“I should hope so,” replied Gerd. “After all the time and mon — good God!” Before their eyes, a wave of fire smashed out of the crowd and hit the general. As it faded, they saw him step forward unscathed to tear a Gruwel in half. “Perhaps we should have made all the soldiers like him.”
“Yes, and bankrupted the kingdom,” said Ernst. “Still, he is very good.” In point of fact, for all his loathsome character, the commander was an outstanding warrior, and his Grafter enhancements seemed to have made him unbeatable. They watched for many minutes as he plowed his way through his assailants. He’d already killed over a dozen and showed no sign of slowing down. Then Crimson Rook Perry stepped up.
“Is he drawing a pistol?” asked Gerd.
“I think so,” said Ernst. “How odd. They already know our soldier is immune to — oh.”
The remaining Gruwel general had just put the gun against his own head and pulled the trigger. Perry collapsed instantly. There was silence — everyone was still — and then the massive figure of the Grafter general slowly keeled over to land with a heavy thud on the turf.
“Did — did that just happen?” asked Ernst faintly.
“I think it did,” said Gerd.
Ernst zoomed in more closely on the body of Perry. There was absolutely no doubt that he was dead. Anything with that much brain sprayed across the grass had to be. “What did he do?”
“I have no idea. But now we have a new problem,” said Gerd.
“Oh?”
“The surviving Gruwels have, in fact, noticed our presence.”
“Ah.”
“And they are coming toward us.”
“Indeed,” said Ernst. “I think we should vacate the premises.”
And so the graafs mounted their huge steeds and fled, breaking through the enemy lines. They were pursued by several dozen Gruwels who witnessed as, without hesitation, the two noblemen spurred their horses off a cliff and plunged into the ocean.
Nine days later, Ernst and Gerd, still on their horses, emerged wearily from the surf onto a twilit beach by the village of Zeebrugge. It was the first opportunity they had had to exchange words, but they were too exhausted. With the water streaming off them, they grimly set off for home, intent on some bowls of cream-based soup, a few beers, and then bed.
The Broederschap held several estates dotted around the country. All of them were discreet, with high walls to conceal what was going on in them, and with outstanding security. They were the ideal places for the noblemen to rest and recover and plan how they were going to explain the situation to the governor-general. Gerd and Ernst proceeded wearily to the nearest facility, a country manor outside Bruges, only to find that the British had already arrived there. Even worse, they had sent a force more terrifying than the Gruwels: diplomats.
Emissaries of Charles II*1 of England had arrived in Brussels five days before and presented themselves to the governor-general. Although they were not accompanied by an army, or even a single bodyguard, they strode in as if they held all the power in the world. It was not clear if any of them were Gruwels themselves, but they presented Carlos de Aragón de Gurrea with an ornate box of polished English oak. Under their unwavering gaze, he opened it and found it contained the head of the Grafter general. It was incontrovertible evidence that the Broederschap invasion had failed. He looked up at them hopelessly, and they made known their demands.
It was all very carefully worded in appropriate diplomatic and legal language with no mention of matters supernatural. The governor-general would be permitted to keep his life and his position. News of the debacle need never reach the court of Spain. (Carlos II might be an inbred idiot, but his wrath could be terrible.) But Carlos de Aragón de Gurrea’s state-sponsored foray into alchemy would be destroyed. The possibility of empire that had hung appetizingly before him would be cut away.
He rolled over immediately.
That afternoon, a swarm of British clerks and troops arrived in the country, divided themselves into brigades, and set about the systematic and complete dismantling of the Wetenschappelijk Broederschap van Natuurkundigen. The governor-general told them everything he knew, but there would have been no point dissembling about the extent or distribution of the brotherhood’s resources anyway — the British seemed to possess an encyclopedic knowledge of their affairs.
Belgian observers were attached to the brigades, primarily, it was suspected, to keep the governor-general aware of the implacable and meticulous ruthlessness shown by the British. The forces descended upon the estates, and startled scientists were rousted out of their laboratories to have guns, fingers, and legal documents pointed at them threateningly. A few put up a fight, even activating their implants, but they were subdued and executed on the spot. Every member of the Broederschap the British could find, right down to the most junior apprentice, was arrested and held in the most secure facility in the country. There, they were guarded by silent Englishmen, not all of whom carried guns.
Meanwhile, work proceeded on the orderly sacking of assets. Chattels were seized and coffers emptied as reparation for the destruction visited upon the Isle of Wight. In the laboratories, greenhouses, sties, kennels, aviaries, apiaries, stables, orangeries, and mews, all Grafter creations were killed and their carcasses destroyed. The local populace had learned not to pay too much attention to the doings of their reclusive neighbors, and that carefully cultivated disinterest, combined with the fortified nature of the facilities, meant that most of the destruction could be done in relative secrecy.
Ownership of the land was to be transferred to the English church as soon as every structure had been demolished, every animal put down, every plant uprooted, and all of it burned, regardless of whether or not there were obvious signs of “tampering.”
As for the members of the brotherhood, they were to be put down as well. When Ernst and Gerd arrived at their own front door, they were taken into custody; their names were dutifully removed from the list of the dead and added to the list of those who would soon be dead. The two noblemen were imprisoned separately from their cohorts, although the conditions were no better.
For the cousins, the most astonishing fact was that the Gruwels were apparently in league with the British throne. Indeed, the monsters were actually a part of the government! That a Christian nation — even one that had schismed away from the Church in Rome — would knowingly ally itself to the creatures of the devil was almost incomprehensible.
The second most astonishing fact was that the British seemed to have no care for the possibilities the Broederschap’s work held. It was only natural that the British would demand retribution for the invasion. The pillaging of the Belgian estates, the humbling of their ruler — such were the vagaries of war and the price one paid for losing. The two noblemen could even face the prospect of their own execution with a certain amount of equanimity. But the Gruwels were not destroying only the warriors and weapons of the brotherhood.
Gerd and Ernst looked out of their cells into the courtyard of their prison and saw their scholars and scientists being put to the sword. The most brilliant minds the world had known were beheaded like common murderers. Books containing centuries of insights were thrown contemptuously onto heaps and burned. Apprentices were swiftly executed, even the very youngest ones who had received no modifications, the children who had barely learned to read.