The temperature had plummeted.
The scribe cursed under his breath, pulling his coat tighter around him as he tossed a few more logs into the nearby stove. But it didn't help him feel any better.
Winter was almost here, and the biting wind was a clear herald of the coming cold snap. But for the scribe, that still wasn't the worst part. Cold, famine, war — this entire year had been devoid of hope. Even so, he'd still rather freeze to death out here than be sent to the front lines to fight those damned Chaos cultists and monsters.
"Sigh..."
Looking at the blank recruitment ledger before him, the scribe let out a long sigh. Not long ago, this place had been bustling with activity. Mercenaries hungry for adventure, gold, and power had practically broken down the door. Some even tried to bribe him just to have their silly names written on the list.
But now?
It was deserted. Almost no one showed up anymore. Ever since the first campaign to retake Mordheim ended in failure, the place had been nearly abandoned.
And the root of it all… lay in that terrifying city.
The scribe couldn't help but glance out the window toward the murky silhouette of the city at the foot of the mountain.
The Cursed City — Mordheim.
A chill ran down his spine just thinking about the name, as if the mere mention of it summoned some dreadful doom. Even though his registration post wasn't anywhere near the city itself, he still felt uneasy — like saying the name aloud would bring something horrifying to his doorstep. Nervously, he glanced around, half-expecting a Skaven or some other nightmare to leap out of the shadows...
Knock knock knock!
The sudden knocking nearly gave the scribe a heart attack. He quickly stood up straight, adjusted his coat, and called out, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and the scribe saw... a massive black shadow hunching to step inside, letting out a low crack as it approached his desk.
What the hell is this thing?
The scribe was stunned. The figure was nearly as tall as the ceiling itself. As the firelight flickered across its form, he slowly tilted his head up—until he saw a pair of glowing crimson eyes.
"Wh-who are you?!"
If not for his years of military experience giving him a bit of courage, the scribe might've fainted on the spot. Even so, he was trembling as he barked the question, eyes wide with fear. His thoughts were racing. What's going on? Did the camp get attacked? But there's no alarm, no screams... He doesn't look human—an orc? A barbarian? Dammit, we're in the Empire's heartland!
While his mind spun, the figure reached out and tapped the desk with one massive finger.
"Recruiting."
"Huh... Huh??"
"This is the place, right? Where you're recruiting mercenaries for Mordheim."
"Oh... I see..."
Hearing that, the scribe's body went limp. He nearly collapsed right then and there.
"Good grief, don't scare people like that... I thought something terrible was happening..."
He grumbled as he glanced out the door, only to see the guards outside winking and smirking at him — clearly payback for him sitting cozy inside by the fire while they froze their butts off in the cold.
"Ahem, ahem."
Clearing his throat, the scribe composed himself and grabbed a quill, looking up at the black-armored knight before him.
"Since you're here to enlist, then I assume you've heard about His Majesty's call for mercenaries to explore and clear Mordheim. But I must be clear — this is extremely dangerous work. You'll be placed on the front lines, tasked with scouting, assault, and holding positions. In simple terms, if you're sent into battle, you'll have to hold until reinforcements arrive. Of course, pay is settled daily and won't be short. Any valuables you find in Mordheim must be handed over to the Church. If it's something precious, we'll offer a fair price for it. As for supplies, speak with Sir Taylor, who's in charge of logistics. Any questions?"
Normally, the scribe wouldn't waste his breath explaining so much, but the guy in front of him was terrifying. He'd rather be extra polite than have this monster come knocking later over a "misunderstanding" — mercenaries had some sense of honor, but they weren't exactly known for mercy.
"None."
"Very well. Then will you be registering as a warband or a solo combatant?"
"What's the difference?"
"There is one. As a warband, you can operate independently as a unit. If you register solo, we'll assign you to another warband."
"Then I'll register as a warband."
"Understood. How many members?"
"Five."
As he said this, the black knight gestured, and four figures stepped out from behind him — four young women, each styled very differently. One had pink hair and a warm, cheerful smile, dressed in a white robe with gold trim that looked wildly out of place here. Beside her stood a tall silver-haired woman with a hunting rifle slung over her back. Then there was a cloaked girl dressed like a noble lady.
And trailing behind them was a twin-tailed brunette maid with a white headband.
What kind of party is this?
The scribe was baffled. He didn't doubt the pink-haired girl was a Church member—he could feel the aura of a cleric from her. But that style of robe? He'd never seen it before... As he puzzled over it, his eyes caught a glint on the knight's cloak — a brooch shaped like a holy grail.
A Grail Knight?!
The scribe's jaw dropped. He rubbed his eyes and looked again—yes, it matched the illustrations from the books exactly. That meant this really was a Grail Knight?!
Ah… then those girls must be the Lady of the Lake's handmaidens.
As an Imperial, the scribe was at least familiar with Bretonnia, the neighboring kingdom. He knew Grail Knights traveled with the Lady of the Lake, cleansing evil. And that pink-haired girl… cute, beautiful—definitely believable.
Just… this Grail Knight was a bit…
He stole a glance at the terrifying helmet and quickly looked away.
"Ahem… excuse me, then. I'll register you as a warband. May I ask the warband's name?"
"Pink Bunny Brigade."
"Alright, the Pink Bun—wait, what??"
By the time Duanmu Huai and his group left, Lorena's face was completely red.
"Knight, why that name?!"
She stomped her foot, turning her head away. Through the broken gap in the warped wooden door, she could still see the scribe inside staring into space, clearly questioning his entire existence. The impact had been so intense he forgot to hold Duanmu Huai accountable for breaking the doorframe.
"What's wrong with it? My warband — I can name it whatever I like."
"Well yes, but…"
"Besides, you're all girls. Isn't a cute name more fitting?"
"Ugh… but it's so embarrassing… Can't we call it something like Unicorn, or Pegasus?"
"Because that's not funny. Who says warbands need flashy names?"
"???"
Though Duanmu Huai's tone was calm, Lorena could feel the knowing smirk behind that helmet.
"If you don't like it, I could ask him to change it to Fluffy Teddy Bears."
"Let's just stick with the bunnies…"
Lorena had been summoned by Duanmu Huai. He'd gone back to the Holy City first, explained the situation, and though surprised, she eventually agreed to join his party.
Melody's situation was more complicated. As a former member of the Mech Cult, she was under "active review." But Duanmu Huai had enough clout in the Holy City to pull some strings. After a quick chat with the High Priestess, he got permission for Melody to accompany him. If she behaved, she'd be reinstated.
Her mechanical wings, being heretical tech, had been confiscated. But Melody's marksmanship was still exceptional, and Duanmu Huai badly needed a ranged attacker. Her combat value was obvious—just look at her card.
[Judgment Sniper – Melody (Gold)]
[Cost: 3]
[Attack: 4]
[Defense: 5]
[Guard]
[Battlecry: At the start of each battle, deal X damage to an enemy, where X = half the number of activated sigils this battle]
Melody's ability wasn't that useful right now, but her high ranged damage alone made her a strong asset.
Trailing behind them, with a deranged smile plastered on her face, was none other than the crazy maid — Fia, the core of the masked doll-killer squad Duanmu Huai had previously fought.
[Doll Butcher – Fia (Gold)]
[Cost: 2]
[Attack: 1]
[Defense: 2]
[Lethal]
[Whenever a Doll enters the battlefield, spend 2 points to transform it into a 'Killer Doll']
[Finale: Randomly transform one Killer Doll into Doll Butcher – Fia]
[Killer Doll (Cost: 2): 1/1, [Stealth]]
That was the whole reason Duanmu Huai had summoned Fia. As her card text described, she could transform summoned [Dolls] into [Killer Dolls], like those he had faced before. Though they had low attack, their utility was immense.
[Stealth] essentially meant invisibility. Cards with [Stealth] wouldn't be detected or targeted by spells or curses until they attacked or got hit by an area-of-effect spell.
For Duanmu Huai, these [Killer Dolls] were ideal scouts, spies, and assassins. Their attack might be weak, but Fia's [Lethal] trait guaranteed a kill. He could deploy a doll, turn it into a [Killer Doll], have it sneak into a heavily guarded area, then eliminate Fia himself—causing her to reincarnate into the [Killer Doll] and assassinate the target.
He could even have a second [Killer Doll] ready, so if Fia got killed again, she'd just jump to the next.
In other words, as long as the [Killer Dolls] weren't completely wiped out, Fia couldn't die. Paired with [Lethal], she was an immortal assassin. Truly… terrifying.
Of course, her mental state was a little unstable… but Duanmu Huai figured that was tolerable for now.
At this point, Duanmu Huai's team had a full five-man raid composition: tank (himself), healer (Lorena), AOE (Olgis), ranged (Melody), and rogue (Fia).
Next up—they were ready to run the Cursed City dungeon!
(End of Chapter)