I stumbled into?' he thought in horror as the elf above him smiled, his eyes flaring a little.

"Good to see you're cooperating," the elf said. Not to Vlad but to the thing that had taken over the Jarl. "We have much to talk about."

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