Cryo Knight: Lords of Valeria

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

His uncle's house was a sprawling mansion, set in an industrial district way out on the outskirts of New London. A former owner had probably lost a battle with the city as the pulse-train tracks were right beside it, the sound of which rose to a roar as it flew past in a neon flash.

It was gothic. Isolated. Close to a noisy as hell train. Not a house that he would have imagined his uncle choosing as a place to live.

It had cost Christian a bunch of credits to get there, hailing an aircab from the jail. He had crossed the smoggy skies of New London while he dwelled on what could have happened to his uncle.

Christian walked up the front steps to the house and pulled the police tape off the door. He let it trail from his fingers into the wind. He tapped the keycard against the scanner and the large door gave a small hiss and swung inward.

Lights flickered on automatically revealing the prints of police boots that tracked through the thick dust. As Christian stepped through he had to push a cobweb out of the way. The house felt truly abandoned.

Where are you?

The door opened into a large foyer showcasing a majestic oak staircase that led up to the second floor.

Christian let out a low whistle.

In it's time this would have been quite the place.

Christian explored the huge house methodically. In each room drawers had been left open and their contents upended onto the ground. Furniture was knocked over. The police hadn't bothered to clean up after themselves. Typical.

The whole thing made no sense. Why did he leave everything to Christian exactly two years after going missing? That seemed like a very deliberate and calculated move. And why hadn't he bailed Christian out sooner if he was in trouble?

Another thought occurred. Perhaps his uncle had committed fraud and was relaxing somewhere living off the profits. Christian imagined his uncle laying on a beach with this missing 'biomechanical doctor'. While fanciful it was at least a positive outcome.

Fake your death and give me this big old house to re-start my life. Thanks. Doesn't explain this ring and the key though.

He inspected the fancy ring again, hoping for some epiphany. No-one in his family had ever worn something like this. Frustrated, he continued to search the house and couldn't fight the growing feeling of unease, an instinct developed from his time in the military. The sort of feeling that tells you something's up two seconds before the bullets whizz past.

The first thing that he noticed was that his uncle collected... oddities. He picked up a helmet that was left resting on a coffee table. It was something like a knight of medieval times might wear. But it looked bizarrely new and it had an authentic weight to it, the metal was thick and heavy. As Christian turned it over, he saw how they had worked the metal inside into bracing for the skull. The front of the helmet was decorated with the same sigil that was on the ring - an ax and a sword crossing over.

I don't remember him collecting antiques.

He set the helmet down. It quickly became clear that it wasn't the only historical artifact in the house. Leather vambraces, boots made of plate mail acting as a doorstopper to the kitchen. There might have been weapons too but the police would likely have taken them.

He went up the big oak staircase exploring room after room that branched off from the corridor.

The upstairs hallway was lined with artwork and photos. It was the only place where you could guess that a person lived here, with a small collection of framed personal photographs – the rest of the house felt anonymous, like a museum.