A bark went through the house and Percival grinned inside the pantry. “Be good,” he said loudly and filled a huge metal bowl with dry dog food. The portion would have been enough for three dogs, but Percival’s faithful companion had always had a healthy appetite. Before leaving the pantry with the heavy bowl, he snapped his free fingers and the small flames from the illuminating candlesticks fizzled out.


    Downstairs, the barking became more insistent, but who was surprised? Brutus always had a sixth sense for special days or as soon as trouble was on the way.


    That things could get really nasty for his teacher at today’s meeting was something Percival was more than aware of and he had been chosen to accompany him to the hearing. “Papa’s on his way!” announced Percival cheerfully, when the barking was joined by scraping at the cellar door, but it took a few moments to get out of the branching vault. "Well, who’s hungry?!"


    Excitedly, Brutus wagged his stubby tail and the hellhound’s dozen nostrils sniffed in anticipation. His sense of smell was extremely special, if only because he had no eyes and the main food of hellhounds was actually rotten souls.


    "Off, sit!" admonished Percival. His dog was well trained, but sometimes he was too impetuous and that was when the animal could become a danger because of his stately 1.60 shoulder height and his almost 200 kilos weight. "Good boy!"


    Faithfully, the leathery hellhound sat down on his butt and waited patiently for the bowl to be set down, although he could not contain his enormous tongue, from his alligator-like mouth, and drooled profusely.


    "Good boy," Percival praised and placed the bowl a little way away from the animal, which was still waiting. "Dig in Brutus."


    Hastily and hungrily the hellhound went to the bowl and ate. His pleasure was all the more evident as the prickly scaly spines stood up on his long and broad back.


    Percival stroked the animal’s eyeless skull and grabbed his stylish, wolf grey coat as he walked to the front door. "I’ll be back tomorrow. Take good care of everything and don’t eat the neighbour’s cats again," he said jokingly, because what did it matter? True, the owner nagged every time, but they were undead cats anyway, and she simply revived them after every Brutus meal.


    Outside Percival’s house, the blue sky was draped in white clouds, but the midday sun broke through in places. The strong whistling of the wind could be heard clearly, but because this tiny place, with its nine houses, was a walled community, the breezy draught was mostly kept out.


    "Master Allister will be with you in a moment," greeted Roger cautiously, who had been living in the enclave of the magical teacher just mentioned for six months. "And ... the blood knights are already at the frontgate, too."


    "You sound very enthusiastic," Percival remarked, but he already guessed why his classmate was less than enthusiastic. Blood knights, especially directly under the tenebrae, tended to be arrogant. "But I know. Even my Brutus is way better educated and well-mannered than many of them."


    "Well, you have the Master with you. I think the blood knights will keep a low profile."


    "If the Master is there, I’m sure they will," Percival said, and he saw out of the corner of his eye the group of four walking towards his house. "Ladies and gentlemen, a good day to you all."


    "How distinguished," replied the apparent leader of the escort the Tenebrae had sent here. "That is why I like to come to the enclave of Mr Allister. The noble treatment of his students, has rubbed off on him."


    Perhaps these blood knights were different, Percival thought. "Respect opens many doors," Percival said with conviction, leaning against the pillar of the porch of his house. "Though I think the Tenebrae are exaggerating a little. Such an outcry for Mr Allister. Who would be foolish enough to attack him?"


    "I think that’s as much a gesture of respect, from Lady Gardner."


    "Mhh, there’s something to that. A bit of a fanfare tune, eh?"


    "Sure thing," the leader stifled a grin, but quite faintly. She glanced briefly at her group and then spread her arms. "What do you people think? More flags and a kneeling honour guard, for the mighty Percival, the Black Mage himself." No, this group of blood knights were no different and burst out laughing after the leader scoffed.


    The black mage was especially popular among Percival’s envious, and a less than clever allusion to his very dark skin colour, as was known from tribes from the deepest jungles. "That won’t be necessary," he politely declined. This plain manner did not provoke him, which had also been a lesson from his master - always maintain poise, even if Percival liked to add a pinch of salt with elegance and cheek. "At least not today."


    "Very funny, mighty Percival," the leader’s laughter died away and the tone shifted to disapproval. "Let’s see how long that lasts, because I hear the Tenebrae is going to skewer your master for this zombie thing and then this enclave will be levelled with his disciples."


    Roger was less restrained. "As if your masters would ... or could ... eliminate Master Allister without further ado."


    "Who’s that?!" the leader swivelled her eyes to the newcomer. "I don’t even know you yet! Fresh meat for the old bag, eh? It just always takes Boots Licker."


    "I bet that Boots Licker can turn you all into living ice sculptures in one go!" threatened Roger, stepping forward ready for conflict.


    The leader and her blood knights immediately gathered close around him. "Is that so?" the woman retorted, unimpressed. "You’d better stick to defenceless corpses, you have a chance of winning there."


    Gently, Percival pushed in front of Roger before making physical contact with the group. "Dont Roger," he shook his head and placed his hands reassuringly on the newcomer’s shoulders, gently pushing him away from the cluster.


    "Please!" gritted Roger softly, not resisting the shoving. "They come into our enclave, mock the Master, insult you! Surely I cannot let that go unanswered!"


    "Then here is a lesson that marks a true master magician," Percival spoke eruditely, patting his fellow disciple encouragingly on the shoulders. "Be like nature, a slumbering elemental force."


    "I ... could you make that less cryptic?"


    "There is power in silence," Percival simplified his master Allister’s lesson. "Let them talk. What would they be without the blood of their owners?"


    "Nothing."


    "Correct, nothing, but your power and skill are real and forever."


    "Are you two about done whispering?" the Blood Knight leader complained. "If you have something to say, say it to our faces!"


    Percival looked questioningly at Roger, the newcomer still seeming unconvinced by the lesson he had just been taught. Not that Percival wanted to violate that principle now, but he turned and smiled. "I was merely teaching my friend a lesson, though I prefer practice to theory."


    "I see, and what is that lesson?"


    "There is power in calm," Percival said, swinging his wrist in a circular motion before it became entwined with energy and he pointed at the group.


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    The energy fizzled out and nothing had happened, which was why the leader grinned. "...!" she wordlessly moved her lips. No sound came from her, no matter how much she opened her mouth. The same was true for her soon-to-be-unsettled comrades-in-arms - the curse of silence.


    "Do you see Roger? Silence."


    "Ah, now I see!" laughed Roger, clapping his hands.


    The blood knights were clearly anything but pleased and about to draw their firearms! "Percival!" an aged, bright voice called from far away and the Blood Knights stopped what they were doing.


    From the finest and largest house in the community, marked by classical elements from the colonial era, came Saxon Garrett Allister, one of the most renowned necromancers in the world, and he presented himself in his own unique way. Befitting his house, his get-up and movement was that of a British gentleman and noble aristocrat from other times, with matching top hat, walking stick and plump, auburn upper lip beard.


    "Master Allister," Percival inclined his head in respect. "We would be ready for your departure."


    "Excellent, and we’re still ahead of schedule," Saxon said, pulling out a gold-plated pocket watch and reading it with a monocle. "And the sooner we clear up this misunderstanding, the sooner we can get back to more important matters."


    Meanwhile, the blood knights, despite cursing, behaved decently and drew attention to their silence.


    Saxon again took his monocle to help him, and though he spoke in the direction of the knights, his words were directed at his pupil. "It seems the envoys have a concern, but why do they say nothing?"


    "Well, I was just telling Roger about one of your lessons: Be like nature, a slumbering elemental force," Percival mentioned. He had already taught the blood knights humility and did not mock them further. "Our guests have been kind enough to offer themselves for a practice demonstration."


    "Formidable lesson, my good Percival," Saxon surveyed the silent figures and leaned towards Roger. "You too, Roger. Keep up that inquisitive attitude and I see a great future for you."


    "Oh, thank you Master!" bowed Roger excitedly. "I should get back to my studies immediately then!"


    "Busy as bees," Saxon gloated, tucking the monocle away before dissolving the curse with a wipe of his hand. "Then up, up, fresh to work."


    "Yes, master!"


    Dignified, Saxon leaned on his walking stick and looked at his pocket watch again more for clarification than interpretation.... "And you, fine ladies and gentlemen, we don’t want to be late, since you were here so early. Bring your carriage forward."


    Percival allowed himself a faint smirk, for the blood knights merely nodded silently, like trained dogs. After all, the envoys were so clever. Even the fewest vampires did not dare treat Saxon in a condescending or rude manner. Percival had never seen his master use his full power, but he didn’t need to and that alone was reason enough not to mess with him. "I remain concerned, Master."


    Saxon’s tone often had that sweep of lightness in his voice. "Oh, still about that little incident in the woods? I’ll sort it out today."


    "That is not what concerns me Master. That would concern more the lingering question of how the zombies escaped."


    "That too shall not be your concern, my dear Percival," Saxton said, giving his student a harmless nudge on the head with his walking stick. "Continue to fill your thoughts with wisdom and not worry, for I still want to send you to Europe to establish a new enclave there. For that I need you at your best."


    Percival was more than aware of his abilities, but each praise from his teacher made his chest swell even more. "I will do my best, Master Allister."


    "That’s right, my dear fellow. On to the Tenebrae then."


    With two armoured, luxurious Mercedes in black, the Blood Knights had arrived. Caution was always advised and while the leader drove ahead with two of her men in the first car, Percival and Saxon sat in the back seat of the second vehicle.


    Every now and then a police car came along the country road, but who was surprised? For some days now, because of the zombie incident, there had been an exceedingly high presence of Great Kingston’s finest, searching for their missing colleagues and traces of what had happened in the woods.


    This still worried Percival, even after his master’s words. He trusted Saxon’s experience, but so far his teacher was rather reticent about solving the incident. Maybe the necromancer just wanted to wait until the dust had settled, but until then Percival was still worried: Who had released the zombies? And even if they had escaped through carelessness, the mages of the enclave could easily have found them. However, the necrotic bond, the bond between owner and possession, had been severed, which is why the zombies had not been easily tracked down, and the severing of the bond had to be done by a mage with full intent! This led Percival to conclude - so someone wanted the zombies to roam unchecked.


    "A new control?" the driver complained. "It wasn’t there earlier."


    For a control, the number of cars was quite considerable. "The ladies and gentlemen are simply doing their job," Saxton opined, prodding his walking stick on the ground. "Although the choice of location of this post surprises me."


    The column of blood knights turned a corner which was enclosed by a clearing of trees and came to a halt in a built-up one-way street. Five policemen spread out around the limousines, checking, and on each driver’s side there was a knock on the windows, which were rolled down. "Afternoon constable," said the driver from Saxton. "What can I do for you?"


    "Driver’s licence and registration please," the constable demanded protocol but rudely.


    "Sure thing," the driver nodded and pulled out his multicard, which had all the important data on it.


    "What a hassle. Like having the IRS breathing down your neck," Percival joked dryly. "Isn’t it Mr Allister?"


    "Worries of the common people," Saxton replied just as dryly, not even looking at the officials. They might be doing their jobs, but they weren’t worth his time and time meant a lot to him.


    "Perhaps," Percival agreed, but he had never bent his opinion before. "However, one should always keep the concerns of the mob in mind."


    "Well, then it is fortunate that I can call your eyes mine."


    "Of course. Mr Allister," Percival said, though this light conversation did not lessen his attentiveness. He sensed power, holy power, and one did not call that one’s own easily. The only question that remained was from whom exactly it emanated.


    Moreover, more police appeared, with machine guns and they seemed more interested in securing the perimeter.


    "Dilettante," escaped Saxton with British composure and without the slightest movement, he created an invisible barrier of necrotic energy around himself and his student. "I wish no more continued delay - assume it."


    "Assume what?" the driver turned his head cluelessly backwards. As a result, he did not see the police officer at the window point a pistol at his head and pull the trigger!


    The same thing happened at the first car and one of the policemen there held his MP through the window to shoot the surprised passengers with continuous fire.


    Saxton’s previously invisible shield put a stop to this in the second limousine and the vehicle’s armour easily coped with the oncoming storm of bullets from all the police officers.


    Since necromancy was merely a part of the field of magical arts, Percivals had a large arsenal to fall back on and teleported out of the car to the outside! He appeared in the back of two police officers and grabbed their shoulders. In seconds, he completely froze them and knocked them over so that they shattered into thousands of pieces.


    There was no time to pause, however, as the attackers organised themselves and fixed on the black mage.


    Instead of a simple shield, Percival intercepted the bullets with a power pool. It was my art, where he absorbed the energy of an attack, flowed it through his body and directed it back at several policemen as a kind of lightning bolt!


    Not only did it hit the targeted opponents! These lightning bolts jumped to nearby targets and struck down all but one of the attackers.


    "Rotten scum! ", insulted the last police officer. It was he from whom the holy power emanated. "I’ll send you and your master to hell where you belong!"


    "How’s that? I’ll bring hell to us!", Percival implored not only with words, but created demonic circles on the surface around him and fire blazed within them.


    Imps, lowly creatures of hell and barely bigger than a baby, leapt nimbly from the flames and grew rapidly in number! The crowd was their greatest strength, where they resorted to their claws and spat weak fireballs.


    With his holy power, the police officer shielded himself from the fireballs and the Imps running towards him on all fours, he decided with his MP and maintained his shield . He hit targets but some were too agile and jumped at him! Without further ado, his barrier exploded forward, disintegrating the Imps. All that remained was the fire-breathing remnant from the second row. "Was that all?!" Sleight of hand!"


    "That’s all it takes for a squire like you," Percival countered, unimpressed.


    Simultaneously, Saxton sat impassively in the carriage and pulled out his pocket watch.


    Percival used the remaining Imps to buy himself time, for he now cast a thorough veil and raised all the fallen police officers as undead.


    The holy warrior had no problems with the Imps, but the sight of his revived comrades-in-arms made him hesitate for a moment. "Allmighty God, how can you let this happen!" he doubted. He then redeemed the zombies shuffling towards him in turn.


    When the last undead was right in front of his target, Percival used arcane magic to rip a chunk of asphalt from the roadside and fashioned it into a spear. He hurled it violently towards the zombie’s back and impaled it with the squire. "Hunter," Percival grumbled, patting imaginary dust from his coat before taking the dead blood knight’s place in the driver’s seat. "Master, it seems the Inquisitors have tracked us down."


    "Tenacious fellows, no doubt about it," Saxton admitted, overlooking the corpses. "But that was truly a miserable performance. I’ll discuss it with Lady Gardner - up, up now and request a cleaning party quickly. Don’t give the police any more cause for concern."


    "Do you mind if I listen to a little music while I drive?"


    "For your little effort, you’re welcome to it. Though I’m not comfortable with that yowling."


    "Too kind, master," Percival said with amusement, turning up the radio to search for rock music from the 70s and 80s until he came across what he thought was the best band of all time - Queen. "Oh yeah, dont-stop-me-now."