New York, London… Other three other obelisks… star of David… Hungary… Poenari Castle… boring, boring… Tibet, India… yada yada yada… Orient express tickets. I’ll need something strong.
Everybody are arguing where to go and what to do next. Apparently we are going to Budapest, but the next train leaves in 12 days. That’s almost two fucking weeks! In this wine sipping frog country! Seriously. I want to get smashed right now. The German is only one who cares to join me. Luckily he knows the language so I can get exactly what I want.
Britannia rule the waves
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves!
Some wankers don’t appreciate my singing. After a while they’ll respect my bloody fists.
Logan is actually quite a good company for a German tosser. But sometimes I have to remind him that Germany is shit of a country. Well, every night. Many times. But we agree that frog ale is shite and wine is for wankers.
Finally the day of department comes! The old geezer wants to exchange compartments with me. So I am bunking with the priest, snob and negro. Fine by me, if I get the top bed. And I did.
I heard the dandy Vincent has some wench in the train. I tried fucking politely to make conversation who she and what is the deal between them. The bugger basically told me to fuck off. Well, I eventually will find out who she is…
The priest really gets my respect. He lend me money for the ticket and gave me all of his drink coupons! Nice! I’ll be sure to toast him many times during this voyage… and surprise: the negro recommended a pretty damn good cocktail. This will be a bloody good trip!
Well what do know! I saw the lovebirds in restaurant. So I introduced myself with my real name to the lady. I really put my blue blood and manners in action. If the tosser Vincent did not know of my heritage, I am sure he does now. It was a fucking pleasure to see the wanker so annoyed. I made sure that I asked all the embarrassing questions with appropriate intensity.
Rest of the voyage went on a bender. Every now and then the demon negro drank with me. He even spoke more than few words at the time. Sometimes full actual sentences.
It fucking rains in Budapest. Mud and rain. I didn’t expect much more. Another shithole.
Budapest lodge is under a bakery. The place looked abandoned so we circled to backdoor and broke in. Bloody hell! I have seen shit but didn’t expect this: The whole fucking place was full of rotting corpses. Under the bakery lies catacombs where the main lodge was located. The stench was fucking awful. We counted 37 corpses – no of them was the person we where looking for – and got one clue: Red Wolf. The name meant bloody nothing to us.
So we contacted headquarters for instructions. Turns out the Red Wolf is a minor lodge in Romania. So that is our next destination.
I think that knobhead Vincent has something against me. He openly talked about a duel. A duel, in 1903! I’m not interested the wanker puffing off his tenuous manhood. But if milord truly wants it, better kill me with the first fucking shot.
Anyway—we travelled in a fucking terrible weather for days. I don’t even know what shithole of a country we are now. Finally we ended up to the Red Wolf. The place was a fucking mess: the whole lodge was basically destroyed, dead bodies everywhere. But luckily we found one survivor. Poor lass was starving and terrified. It turned out that one of the dead was his father. Tough bastard. Died like a true warrior.
We escorted the girl to the nearest city out of the harm’s way. Our next stop will be Poenari Castle. Bloody nice! My fists long for action.