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Where to south toward Lancaster.

We can pick up highway to there?

Are we going to Maine?

I'm just picking a direction where we're not going to be safe here.

What's in the diary?

A lot?

A century has passed and I am only now coming to realize the limits of even an immortal's memory.

Jesus, okay ah, this is absurd, Sylvie.

This is the national goal.

A state of emergency has been declared by the governor of New average Waite.

Are they not letting people through.

The township of having it's under warrantine until further notice?

Residents aren't struggling to return to their halls.

The shelter in place.

Shit, I'm gonna pull you turn?

Hang on?

Where should we go?

Well?

I could use a drink?

Will bar the doors?

Well, I guess we'd better get to it.

Then they'll start reading I I.

A century has passed and I am only now coming to realize the limits of even an immortals memory.

My life before is a fever dream.

The early years of this blood does not clearer in my heads, and the memories of early childhood disjaunted me.

Flashes of images only the most salient points, resolving themselves into scenes of folk color.

And so I must write them down before they lost forever, and with them the tenuous connection to my own history.

Dream images of hysteria, my mother's rough hands, my father thus cruel and then dead.

Of them, there is but Lucia with a terrifying clarity.

I see her eyes in my mind to the time has won away match.

Else an image of her running across the field to me, rassing against each other on the night of averting, losing one child after another to disease or accident.

My Lucia, her resolve is clear to me, and her voice, that lovely melodic voice whispering to me in the night.

I love you, Eah.

Jory the name my mother gave me, Jory gran Davalilovitch.

Though I never liked the name until it was whispered by the one I loved.

It was the first voice to greet me each morning, the last I heard before falling into slumber.

It was also the final voice I heard as a mortal man, though by then it was strained Ralph, broken from.

Exhaustion, Seria, I will see you in the next life.

Yet this was Christiania.

Chavo tip a koi swoogie baga branda halleguyah.

At the show the eleventh of October sixteen fifty six, Kringer hysteria, our call first the darkness, even our blackish knights held their stars.

A fire in the field, the torch left burning at the entrance to the church, a cant lin, the window of an insomniac.

But this darkness was complete, an ancient darkness.

It was the darkness from before the world was made.

It was into this darkness that I was born ah Lucia for mositm for Mositimi.

But it was no use.

The deadness of the air, the hardwood planking inches from my face, I believe, and that I had been buried alive, with something new stirred within me, such a simral farm.

I had not possessed a desperate trust that seemed to botherm on madness, and I could use that madness.

So I did ah ah in such a way, violently battering at the pine ands and whipping at it with bloody fingers, and digging at the dirt above did I finally free myself from the gray Hello, But no one had witnessed my exit from the death.

That was just a wind through the graveyard, bats flying above the judge belfree.

This was my village, Cringer, my beloved home.

This is where I have been raised, had married, had raised my children in their turn.

Where I became ill, took sick to my bed, the village where I had died, and were despite the rods, I found myself again, terribly alive.

So I was wearing nothing but a woolen burry or shroud.

I felt little of the chill.

Still, I thought it best that I'd not be found standing over my own grave.

I may have been a simple man, but I was not stupid, and so as quietly as I could, I made my way home.

As I've walked, I noticed a certain heightening of senses.

The black night was vibrant's color, A candle in the window throwing off in a light for me to pass through the streets With that, tripping over my own chateau, I could sense the bats in the sky overhead, hunting and the stars.

I had never seen such an undress night.

They lit the firmament, burned as one hundred thousand suns, galaxies filing and exploding.

I was stopped in my tracks by the beauty of it all, but continued on the root of my heart to my Lucia.

When I entered the house, I was assaulted by the smells of it.

Cold ashes in the chimney, old cooking smells, and something earthier beneath it, something that excited my senses, something human, something alive, the stale sweat of bodies that have worked, the salt of urine and tears, but deeper saliva, sour breath, and deeper iron copper.

Lord.

I was drawn to it, as it seemed also to me the source of these soft sobs.

Then I was standing above her, Lucia, my heart now lying disheveled on my desk bed, clutching at the straightback blankets, weeping.

I stood staring down at her in the dark, realizing that perhaps she could not see me in return, and so I spoke to her, my love, to not your friend, Lucia, who are you?

You?

You carry my dead husband's.

Wis I am your husband?

It is sure Are you a spirit?

No, love, I am here in the flash here feel feel your hands are so cold?

Husband, Yes, the night is cold, and I wear nothing but a muddy shroud.

Will let me start the fire?

No, darling, Let me lie down beside you.

That will be fond of enough.

Come then, you are shivering?

You're very cold?

Are you afraid?

I do not know how you came to be here?

I buried you eight hours ago.

Does it matter how I came to be here?

Will you say the Lord's prayer with me?

Do you believe me to be a devil?

No?

No, I just wish for the comfort of the Lord.

In this moment, I could hear a pulse thickening, could smell it pumping in her veins.

Hot sweet.

It was this moment when I first fully realized the terrible thirst, as if mine, our body had been drained of its fluids, as if I were dry bones in the bed next to this vibrant the animal.

All I needed to do was to bite, attend the flesh of her neck.

And what is it, dear, my love?

I think that perhaps perhaps I am not the same man you bear it today?

After all?

What do you mean?

I must remove myself from here from you until I can better understand why I work this night?

Your husband?

What are you doing dressing living this house?

Why?

Because you're in the angel to s here?

I dressed as quickly as possible, grab my old cloak from a peg on the wall, down to her, sitting in a pile of bed clothes, staring at my silhouette lost.

I wish you were don't know when who saw me?

Where are you going?

Far far away?

Will you return?

Not as your husband?

And we said my after life began.

The first order of business was sleeking, this horrible first that had overtaken me.

I found my way to the wheelich well.

My body passed with expectation as I pulled up a bucket full of cold water.

I bought the bucket to my mouth and drank deeply, but realizing if the water tasted of ash, bunt and my throat churned my stomach and once more it would not stay down.

Damn it.

I did not have time to recover before I was interrupted.

You is everything all right?

Friend?

I turned to find my neighbor, brass Lover, a large stupid man, who have myself frequently bickering with over trifles needless to say he was surprised to find me there, you recranto Aliovik Brusselva, my friend, stay away, devil, quiet, listen to me the devil.

The devil has come to Cringer.

Braut's laving you, damny did rise neighbors help?

I moved forward to quiet him.

But as I got close, I felt it his pulse, the heat coming off him, the smell of iron in his blood, and I knew the cause of my ters.

Before I knew what was happening, I was on him, my it suddenly aching sharp, found his throat and pressed the flesh, yielding with a gentle pop.

The hot blood flood in my mouth.

I'll sing down my throat, feeling my empty stomach.

Before my thirst was fully vanquished.

Though he was dead.

The spigot what's closed, And it seemed my time in Cringer was up.

Murderer, murderer.

I did not pause.

Immediately, I ran, and I called muscles heating and nourished my birth's love as hot blood.

I was revived, really fully revived from my time in his grave, more alive, it seems, than I had ever been.

As I left the town of my Berth's behind and entered into the great forest of the night.

I would not return for a long long time, and so I ran faster than I had ever run, a wolf uneagal, long past the time that the village's voices dropped away through the deep wood.

I felt a mad sort of CLEAs I cut through the cold air, I radiated heat.

Finally I found the rods that cut through the heart of my country, the trade road, and I continued on, avoiding the occasional trader's encampment.

I ran for hours that night.

What stopped me finally was the appearance of the light in the east.

It occurlled to me in that moment to ask the question what was I becoming?

What, in fact, had I already become in life?

I never had the thought even to ask.

I was the son of a Stonemason, and so became a Stonemason myself, I was a husband of was a Christian.

TI faster way of our lives.

There was no doubt about it.

It seems had broken all of the responds.

And now where now I was awakened into a body transformed hungry, the charge of wonders, of fiends who fed in the night, against whom he hung crucifixes, wreaths of garlic.

Was I such a fiend?

Now?

I hadn't been alive in this form an hour when I killed my first man.

Ra's love was a fool, but our disagreements had always been minor.

He was no enemy of mine, and I quite tortlessly trained his life away.

Perhaps I deserved to die, and wasn't some light of weapon against creatures such as myself.

I sat on a large stone on the side of the road and allowed my situation to sink in, and as it did so rose a sudden wave of grief.

Not to my shame for Proslova left head on the public swearing linger, nor even for my policier, by now had surely heard of our husband's horrible crime.

No, I moan for Tchory Grandalliedovitch, the stone Mason, the husband the Christian mourned his short, unremarkable life and his forgettable death.

I mourned for his eternal soul too, Now that he had taken the life of an innocent, if stupid man, I had committed a mortal sin, the worst of them all.

The Holy Father would not forgive me.

I thought too, in that moment that perhaps the most Christian thing I could do was to remove myself from the great filthy wash of the world.

Perhaps the sun would burn me away along with the morning dew.

And so I sat there on the side of the road, over within raw dust and dried blood, and watched as the sky grew lighter, from indigo to red to orange.

I shivered as the horizon grew bright.

I closed my eyes as the first rays of sunlight raised across the land and touched my face, and did nothing but form my eyelids.

I would not get an easy way out.

If I were going to die, I'd have to commit another mortal sin, suicide.

And so the next phase of my existence began in earnest.

At first I kept to the forests and fields, subsiding on nourishment.

I could keep from the birds or rodents caught in handmade snails, and then with the theft of a strong bow and they quiver full of arrows larger game.

But his hands yielded little in way of sustaining blood.

I had never been a great hunter, and evens dear that I did occasionally manage to injure and run down, would only heard so much.

For the heart stopped when drained into flasks would keep me a couple of nights before becoming putrid.

Finally, the horrible burning thirst.

That way any spiritual guilt that murder may have caused, and so I began to make little moral calculations.

I moved north into Austria, and, traveling from town to town, began to pray on live stock, a lost lamb here, and aarn cats her, a sheep dog himself gone astray.

I tried to be as careful as possible, never visiting the same place twice.

One lamb gone missing can be overlooked, but two three would draw unwonted attention.

I had seen for a time the fate of before live stock thieves.

Though it lay varying from town to town, it almost always ended at the wrong end of a blade.

I had no wish to meet death the second time.

In this way, I made a sort of miserable parts for myself, skulking in the shadows, looking off my shoulders, cold and damp boots, perpetually care to his mud, a lone wolf cast out from its society.

I was not content, of course, but had committed myself to the ideas that my cursed blood meant said, I've somehow deserved my misery.

The dive was a shadow, a wraith, a sneaking, sneveling's teeth in the night, A man who will look his life and now his dignity, which seemed to stink the first.

But there was yet more for me to learn on my night journey.

It was in ends, such strange old fortress of the cities that I found my mentor.

I was sticking through the detritus in anarly while looking for a rats ness to prey upon.

When he passed from the door of the near by heaven.

A large man, gray builded and pot belly, threw a smaller man out of the door and onto the damp cobbles, walking out and towering over him as he scraped and begged.

My apologies happened?

I did not know it was your person, HyET, you dog, I have returned at my lord.

I only stole it so that my daughters couldn't say it quiet.

He had d wrn a knife and pierced the man's guts before he had been able to make his case.

Could not feel your daughter's in nowver.

With that, he wrapped his blade on the dying man's shirt and walked back inside.

I waited for someone to restrain the attacker, to call out for the guard.

A murder had just been committed, but anyone who had witnessed the event turned and went about their business, refusing to encomboy his slaughter treat back into the tavern, and I was left alone in the arry with a man who was quickly being emptied upon the ground.

I moved quickly to his side, sticky sweet smell of his blood mixed with the filth and shet of the alley, and the stink of fear in his sweater as he lay dying, making my mind re with the trust.

But there was business to attend to you.

Who was that man?

He looked up at me?

Days and half dead?

Are you an angel?

Who was that man?

That is Herr Bernheim?

Who is he?

He is a merchant?

M is he ferthy?

Yes?

What I took he wouldn't have noticed.

Will you?

Will you go to my daughters and please tell them that I loved them?

I'm sorry, but no, I would not raise such a gift.

I've finished the move, allow as the taste of hot human blood to once again fill me.

For once I had no fear of reprisal.

After all, the man's death was inevitable and protected against consequence because the mother had been committed by a fatcy man.

At that moment, a fire burnt brightly in my skull, casting all the shadows of the previous months.

The next morning, after scrubbing myself as clean as possible, making inquiries about the whereabouts of Belnheim's offices, I made my way towards them and opened his heavy wooden door into a large room filled with clocks hunched over large lettres.

Come in and shut the door.

You're letting in the cold.

No One buzzed looking up, and the wife would say I was nobody.

I made my way up to the largest table in the room, where a gray head man said, checking figures.

Excuse me, sir, yes, what is it?

I wish to speak to Herbhenheim?

Who is asking for him?

Jorek Grando le Levitch?

Who are you a beggar?

Herb Bahrenheim does not suffer beggars at his door?

I am not.

Then?

Who are you?

I am looking for a job.

Do you understand mathematics?

I do not?

Can you write?

No?

Are you a sailor?

I am not?

Young man what can you do?

I can't kill hmm.

Wait here, young man, be respectful for your own good.

Thank you, don't just stands there, enter and shut the door behind you.

What are you doing here?

I wish to ask for a job, yes.

Kloud said, is much what you have suggested is a very nasty sort of job against the loss of men, not to mention God's law.

So why should I not have my men arrest you here and take you down to the city jail.

Perhaps what you say is true Habanheim, Bobby.

If that is the case, why not bring yourself to the jail.

Excuse me?

Last night I happened to witness you handling a thief.

You believe that you can come into my office and blackmail me?

You are sadly mistaken, young man.

Do you believe that anyone would dare hold me to account in this city which I hold it?

It's the palm of my hand.

You misunderstand, Sir?

Educate me then, before I slit your throat for impertinence.

I do not wish to blackmail you, sir.

I recognize that a man of your stature has a certain obligation to protect his business interests.

Go on, I'm merely suggesting that perhaps you should not have to dirty your hands.

So I wish to be your hand.

And what makes you think I need such a man on my payroom?

What makes you think that I don't already employ such men?

Sir?

I do not need your money.

So you wish no payment for your services?

I did not say that.

Then what you saying as payment?

I wish only to learn more of your trade?

In exchange, I will collect any debt audio, no matter how unwilling the data.

I will clear your part of anyone who against your goals.

Anyone at any time.

You needn't even know that they are gone.

You will only know that your business is made easier, and you wish to learn the trade.

That is all, no payment.

Perhaps since the future and you find my service is useful, you will reconsider.

But for now, all I ask for is knowledge.

What is your name?

I am sure a grando, sir at your service where you're a grandle.

I do believe that we are in business, and so I found gain for employment under the tutelage of our breath Burnheim.

The work was simple enough, collections and retributions.

So many were indebted to burn On, so many government officials in trial.

I'd seen power the phone in its basis for physical violence, which I myself excelled at.

But Bernheim taught me true power, that of the purse.

So I ran nextport business.

His true business was control of men.

I was very little that troubled me in these years.

I was a shadow that stopped the night and then walking down a side street one evening, flushed with the blood of another poor data, I suddenly called out to from the dark of Narryway.

I stopped, searched the darkness, and in it found the purse liver of a man dressed in wrecks.

I stopped and considered him as he scouted out of the shadows towards me.

What do you want of me, beggar, I haven't any money to give you.

Oh, I doubt that very much.

You pocketed my own money weeks ago, and then I begged for my.

You took it.

You seem to be living it as we speak, stranger.

This is not a life when your trains have loved for me.

You loved enough for me to live, but only for a bit, and then the fever took me.

I died, raving in my bed, covered in sweat, and blood, cursing your name, grandle, I know that.

You are devil, and.

What is that?

You are?

Rafiend, a bloodsucker, a.

Dead man walking around like the living, borrowing time from hell.

It was not enough that you took my money, my life, but you have made me like you.

What do you want from me?

I want joy?

And I'm afraid that's A man attacked me with a false that I have not been counted in any other living man.

A sharpened steak in his hand, we grappled the zak of wrestling the angel.

He bit and scratched, punched and kicked.

He very nearly had the best of me when I managed to wrest the instrument from his hand and plunged it down into his chest.

Ah.

He could no longer speak, which, to be honest, was positive.

But Safary, hatred in his eyes, scorched me and then was extinguished.

Was I responsible for the rifts that had attacked me?

Did I infect him with my own curse?

And if I had, how many others were as her out there waiting to take her revenge?

For many months I feared looked behind me asself went about my nightly business, but no one came for me.

I.

Like all fears, this one eventually softened, and so I went on.

As months passed, in two years, I learned to read, to write.

I began picking up out other languages of trade, Dutch and English, French and Spanish, the languages of the far East and the subcontinent.

As I came further and further into Bernheim's trust, I became privy to his balance sheets and correspondences.

What a witness for the wild verb that spread across the whole of Europe and into the East, as well as across the Atlantic into the colonies.

There After a time, I began to make money myself, reinvesting it in to his businesses.

I was no longer a lowly enforcer.

I was in his confidence.

Fully his right hand feeled in my own right across the continent at his behast.

I changed my name from its Yesterian roots, anglicized it djuryel Levitch became Jerry Havoc.

It was this name I found myself written into his will many decades later.

This is too generous, albright nonsense.

I never had children of my own if he didn't go to use it or be left to the scavengers.

But with you.

The company will continue in the manor I have chosen, and I do believe that with you it will be carried forth for a very very long time.

I hope said that to you justice what you must tell me?

You're a grandle.

While all around you have each grown ill, lost tooth and limb, you have remained unchanged these last twenty years.

You must have heard the whispers about you from within the company and without How have you maintained your youth?

I suppose that is my pioty nonsense.

There is no piety in you.

What is your real question?

Our brag Ah?

You s the devil?

Ah?

No, my friend, I am not the shame.

I would have liked to have had your favor.

And I make it to Hell alas alas where you then touched by the devil?

I do not know if it was an agent of Heaven, no Hell, who drew me out of my grave.

It is the singular mystery of my life.

It is just as well.

But let me give you a warning, Grundle.

Yes, it is good for men to fear you, but if they fear you too much, they will try to end you.

You cannot continue to remain young as those around you crumble to dust.

If they find out what you truly are, they will kill you.

What's central Ago.

They have offices all over the world which have not seen your visage.

Go to the London officers and announce yourself is the son of Jerry Havoc, come to manage local affairs after a time, announced that your father is dead, and continuum as junior.

In this way you will be able to move around the world unmolested, Sacha Albrac, how sensible.

But if you are ever challenged, violently crush that rebellion, they will fear your name, and they will fear mine too long after I am gone, Yes for you, relieve my name on the company.

Of course, leave me now you must sleep, go out and conquer in my name.

San of course, my first order of business upon taking control of his company was to change its name from Bernheim and Trading Partners too, so Havoc Trading Company.

And so it was forward to London, where my life as he Much and Prince would begin.

Havoctown was created by me Aaron Manke.

The show was written and directed by Nicholas Takoski.

This episode was edited and sound designed by Nomes Griffin.

Starring Jewels State as Coreine Avis, James Callous as Jerry Havoc, Felicia Day as Sylvie Harris, with additional voice acting from Hannah Fearman, David Caprita, Gabriel Menak, Charlie, David Newell, Beverly Bremer's, Jack Lafferty, Jay Jones, Darren Heemes, David Davrees, and Aaron Mankey.

This season is directed by Nicholas Takowski, with assistant directors Sarah Klein and Jake Diamond, casting by Sunday Bowling CSA and Meg Mormon CSA.

Production coordinator Wayna Calderon.

Our theme song was created by Chris Childs executive producers Aaron Mankey, Trevor Young, and Matt Frederick, with supervising producer Rima Lkali and producers Nomes Griffin and Jesse Funk.

Havoctown is set in the Bridgewater Audio Universe, which includes the hit fiction podcasts Bridgewater and Consumed.

Learn more about both shows, as well as Havoctown at grimandmild dot com, and find more podcasts from iHeartRadio by visiting the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows,