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Brauzeit -15-2492
I followed the Reiksguard knight through the carpeted halls of the palace. The echo of our steps mingled with a muffled murmur coming from the Emperor's study. Even with the doors closed, it was clear what was being discussed inside was not pleasant: the muted voices carried anger.
The guard opened the doors and gestured for me to enter.
"Emperor… I understand you summoned me. Ambassador," I said as I entered, bowing my head slightly to the Emperor and glancing at the Kislevite envoy, who was sweating profusely.
"Albrecht, only one question." The Emperor's voice was grave, cutting. "Do you think it feasible to teach Kislev a lesson? The ambassador here believes that when I warn of consequences, my word is nothing but provocation. He says it does not warrant action."
I turned toward the Kislevite. "No need for invasion. Burn Erengrad… no, not even that. Cut off their trade, strangle Erengrad and close the ports, and their economy will collapse in days. Kislev depends on the Imperial fleet to defend its only access to the sea. Without it, they are finished."
"Curious, isn't it?" the Emperor murmured, lips tightening. "They depend on our protection, and yet strike us in the back, raiding entire villages to steal their granaries."
"Your Imperial Majesty," the ambassador broke in, voice cracking, "this act was not ordered by the Tsar's family. It was a group of boyars who acted on their own. They do not represent Kislev as a whole."
"We've been chasing this problem for years," growled the emperor wearily. "Either you send me the heads of those boyars... or I'll send someone to collect them myself."
"Majesty, you must understand that—" the Kislevite tried to reply.
"They used a weapon of Imperial make," the Emperor cut him off sharply. "A weapon that had been delivered only to your royal family as a token of friendship. We have it captured."
"One of mine?" I asked, my voice hardening.
"Indeed, one of yours. In the hands of those boyars' army. Imagine my surprise upon learning it."
I fixed my gaze on the ambassador. "You are in serious trouble. I warned you what would happen if any of those weapons were turned against the Empire. And here we are."
"T-the weapons were gifted to nobles to… to accelerate adaptation, there was no intent—" the ambassador stammered, nervous.
"Albrecht," the Emperor interrupted, "can you ensure all trade with Kislev is blocked in your ports?"
"Of course. I will send a messenger at once. All dealings with Kislev will be canceled, their merchants expelled from the city, and their ambassador forced to leave Marienburg."
The Kislevite turned even paler. "Do not make decisions… that harm us all. Remember Kislev is the wall against the northern hordes. A weakened Kislev means they will fall upon your lands."
"The remedy is simple," the Emperor replied, raising a hand toward the door. "I want the heads of all those responsible. Deliver them, and all will remain as it was. Fail, and forget that the Imperial fleet will defend Erengrad. Forget also that you will trade with us."
The ambassador bowed clumsily and all but fled, rushing to send an urgent message to his Tsar.
"He is gone…" the Emperor said, glancing at his guards, who confirmed with a nod. He sighed, weary. "What a damned headache these Kislevites are. Poor harvests, and instead of trading, they choose to plunder granaries."
He turned toward me. "Well, where were we… ah yes. I need you to cut trade with Kislev, at least temporarily, so they understand I speak in earnest."
"I thought we were already speaking in earnest," I replied, fists clenched. "I am furious. We had an agreement, and they broke it. Damn bear-lovers…"
"We cannot strike too hard, Albrecht," the Emperor answered gravely. "What the ambassador said is true. If we weaken Kislev, it will be our frontier that bleeds when the northern incursions come. We cannot afford to destroy them."
"We can answer in kind. Let me gather a few hundred riders. We will burn their border villages until they learn to keep their cursed promises," I said, anger rising.
"If you want to do it, do it. I will not stop you… but I will not give you support to do it under the Empire's banner. If you want to torch Kislev's frontier villages, do so—let them learn they cannot strike us whenever a harvest fails." The Emperor's voice was dry, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Fine…" I answered, dropping into the chair across from him. "I had planned to remain in Altdorf… but perhaps my men need training in winter conditions. A campaign in Kislev would be the perfect way to harden them and give them real experience in extreme climates."
"Do as you wish, Albrecht," the Emperor said with a sigh. "But understand this: if it goes badly, no one will intervene in your favor." He gestured with his hand, and the room began to empty. The counselors departed in silence, leaving only a few Reiksguard knights at either side. The Emperor laced his hands over the table and fixed his gaze on me. "There is something we must discuss in private, in any case."
"I am all ears, Emperor."
"We must speak of how to centralize the Empire in the manner you desire… to strengthen it. Until now, I have managed to block the nobles clamoring to divide up the newly taken Bretonnian territories. All want their slice of the pie." He spread several maps across the table: fortresses, mountains, mines, forests freshly conquered. "If I were to divide them carelessly, by tomorrow we would face rebellion."
"I told your son as much. I thought he would follow the counsel I gave him in my absence." I crossed my arms, my expression stern.
"Not while you were away. Had we decided with you off fighting in the mountains alongside the dawi, half the electors would have risen in revolt. To impose order in these matters, strength must be shown… and you were not here."
"Then we must act swiftly." I leaned over the map. "Choose a noble to guard the three ducal fortresses and use the second and third sons of Imperial families to repopulate. That way you draw migration and cover the gaps. Monfort and its gold mines must be secured at once."
The Emperor nodded slowly. "The question is who. Do you have someone trustworthy? Whoever takes that post must be loyal to us without hesitation. If he turns against us, we will have lost everything… and angered the electors at the same time."
"It could be someone from your Reiksguard, your personal champion."
"Too obvious." The Emperor shook his head. "If I place someone openly loyal to me, all will see it as an attempt to control the Empire outright. We need someone who appears a natural choice, expected, even just… but who, at the same time, owes us everything and has no escape. Do you understand?"
"Joachim von Mackensen," I replied after a moment's thought.
"The margrave's firstborn…" The Emperor pressed his thumb to his lower lip.
"Exactly. Joachim is loyal to me, and he knows well what happens when he angers me. We trained together many times, and many times he ended with bruised legs from my kicks. We can speak to his father, the margrave. We frighten him, demand he publicly disinherit Joachim, and then we raise him up ourselves as Lord Protector of Bretonnia, with the title of Elector Count. That way we secure another vote, and when he dies… his line will have no claim to direct inheritance. The territory returns to you, and we repeat the process."
The Emperor narrowed his eyes. "Do you think he would accept such humiliation? It harms his reputation."
"Without doubt. The moment we tell him we plan to make his son an Elector Count, he will accept any condition. It will be a stain, yes, but in his line will stand an Elector Count and vast lands under control. His domains will never again be united, and that gives us room to maneuver. The important thing is to secure Wissenland and Averland. Those provinces remain beyond our direct control, yet they produce most of the Empire's food. In a civil war, whoever controls the bread controls the Empire's fate."
I smiled as I clasped my hands. "And that, Majesty… is what will give us victory. If we control the south, we can contain the most violent electors. They will see that without food and powder they cannot rise in arms, beyond forming a political bloc to resist."
The Emperor remained thoughtful for a few moments, eyes fixed on the map spread across the table.
"And this is the opportunity," I continued, "to bring Ostermark into the fold. If we begin raising Imperial fortresses in the region, garrisoned with soldiers from Reikland, that province will gradually fall into our orbit. We must seize the chance now, while it has no Elector Count, and secure it before anyone claims the title."
The Emperor exhaled slowly. "That will be costly. Much gold to raise an army, arm it, equip it, and feed it. Controlling Ostermark is no small task, and it will also win us the enmity of the Elector Count of Ostland."
"We are bound to quarrel with someone, Majesty." I leaned forward. "But I can contribute. I will pay part of the bribes needed for the electors to accept Joachim's elevation as Elector Count, and I will finance part of the fortress-building in Ostermark. But next year my men will be occupied: I have another enterprise planned."
The Emperor arched his brows. "Before your personal ventures, I need you to clear Reikland's forests of beastmen. We cannot postpone it any longer. If we secure those lands, new farms can spread. More crops, more food, more peace for our people. With internal enemies contained, only subversives will remain, and it will be easier to extend our influence into provinces without electors."
I nodded, though not fully conceding. "My intention is to use my friendship and influence with the dawi for something greater: to gain permission to build a great bastion at Black Fire Pass."
The Emperor's eyes and mouth opened wide in surprise.
"Yes, exactly. A bulwark to block any incursion of greenskins or Chaos into the Empire. It would close all access, save through northern Bretonnia and the east. I could negotiate with the Elector Count of Averland for his support in this project. We will have to drown him in gold, but in doing so we secure the Empire's southern flank."
I paused, measuring my words. "Moreover, I plan to convince the Cult of Sigmar to contribute men for the garrison. If they feel it is their crusade, they will not hesitate to send priests and witch hunters to guard it. Thus it will not only be a fortress, but a symbol of Sigmar's power… and of a united Empire."
"Indeed… that sounds promising. But tell me, do you believe it feasible to clear the forests of Reikland by early next year? We must begin moving pieces now." The Emperor took up a quill and spread a parchment across the table, dipping the tip into ink. "I will call the Volkshalle. The electors will debate what you asked, but I will need you to send gold as soon as possible. Whatever you can gather. I will handle bribing enough of them to approve the creation of a new Elector Count."
"Very well. I will speak with the margrave to secure his acceptance." I rose, clasping my hands behind my back. "But I will need permission to recruit in Altdorf again, Majesty."
The Emperor looked up, raising a brow. "For what purpose?"
"If we move swiftly, I can raise several small fortresses in Ostermark. I will see to their armament and garrisons, to secure the frontier against possible Kislevite attacks. I would not dismiss the chance of further raids if their harvest fails again. Moreover, I plan to take the margrave with me on the campaign—forced if need be. When I return, the situation will be in order and the arguments ready to present before the electors."
The Emperor leaned back in his chair, weighing my words with an inscrutable face. At last he spoke: "Do it. Recruit around twenty thousand men, no more. Remember we already sent too many to Bretonnia. If you raise more troops than necessary, Altdorf's industry will suffer. There are not as many seeking work as before."
"It shall be done." I inclined with a slight bow. "I will also look into extending a rail line through Talabecland to Ostermark… though I doubt it will be finished this same year."
I turned and began to leave the chamber. Behind me, I could hear the Emperor writing with resolve, the scratch of quill on parchment sealing in ink the decisions that would soon shake the Empire.
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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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