Old World, east of the Ostermark stronghold Fortenhaf, at the river crossing
50,000 White Guards had gathered here.
Fortenhaf was one of Ostermark's northern strongholds. Even after the defeats of Tzeentch's Chosen Champion Zaan-Ek and Nurgle's champion Festus, the town still housed several thousand Imperial troops.
The White Guard High Command chose a river crossing near Fortenhaf precisely to position themselves near the Empire's forces for safety.
Now, on the evening of April 20th, the White Guard began felling trees from the nearby Black Forest, constructing pontoons and rafts to cross the Upper Talabec River. The opposite bank was home to what remained of the Kislevite southern town of Lakhov, now a chaotic encampment of marauding Chaos forces.
The White Guard's camp was chaotic and disorganized. Neither Katarin nor her newly promoted officers had sufficient experience in commanding such a large army. The Tsarina had roughly divided her army into ten parts. Aside from the Romanov Guard under her personal command, the rest of the White Guards were sent to chop wood, transport materials, and build the pontoons. However, the lack of clear division of labor led to inefficiency and constant arguments among the soldiers.
This was a basic logistical error. If Ryan had been in charge, he would have divided the soldiers into specialized teams with clear responsibilities—some to chop wood, some to transport it, and others to construct the bridge. Ryan would also have incentivized them with rewards and food for the fastest teams, a strategy that often kept his Bretonnian troops working efficiently.
But Katarin lacked such skills. All she could do was send overseers to berate the workers while impatiently waiting in her command tent for the pontoons to be completed.
The chaos of the camp mirrored Katarin's restless mind. According to scouts, Zaan-Ek's Chaos forces were indeed assembling on the other side of the river. However, their numbers were limited, with estimates ranging from 10,000 to 20,000.
Having learned some painful lessons from previous campaigns, Katarin understood that the poorly trained, malnourished, and undisciplined White Guards could only excel in a one-sided battle. She was determined to cross the river quickly, strike the Chaos forces before they could fully assemble, and secure a victory through sheer numerical superiority.
This was the central plan of the White Guard High Command.
That night
Grand Marshal Denikin entered Katarin's tent. "Your Majesty, you should rest. Leave the preparations to us."
"How is the progress?" Katarin asked impatiently. "We must act swiftly before the Chaos scum can gather their forces."
"The engineers estimate that three pontoons will be completed by tomorrow morning," Denikin reported. "Originally, we planned for five, but the pace makes that impossible."
"Tomorrow morning then," Katarin decided quickly. "I will personally lead the Romanov Guard across the river at dawn to strike Zaan-Ek's forces by surprise!"
Denikin hesitated, wanting to object, but quickly understood her reasoning. He nodded in resignation.
"I've heard the tales of Ryan's Old Guard," Katarin said bitterly, noticing Denikin's reluctance. "When their tricolor banners and bearskin hats appear on the battlefield, even beastmen, orcs, and Chaos warriors tremble in fear and retreat. But weren't they forged one battle at a time? I, too, have an Old Guard. And under my command, they will earn their glory in the Old World!"
Denikin bowed. "Tomorrow, I will personally accompany Your Majesty to witness the Romanov Guard's first victory!"
"Good! As soon as the sun rises tomorrow, we march!"
The next morning
At the break of dawn, Katarin personally led the Romanov Guard as the vanguard to cross the river.
The makeshift pontoons wobbled precariously but held steady enough. On the opposite bank, scattered Chaos troops made several half-hearted attempts to attack the crossing but were easily repelled by Kislevite archers and a few cannons.
By afternoon, over 10,000 White Guard troops had successfully crossed the river and established a foothold on the northern bank.
The land across the river was in ruins. Once a thriving Kislevite town, Lakhov had been reduced to rubble by Chaos forces. Makeshift tents and piles of looted treasures littered the area.
The Chaos encampment appeared large but disorganized. The scattered warbands were ill-equipped and poorly disciplined. Many Chaos warriors simply stood by and watched as the Kislevites built their bridges. When the White Guards surged forward, the poorly coordinated Chaos forces fell into disarray. Some marauders charged forward with reckless abandon, while others grabbed their loot and fled.
"Form ranks!" shouted Romanov Guard commander Semyonov. "Prepare to engage!"
The Romanov Guard hesitated as the savage marauders charged at them, their formation faltering. Of the 5,000 men in the unit, over 3,000 began to retreat, leaving only 2,000 to hold the line.
As for the rest of the White Guards?
Despite their courage, these exhausted soldiers—many of whom had spent the previous night building pontoons—collapsed under the first wave of Chaos attacks. Within minutes, the frontline crumbled, and the Kislevites fled en masse toward the pontoons. The battlefield descended into chaos as 20,000 White Guards found themselves in disarray, chased by a mere few hundred marauders.
"Reload! Reload, damn it!" Katarin shouted angrily, brandishing her whip as she rode a white horse through the ranks. Turning to her retreating guards, she yelled, "Romanov warriors! My Old Guard! Are your muskets merely decorations? Have your swords dulled? Fight!"
Drawing her rune sword, Soul of Salkia, Katarin rallied her troops: "Descendants of Queen Miska, inheritors of Kislev's frozen legacy, my Old Guard! In the name of the Romanov Tsars, I command you—attack! Drive these savages from our homeland!"
Katarin's speech stirred the Romanov Guard, halting their retreat. The troops began reloading their muskets and reforming their lines. Katarin allowed herself a moment of satisfaction.
She had copied this tactic from Ryan. According to intelligence she had gathered in Bekafen, the Knight-King always personally rallied his troops before battle with stirring speeches. His invincible Old Guard would then unleash their full power, sweeping through enemies like a hurricane, crushing everything in their path.
If Ryan can inspire his troops, why can't I?
"Romanov Guard, charge!"
To her credit, Katarin had indeed invested effort in training the Romanov Guard. Unlike the rest of the White Guards, these soldiers had undergone rigorous drills and live-fire exercises.
The musketmen, though inexperienced, began reloading their guns with some competence. They tore open powder pouches with their teeth, poured a small amount into the gun's flash pan, and loaded the rest along with a lead ball into the barrel.
"Fire!"
The crack of muskets rang out as a volley of lead bullets tore through the charging marauders, felling over a hundred in seconds. The remaining Chaos warriors closed in, engaging in brutal melee combat.
Initially, the Romanov Guard struggled against the ferocity of the marauders. However, the marauders' poorly made weapons failed to penetrate the Kislevites' Nuln-forged armor and shields. In contrast, the Romanov Guard's superior weapons cleaved through the lightly armored Chaos warriors with ease.
Seeing this, the Romanov Guard regained their confidence and began pushing back.
Meanwhile, on the Chaos side, Zaan-Ek was apoplectic with rage. "Forward! Advance, you cowards! The enemy is regrouping—this is our chance to strike!"
But his words fell on deaf ears. The morale of his ragtag army, already shattered by the defeat at Bekafen, continued to crumble. His threats and cajoling barely kept them from fleeing entirely. Out of his original 9,000 troops, over 3,000 had already deserted, and the rest were on the verge of collapse.
Desperate, Zaan-Ek resorted to drastic measures. Chanting incantations, he summoned a wall of multicolored flames that stretched for hundreds of meters, trapping his troops between the fire and the advancing White Guards. Anyone who attempted to retreat was incinerated on the spot. More Chaos soldiers died to the flames than to Kislevite bullets.
By the time the wall of fire finally stabilized the Chaos lines, nearly two hours had passed. During this time, Katarin had managed to regroup her army and launch a counterattack.
The battle descended into a chaotic melee. Both sides were plagued by low morale—Kislevite troops were driven forward by the Tsarina's whip and overseers, while Zaan-Ek's forces were kept in line by his fearsome magic.
On the ruins of Lakhov, the two disorganized armies clashed in a frenzied, chaotic battle.
Seeing his position deteriorate, Zaan-Ek sighed. It was time to implement the plan.
In the woods east of Lakhov
Kurgan Khan Subotai the Grey Wolf watched the battlefield intently from his hidden position within a dense pine forest. His 1,000 cavalrymen waited silently, their breaths visible in the cold air.
"The Rus have fallen into disarray," Subotai muttered. "If we attack head-on, each of our sabers will face ten of their swords. But now, we only need to face two."
He turned to his commanders.
"Our time has come."
At the same moment, upstream on the Talabec River
A fleet of eight heavily-laden barges, each outfitted with iron-tipped rams and packed with explosives, hurtled downstream toward the Kislevite pontoons.
General Bagramyan, overseeing the rear guard, was horrified. "Stop those barges!" he shouted. But it was too late.
"BOOM!"
The explosives detonated, destroying all three pontoons in a deafening explosion. The White Guards' retreat was cut off.
Subotai saw the plumes of smoke and nodded. His silver-plumed helmet glinted in the sunlight.
"Today, I, Subotai the Grey Wolf, will either die in this western land and leave a legacy of vengeance or carve my name into history with the blood of these Rus."
Drawing his golden blade, he raised it high. "Let us pierce the heart of the enemy like a dagger through flesh!"
"Cyan Wolf! Cyan Wolf! Cyan Wolf!"
No longer concealing their position, the Kurgan cavalry surged from the forest, their war cries echoing across the battlefield.
"Children of the steppes! Sons of the Great Sky! The time to prove your glory is now! Charge!"
"Kill!!!"
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