Slay the Hierarchy

Spring Ball Pt. I

William Joseph Blazkowicz III had turned from a professional manual labourer into a secluded academic whiz within a matter of days. For the moment he and the only heir of the Lucius house held their first ever sleepover, the the two had become increasingly busy in the young master's study, and far more scarce.

Lavish meals turned into serving dishes delivered to his room. Tea time had become practically nonexistent.

But the servants did notice a bizarre activity of the young master. That being hauling foreign, heavy machinery from equally unidentified carriages that arrived to deliver them.

No one could make sense of the ritual. No one would dared peek into the study either to attempt to, and the knights whom aided in this clandestine operation were tight-lipped. In fact, if the servants guessed right, they looked just as befuddled as they were.

But as the days wore on, they came to the conclusion that the young master was forging a sword. A blade that could in the future become the Blazkowicz pride and glory. A timeless keepsake.

I mean, that must have been the case, putting together the incessant banging, clatter, and the screech of machinery that came from the study even at ungodly hours of the night. It kept the maids and butlers awake. 

So much so that by the end of the week, the Blazkowicz staff looked awful. 

'My goodness!' the Countess cried when she laid eyes on the hunched, pallid figures that came to greet them as they arrived. 'What's the matter with you all? Has something happened?'

'Late nights I'm afraid, my lord and lady...,' the head butler said, clearing his throat to get the sleep-deprived drawl out of it. 'For the young master has been terribly busy as of late forging a sword.'

'A sword?'

'Yes, my lord. A masterpiece, worthy of becoming a Blazkowicz heirloom, for as we all know, the young master is gifted in a great deal of things.'

Any slower and the butler might have smacked right into his masters backs; the man staring in shock and puzzlement as the Count and Countess came to an abrupt halt upon entering the mansion, sharing a look of wonder and... something else he couldn't quite recognise. Something like awareness.

'I-is something the matter, my...'

'Summon the knights! At once!'

'Everyone off duty is hereby ordered to aid my son!'

The gardener wasn't the only one with a weak heart. The head butler was too; his jaw dropping as the Count and Countess barked orders to every servant in sight. He survived this much with the family, though... so how much worse could it get?

Oh, was he and the rest of the staff in for a rude and hellish awakening.

Four months.

It had taken almost half a year for the Slayer to realise his plans for the upgrades to his weapons and suit; the Hellwalker staring at the collection before him with great satisfaction.

Within those months - seeing as it was still in shambles - the Slayer made good use of the backyard trenches for weapons testing. An act the staff of the Blazkowicz Manor didn't question, but no less feared by the outrageous... things the young master later carted to and fro his study.

First was the machinery. Now, it was... even more machinery. Each one looking approximately the weight (and size) of an adult bighorn.

Despite that, the young master carried them as easily as he would his books. Some over his shoulder, some against his side. Some that looked like ridiculously oversized swords and others glowing with a cosmic energy everyone questioned, but spoke nothing of.