Mind-Shapers: Fabled Realms, #1

By Johann Franz Radax

Follow the fantastic journey of Hans Wolff, a young anthropologist working at an archaeological institute in Vienna, Austria.

The unexpected death of his father confronts him with an enigmatic inheritance that triggers a chain of heavy blows: strangers assault him, he loses his job, he is investigated by the police and his fiancée leaves. Together with a loyal friend, he sets out to find answers and try to disentangle himself from his unbelievable plight.

His investigations lead him to a new world where a second humanity lives. It is a world full of miracles and supernatural powers, which he has only known from legends. There he discovers new friendships, but deadly dangers lurk around every corner and he finally gets trapped. Will he manage to find his way out? Will he survive the dangers and start a new life? And will he encounter the love of his life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Johann F. Radax
• Release date: Jun 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223053668

Johann Franz Radax

Johann Franz Radax nació en 1957 en Wiener Neustadt, Austria Baja. Después del estudio de la medicina veterinaria en Viena trabajó como profesor asistente en el Instituto de Nutrición de esta universidad y a continuación se dedicó durante diez años a la práctica de animales grandes en el sur de Austria Baja. En aquel tiempo escribió su tesis doctoral y se graduó de «Dr. Med. Vet.» Después de un interludio de cuatro años en la industria farmacéutica emigró a América del Sur, a Ecuador. Allá estudió medicina y bioética. Durante diez años trabajó como profesor de Anatomía e instructor de Medicina Comunitaria en una universidad ecuatoriana. En todo ese tiempo además fungió como docente de cursos de Anatomía y Fisiología y como instructor de un programa de Salud Pública de una universidad estadounidense que mandaba a estudiantes voluntarios a Ecuador para asistir a cursos y prácticas de un semestre de extensión. Aparte del trabajo docente, el doctor Radax se dedicaba y se sigue dedicando a la investigación científica. En la actualidad dedica su tiempo a la escritura de libros de varias índoles: desde la no ficción hasta las novelas de fantasía. Luego de vivir más de un cuarto de siglo en el Ecuador, dispone de profundos conocimientos tanto del país como de sus habitantes en toda su diversidad, de la profesión médica y de la complejidad de la situación política.

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Prologue

Monday, December 15, 2003

STRUGGLING TO BREATHE, the old man leaned out of the open window and grasped the sill, his chest boiling and each breath accompanied by a wheezing gasp. Desperation etched his face as he eagerly inhaled the fresh air from the garden outside, seeking relief from his discomfort in the cool breeze.

The gendarme stood beside him, looking at him anxiously. His uniform was gray, his gun holster belt a milky coffee-colored leather. He carried his cap under his arm.

You should be careful, Father, leaning out into the winter cold in your shirt sleeves. You’ll get pneumonia that way, the uniformed man said.

A fit of coughing shook the old man. He spat yellow phlegm into the snow, straightened up, and withdrew his head back into the living room. Shivering, he closed the window. Then, exhausted, he slumped onto the bench.

Sit down, Sepp, he said, pointing to a free chair next to the table. Pneumonia? That might be the best solution. Quicker than wasting away slowly here.

He uncorked the bottle of red wine and poured two full glasses.

Come, drink! He grabbed his glass and downed its contents. He breathed a sigh of relief and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I see you’re worried. However, you can relax. We’re alone. My wife is visiting some of her relatives. She won’t be back until tonight. Alfred is at work. You’re my son as much as he is, even if I’m not your biological father. But I took you in and raised you. It still tears my heart to think of how all this ended.

He sighed heavily. A sad smile played on his lips.

And now it seems I’m reaching the end of my own road. I survived the war, not a scratch on me, a miracle in itself. I emerged from the carnage as strong as a bear. Nevertheless, the war has caught up with me now. It was in the trenches that I started smoking. It warmed my lungs, steadied my trembling hands, and melted away the icy fear inside. One cigarette after another, and it continued after the war. And now, I’m paying the price: emphysema, heart failure, fluid in the lungs, struggling for breath. Wouldn't pneumonia be a fitting culmination of this miserable wear and tear, bringing it all to an end?

He laughed briefly. The gendarme remained silent.

"But that's not the reason I've asked you here. It's pointless to dwell on my illness. It has run its course, and I can feel it coming to an end. However, I can't simply vanish from this life, for there's a matter that weighs heavily on me. Or rather, it's been gnawing at me for decades—ever since the war, to be precise.

"You know I’ve never talked to you about the war, nor to Alfred. I never had a good relationship with him. He’s my son, but he’s so different from me that our relationship has never really taken off. With you, things are different. I see myself in you, you’re like me and I think you understand me. I also think you don’t take me for a loony old-timer who just talks nonsense, but that you take my words seriously.

At the end of the war, something happened that in a way opened my eyes, which despite being open, couldn’t see clearly. After all, it was possible to see that I had discovered something incredible, but I lacked the knowledge and means to pursue the matter and delve deeper into it.

The gendarme could barely hide his surprise. What is he telling me? he thought. As a child, I had asked him many times about the war and had always received only silence or evasive answers. And now, suddenly, he speaks of a great mystery, of a secret... What is this?

The old man laughed. I can see in your eyes that you really think I’m zany now. But I can assure you that at this moment I am thinking with the same clarity as before. Don’t worry, I won’t drag you into this mysterious matter. But I would like to ask you to accept a commission—something that you can easily carry out. It won’t cause you any inconvenience.

The gendarme’s smile was encouraging. Please be assured, I don’t believe you to be crazy. I must admit, however, that I’m surprised. You have always evaded my questions regarding the war, yet now you bring up the topic yourself.

The old man shrugged. Maybe what I’m talking about isn’t a matter of the war. Perhaps the war was just a circumstance and had nothing to do with the matter itself. I don’t know. But I know that something is true: I can’t talk to Alfred about the subject. He’s a good family man, but he’s unimaginative, dry, and doesn’t hold me in high esteem. If I were to talk to him now as I am talking to you, he would simply get up and leave. There’s no doubt about it. That’s why I repeat: Will you accept this commission?

The uniformed man nodded. Yes, Father. You know I would do anything for you. And not just out of gratitude. I love you.

Tears filled the old man’s eyes. "I know, and I haven’t forgotten. And there’s one more person I know loves me. That’s my grandson. He carries my name. Maybe it’s an omen, in any case, I think he’s very much like me. He could be your son long before he’s Alfred’s.

I’ll bequeath my great secret to him, but I must do it in such a way that his father doesn’t find out. And that’s where your mission lies.

The old man rummaged through his pants pockets and finally pulled out a key. The gendarme immediately recognized that it was not a common key. It had numbers and teeth in two directions.

This key, continued the old man, belongs to a safe deposit box. I have already spoken to the bank director and have stipulated in writing that upon my death, my grandson will have access to the contents of the safe deposit box. I am giving you the key and I would like to go with you to the bank so that your signature is registered. You will also have access to the contents.

You could leave the contents of the safe deposit box directly to your grandson in your will, interjected the uniformed man.

What you say is very true. But remember that my grandson is still very young. As a student, he depends on his father. Don’t you think Alfred would pressure him to find out the contents of the safe deposit box?

The gendarme opened his hands. It’s possible!

It’s almost certain! And I want to avoid that at all costs. The boy should not have access to the box before he has become independent. That’s why I’m giving you the key. You will decide if the time has come or not. That will be your responsibility. Are you prepared to take it on?

I’m ready! said the gendarme.

There’s something else, said the old man. He got up with difficulty and shuffled over to the living room closet. He pulled out a letter and handed it to the uniformed man.

Here! said the old man. This letter is addressed to my grandson. It’s from Hans Wolff to Hans Wolff. His short laugh was cut off by a painful coughing fit. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. Take the letter. It contains the contract with the bank director that gives my grandson access to the contents of the safe deposit box. I have also written a few lines in which I reveal what little I have learned about this secret. When the time has come, you will give it to my grandson along with the key. That is your mission, nothing more.

I will carry it out as you have ordered, declared the gendarme solemnly.

You don’t know my grandson, even though you’re practically his uncle. If he decides to unravel this mystery, which I urge him to do in my letter, perhaps you could help him. Would you?

Anything within my power!

In the event that something unexpected happens that prevents you from carrying out the mission, I leave it to your discretion what to do next.

I will act accordingly! responded the gendarme seriously.

Good! sighed the old man. Then I think I have settled my affairs in this world. He smiled. Do you have time now to go with me to the bank and register your signature?

Of course, right away. My car is waiting outside.

Eleven days later, the tolling of the church bell and the death notice on the church door announced the passing of the old man.

1 - Father Has Died

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

DEATH ALWAYS COMES UNEXPECTEDLY, even if a person has been sick for a long time and the prognosis announces their impending demise. It is still surprising, as one questions whether the moment has truly arrived and if life has indeed come to an end. Death is final, irrevocable, unlike anything else in the world.

Hans Wolff reflected upon this to himself. That’s how it should be. However, he was struck by how little his father’s death affected him. It seemed like just another event, another stone on his path, seemingly devoid of any significant impact.

Hans was dismayed by his lack of emotion. Yet, on the other hand, he understood that this absence stemmed from his unique relationship with his father, or rather, the absence of that relationship.

Fifteen years ago, his grandfather, also named Hans Wolff, had passed away. Back then, Hans had been much younger, more delicate and sensitive. However, he still vividly recalled his inability to hold back tears at that time, grieving bitterly. He had loved his grandfather, finding solace, guidance, and encouragement in him.

When his mother died a few years ago, Hans couldn’t help but be profoundly affected. He had shared a loving relationship with her.

But things were different with his father.

Now, his father was gone.

Hans rose from his chair and walked to the window. Outside, a frigid wind howled through the gray afternoon. It was a typical November day, naturally imbued with melancholy.

He remembered all too well that a decade and a half ago, in January, he had sat in this very spot when his grandfather had passed away. My father didn’t survive him for long, he thought. Only fifteen years. With the death of his wife, his father had lost all interest in life. And then came that ominous diagnosis: prostate cancer! It didn’t matter how the doctors explained that the cancer had good chances of being cured, that it developed slowly, and that there was ample time to address it with a simple surgery.

His father didn’t want to hear any of it. He withdrew into himself, shutting others out, never again finding a smile upon his lips.

During the initial years of his studies, Hans still visited his family every weekend, but those visits gradually became less frequent. He made excuses of demanding studies, followed by work that consumed all his time, and later, an engagement. Hans and his father saw less and less of each other.

And then the news arrived: his father had succumbed to a heart attack! The weight of the cancer had burdened him to the point where his heart could no longer keep up. It was over!

The funeral took place on Sunday. Many of his father’s friends attended, offering condolences, along with strangers whose faces held no meaning to Hans. His fiancée, Ulli, had accompanied him but returned to Vienna that same night as her work at the Institute called her away. Yeah, sure!

Hans had taken a few days off to handle the inheritance, which had been granted to him without any issues. However, there wasn’t much to settle. Yesterday, the notary had executed the will. As the only child, Hans became the sole heir in the concise inheritance: the house with everything it contained, a little money in the bank, some bonds, and an old Fiat that was almost falling apart in the garage.

He sat down again, closed his eyes, and let his thoughts run wild in the hope of falling asleep a little. The tension of the last few days had caused him a headache and neck discomfort.

Suddenly, a deafening crash made him jump out of his seat. The front door exploded into a thousand splinters under violent blows, and a horde of bearded, short, and sturdy men rushed towards him, beating him down. Blood poured from his nose, and he struggled to catch his breath. Another fist hummed against his neck, throwing him face down.

Where is it? one of the thugs shouted, shaking Hans by the shoulders. Where the hell is it? The guy’s patience overflowed easily, and he threatened with his fist spinning in the air to hit Hans in the face.

I don’t know what you’re talking about! Hans stammered, and once again the fist punished him, this time hitting him in the nose. A sharp pain stabbed his brain like a knife, and with tears in his eyes, he writhed like a worm on the floor.

You know exactly what I’m talking about. Where’s the damn plate? the bearded man shouted impatiently.

Plate? What plate? I have no idea...

And again, the fist came down with force, crashing into his jaw.

Don’t give me fairy tales, boy! the thug’s voice trembled with anger. If you don’t release it soon, I’ll break your face and make pulp out of you with my bare hands!

The house filled with a deafening racket. Drawers and objects crashed to the ground with reckless abandon, while the attackers’ shouts reverberated through the air. The sound of clattering and chaos echoed throughout the space, enveloping everything in its wake.

The torturer, who had beaten Hans badly, was so furious that saliva was running down his beard.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle cut through the commotion. One last time, Hans’s head rumbled under a hard blow, and then his vision blurred, and he lost consciousness.

Thus ended for him one of those peaceful autumn afternoons when the world was already preparing for Christmas and the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted from the houses onto the sidewalks.

Thursday, November 21st, 2019

WHEN HANS REGAINED consciousness, he immediately realized he was in a hospital. The room was painted in white and beige, adorned with various machines and monitors on the walls. Hospital staff approached him as soon as he opened his eyes to discuss the events that had transpired. Though physically battered, he was relieved to learn that he had no broken bones or internal injuries, apart from a fractured nose, which the traumatologists considered insignificant. He complained of a terrible headache and felt the aftermaths of the severe beating he had suffered. Fortunately, the neurological examination revealed no negative consequences in that regard.

After the examination concluded, a tall, thin man with incipient baldness and a densely populated mustache entered the room. Wearing a beige trench coat over a gray suit, he pulled up a chair and sat down. Doctor Wolff, I apologize for inconveniencing you at this time. My name is Fritz Trauner, an inspector with the Criminal Investigation Department of the Wiener Neustadt District Police. I need your assistance in providing information regarding yesterday’s events when you were assaulted by multiple individuals, as reported by an eyewitness. We have stationed a police officer outside to ensure your safety. He informed us that you are now able to answer our questions, allowing us to conduct a more substantial investigation based on your statements.

Hans nodded and proceeded to recount everything he could remember. However, he was surprised by the significant gaps in his memory resulting from the trauma.

The detective appeared dissatisfied with the conversation, as the information provided was quite limited. Restlessly fidgeting with his tie, he pleaded, Come on! You must remember more.

Hans shrugged and replied, But you have to understand: out of nowhere, the door burst open, and a group of men stormed in, immediately attacking me! All I can recall is that there were around four or maybe five men. I can’t be certain. They were all burly, with full beards... Now that I think about it, it’s peculiar. They all had thick, bushy beards, dark, possibly with a reddish hue, reminiscent of those American hillbillies you see on TV. And they seemed short, or at least, that’s what I think. Initially, that’s what caught my attention. However, as I mentioned before, they swiftly descended upon me, mercilessly assaulting me. The assailants were as strong as bears, or at least the one who repeatedly struck me was. I had no choice but to close my eyes, shielding them from further harm. They kept shouting at me, ‘Where’s the plate?’ I asked, ‘What plate?’ I’m telling you honestly, I have no idea what it was all about!

The detective sighed heavily and shook his head. You’re not telling me much. Do you realize that you’re only hurting yourself by not telling me everything? Our investigation depends on your cooperation.

Yes, I’m aware of that. But as I said, I can’t help you with anything else. I really don’t know exactly what happened or why it happened. I don’t even live in that house, I’ve been living in Vienna for years. Maybe the attackers mistook me for someone else, maybe it was a case of mistaken identity. All I know is that my head is pounding and I’m dizzy.

The policeman took a deep breath, stood up, and shrugged. Well, when we know more, we’ll let you know. And I hope you’ll let us know when you remember more details. I know you’re in shock right now and it’s negatively affecting your memory. But more details will emerge little by little. And then I ask that you let us know immediately. I wish you a speedy recovery. With these words, the officer left the room without a single smile.

Your fiancée is here, she’s been waiting all night for you to wake up, a nurse whispered to Hans with a smile.

Please tell her to come in, he replied. By the way, how long have I been here?

You were admitted yesterday afternoon. It’s now almost noon.

Oh my God... I’ve been unconscious for almost a day!

Ulrike Bär ran to the bed and hugged Hans. He groaned because every touch caused intense pain.

I’m sorry! Ulli cried out, startled. I didn’t mean to hurt you!

No, no, don’t worry, it’s not that bad. It’s just that I’ve been beaten all over my body, Hans groaned, slowly beginning to remember what had happened. You shouldn’t have come here. Why...?

The police called me and told me what happened to you. How could I have stayed in Vienna then? I got in the car immediately and drove here like a crazy person.

Ulli looked around for a moment. Turning to a doctor, she asked, By the way, how is Hans?

So far, pretty good. He was certainly hit hard, but we didn’t find any broken bones or internal injuries. But he’ll have to stay with us for a while until we’re sure everything is okay.

Of course, I understand, Ulli said, turning to Hans. She frowned. It breaks my heart, but you know I have to go back to Vienna to the Institute. Work is calling me.

Yes, of course, Hans replied, slowly remembering that it wasn’t good to contradict Ulrike. But maybe you should rest for a while before...

No, I can manage. You know they need me: classification of findings! You know how it is.

Of course, Hans closed his eyes and sighed. I’m sorry, but my head is pounding terribly, like the clapper of a swinging bell.

As soon as they discharge you from the hospital, come to Vienna immediately—or better yet, call me! I’ll come to see you and together we’ll return to Vienna. You’ll be safer there. Leave that stupid house and come.

Sure.

Ulli gave him a quick, noisy kiss on the lips and left.

It had only been a few minutes when someone knocked on the door again. An old man entered. He was thin, tall, had a shiny bald head that he wore with pride, and his bushy eyebrows gave his gaze added sharpness.

Excuse me for intruding when you don’t even know me, the man smiled shyly. He shrugged. "My name is Sepp Karner. I was a good friend of your grandfather and also knew your father well. I only tell you this because I have something important to discuss with you—not here, not now, but when you feel better and are back home, that is, in your late father’s house. Then I will visit you and tell you some things that will surely interest you.

But for now, I’ll leave you alone. So, I’ll see you in a few days.

With these words, the old man greeted Hans once again, turned around, and left the room.

Hans’s head was buzzing. He was confused, and in his confusion, he finally fell asleep. Thus, he managed to escape the tormenting pain.

THE ROOM WAS SMALL and shrouded in darkness, with only a faint bluish light emanating from small crystals embedded in the ceiling. The smell of damp earth and mold hung in the air. Angir, the old woman, sat stiffly in a corner on the floor. Her rough brown clothing resembled the tunic of a monk, complete with a hood and loose sleeves. With her legs crossed, she breathed heavily, gradually shaking off the strange stiffness in her limbs. Her eyelids opened, revealing the vacant gaze in her eyes, but gradually, clarity returned to her face.

Gimbor sighed, relieved that she was finally herself again. After giving her some time to come back to reality, he asked her, What did you see?

She looked intently at Gimbor, a handsome man with thick brown hair and a bushy beard. His broad shoulders and bare forearms, as thick as thighs, betrayed the immense strength within him. He wore the typical clothing of dwarf warriors, a finely made uniform resistant to wear and tear.

He patiently awaited her response.

It failed! she exclaimed. It failed again! It has been 75 years, and we haven’t achieved anything. I can’t believe it!

We have to resort to other methods, replied Gimbor, who had been biding his time sitting in front of her. We must be more violent and use all means necessary. Our delicacy is over!

The old woman frowned. They were violent, they beat him up, but it didn’t amount to anything. I felt like he really didn’t know anything. They also searched the house, but found nothing, absolutely nothing.

The bearded man shook his head. No! he shouted. They weren’t violent enough. We’ll have to be tougher. Then other winds will blow!

The old woman let out a brief laugh and shrugged resignedly. Do you think if we kill him, we’ll be more successful? Violence is all you have on your mind. But violence is not the key to solving our problem. He doesn’t have the plate; he doesn’t know it. We have to adopt another strategy.

And how do you plan to do that? Gimbor asked mockingly. Should we wait another 75 years? So far, we’ve been lucky that nothing has leaked out. When people find out what that plate really means, then we’ll have a problem, a real problem. Life as we know it could end forever.

It’s not that it could be, it’s that it will be. That’s 100% certain! the old woman cut him off. We’re not going to wait another minute, let alone 75 years. We’ll watch the young man day and night if necessary. You’ll take care of it yourself. I personally hold you responsible for the success. You must act with intelligence. You must restrain your inclination towards violence. Think first. If necessary, strike hard! But think first! Sooner or later, he’ll take a step towards the plate, and then we’ll attack!

Gimbor studied the old woman with narrowed eyes. Angir was cunning, scheming, dangerous as a viper, and on top of that, very wise. He would do well to follow her instructions.

Get out of here! the old woman squawked, waving her hands as if trying to shoo away a flock of chickens. Go and remember what I’ve told you!

Gimbor stood up without a word and, without saying goodbye, left the room. He walked down a dimly lit hallway, passing heavy wooden doors on either side, until he finally reached his room.

He entered and went to a large wooden wardrobe. He took off his leather clothing and pulled out a pair of blue jeans, an unremarkable shirt, and a casual beige jacket. After putting on the clothes and a pair of sporty moccasins, he examined himself in a large mirror. Not bad, he thought. We’re ready to go! He packed a few more garments into a voluminous duffel bag, tied the cord that closed the fabric like a giant tobacco pouch, hung the bundle on his shoulders, and set off.

Friday, November 22, 2019

POOR GUY, SEPP THOUGHT as he saw Hans hobbling out of the hospital, covered in scratches, swelling, and bruises. Before he headed to the taxi stand, Sepp approached him and said, Hello, may I give you a ride?

Hans turned around in surprise and looked at him with wide eyes.

Sepp laughed. No mystery here! he said. I have acquaintances who work at the hospital. I asked them to let me know when they discharged you. And here I am, at your service. I’ve already told you that I need to talk to you. If you don’t mind, I’ll take you home, that is, to the house that belonged to your father, and if you feel comfortable enough to listen to me, I’d like to tell you a story that probably has to do with what happened to you.

Hans raised his eyebrows curiously. I’m in your debt. I don’t even have the money for a taxi here. Why do you care so much about me?

Your grandfather was my best friend and, despite being much older than me, from another generation, he was like a brother to me. And your family is my family. That’s why I consider it my duty to help you. Besides, I must confess that I’m interested in solving this unusual case because I’m naturally curious.

When they reached Sepp’s car, a shiny Renault Kadjar Life TCe 140 PF, which Hans admired, they got in and set off.

During the ride, Hans fell into silent reflection. Sepp didn’t interrupt him.

The journey didn’t take long. It was only four and a half miles. In silence, the car drove down the gravel road to the house and came to a sudden stop.

I hope they haven’t come back and emptied the whole house! Hans said dejectedly.

No, no, Sepp reassured him. The police have put the house under surveillance. Nobody has approached the property without being detected.

How do you know all this? Hans asked in amazement as he pushed open the front door, or rather, what was left of it.

I was a gendarme by profession and retired just in time before our unit merged with the police. I didn’t like that. We had our own identity. But what does it matter? That’s water under the bridge.

Gendarme, then, Hans commented, looking sadly at the debris field that the criminals had left in the living room.

This doesn’t look good, Sepp said. But now isn’t the time to clean up here, and you’re not in any condition to do it. I know a company that can fix this place up and replace the broken door. Do you want me to call them?

Hans nodded gratefully.

Sepp quickly scanned the phone book, dialed a number, and after a brief conversation, hung up. They’ll be here this afternoon to fix everything. Don’t worry, I know the company well. It’s a small family business, and I’ve used their services several times. You can let them take care of everything calmly.

You’re really an angel, Hans commented gratefully. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

I’m doing it out of pure personal interest. I’m a widower, but I’m not the homebody type. I’ve spent my entire professional life on the street. My children are already adults, and my grandchildren visit me sometimes on weekends. But in general, my life is boring. What is a great misfortune for you is an adventure for me, where I can put all my experience at your disposal. I should be thanking you, not the other way around. Or, to put it more simply, we would both benefit, Sepp smiled at Hans and raised his eyebrows. Are you ready to hear my story? Are you ready to be surprised and make the mystery even more enigmatic? If so, let’s find a place to sit and listen to me.

I’m all ears.

They made their way through the rubble, straightened two overturned armchairs, and took a seat.

If they haven’t looted the wine rack, we should still find one or two bottles there to enjoy, explained Hans.

And indeed, the wine rack was intact. There were drawers everywhere, dirty clothes, papers, writing utensils, cutlery, everything in a confusing chaos. But, from what could be seen at first glance, nothing was missing. The criminals had searched for a plate and nothing else. What madness!

They uncorked the bottle, two glasses clinked, and in the red wine danced the reflection of the flames that Sepp skillfully stoked in the fireplace.

Sepp collapsed into a chair with a groan, took a glass, dreamily contemplated the sparkle of the red wine, and then looked at Hans.

What happened to you here two days ago is not an isolated incident.

I know, Hans replied. The security situation is not what it used to be.

No, no! That’s not what I meant, Sepp corrected him. "What I mean is that this event has happened