Once the small council group had filed into the two carriages, Morturion issued an order to their undead drivers and with the eerie crack of a pair of etheral whips, the carriages were off, tendrils of the necromancer's shadow magic creeping around the means of trnasport and concealing the carriages from prying eyes.
As the carriages travelled over barren landscapes and through dense forest, the ground became a vague blur, the colour of which belied the nature of the terrain the coaches were driving through. As the carriages reached Wurtbad, the necromancer reluctantly slowed the carriages down, scowling at the necessity of having to do so. He'd just reached a closely guarded empire border near Altdorf, and it would not do to attempt to zoom through it in what was quite obviously a black coach. It would certainly raise the alarm at the Amethyst College for some considerable time, at least. At least it's not emblazoned with Triumvirate heraldry. I'll just have to negotiate with the border staff.
As the carriages stopped moving just by the border, the necromancer stepped out of one of them, shrouded in his robes, much like the wraith drivers. He left his scythe in the carriage, and bid the other council members stay inside their carriages. They could really bungle this, if I even manage to fool these guards in the first place, he mused. The foliage that the area was festooned with and its looming shadows helped conceal the more unnatural features of the horses and their drivers somewhat, along with a touch of subtle shadow magic. Still, security was not lacking. Three guards approached the carriage, looking slightly tired. It was nearing the end of their shift and they wanted to get home. One was a stony-faced man whose rifle had never lost track of Morturion's chest since the wizard's arrival - it seems they're prepared for combat with any hostile creatures, vampiric or otherwise. A second appeared to be the obvious leader of the group: he acted with the confidence of a superior officer and had shouted "Who goes there at this hour?" as the carriage had approached.
These two were little trouble, but the third struck terror into Morturion's heart. He was a small, bespectacled, unremarkable man, but Morturion could sense the winds of magic twisting around him. A mage - still a novice, given the weakness with which the winds twist around him; most likely he is a student at one of the colleges of magic, or a recent graduate at most. Still, Morturion knew why he'd been employed here; to spot any sort of odd magic. The necromancer silently hoped his artfully skilled spells were subtle enough to go unnoticed by this man, and that his shadow magic concealed the most sinister animation of the wraith drivers. Besides, Dhar may run quite strongly near the border of the Empire anyway. It is not as if the Von Carstein forces have not approached the vicinity of this place.
With his scarred face concealed by the cowl of his robes, Morturion answered the officer: "A ruined fellow and his family, sir." The officer squinted at the wizard, scrutinising him. Morturion seemed harmless enough at first glance, but then, so did many vampires. He certainly hadn't brought an army with him, anyway, so the vampiric conquest of the Von Carsteins was probably not the traveller's goal, the officer reasoned. The rifleman did not lower his weapon an inch. Too many had suffered a gruesome fate after doing just that. The bespectacled man frowned; something was bothering him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
The three patrollers then looked, from a distance, at the figures inside the carriages. They could see nothing but the silhouettes of three men and a woman, all of whom looked young enough to be Morturion's children, or at least young relations. Morturion himself simply looked like a decrepit old father. Any doubt still lingering in the officer's mind was banished when, upon peering further into one of the carriages, he spotted the figure of a child - Helena Von Carstein. These people are clearly not rotting monsters, and the child's presence confirms that they are not vampires. No vampire could possibly be evil enough to sire a child, and even if they did, that child would die, the officer assured himself, feeling internally shaken by such a prospect as he thought of his own children. He gave a quick glance to the unflinching rifleman, who, as usual, made no judgement, and then turned to the bespectacled man. The youth stroked his chin, murmuring to himself for a moment, before shaking his head. It would not make sense for these people to be undead. And yet, he wondered... He dismissed the thought, and nodded to his inquisitive captain.
The officer then turned back to Morturion, pausing for a moment in reflection. He could have the carriage searched if he still suspected the old man, but he decided not to. It had been a long shift, he was tired, and these people seemed perfectly normal, if a little downtrodden. Besides, he wanted to make the border travel process as hassle-free as possible for innocents, given that Empire policy was to encourage civilians in Von Carstein territory to migrate to their lands, so the vampires could not gain their physical, mental, and, post-mortem, organic resources. "Alright," he said grudgingly, giving the carriages another scrutinising glance, "you may pass." With a wave of the officer's hand, the rifleman lowered his hand, and Morturion stepped towards the driver of one of the carriages, instructing them to set off on his command (not that he needed to do with words - that was simply a precaution to reassure the border staff that nothing of the supernatural was within or about the coaches). He turned around and stepped back into the coach he'd originally emerged from, only for his heart to leap in fright as the magically gifted youth spoke a single word: "Wait."
Morturion barely stopped himself from whirling around and igniting a darkened flame in his palm. He drew in a heavy breath and turned around slowly to face the man. The young wizard frowned and squinted at the carriages. "There's something about you, the hint of magic...", the mage muttered. Morturion panicked, and mentally prepared to utter a destructive spell to strike the patrol down. Just before Morturion might have said something that gave the travelling group's nature away, the young man spoke again, his first words said almost to himself: "But it's nothing; a child vampire would be near impossible to create." After another brief and uncomfortable silence, he spoke again, "Forgive my ramblings," he smiled apologetically, "it must be the arcane energies which course through this forest. Truth be told, I'm rather exhausted and my focus isn't as good as it is usually." Thank goodness for that, Morturion pondered. The youth continued: "Go, may your journey be smooth and the foundation of whatever new life you plan pleasant." He smiled amiably at Morturion, and the officer waved his arm once again. Morturion offered a small smile back, restraining himself from expressing his utter jubilation. He quickly shut the carriage door, and then the carriages set off into the night, picking up speed once they were out of the patrol's sight.
After several more hours of travelling, in the dead of night, the coaches ground to a halt outside the gates of Altdorf, having shimmered back into view at their master's most recent command. Mercifully for the council group, the coaches had not been stopped again at any other point during their journey, and they finished moving only as they reached their destination. Morturion stepped out of one of the carriages onto a grassy plain, muttering to himself about the instructions as he lookd over them again. So, this is where we are supposed to meet the Carsteins' agent, or one of their scions at least. After a few minutes of cautious vigil, Morturion looked up, having heard the sound of footsteps. At last, the necromancer thought with eagerness, we have made contact!
