A fierce battle had nearly destroyed all the districts near the city gates.
Tzeentch's Champion, Tsan-Aich, stood solemnly amidst the aftermath. The time for the Great Daemon of Tzeentch, Eternity Watcher—Sarsouriel—to manifest in the mortal realm was limited. Despite holding the upper hand in the two-against-three battle, the dwindling presence of Sarsouriel in the mortal world left Tsan-Aich unable to defeat his three formidable enemies. As a cunning Champion of Tzeentch, he was unwilling to remain passive.
Three opponents. Three legendary champions.
The first was Agrim Ironfist, the Butcher King of Karak Kadrin, a high-tier Sanctuary warrior.
The second, Katarin Alexeyevna Romanov, the Ice Tsarina of Kislev, a mid-tier Sanctuary warrior.
The third, Araloth the Brave, chosen champion of Queen Ariel from the wood elf kingdom of Athel Loren, a low-tier Sanctuary warrior.
All three bore injuries, with Araloth in the gravest condition. True to his title, "the Brave," he continued to fight, drenched in blood.
"Time to leave…" Tsan-Aich murmured to himself, knowing the situation had turned dire. His body was riddled with axe wounds, cuts, frost burns, and over a dozen arrows. Raising his staff, the chaotic energy of Tzeentch surged, and a crystalline labyrinth enveloped his surroundings.
The Great Daemon Sarsouriel, though surprised by Tsan-Aich's decision, said nothing. As the mortal world's repulsion grew stronger and the Winds of Chaos weakened further, the Great Daemon nodded slightly before vanishing from the mortal plane.
Tzeentch's army, unable to conquer Bekafen despite heavy losses, retreated northward following Tsan-Aich's withdrawal.
With reinforcements from the Butcher King's forces, Bekafen held out, and Ostermark was saved.
Yet the cost was steep.
The Battle of Bekafen's Defense saw 28% of Ostermark's adult male population perish. What they earned was merely a brief reprieve.
Victory was fleeting; darkness eternal.
After the battle, Ostermark's capital lay in ruins, with smoke, flames, and fallen walls filling the landscape. Corpses littered the ground, leaving behind a grim scene that required immense effort to rebuild.
In the rubble, soldiers and civilians wept. Some shed tears of relief, grateful to have survived, while others mourned lost family and friends. Some, seeing the countless corpses, felt the deep sorrow of shared humanity.
For many, the tears came from pain.
Ostermark's people had fought endless battles since their formation. Generations of life sacrificed to protect villages and homes had drained the bloodlines of true natives, leaving behind a mix of descendants from all over the Empire, even Kislev. Eternal warfare left these people burdened, many preparing their coffins as they reached adulthood.
Death was woven into their lives.
Pain and loss were constants in this dark world.
Elector Count Hertwig led Ostermark's elite forces, the renowned Knights of the Eternal Light and the Death's Head Regiment, to Bekafen. Even these formidable units suffered great losses: over a hundred knights from the Eternal Light fell—a devastating blow to a regiment numbering only a few hundred—and the Death's Head Regiment lost over a third of its strength.
Bekafen was saved, but those defending its walls, particularly Kislev's White Army, were barely holding on. Hertwig observed the broken morale, suspecting that most survivors lacked the courage to face battle again.
"Butcher King, we are deeply grateful for your aid. Without your reinforcements, we couldn't have held Bekafen," Hertwig said, addressing the dwarf warrior.
The warrior was none other than Agrim Ironfist, King of Karak Kadrin, the Butcher King.
Karak Kadrin, known as the Slayer Keep, gained its reputation after its first Butcher King, Dargo, swore an oath of vengeance following a personal tragedy. This tragedy, believed to involve the death of his daughter by a dragon, led him to seek a glorious death. However, the oath conflicted with his responsibilities as king, forcing Dargo to balance his pursuit of death with ruling his people.
Through wisdom and compromise, Dargo founded the Hall of Slayers, where dwarves seeking vengeance received support and blessings. This balance secured Karak Kadrin's status as the Slayer Keep and elevated its kings to prominence.
Agrim Ironfist, the current Butcher King, was celebrated as both a brilliant warrior and general. His legendary feats included rescuing the High King from the greenskin warlord Nashrak, earning him an enchanted red dragonhide cloak from High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer.
Despite Karak Kadrin's own vulnerabilities, Agrim chose to lead his army to aid Ostermark.
"You, brave warrior… uh, wood elf warrior, how should I address you?" Hertwig asked, turning to Araloth.
"Araloth the Brave," he replied. The green glow of his antlered helm illuminated the room, making him appear otherworldly. Returning to the Old World after years of expeditions, Araloth spoke with pride. "I come by the decree of Lileath, to strike down Chaos and defend the Old World."
Hertwig frowned. Was this truly a wood elf? His words seemed far too formal and cooperative. Typically, wood elves were known for their isolation and hostility, save for their respect towards figures like King Ryan of Bretonnia. Even those serving as mercenaries had reputations for arrogance and foul tempers.
The Ice Tsarina Katarin broke the awkward silence. "In these times, anyone who stands with us is an ally. Thank you for your aid."
"I came at Lileath's command. This has nothing to do with you," Araloth replied curtly, his tone condescending. "Strange allies are inevitable in dark times."
Now, that's more like it, Hertwig thought, oddly comforted by the familiar arrogance.
"Regardless, thank you all for aiding Bekafen. Let us discuss our next steps inside," Hertwig said, inviting them to strategize.
The group entered for further discussion. With Chaos forces retreating, numerous issues remained unresolved.
As Agrim surveyed the devastation, his heart sank. Having witnessed countless tragedies in his life, he harbored little sympathy for Katarin. To him, the Ice Tsarina should have died gloriously at Zedevka rather than allowing this suffering to fester.
Lost in thought, Agrim discreetly pulled out a small note sent recently by High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer. The note contained names, numbers, and symbols: a scroll, a dove with an olive branch, and crossed axes and hammers.
Scanning the list, he found:
Emperor Karl Franz: 654 Reikmarshal Kurt Helborg: 005 Grand Theogonist Volkmar: 315 Ice Tsarina Katarin: 321 (corrected from 322) King Ryan of Bretonnia: 666 (marked with a star)
Finally, he found Hertwig's name, followed by the number 433.
"Reliable enough," Agrim muttered, putting the note away.
The discussions quickly devolved into disputes over strategy. Ostermark's forces, combined with Kislev and the dwarves, now numbered around 67,000—a fragile coalition divided by differences in culture, language, and temperament.
Two main factions emerged: a defensive camp led by Hertwig and Katarin, advocating for consolidating defenses, and an offensive camp led by Agrim and Araloth, urging immediate action to support Ostland.
Their disagreements were interrupted only by another snowfall blanketing the desolate land.
News of the triumphant Three Kings' Battle at Middenstag spread across the Empire, lifting spirits. The victory of Bretonnian and Middenland forces reduced the pressure on the Empire. Bekafen's relief added hope, bolstering faith in victory.
In Altdorf, Emperor Karl Franz sat in council, listening to intelligence chief Amadeus report.
"The Empire's main reinforcements are divided into three armies. First, Ryan and Boris lead 81,000 troops advancing toward Hergig, set to join forces with Elector Count Aldebrand Ludenhof's troops for a decisive battle."
"Second, the Bekafen coalition numbers 67,000 but consists mostly of poorly equipped and undertrained troops, lacking firearms and supplies."
"Third, Reikmarshal Helborg and the Nuln Grand Marshal Erstein lead 65,000 seasoned troops, equipped with firearms and knights, nearing Talabheim."
"Too slow!" the Emperor exclaimed impatiently. "Send word to Helborg to quicken his pace. They must reach Wolfenburg before Chaos does!"
Amadeus hesitated, knowing the risks of haste. "Sire, this hastily assembled army faces logistical challenges and exhaustion. A forced march—"
"I'm not asking for opinions!" Karl Franz snapped. "If we falter, everyone will think only the northern provinces and Bretonnia can fight!"
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