After our interesting meeting with Wotan, we stood right in front of the factory—me, Heinrich, and Regin. Regin scratched his head and said:
"Well, guess I'm going to help you with this mess. Maybe—just maybe—we can find something out about the murdered worker. I didn't know him well. Wotan kept him exclusively to himself like a little pet. But anyway, Tom, with your big brain, do you know what this Club Faust is and how we get to Berlin?"
I thought for a moment. I knew about the club, but I wasn't sure how to get to Berlin quickly. Whatever this cult wanted to do, I had a feeling time was running out.
"Well," I said, "I know about Club Faust. It only opens on the sixth of every month. It's definitely a paranormal place. I've heard of kobolds, alps, and other cryptids entering the club to party. And I even heard the owner is a powerful entity. Not surprising, considering the club only exists once a month. So we need to hurry. Today is the 4th of October, so we need to get to Berlin in two days. A night train would work, but honestly, I don't have the financial resources right now. What about you, Heinrich?"
Heinrich thought for a moment.
"Well, to be honest, sir, I could buy one ticket for myself, but it wouldn't be enough for you and Mr. Regin."
We stood in silence for about three seconds, lost in thought. Then we both turned toward Regin. Heinrich said:
"If I remember correctly, Regin wasn't poor in the saga. So maybe he can pay for the trip."
Regin was taken by surprise. He held his hands up defensively.
"Well, then you're misinformed. I'm just as poor as every other worker in this factory. Ever since that brat stole my treasure, I don't have a penny left. And besides—"
I clapped him on the back with more force than necessary, and several golden coins fell out of his beard.
Regin knew his lie wasn't going to hold, so he shouted:
"Fine, you nasty brats! I'll pay! But Tom, I hope you choke on your damn attitude, bullying old dwarves!"
"Regin, you're only about 1500 years old. It could be worse. Don't be such a drama queen. Come on, let's get to the next train stop."
You could see by his expression that he wanted to kill me right then and there, but he still said reluctantly:
"Alright, fine. Over there—right beside our factory—is a major train stop. But don't be surprised, I'm using a disguise spell. People without magical affiliation see me as a man in his 60s." He looked at Heinrich. "You will too, since you don't have a Schutzgeist."
Regin was just about to cast the spell when Heinrich interrupted him with a raised hand.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Regin, but… why do magical creatures hide? Why don't you share these wonders with the world? Magic and Schutzgeists are really cool. It could have solved so many problems. It could have prevented the Great War."
Regin smirked.
"Let me stop you right there, kid. First of all, cut the 'Mr. Regin' bullshit. I'm just Regin. Secondly, magic is useful, sure, but it's also dangerous. Imagine some politician getting their hands on a mind‑control Schutzgeist. Or a warmonger getting a Schutzgeist of war. The consequences would be dire. And thirdly—the Great War wouldn't have been prevented by magic. It was caused by it. The world powers used magic and got greedy. Things have quieted down a bit now, but I fear this NSDAP scum knows about magic."
He paused, then added:
"Oh, and something else came to mind. Kid, come here."
Heinrich walked toward him.
"Here, take this."
Regin dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a silver shortsword. It had fine carvings, thin as an icicle but as strong as a greatsword. He held it out to Heinrich.
"This is Icic, a sword I forged a while ago. My ex, Gryla, helped me with it. She blessed it. With it in hand, you can slide on any surface as if it were ice and you were wearing skates."
He blushed slightly and stared dreamily into the air.
"It still smells like her hair. The exact same smell you have on you. If you may… can you show it to me?"
Heinrich was confused for a moment, then pulled out the icy tome I had given him. Regin took it and examined it.
"Rare stuff. A tome of Gryla isn't often seen around here. Since you're not familiar with this magical world yet, I assume Tom gave it to you. Where did you find it, Tom?"
I thought for a moment.
"Well, to be honest, Regin, it was from here. After I shot the Jötun cult member, I searched his belongings and found this book. I couldn't read it since I don't know Icelandic, but Heinrich could."
Regin looked the book up and down, then handed it back.
"Well, kid, with the sword and the tome, you could get Gryla as a Schutzgeist if you want. You just need to figure out what your sacrifice will be. Remember: the more you sacrifice, the stronger you get."
Heinrich was overwhelmed by so much information in just one minute. He stared at the book and the sword for a long time.
"Well, anyway," I said, "you can make your decision on the train. It's 6 p.m. now. We should hurry if we want to catch it. Come on."