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Kaldezeit 27,2489 IC
How is it possible that there are Bretonnians here? The northern pass is guarded by the Marienburg dissenters. It's almost impossible for them to have avoided all the fortifications and watch posts in the area," said one of my bodyguards, clearly angered by the situation.
"Probably those treacherous rats thought that selling weapons to both sides would earn them more. They want the war to remain at its height, and when they found out the fronts were at a stalemate, they let them through to reignite the conflict and line their pockets selling in winter, when everything is more expensive," said another, gripping his greatsword.
"That's possible, but don't forget that the Bretonnians know how to move through the mountain passes. Just as they did at Helmgart, it's also likely they've found routes that let them cross the Grey Mountains to try and raid us," I replied as I put on the rest of my equipment.
"And how many are there? Did you see anything, my lord?" asked one of my men-at-arms.
"Around four hundred in armour, and a large group carrying only spears. They must be peasants hastily recruited to swell their numbers. From the look of it, they're going to wait for dawn before attempting their attack, since they've set up camp. We must act quickly before they cause damage with their horses, trying to burn granaries or houses," I replied.
My men nodded and began to gear up. The Bretonnians didn't number more than two thousand, but if they had launched this attack by surprise, they would have caused serious damage. Unfortunately for them, I was here. I believe Hieronymus had also noticed, though he hadn't said anything, likely knowing I was already dealing with the problem.
I moved to mobilise my personal army, which was already resting in camp, making it easy to gather them for this battle that would soon take place.
Once my forces were organised, we prepared to cross the bridges into the rebel state of Marienburg, where the Bretonnian knights were located.
Usually, there are patrols from the merchant city here, but given the hour, I doubted they'd be in the area. If they're smart, those mercenaries only work when needed, and spend the rest of the day wasting their gold on whatever pleases them.
As we crossed the bridge into Marienburg, I felt the presence of the Bretonnians and their camp. We crossed without issue, and on the other side we formed into battle order, advancing as best we could in the dark night, using as few torches as possible.
We marched quickly toward them, trying to maintain silence, though the movement of nearly five thousand men, many in plate armour, made it difficult to pass unnoticed.
When we came within sight of the Bretonnian camp, I began to observe it closely. I noticed a clear lack of sentries and the complete absence of a palisade. They had left their horses tied to some nearby trees, grazing—I could make out their shapes moving in the dark. There was no one guarding the entrances to the camp; it was entirely unprotected.
My bodyguards covered their eyes and shook their heads. Veterans of a prestigious state regiment, they recognised instantly the many flaws in our enemies' preparations.
So, without much delay, we began to move slowly toward them, with the musketeers in the first line. If the Bretonnians came out to face us, the first greeting they would receive would be a lump of lead to the face.
"Try to bring down the knights first," I whispered to the musketeers in the front.
"And how will we know who's who? They're probably without armour, my lord," one of my men whispered back.
"It's easy. The knights, even without armour, will be wearing soft linen or cotton clothes—white and almost pristine. The peasants, on the other hand, wear rough linen so stained it looks black," I replied. My men nodded, ready.
We continued forward without encountering resistance until we reached the entrance to the camp. Everything was silent. The Bretonnians slept.
At last, someone emerged from a tent, rubbing his eyes with a tired gesture. Even from afar, it was clear he was a noble: white clothes, almost spotless, just as I had described. He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand… and then three muskets fired in unison. Within seconds, the man fell on his back, three massive holes punched through his chest.
"Advance now! We won't get another chance—into the camp!" I shouted.
My men charged in like a stampede, bursting into the Bretonnian camp. Chaos was immediate. Confusion gripped the place. Those who came out of their tents to see what was happening received a point-blank shot to the chest. The crack of the muskets echoed between the tents, followed by the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground.
The knights were the most exposed: they emerged with their shining swords, but without armour, unable to don it without their squires. The peasants, meanwhile, stayed hidden in their tents, too terrified to come out.
I saw one of my bodyguards cleave a Bretonnian noble in two at the waist with a single blow, splitting his body in half. Then he slowly turned toward another foe who was trying to retreat and, with a wide sweep of his sword, disembowelled him, spilling entrails across the snow.
The muskets kept firing. My men fanned out through the camp, dragging away those who surrendered and killing those who resisted.
"Prisoners! I want prisoners!" I shouted, to keep them from killing everyone. The Bretonnian peasants would be valuable loot—tireless workers and hard to come by in this region.
The fighting continued, and I saw one musketeer charge into a Bretonnian knight, driving the bayonet of his musket into the man's abdomen. He twisted the weapon savagely, ripping flesh and viscera as blood spurted in heavy streams. Without releasing the musket, he tore it free with a sharp pull and, in the same motion, spun around to fire into another enemy's chest, dropping him instantly.
A group of Bretonnians tried to run for the horses, which remained relatively calm thanks to their training as war mounts and their familiarity with the noise of battle. They didn't get far—a close volley from the musketeers struck them, multiple impacts tearing through chests, arms, and legs, leaving them sprawled in the snow.
The fighting did not last long. The only ones with the will to fight were the knights and their men-at-arms, but they were few compared to the overwhelming numerical superiority of my forces. The rest of the Bretonnians were peasants without formal training, unable to withstand the pressure of such a sudden and brutal attack.
Within minutes, the camp was under our control, with the vast majority of the Bretonnians reduced to prisoners.
I went straight to interrogate one of them, preferably a noble. I found a survivor in white clothes soaked in blood, the result of a cut one of my bodyguards had given him moments before.
"Well then, little noble… start talking. Whose brilliant idea was it to come into my lands and cause havoc, eh?" I said, staring at the Bretonnian.
"You…" he spat in my face.
I replied with a punch so strong it knocked a tooth out in a single blow.
"Listen here, you boot-licker of the Lady. If you think she's going to protect you, you're sorely mistaken. These are the lands of Sigmar, not your Lady, so I won't repeat myself: who had the idea of attacking my lands?" I asked, locking eyes with him.
"I will not speak to the enemy of my Lady. Today I have failed, but many more will come. I am not the first, nor will I be the last—the Lady has shown us your face in our dreams, and soon you will fall," the knight shouted.
"Ah… a Questing Knight, I suppose. Thank you for the information, idiot… Shoot him," I said, standing up.
One of my musketeers stepped forward, pressed the barrel to the prisoner's forehead, and fired. The knight fell back, his head shattered.
I continued interrogating prisoners, but all the nobles reacted the same way—either spitting at me or trying to attack me in desperation. This only confirmed that the Lady was attempting to punish me, sending her lapdogs after me.
The one who finally showed a willingness to talk was a man-at-arms. Seeing me execute without hesitation every knight who spoke to me, he began trembling and, without me saying a word, started speaking.
"Calm yourself… my anger is not with you, but with your nobles—those who treated you like filth. Speak calmly; nothing will happen to you," I told him in a steady voice.
"Well… well… all the knights have been having dreams… a peaceful meadow covered in roses, crushed by a blood-soaked Imperial boot… a boy with a coward's weapon destroying a Grail shrine… then that boy turning into an adult, standing over the lifeless body of a Grail knight, and a sky full of banners bearing the twin-tailed comet waving over a ruined Bretonnian castle," he said, his voice breaking.
"Well… that's exactly what a Grail Knight told me years ago… only with a slight modification," I replied, rising to my feet. "One more question—how did you get into my lands?" I asked with interest.
"We came through the merchants' lands… they opened the gates and let us pass, on the condition that we did nothing within their territory," the man-at-arms answered.
"Thank you. Nothing will happen to you or your companions… only to the nobles," I said, glancing at a pair of Bretonnian knights who went pale.
"Will… will you let me go?" the man-at-arms asked.
"No. But I won't execute you like the rest of your nobles. You will live, and I will treat you with respect—just as I will the rest of you," I said, turning to my men. "See to it that the Bretonnian men-at-arms are given comfortable prison quarters. Reopen the dungeons in my castles, clean them thoroughly, and bring in new beds. Avoid overcrowding, and no shackles."
Then I turned to the men-at-arms. "In consideration of the fact that you are trained warriors, I must keep you confined… unlike the others, who will join the rest of my Bretonnian serfs."
"What do you mean, 'the rest'?" another man-at-arms asked.
"I have thousands of you in my lands, tending my fields… and I look after them in return. I will do the same with these," I replied, looking at the peasants. "They're just as they were when they arrived—skin and bone. But with three meals a day, they'll be fit for work soon enough," I said with a smile. "Take them away."
The Bretonnians looked at me with expressions that made it clear they thought I was completely mad.
We began looting the camp. There were large stores of wheat and a small amount of barley—likely meant to feed their peasants poorly.
We secured a good number of Bretonnian warhorses, and most importantly, their armour, which I could sell or have my men use if necessary. Not everyone is trained to wear such armour—its weight alone was considerable.
This needed to be reported to the Emperor: Marienburg was giving aid to the Bretonnians, which could mean that the main Bretonnian army might attempt to cross through Marienburg territory to strike my lands and burn everything while I awaited reinforcements. A dangerous prospect.
In addition to reporting this, I needed to distract Bretonnian attention. I went to my pair of armourers and ordered them to stop producing muskets and focus on manufacturing pistols; we would be acting on horseback, and for that, mobility and rapid fire would be essential.
It would take a couple of days to have all the equipment ready. In the meantime, I had to investigate whether that dawi tunnel led directly to the Bretonnian side. If it did… I planned to return the favour.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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