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Vorhexen-14-2492
This whole damned day had worn me out. At least this grievance was finally settled, and I could tell the dawi that my honor was intact, that the blood of the guilty would soon be spilled before the villages of Ostermark.
I had wanted to leave behind a strong Imperial frontier, and though it might not mean much in the long run if Tzar Boris kept his word about no more raids in Ostermark or Ostland, the thirty thousand local men would be good enough to deal with the necromancers to the south and the greenskins to the east. It had not been a total loss. With that permanent army and the economic foundations I left under Imperial administration, Ostermark would be able to sustain troops, even increase its levies over the years, ensuring that the border remained well-defended.
But now my new headache was this cursed marriage.
It was obvious: I had walked into a snare I had tied myself by giving the ambassador full negotiating power without any limits. Kislev had secured my industrial capacity to supply their army, and at the same time, by becoming family, I could no longer deny them access to my ports without causing a scandal. They'd cut me off right there. Yet it was also an opportunity: if I played my cards right, I could use Kislev as a source of cheap resources for my industries. As family to the Tzar, I should be able to buy anything without restrictions, and with railways to transport goods, the exchange of raw materials for weapons and processed supplies would be immense. That would allow me to expand my industry without relying so heavily on other provinces of the Empire. Kislev could offer me everything I needed.
The real problem was the Cult of Sigmar. Not only had I married a mage—already scandal enough—but a follower of Ursun. The Grand Theogonist could very well strip me of the title of Champion of Sigmar.
Unless I found a tale grand enough to justify it before reaching the capital. I needed something that would not only restore support but secure the Cult's total confidence. The answer was clear: if I found Ghal Maraz. That had always been my goal with the campaign in Black Fire Pass, but now it made perfect sense. I could return to Altdorf with Sigmar's hammer in my hands, returning it to the rightful heir of the Empire. With that, no one would dare question my role, though I would make Luitpold pay dearly for this marriage trick.
When I looked up, I found Katarin's eyes. Since she had entered my tent, she had not stopped watching me, in complete silence, just like her witches and the guards surrounding her. All silent, all expectant. It was a heavy silence, as if they were weighing each one of my movements.
But before I could decide how to break the ice, the ambassador entered again, followed by several members of the Reiksguard, watching attentively as though expecting me to try and kill him at any moment.
"Can we talk now that I see you a bit calmer?" the ambassador asked cautiously.
"And what exactly do we need to talk about now?" I answered with open annoyance.
"In private, Prince of the Empire," the ambassador said, and so we did. We went into a tent guarded by many Reiksguard, a place where he seemed to feel much safer.
"Well… well… the matter is very simple, Prince. From what I see, you already get along with your betrothed. Only one thing remains: the Emperor needs you to publicly say that this marriage was entirely your idea," the ambassador said, his voice nervous as he spoke.
"Ah… so you marry me off without asking, and on top of that I'm supposed to give thanks?" I replied, rage simmering under my tone.
"You granted me the power to negotiate in your name to resolve the matter with Kislev, and it was in the Emperor's interest that trade between both nations resume. If you had kept your decision to close it, it would have weakened the shield against northern incursions, and that could not be allowed. The marriage served the Emperor's interest and at the same time reopened Kislev's trade," explained the ambassador, his voice tightening more with every word.
"You know you've put the Emperor in serious trouble, don't you? If I now say I was forced into this, he'll turn into the new Dieter IV, when all the Electors turn on him for trying to cut their autonomy," I said coldly, fixing my eyes on him.
"That won't be necessary… General of the Empire, you are a loyal servant of the Emperor. He himself said you would understand, and that you would try to resolve it diplomatically to prevent the Empire from imploding in civil war… all over an event that clearly benefits you, especially when your dynasty will also rule over Kislev," the ambassador answered, sweating.
"Yes, I am loyal… but I'm no lapdog that obeys blindly. The least you could have done was consult me. Now it's different, ambassador. I expect the Emperor to be ready to pay very dearly for what he's done here today," I said, my voice ice-cold.
"What is it you want? The gold for the grievance? The Emperor could raise it, if that is what you deem fitting," the ambassador replied.
"I don't care for that gold—it will end up being the peasants' money for bread. What I'll demand is something else. Tell the Chosen of Sigmar he had better be ready, because it won't come cheap if he doesn't want me to cause a scandal in the middle of Altdorf," I said, angry, arms folded.
"General, this is serious. It must be resolved quickly. The Empire must endure, and this event will strengthen it greatly. You only have to say you accepted, and the Empire will be stronger than ever. Our Emperor will have the safest borders since the Empire's founding. Almost every entrance is already guarded by fortresses… and now we have Kislev as an ally in the north," the ambassador said, his tone striving for firmness, though fear seeped through his words.
"Yes, me used as a political pawn… though I am willing to cooperate for a strong Empire, you don't make it easy, damn them. How could they do such a thing and expect me to accept it just like that? Spare me the mockery… just tell the Emperor to prepare himself, because it won't come cheap," I said, rising from my chair and glaring at the nervous ambassador.
"Idiots," I muttered as I walked through the camp, noticing the dawi already celebrating the victory, drinking their ale as if there were no tomorrow.
The news that my grievance had been settled had spread quickly. The guilty were in our hands, and the dawi were euphoric. For them, these ceremonies were sacred: when a grudge was resolved, the ale had to flow like rivers. My men looked on with envy, so I relaxed the discipline for once and let them spend their pay on the merchants lingering nearby, until now without luck in their trade. It was payday, and after months of abstinence, the soldiers threw themselves eagerly into ale, food, and gambling with the dwarfs. As expected, they always lost; no human could outdrink a dawi.
The celebrations soon began, turning my men's iron discipline into a festival. I, however, returned slowly to my tent.
Inside, the atmosphere was as cold as ever.
"I know you're of the fashion of loving the cold, but at least you could stop staring at me as if you were about to kill me," I said, glancing at Katarin's escort, who remained fixed on me like statues.
"What happened in the end?" asked the princess of Kislev.
"About what?" I replied.
"About what you discussed with the Imperial ambassador," she asked, her eyes still locked on mine.
"About how to explain the marriage to the Grand Theogonist. He won't be pleased, that's for sure. But it's too late now to complain openly about what will happen. We need to return to Altdorf as soon as possible. Next year there's a meeting with the Elector Counts, and that will be the time to speak with the Grand Theogonist to prevent you and your witches from being burned at the stake for practicing without a license inside the Empire," I said while reaching for a quill to begin writing.
"I have only one more question for you. What will happen to the army? Will it return to protect Ostermark? Father is worried, he does not want a bellicose neighbor seeking revenge now that we are weakened," said the princess.
"The Emperor plans to place here the general who took part in Monfort. He's a good commander in the field, though terrible with nobles. But that won't be a problem here: there are no nobles, only soldiers who will obey. So the army will remain under Imperial orders for now. The only one who wanted to burn Kislev to settle a grievance was me," I answered, not stopping my writing.
"Interesting to know that," Katarin said, then fell silent again.
I wrote for hours, selecting the local nobles who would be temporarily named as governors of the towns and cities of Ostermark. It was necessary that the province be organized: that local taxes be used to maintain garrisons, repair walls, and finance the thirty-thousand-man army that would remain as a permanent force.
If the Kislevites did not stir trouble again, Ostermark would have to look to other fronts: greenskins in the eastern mountains or necromancers in the south. Both were growing threats. No one in the Empire wanted to spend a fortune cleansing those lands, leaving them to Stirland's neglect. But if we wanted a strong frontier, fortresses would have to be built at the mountain's foot and defenses prepared against the corruption creeping forward day by day.
According to the latest report, the railway through Talabecland was progressing well: it had already reached Talabheim and soon would extend to Ostermark and Bechafen. That would finally ensure the swift movement of troops from west to east across the Empire, with little trouble. The north–south route was still missing, but in due time. With the costs of building towns, cities, irrigation canals, woodlands, and farmland, the dawi gold I had gained from the campaign was being spent far faster than I had calculated. As much as I wished to hasten these works, it was impossible to keep so many men on pay at once.
I had to keep the dawi workers from Duran and a group of my own men, who oversaw the railway's expansion with the help of the Elector Count's troops.
"My lord, I bring you your princess's supper," said one of my men, entering with a cow tied by a rope.
"Is this a joke? She's your betrothed, that's no way to treat her!" exclaimed one of Katarin's guards, bristling.
"He doesn't mean her, Princess… food," I said, turning my head and pointing to my griffon. The beast slept quietly, buried under a mound of furs. My voice woke it, and at once it rose, feathers bristling, eyes blazing.
The griffon let out a thunderous shriek. The cow, seized by panic, tried to break free, but was quickly brought down and torn apart. Its screams mixed with the crunch of bones and the wet tearing of flesh as blood stained the snow and ground.
"She is my princess…" I murmured, watching my griffon rip into its prey, scattering entrails across the floor.
I turned to Katarin and her guards. "Are you hungry? You've been here all day, and I haven't seen you eat a bite," I asked politely.
Katarin held my gaze and, with a solemn nod, answered, "We will accept whatever your men provide us."
"Oh… bad news, my dear betrothed… I have no servants. I do everything myself. So if you were used to the good life, surrounded by maids and attendants, I'm afraid that's over," I said with a faint smile, standing up.
The griffon kept feeding, tearing warm chunks of flesh from the cow, while I prepared to cook something simple. I was hungry, and the sight of the beast ripping apart a whole carcass only reminded me more of it.
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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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