Chapter 42
— Are you certain? — Rudolf Hoch asked, looking deep into Liandra's eyes.
The Elf withstood his scrutiny with ease and gave a silent but expressive nod, her eyes narrowing slightly.
— Sigmar... — the knight muttered, wringing his fingers from a sudden surge of nerves. — I would believe few others, but I believe you. Let us slaughter this beast!
Naturally, I did not tell the knight about my journey into the Skaven underworld. A less shocking version had been prepared for him. According to this story, Liandra, while scouting around the city, had stumbled upon a group of local cultists holding secret talks with messengers from Tamurkhan. There, she had overheard the details of their next meeting.
— Tomorrow night... — Rudolf murmured. — There is little time. I will gather friends, my uncle's loyal men, and whatever mercenaries I can afford... We shall lead those Chaos filth to a massacre!
I liked Hoch's resolve. And the fact that he had no intention of turning to the authorities was another point in his favor. I had to be especially cautious after the incident with Waldemar. By now, that meddlesome Templar was likely dead, but his colleagues might take an interest in his fate. Another interrogation at the hands of Witch Hunters? I think I'll pass.
The opportunity to avenge his uncle's killers had the young knight truly agitated. I eventually had to tell him outright that I needed sleep and food; otherwise, Rudolf Hoch seemed ready to discuss the details of the upcoming fight all night long.
The plan we devised was fairly simple. Liandra would act as the forward scout. Using her heightened senses, she would wait for the enemy's arrival and then alert the main force. We, in turn, would hunker down some distance from the meeting site so as not to spook the Chaosites.
What forces could Rudolf count on? He gathered nine knights who had once served his uncle, along with their squires and some mercenaries. In total, there were thirty-four fairly well-armed combatants. Additionally, Magg and Eric were to participate, though it was decided not to bring the entire Ditch Reiksguard. Fimir were far too dangerous an opponent for my boys. These weren't cultists or beastmen, but true monsters. They stood roughly as tall as a human but were far more massive and physically stronger. They wore armor on top of possessing natural hide. The wide maws of the Fimir were filled with sharp teeth, and their tails ended in bone clubs.
In short, you couldn't just poke such filth to death with a pike. Moreover, we weren't facing a field battle, but a skirmish in rugged terrain. A line of spearmen is not nearly as effective in such cases.
During the day, Rudolf Hoch was nervous and couldn't sit still. All morning he searched for anyone else who could be hired for the upcoming battle. There were plenty of soldiers and mercenaries around, but the young knight did not possess a vast amount of gold. I even thought about helping him financially. I had reserves of my own—trophies from the Skaven mine, what I managed to scavenge from the Chaos Dwarf, and my already received pay. Eric had preserved these valuables even in the heat of battle.
It is strange for a commoner to give money to a knight. I was already a very remarkable young man as it was. I didn't want to draw even more attention to myself, nor did I particularly want to spend my savings. The money would still be useful for the development of my unit.
However, just as I was about to empty my purse for the common good, chance intervened. During the day, Rudolf—accompanied by a couple of friends, me, Liandra, and several squires—was racing through Nuln in search of creditors. He wanted to take out a loan.
Usually, local moneylenders were very eager to lend to the high-born nobility of the province. Every one of them had an estate, lands, or other assets. Even if a petty noble was broke now, after the next harvest he would have the money to pay back the debt and interest. But this was a unique situation.
— There is no gold. No silver either, — a Dwarf moneylender replied to us. — You can stop looking. The Countess and her inner circle have squeezed almost everything out of us. A state loan, may Grimnir damn the laws of the Umgi, — then the Dwarf lowered his voice slightly. — I could, of course, offer a small loan from a special reserve, but you understand, the interest... — he whispered something to Hoch, who leaned in close.
The young knight's eyes went wide, and his face flushed red.
— How much?! — he cried out, his voice cracking.
— Now, there is no need to shout, — the Dwarf pulled back. — Money likes counting and silence. If you change your mind, come back, but I won't drop a single coin.
We stepped out onto the street, where Rudolf, looking around furiously, muttered under his breath.
— Skinflints, bloodsuckers...
In just a few weeks, he had transformed from a mocking and overly bold youth into a bitter, grim warrior thinking mostly of revenge.
We were about to move on in search of creditors when a colorful company on the other side of the street called out to us.
— Hey, I remember you!
We turned toward the voice. It belonged to a richly dressed and not entirely sober man who was embracing no fewer than two young ladies. However, besides the girls, his company consisted of brave-looking cutthroats—dashingly dressed bravos armed with fencing blades, parrying daggers, and pistols. Mercenaries from somewhere south. Tileans or Estalians.
— I do not believe we are acquainted, Mein Herr, — Hoch replied sternly and with restraint. — You have mistaken me for someone else.
— We? Acquainted? Oh, no! — the unknown dandy said, pulling away slightly from the girls. — I was addressing this young man here. Johann? No. Jurgen?! Yes!
— Do we know each other? — I asked, surprised, peering at his face.
— We do, — the man replied. — Though last time you had to behold me in a state that was not my best, young man. Were you always this big, or did you sprout up recently?
— I sprouted, — I smiled modestly. — Physical exertion and a good diet.
— Diet? Ha! — the dandy burst out laughing, then turned to one of the mercenaries. — I told you about him, Jorge. This lad, a Halfling, and an Ogre... They didn't just kill the Goblins; they literally ate them, guts and all.
— Well, Ogres eat everyone, — the mercenary replied with an accent, shrugging his shoulders.
— Not just ate them, Jorge. They prepared them as if they were in the finest inn in Mootland. They made cutlets, stuffed them, stewed them.
— So we met in the captured village? — I asked.
— Precisely! — the dandy exclaimed, reeking of wine. — Jeremiah von Bickenstadt at your service. Writer, playwright, and man of the theater.
An image of a man huddled in the tatters of a dirty cloak gradually surfaced in my memory. He had been among the survivors after the Goblin attack.
— I am glad you made it to Nuln so quickly and that your affairs are on the mend, — I replied.
— They are, despite all the machinations of fate, — the playwright smirked. — The terrible events I had to endure became the starting point for a new phase of my career. The theatrical community of Nuln, its fans—both male and female, up to the highest-born personages—have welcomed the sufferer with open arms. My stories, sketches of works, and small tales from the life of the Borderlands are in high demand. I have even received a truly large commission for a full-length play for the city theater. Oh, gentlemen, it will be magnificent!
— A horde of monsters is marching on the city, — Hoch noted grimly, eyeing the playwright's rich costume, and hissed through his teeth. — It is very... commendable that noble folk have money to support men of the arts even in times like these.
— Art is sacred, and the art of the theater doubly so, — the playwright smiled insolently, switching back to me. — And what are you doing now, Jurgen? Can I kidnap you from the entourage of this noble knight for a couple of hours? We'll have a drink, and you can tell me of your adventures.
— I would love to, Herr Bickenstadt, but we must prepare for those very adventures. We have a fight ahead of us with a unit of Chaos servants.
— Setting out on a scout? — the playwright perked up.
He was clearly interested in the prospect of hearing details about the war with Chaos firsthand.
— No. Not exactly, — I dropped to a whisper, leaning closer to Bickenstadt. — Not far from the city, there will be a gathering of monstrous creatures and mutants. We intend to destroy them. This isn't just a skirmish. It's about revenge. Master Rudolf Hoch, nephew of the late Margrave Olger, will lead us. And also... — I tried to add more intrigue to my voice. — ...if everything works out, this could be the prologue to a total victory over Tamurkhan's horde.
— The prologue to a total victory... — the playwright repeated after me. — A prologue to victory. That sounds quite good. Hmm. Revenge, you say? And when will this battle take place? Can it be observed from the city walls?
— Unlikely from the walls, but I see you have an entire squad of bodyguards... — I said, glancing at the mercenaries.
There were eight of them, all excellently armed.
— Yes, — Bickenstadt nodded. — After that incident with the Goblins, I concerned myself with personal security. The generous donations of art lovers allow it. But to take part in a battle... — fear and the desire for new inspiration fought within the playwright.
Perhaps his apprehensions would have won out, but wine was on the side of curiosity.
— And why not, after all! Inga, Laura—hurry back to the flat. It seems today I am to defend the Empire.
The mercenaries did not share his enthusiasm. I think that in becoming the playwright's bodyguards, they had hoped to sit safely behind the city walls while the battle raged outside.
— Do you have arquebuses or good crossbows? — I asked Jorge. — Our unit has enough melee warriors, but marksmen would be very useful.
— Arquebuses, — the mercenary confirmed. — Pistols and even a couple of Arabyan Jezzails.
Oho. A serious arsenal. I looked these guys over once more. I can't claim to be an expert on the local Dogs of War, but my gut feeling was that they were bravos and hired assassins rather than soldiers. That was actually good. Such people usually have expensive equipment.
— Do not worry, gentlemen, — I assured them. — We won't be marching in formation; we'll be attacking from ambush.
The mercenaries brightened up. Such a prospect appealed to them much more than a straight fight with Chaosites.
— I will bring fifteen fighters with me, — the playwright promised. — We shall await the assignment of roles, Herr Hoch. You will be the director of this brutal spectacle, will you not?
The knight nodded. He winced at the playwright's mincing manners, but he restrained himself. He only said as a parting word:
— Just do not be late, Herr Bickenstadt.
— I shall be as precise as Verena's scales, — the playwright declared cheerfully.
We parted ways with the unexpected allies and soon returned to the unit's camp. Marcus Schlossberg, who was skilled at leatherworking, had prepared a baldric with holsters for two pistols for me. Eric showed me how to load them. I still did it slowly, though. I wasn't going to be a marksman in this fight. I would discharge both pistols at point-blank range and then switch to melee.
In the evening, the combined force gathered in the woods outside the camp. The combat strength could be divided into three parts. First, the racially diverse elite of the Ditch Reiksguard: me, Magg, Eric, and Liandra. Given the presence of a ghostly Slann within me, we were only missing a Dwarf for all the factions of Order to be represented.
Hoch and his comrades formed a much less diverse but far more numerous force. Thirty-four fighters including Rudolf himself. A significant portion had breastplates, and all had helmets. The well-protected knights were covered by halberdiers.
Jeremiah von Bickenstadt, as promised, brought fifteen mercenaries. To a man, they were excellently armed, dashingly dressed semi-bandits. Bravos, diestros, or bravi, as such people were called in the south. They might not hold up in a melee against heavy Chaos infantry, but they were ready to support us with the fire of arquebuses and pistols. I also noticed the Jezzails—long-barreled muskets richly decorated with bronze inlays. Unlike the Skaven sniper versions, these could easily be used by a single man.
— I really liked making things go bang with the cannon, — Magg mused, observing the abundance of firearms among the mercenaries. — I need to get me a lead-spitter. Do the thin-uns from Nun make good ones?
— Nuln? — I clarified. — Yes. They cast a lot of cannons here every year.
— Need to buy one or find an ownerless one after the fight. I want to shoot a mammoth and eat it whole!
Night was falling over the city. The time for dark trades and dark deeds was arriving. According to intelligence, Tamurkhan's horde had not yet left Pfeildorf, but individual tentacles of that ruinous power already reached as far as Nuln. We were to lopping off one of those today.
A sword, two pistols, a standard dagger, and an enchanted dagger—that was the loadout I intended for the fight. I took the Dawi-zharr weapon just in case. I would use it only in the event of extreme necessity.
Von Bickenstadt had changed. He no longer acted like a pompous fop. He was nervous before the battle. I think the playwright was regretting his agreement right about now, but it was a little too late to turn back.
We moved out toward the meeting place. We walked slowly, trying not to make too much noise. There was a little more than a kilometer left to the circle of old stones when the unit stopped.
From here, the Elf would go forward alone through the grove. She was to scout the situation and return to lead us as close to the enemy as possible without being seen.
With a nod to me, Liandra vanished into the darkness.
— Remarkable creatures, these Elves, — von Bickenstadt said dreamily, sipping something alcoholic from a flask. — On the outside, they seem so cold and detached, but who knows what passions seethe behind that facade?
— What if there are none? — Hoch replied gruffly. — Swine find filth everywhere, and playwrights find passion.
— We find filth too, Mein Herr, — von Bickenstadt said, not at all bothered. — But I am right about the Elves. You can be sure of it. They try to create a beautiful image for everyone, but do you know what horrific tales sailors or Bretonnian peasants tell about them? Kidnappings of children, sacrifices, mysterious rituals, polygamy, erotic cults.
— I care not for the rumors and gossip of commoners, — Hoch dismissed. — I have seen this woman kill monsters capable of easily tearing a grown man apart. I hope she continues in the same vein. As for what the Elf thinks about while she's carving up enemies, I personally couldn't care less.
While the noble gentlemen were debating, Liandra herself returned. The Elf seemed wary and even agitated.
— Well? — Hoch asked in a half-whisper. — Are they there? Can we attack?
— Not everyone is there yet, — the girl replied. — Jurgen, come with me. I need help.
Need help? Seriously? It seemed to me that in anything related to covert operations, Liandra required no human assistance, unless...
— There is magical protection there, — she said when we had gone further into the woods.
— The Skaven's doing?
— No. Mist magic. I cannot pass through the protection.
Fimir. This was the work of their sorcerer.
— Fine. I'll go with you. Perhaps we can punch a hole in the defense. But be warned, this body of mine doesn't see very well in the dark.
The previous one had seen even worse, for that matter.
— That doesn't matter. I will be beside you. Your power is needed to resist the magic; leave the rest to me.
It was nice to feel useful. Even if I was stumbling in the dark, I was excellent at countering sorcery.
Unlike me, Liandra moved almost silently. We covered about a kilometer that way, and then...
— Here, — the girl whispered to me.
I noticed that the forest around us had changed. In the pitch darkness, one could distinguish unnaturally bright and dense clouds of mist. At first, it only clung to the ground, but then it rose like a solid wall.
What do you say? — I asked Loom-Pia.
Primitive, savage spells.
That much is clear. Better tell me, will they just try to keep us out, or will they send a signal to the sorcerer?
I will not give you a true answer, warm-blood. Your shell limits my ability to interact with the Winds too much. Judging visually, this is a simple veil. It does not permit those whom the sorcerer does not wish to see, but it will not send him news.
Excellent. That meant we could enter.
I stepped boldly into the shroud of mist. It felt pleasant, even refreshing. One step, two, three, ten. Easy. However, turning back, I noticed that Liandra had fallen behind. She had crossed the very edge of the mist and, with her eyes wide open, was groping blindly with her hands. Remarkable. The usually sharp-eared and sharp-eyed Elf seemingly couldn't see anything.
— Follow my voice, — I suggested.
— Gil? — she called out, slightly louder than necessary, as if I were a hundred paces away from her. — I can barely hear you.
The mist distorts all sounds and sensations for her, — Loom-Pia said. — Go closer, or nothing will come of it.
I went back for Liandra and took her hand.
— Do you see me? Can you walk?
The Elf's eyes seemed to clear just a little.
— I will try, — she replied. — It is so strange. A moment ago I could see nothing at all, but your touch alone has weakened the glamour.
In this manner, we took several steps. It was slow, but I didn't mind. The mist magic felt unexpectedly pleasant. Vigor and a sense of being close to a secret filled me. It was as if something wonderful, rather than a squad of monsters, awaited us beyond the wall of mist.
— Give me your other hand.
The girl carefully drew me toward her. We stood like partners in a dance. I noticed that I had indeed grown significantly taller. The Elf no longer loomed over me so much.
— Is it true? — I asked.
— About what, Gil?
— The playwright's words. Seething passions behind a facade of cold detachment.
— It is exactly so, — the girl agreed. — That is our greatest happiness and our ruinous curse.
— So that's how it is... — I replied, moving a little closer to her.
She did not pull away. Good. Well then, let's test Master von Bickenstadt's theory in practice. I leaned toward Liandra for a kiss.