Following the arrival of the newcomers, it took Vardun a moment to recover his composure, but as he registered the presence of Marie and the Zamar Valley rebels, his smile grew even wider.  Truly, he was favoured by the gods.  He spread his arms, in victorious, triumphant greeting.

"Welcome, my hapless friends!  Welcome to—"

"George?" interrupted Marie.  "Is that you?"

Taking off his helmet, George blinked in surprise.  "Mum?"

Smile looking slightly strained, Vardun tried again.  "Welcome to your doom—"

"You recognise those guards?" asked Laya.

"Nope," said Arnutz, squinting at the two imposters.  "But I haven't got my glasses on."

"Oh, yes," replied Marie.  "That's my son and my father-in-law."

"Welcome to your—"

"Ah, the joyous rapture that can only be engendered by the reunion of family.  Truly, it warms the heart and enriches the soul, and one can feel—"

"Isn't that wrinkly one a bit old to be a guard?" queried Danus.

"Welcome to—"

"Old?" growled Grandpa.  "If I had a pie-cutter here, I'd show you who's old."

Danus' expression became longingly wistful.  "Mmm, pie..."

"Welcome—"

"I can't believe you two are here," sighed Marie, shaking her head.  "This is such a strange dream."

George frowned at her.  "What dream?"

"Wel—"

"Vardun!" snapped Grandpa.  "Will you please stop bloody interrupting, you ungracious arsehole?  We're trying to have a conversation here."

In recognition of the day so far proving to be more exciting than most, Korbus had imbibed an extra drink or two, and was consequently waving his tankard around with more than the usual enthusiasm.  Bup was starting to wish he'd brought an umbrella.

"So I says, I says...what did I say?  Oh yeah, I says to him, that, my friend, is a clear demonstration of the inherent instability of a system based upon the subjugation of the proletariat, the suppression of free speech and the enforcement of order at the end of a spear.  Yeah, that's what I said, alright.  And do you know what he said to me?"

Bup wiped a splash of beer from his eye.  "What did he say?"

"He said, 'Shut up, arse-face'."

"And who could blame 'im?" muttered Bup.

"What's that?"

"I said," replied the gnome, in a louder voice, "ooh, shame on him."  He smiled winningly at his friend, but only receiving a glare in return, was profoundly glad for the distraction provided by a tremendous crash, coming from the castle across the street.  "'Ello, looks like somethin's up, over at Vardy's place."

With his index of suspicion somewhat alcoholically impaired, Korbus took the bait.  "Oh, yeah.  And now a bunch of those agents of surresh...agents of supprenshun...thingys of suppressions...those, you know, whatsits..."

"Um, guards?" offered Bup.

"Yeah, that's them.  A whole bunch of 'em are headed into the courtyard.  I wonder what's goin' on?

The gnome frowned, as he scanned the scene.  "Dunno.  But I could swear that the bloke what just came outa the castle is Lord High-Muckety Vardun Arsewipe, himself.  And he don't half look cheesed off."

"Shut UP!"  The final word of Vardun's command rippled across the courtyard like a seismic wave, stunning its other occupants into shocked silence, and shattering every one of the immense stained-glass windows that adorned the castle's walls.  Eyes blazing red, arms thrown wide, the dark lord stood amongst the showering shards of shattered glass, regarding Grandpa with a look of pure, unadulterated, hatred.

"I have had ENOUGH!  I have had enough of your insults, enough of your so-called wit, and enough of your meddling.  But most of all, you old fool, I have had enough of you!"

Grandpa brushed fragments of glass from his shoulders.  "Don't worry, sunshine, I'm not exactly crazy about—"

"SILENCE!" This command, roared directly at Grandpa, knocked him from his feet and sent him skidding wildly across the cobblestones, only coming to halt when he crashed violently into the wall.

The old man twitched feebly for a moment, and then slowly, painfully, sat up.  He wiped his mouth, and gave Vardun a blood-flecked grin.  "So," he croaked, "looks like you can teach an old arsehole new tricks."

Lowering his arms, the dark lord began to advance towards him.  "You have no idea, old man.  In the time since you left this land, I have grown to become more powerful than you could ever imagine.  More powerful than any Blade that has come before me, even without the weapon itself.  And once I have it in my possession, the very gods will tremble at my might."

Coughing hoarsely, Grandpa attempted to sit up a little straighter.  "We're not about to let that happen, arse-wipe," he wheezed.  "We got the best of you on Earth, and we can do it again."

Vardun glanced at the guards who had gathered in the courtyard, and with a curt gesture, directed them to secure Laya and her little group.  Shocked, and heavily outnumbered, they submitted in silence, apart from a single cry uttered by Marie, as her arm was seized and twisted up painfully behind her back.

Swallowing nervously, George drew the Blade and moved to put himself in Vardun's path.  "You leave my mother alone.  And Grandpa's right.  We're going to stop you, like we did before."

Vardun gave a sardonic chuckle.  "Oh, you poor, dim-witted imbeciles.  You think you defeated me?  In your world, I was but a shadow of my real self.  In your world, only the tiniest fraction of my power was available to me.  In your world, I had no choice but to exercise my will with simple tricks, sharp knives and imbecilic vassals.  Here, in Volanda, the situation is altered.  Here, in Volanda, my will is all.  Tremble in fear, for you are in my world, now."

Grimacing, Grandpa managed to haul himself up onto his knees.  "If you'll just shut the hell up for two seconds, I'll tell you something, you piece of shit.  Volanda is my world, too.  I've been trying to forget it for a long time, but I'm done with that, now.  This is my home, and you know what?  It's good to be home.  And now that I'm back, I'll be damned if I'm going to let an evil, twisted, pretentious, big-headed, monologuing pain-in-the-arse like you trash the place.  I know a trick or two, as well."  Raising his arm, Grandpa gave a flick of his wrist, and accompanied by gasps from the assorted  onlookers, one of the largest of the shards of glass lying scattered about the courtyard, leapt up from the cobblsetones and arrowed directly towards Vardun.

Who, smiling casually, simply held up a hand and stopped the shard, in mid-air.  "Utilisation of ke mana to control inanimate objects?  Oh yes, quite a trick.  But is that really the best you can do, you decrepit buffoon?  I expected better from the man who killed my father."  More shards drifted up from the floor, to join the one hovering before the dark lord, and with the barest twist of his fingers, Vardun set them spinning in a dizzying, intricate constellation of gleaming edges and jagged points.  And then, with a dismissive flick, he launched the lethal vortex at his old adversary.

Reacting far more quickly than a man of his age and condition had any right to, Grandpa threw himself to the side, deflecting many of the shards away with a slashing gesture of his arm, and dodging most of the rest.  Most, but not all.  One smaller piece sliced through the flesh of his forearm, slashing cleanly right down to the bone.  And a second—wickedly sharp, long and deadly, red as the blood now flowing freely from his arm—buried itself deep in his midriff.

"Grandpa!" cried George, running towards the old man, who, with stricken eyes, looked towards his grandson, his mouth working in a vain and soundless attempt to speak.

"Not so fast, my young friend," warned Vardun.  George skidded to a halt, as another constellation of shards formed around his grandfather's crumpled figure, each with its sharpest point directed towards the old man.  "One more step, and I will shred every trace of flesh from his wretched bones.  Now, sheathe the Blade, and then bring it to me.  Slowly."

George dragged his gaze away from Grandpa, and with a sinking sense of despair, turned to face the ominous black-clad figure.  Tall and upright, radiating power, so calm, so in control, so...so...absolutely, bloody terrifying.  Desperately, the young Blade tried to muster what little reserves of courage he could find.  "I...I can't."

Vardun smiled.  It was a smile of surprising warmth and sincerity.  "Of course you can.  You can give me the Blade, and you can be on your way.  You and your mother.  You can even take your grandfather with you.  He may even survive.  This is not your fight, this is not your world.  Don't be a fool, take the easy way out.  There is no dishonour in choosing life.  Life for you, and for your family."

The Blade wavered in George's grip.  "But...but what about the Volandans?  I can't let you...let you..."

"Let me do what?  Kill them all?  Turn them all into slaves?  Please, young man, don't take me for a fool.  I wish to rule this land, not destroy it.  In truth, I already rule Volanda, but with the Blade I will cement that rule, beyond any possible dispute.  I know you do not think of me as a good man, and you are correct.  I am not a good man.  But nor am I a bad man.  I am simply a man who understands the pointlessness of such labels.  There is no good or bad, there is only strength or weakness.  Control or chaos.  Order or disorder.  Under my rule, there will be strength, control and order.  Surely that is better than the alternative?"

"And, you wont...you won't do, you know, bad stuff?"

Vardun raised an eyebrow.  "You and every soul here would know I was lying, should I agree to that.  Those who wrong me will be punished.  Those who stand against me will be punished.  Those who displease me will be punished.  Harshly.  That is as it should be.  Strength, control and order, my young friend."

The Blade was becoming increasingly heavy.  Desperately George looked to Grandpa, for some sort of guidance, but the old man was drawn and pale, and seemed beyond speech.  He looked at his mother, held captive by a burly guard, tears running down her distraught face.  He looked up at the sky, cloudless and blue.  Finally, he looked back to Vardun.  He raised his chin.

"No."