Chapter 1

Battle of Morgarten 1315

Sergeant Vetever walks among his newly assigned squad. He can hear his heartbeat as loud as the crackle from the torched supply wagons. Men are whimpering as life leaves the slain. He is agitated as he is unsure he can keep his promise to fallen Sgt. Reichtung. Suddenly, he hears footsteps around the corner of the grain barn in front of him. He approaches the corner without a breath and readies his sword. The sound of every footstep gets deeper and further apart. His heartbeat slows. Another step is heard not in rhythm. A stick snaps behind him. He hears the sound of a jacket flapping and something is in the air. He starts to turn and is stopped as a pike is birthing from his chest. Falling forward, his once prey comes into view. As he hits the ground, the pike retreats into his body. He feels the pressure of the foreign object on his lung. His prey removes the pike and stabs again. Face in the dirt, he stops his breath and the pain. He hears more soldiers approaching. A second soldier approaches and kicks the sergeant, testing for a reaction. The soldier, certain of the sergeant’s death, takes his pike back. The two men walk toward their approaching brothers in arms.

Sgt. Vetever lays with the same conviction to death that fell upon his squad. He knows he must take patient breaths to not spoil the victory felt from the soldiers claiming the barn and all the glorious territory they fought for. In just a few minutes, the sun will have left the sky in synchronicity with the sergeant’s will to keep his eyes open. He is calm and begins his inevitable rest.

Dawn

Mr. Vetever wakes from a beam of sun across his brow, creeping past the cracks in the shutters of his lair. The sounds of water dripping off his roof outside on to the cobble stone walk sooth him from the torment in the night’s slumber. He sits up and stretches. A scowl consumes his face as he hears the toilet tank in the upstairs bathroom refilling with a screeching grinding noise. An unkept toenail snags a thread from his slipper, defying his command. From the corner of his mind he hears the sound of a snarl but under his breath he mutters, “ aaaww, Fuck this!” and makes his way to the kitchen, slippers dragging on the floor as he walks.

The kitchen light switch kerchunks, a flash of light emerges and he hears the hum of the bulb’s filament bursting. Still feeling groggy, he is unsure if the growl he heard is in his head or if it made it past the corner of his raised lip and clenched teeth.

He grabs a kettle, fills it with water and puts it on the stove. Click click click, whoosh as the flames wrap the sides. He readies his cup with a strainer and grounds. A plate is set on the counter, pulls out some bacon and an egg from his fridge. Lazily making his way to the front porch to get the morning paper and previews the day’s headlines. He hears the kettle tinging close to boiling. Walking past the foyer side table, his ruby satin robe brushes against a stack of junk mail that sends several pieces to the floor. Under his breath, he mumbles, “Damn it” followed by the sound of slippers dragging with his gate.

Making his coffee, he grabs his plate and sits at the breakfast table. A moan of pleasure is heard as he consumes his uncooked snack with the morning paper unfolded on the table for him to study.

Returning to his lair to prepare for going to town. He is going to fix that fucking toilet. Brushes his hair and puts on an outfit looking like Tom Landry the famous Dallas Cowboy football coach, complete with the fedora hat.

Stepping out of the castle, his face sours scanning across the many acres of overgrown yard. Fortunately, the regular visitations from the mail truck keep the weeds in the driveway from consuming it.

Behind the castle, is his love. Every time he sees it, he smiles as he sees it like the day it was new. A 1971 AMC Eagle wagon. The wood panels fell off a long time ago but his mind fills in the void. With a turn of the key, his precious purrs to life and a leathered grin emerges.

He sets out for Barret’s Hardware in town. Family owned for 75 years.

Barrett’s Hardware

“Mornin’ Mr. Vetever.” Is quickly heard after the sound of a bell ringing as the door swipes the lever of the offending hammer. “What can I,….” Our creature of darkness sharply interrupts in his thick Austrian-Russian-French accent, “I need a fill kit for a Kohler model K3410 and a 60 watt bulb.”

Clerk, “Let me review the Kohler book to make sure I have the right one for you sir. Light bulbs are in aisle 6.”, The chipper clerk responds.

Vetever, “I am not blind by any means Mr. Barrett. I can see them from here. It is pathetic that you are compelled to point out the obvious out of idiotic repetition of your patrons. For surely you did not intend to insultingly assume I was anything less than I have ever been.”

Mr. Barrett nods with a soft smile and says, “I apologize for any misunderstanding. You are one of my favorite customers truly and yet not my best customer.”

Vetever, “Touche’ Mr. Barrett. My eyes upon you have a similar view and to that we have an accord.”

Mr. Barrett, “Yes sir.” Both of them turn away with smirks on their faces.

Vetever, “What happened to your regular light bulbs?”

Mr. Barrett, “I had to switch to LED. They are not selling like they once did. You should try them.”

Vetever, “I care not for the blue light they emit. I require the warm glow of a regular bulb.”

Mr. Barrett, “I have forty watt oven bulbs.”

Vetever, “I do not appreciate your hard sell tactics sir.”

Mr. Barrett, “You can order regular bulbs online.”

Vetever sharply, “Mr. Barrett! Where are your customer service skills? If I wanted shit from the internet, would I have come here? Show some respect to your family name and special order some 60 watt incandescent bulbs for me. I will take your oven bulb as an offering to keep the peace and do not prod me again.”

Mr. Barrett dips his head with a smile and says, “Yes sir.”

Mr. Barrett hands Vetever two oven bulbs and says, “The second one is on me for your trouble sir. The fill kit is at the counter for you.”

Vetever, “Very well sir.”

Mr. Barrett, “That will be $66.60”

Vetever sharply, “Ha! Did you anticipate that Mr. Barrett?”

Mr. Barrett, “Uh, no.”

Vetever, “Do charge for that second bulb, as you do not want to make our transaction the Devil’s calling now do you?”

Mr. Barrett, “Oh no sir. Good idea. That will be $66.69.”

Vetever says with a hint of laughter, “I saw what you did there. I like it. Just maybe your little store will survive a century yet. Give my regards to your father.”

Mr. Barrett, “I will. I will have your bulbs in a week or two.”

Vetever, “Would you mind bringing them to my front porch? My car is due for service.”

Mr. Barrett, “You know I normally don’t provide such service, but I think my other customers would appreciate not running into you.”

Vetever, “Well done Mr. Barrett! Ha haha. Those customer service skills are already improving at my expense. I rather do enjoy our banter. You are your father’s son. I wish him well.”

Heading home

Shortly after exiting the hardware store, Vetevers hears the accelerated scampering of some townsfolk departing from him and a whisper, “It is him. Go, go, go.”

Many of the stores are just as worn as Barrett’s. Time has shown it’s ravages over the structures. Hints of buildings being repurposed. What used to be a bustling diner was replaced by an automotive repair garage and it too, did not survive. Cracked windows and paint spread like agonizing cancer on humanity. Over the decay and neglect, Vetevers sees the street when the paint was fresh. Faceless humans muttering about. Overheard petty conversations to him.

Driving by the old theater he smiles at the marque that reads Join us for our Nicholas Cage extravaganza! He let’s out a “Hmmmm… Chuckles, Nick Cage has many talents, saving a dying theater is not one of them.’’ He pauses and thinks to himself, I know I am truly old when I start hearing the other half of my thoughts. That could be a fun conversation for sure.

Toilet troubles

Vetevers drives slowly over his road. He hears the echoes of rocks crunching in his tires. He makes his way to the maintenance shed to grab some tools. Gently lifting the servant door just a bit for it to open easier, he ventures into the kitchen to drop the bulbs off.

Making his way to the guest bathroom upstairs, Vetever shuts off the water supply and replaces the offending water valve in the tank. After a few minutes, with great confidence the water is back on and now on to the kitchen bulb.

He places his tools from the bathroom on the kitchen counter. Grabs a chair and stands on it to replace the bulb. He grabs the bulb and it fractures in his hand. A shard cuts his finger. A roar echoes through the castle. Eyes darken with rage. He returns to normal quickly. Sucks on his finger to reclaim his losses. Opens fridge and drinks from a vessel filled with blood. The fresh wound stops bleeding. Slowly the wound begins to close.

Battle of Morgarten – sergeant retaliates

Soldiers are in the barn celebrating their day’s victory. Flames from torches are shimmering through the slats in the barn. The soldiers chuckle loudly, telling their stories of how they valiantly claimed the lives of the sergeant’s men. With every story told, the sergeant’s pulse quickens. He cannot tolerate the disregard for life these champions display. Vetever comes to his knees. Dusts off his uniform. Looks down at the hole in his uniform and snarls. The wound barely shows any history it existed. He can still feel the nerves tingling in his back reattaching with a dash of phantom pains.

Barn door bursts open and a laughing soldier blunders around the barn corner to relieve himself. The urine falling on leaves is just as loud as the previous bursting door to Sergeant Vetever. The air is still, yet the soldier notices the leaves and low branches are all traveling in the same direction to a dark section of the tree line. Then silence. The Soldier holds his breath and feels uneasy, sensing something is not proper. He places his hand on his rapier. Seconds pass. The silence persists.

He releases his breath. A waif of steam forms in front of his face like a smoker releases their indulgence. A slit appears on his throat. He feels his warm blood dripping down. Panic overwhelms him and his face. The pain has not registered yet. He tries to take a breath. Blood falls into his throat followed by a gargling cough. He clutches his throat in a futile attempt to recover. Feeling weaker, he looks around and sees an outline of his once enemy soldier standing in the distance holding still. The soldier starts to walk towards Vetever and collapses. Vetever quietly approaches the fallen solder, gently positions the lesser man and consumes his wound.

Vetever casually takes wait around the corner for the fresh intake to repair the wounds on his body. His strength is fully restored. He is now more alert than ever. Two more soldiers come out of the barn calling for their brother in arms. “Stephon! Where are you?” Followed by a chuckle. “Get back here you pansy excuse for a soldier.”

Snap, woosh, thud! The first soldier vanished in front of the first. The first soldier is then seen wrapping perpendicular on a tree trunk forty yards away. Vetever enjoys the sound of the man’s spine fracturing in many locations at once.

The second soldier notices Vetever and his enemy uniform standing beside his mangled friend. Soldier, “You! Halt. Do not move.”

The solder begins to approach Vetever.

Vetever calmly asks, “Did you see that? I am unarmed and soon you will be if you continue to approach.”

Soldier, “Who the hell are you?!”

Vetever, “I am pain. I am regret. I am fear.”

The soldier grabs the handle of his sword. Vetever instantly appears in front of the solder with his hand on the soldier’s sword hand, denying his ability to remove it. Vetever’s eyes go dark. The soldier is stunned.

Vetever breaks the disbelief with, “You’re Wilhelm correct? I heard you brag that you were at the end of your tour and looking forward to seeing your wife and son. You have a choice. You can run away and tell your commander you were overrun. No one would know. Or I will rip your arms away and you will die screaming.”

Soldier, “Fuck you!”

The solder grasps his sword harder, body tensing and begins to step back to remove Vetever’s grip.

Vetever, “You are not making a good decision sir.”

The sword is halfway out of it’s sheath. Vetever grabs both his arms, spins once around. The man begins to scream. On the second spin, his arms rip from their sockets and his remaining body flies over the trees.

Vetever laughs to himself and says, “That Wilhelm scream will be remembered for all of history for certain.”

Vetever sees four more soldiers come out of the barn door, swords in hand looking around. He picks up the sword the flung soldier dropped and with a blur decapitates the two most forward solders. The soldiers behind them look at each other in confusion as to what they just saw. They look down and the swords from the men that fell before them has instantly penetrated each of their hearts. They slump over. A breeze washes over their uniforms fluttering their outfit. The barn door slams shut from the gust of wind we know as Vetever.

The men in the barn begin screaming. A body breaks through a few of the barn slats. Thud after thud is heard from outside. With the moon as a backdrop, a silhouette of a man breaks through the roof and falls back into the barn with a roof plank in his chest. A man on fire breaks out of the large barn double doors screaming. From inside soldier’s extremities are being thrown one after another. A torso has landed on a hung hay hook.

Eventless evening watching TV

Vetever winds down his evening satisfied that his daily routine has been restored. A brother’s love is… a brother’s love is heard from the screen. He pauses his Gone in 60 Seconds movie. He heard tires squealing that were not in the movie and metal crunching. A car door slams. Two people begin arguing.

Trucker, “Look where you are going lady!”

Driver, “You were supposed to stop at the sign. Not 20 feet before the sign you asshole!”

Trucker, “I hope you have insurance…”

Vetever thinks to himself. They will be fine. TV shuts off. He finishes off the last swig of wine. The sound of the glass tapping the stone end table echoes through the castle. The conqueror of the day heads to his lair. In between his steps he is listening to Sheriff Renfield addressing the collision heard just inside his dominion.

He begins his wind down routine and lays into bed. He tunes into the soothing sounds of nature outside. Breaths are getting slower.