(This character was submitted by a reader and published after some minor revisions.)
Deep in a forgotten wilderness in central Terra stood a long-abandoned castle.
Its towers leaned, cracks covered its walls, and most of its roof tiles had fallen away, exposing the rotten wooden beams beneath.
The castle's gates had long since vanished, leaving only a pitch-black entrance, like a skull's eye socket staring out over the barren land.
This had once been the domain of an ancient noble family, but during the long wars in which the Imperium rose and unified Terra, its owners had disappeared without a trace. Only this empty shell remained, crumbling year after year in the wind and rain.
In a room in the castle's highest tower, a figure in a black trench coat lay on a battered bench.
His face was hidden in shadow, leaving only a vague outline visible.
He held an old-fashioned cane, its shaft black as ink, with a dark red gemstone set into its head that gleamed faintly in the dim light.
His eyes were closed and his breathing steady, as though he were dozing—or waiting for something.
Then his eyebrows twitched slightly.
He did not open his eyes, merely sensing the approaching presence in silence, listening to the footsteps passing through the rotting corridors and climbing the tottering stairs.
Only when those footsteps stopped outside the door did he slowly open his eyes and turn his gaze toward the worm-eaten wooden door.
The rotten door was pushed open with a long, teeth-grating creak.
A figure in heavy robes entered.
"Malcador?" The figure on the bench raised an eyebrow, recognizing his visitor. The hand that had already been reaching for his sword cane withdrew the instant he confirmed the visitor's identity, settling back onto the cane.
"Nibelung." Malcador's voice