In a little French city of Brittany, during the autumn, a singular house on the whole street, even the whole town, has the chimney puffing smoke and a single window brightened by the light of a candle. In this particular room stood a man, he stood there overlooking his table on which a map of Europe seems to be laid and kept in place by four egg-like statues. This average sized man was alone in his house, no animals, no friends, no families. The man seemed to be in his fifties to sixties, dressed in a three-piece suit, clean shoes, and his hair was well combed. In this room, multiple chairs are covered by piles of history books, old books and maps. This room is a library, an old fashioned library with a desk to work on. On this map, seven places have been pinned, all seven in western Europe: Prague, Warsaw, Salzburg, Sankt Polten, Zvolen, Trencin and Glogowek. A voice sparked in the room:
What are those pins for?
These are where my enemies lie.
Oh, a revenge, that seems nice, can I come with?
You know very well, that where I go, you go.
The man then folded the map to put into his inside breast pocket of his suit, he looked at his pocket watch: 22:20.
Time to leave, is the suitcase ready?
Yes it is.
The man left blowing the candles out, took the suitcase, his wallet and went outside. Once in his care, he left for the train station in his Pontiac Chieftain. The man parked it in the parking before entering the station and making his way out of Rennes onto platform 3 toward Paris. From Gare de l'Est, he changed for Gare du Nord, before leaving back for the French countryside before leaving again for the German and Czech lands. In each train station he landed at, he asked for a coffee and a croissant as breakfast, but also as dinner and lunch. He was lucky, the trains were empty and he had his own compartment for himself, looking out the window, mostly but he also profited from this alone time to continue a journal he was writing, he wrote in it a few words. Arrived, He asked for a taxi ride to the Grande Hotel International where he took a room for seven nights. The city was buzzing with life, lots of people walking, lots of cars in the streets. Just after the first step in his luxurious room, barely taking his coat and hat off, he took the map out and placed it onto the table in the corner of the room. The voice he previously heard, made itself known again:
So, what's the plan?
The plan? We find his store, we help him close it, and then we talk.
Laamee, I thought there would be some action.
There will be, wait for it. Patience is Key.
Unpacking his suitcase straight onto the bed, he finally saw what the voice had packed: four Luger pistols with the accompanying ammunition, two jackets, two sleeveless vests, two pairs of pants, all in black and brown, another pair of shoes, and two pairs of black gloves, a few pair of socks and underwears, a pen, paper and a leatherbound book. He looked at the coat hanger, his long coat and his fedora hats were on it, then he looked at his watch again before exclaiming: we have time to look for it: it is a small bookstore, I believe with the name of Berno's Books. Taking one of the pistols, he checked the magazine, filling it back up to seven bullets, put it in his back pant pocket before putting his long coat back on and his fedora hat well on his head. The man left the hotel, locking his door with the, pretty, key. Walking down Dvořákovo nábř, he looked at the Vltava river, the nice houses were on his right as he wondered the town, a newcomer, he didn't know where to find this Berno, and he didn't speak czech so he couldn't really ask anyone. He consistently thought the city was beautiful and he should have considered traveling Europe sooner. After continuously walking in the old town, he found a bookstore, not Berno's, but it would be able to sell a czech -french dictionary maybe, it did. Using his bright mind, the man wrote a list of questions that would be useful for his quest: Where can I find this bookstore: Berno's?Where could I buy a car? Where can I find a café? These three questions sufficed as he found a little café in front of Berno's bookstore to grab a café and a croissant, a car dealership a bit farther down the road where he bought a Tatra 87. That small car was sufficient for his needs, but mostly would help him move faster through his plan. He parked his newly acquired vehicle in front of the bookstore. It was a medium sized shop, nothing too fancy, but the name was big and the vitrine full of books, they looked beautiful, everything a reading enthusiast might need. As he came in, a light bell was heard before another voice popped up:
Vítejte v mém knihkupectví
I am sorry, I don't speak Czech, answered the man.
A middle aged man came out of the back door and went behind the cash register. The first man looked down the book aisle towered by the impressive shelves filled with books.
I am here looking for a Berno, is that you?
Yes, that is me, answered the bookkeeper, I know what you are here for, I will say like the twelve others came for: I don't know where the treasure is.
They weren't me, I will help you find it.
The first man took out his pistol and pointed it toward the cup on the table of the cash register and shot, then he exclaimed:
I have six other bullets for your head, if you don't close the blinds and lock the door.
Berno had no choice but to cooperate, the place became dark until the artificial lights were lit.
Now, I am looking for a book, an old german book, leatherbound, with the title: Alchemy: My Research. I know you acquired it seventeen years ago in an auction.
You are the first to go for that one, but it is not here, it is in my personal library two stories up.
The man told the voice: watch him, before going through the back door, the pistol stayed at the same height pointed toward the bookkeeper. The man climbed the stairs faster then humanly possible and found himself in a pretty apartment, not huge, but not small, the library was the first thing found inside, it was a neat wooden library with five shelves filled with books. The goal of this stop was easy to find, only one book was red. Although it seemed easy, there were a few other books about alchemy, he took them all. He looked inside, and there it was, what he was really looking for. It was a stone, not massive, but not small, it was lodged in a book that was glued sheets and hollow inside. He tapped it with his ring finger, and it grew back to regular size. He had found the Panacea. Running downstairs, he came back to find his pistol still in the air, and Berno still standing where he was. He had the stone in his hand and yelled:
I FOUND IT. Thank you very much for your help, good sir. As a gesture of good faith, I can let you live if you want to help us.
I would never abandon my people, for someone like you ...
A shot was heard, the pistol had only five bullets left in his magazine and the corpse of Berno laid in it's blood still dripping. The man quickly placed back his Luger in his back pocket before running to his car. He drove the few minutes separating him from his room, for a good night's sleep before the next step of his plan. In his room, the same voice has heard the previous day exclaimed:
That was quick, and exiting, so what'S the next step?
The next step is to go to the Königstein Fortress, and get the other p ... stuff.
Quickly then!
Nope, we can celebrate with this quick glasses of České pivo, one for you and one for me.
They both drank a glass, before going to sleep early, the next morning was going to be full of action. The sun rose as soon as they had closed their eyes, it brightened the room and awakened the man. All of his belongings were in order, the voice even proclaimed to have ordered a breakfast so they could leave as soon as possible. He ate his two scrambled eggs and three kolaches accompanied by a small coffee. He then finished packing his suitcase, he put back the luger pistol and took another one, put seven bullets in it, took out a black suit and put it on, he took everything from his room that was personal belongings and left the hotel to find his car, it was in the same conditions he had left it.
Perfect, everything is in order and we can leave.
Yup, buckle up, this is the last stretch before our plan comes together
What is our plan?
You will find out soon enough.
They embarked in the small car and went off, profiting to be in Prague to observe from the streets the Petrin tower or the Vyserhad. After this small detour, they went north to the german border, where they would cross to get straight to the castle, their goal being ever so closer then ever.
You never told me why we were going to the fortress.
We are going there, because the Nazis left some artifacts in a hidden room, artifacts that we need for our project.
Ohhhh, so you bought the castle?
Nooooo, too expensive, we will get in by infraction, wouldn't be the first time we do a crime, would it?
Fair point, so you really are going to great length to resuscitate me.
Of course, my love. The crimes I commit are worth nothing compared to our eternal lives.
The sweet couple passed the German borders, lying to the unsuspecting guards about what they were doing and now they were on the last stretch of their journey, a moment they envied for years. The few moments left were of impatience, but when they saw the castle, they were relieved. The time was 19:54 and they decided to go grab a hotel room before engaging in their activities. The night passed and in the morning, the man left with the Tatra, he had not even bothered to take things out of the suitcase except two pistols and changed his shirt. They left the hotel room and gone for the fortress, as they didn't want anyone to see them enter the secret room, the man parked the car downhill, in the forest, and walked until arriving at the foot of the cliff, at a spot of bare rocks, laid the entrance for the secret tunnel: a simple iron handle hidden behind rocks covering it from the path's view. Using this iron tool, the man proceeded to enter the tunnel which had been abandoned since the end of the world war, his only light was a small hand held flash light, not very powerful but did cast a good enough light. At the end of the tunnel, was a room, a square room, as the building was built by the nazi regime, multiple swastikas filled the room, notably one big on the floor and multiple smaller ones on the walls.
So what are we looking for?
We are looking for the Lorg Mor, it is some kind of mace. Or blunt stick
The what?
It is an Irish legend of life and death, don'T really worry, it should be enough with the Panacea to bring you back.
Ohhhhhh, so a stick and a rock will relive me?
Yup, the Nazis tried to get this very power, through the wunderwaffe program, but they failed, because Berno never gave up the stone and no one found it before me.
Bright, that's why I married you!
The place was old, and light was dim, the search was difficult, the man looked through drawers, but no luck, he didn't trow anything, in case he had to look trough the documents to find anything, but with no luck, no staff was found. But the voice had found something, not the mace, but a secret passage way. At one end of the swastika, a wall door was hidden and only uncovered when the smaller cross was pressed, this led to hexagonal room, one filled with weaponry and art, statues and jewelry. The man spent a long time looking trough it all, gold coins dating back to the templar, lances and swords of historical and mythical importance, the nazis did really find the treasures, they just had hidden them, most likely they did not find them soon enough to help them in the war, after countless hours looking trough this catalogue of history, the voice exclaimed:
Which one of these is it?
While four staffs were floating toward the man.
It is this one, well done my love.
He said this as he took the staff from the floating bouquet. The wooden stick was about a meter and a half tall, with a hard pointy end and a more hand-like other end, when the Panacea was put within this hand, it completed the sphere, rendering the mace completely smooth from end to end. He took out his journal from his breat pocket, and while reciting some irish wording, and doing witch craft with the mace, he finally saw his wife come back to life, the man reunited with his love, a five foot three, blond with blue eyes woman came back from the dead, the couple was there, crying on the floor of this room, on the middle of the swastika, surrounded by stolen history, history that will make them invincible, make them rule the earth, but the couple was just crying on the floor, being able to hold one another after twenty-five years of separation.
