Urist Malkisson wasn't what I had expected from a Dwarf. Instead of the usual red or brown beard done up in multiple braids and festooned with trinkets, his beard was charcoal black and kept trimmed in a single, modest, braid. Instead of the typical mail or plate, he wore an outfit of leathers and furs that would not be out of place on a Kislevite Kossar. In short, he seemed to be fairly well assimilated. His brother likewise seemed to be well assimilated, though there were a number of odd brass tools that he no doubt used for his engineering trade. Their cousin was more what I had been expecting, with a coat of plates, brown beard done up in a forked double braid, and Warhammer hanging off his belt. The three of them had been ushered into the great hall of the Krepost to meet with me.
"Well met. I am Lord Tadeusz Yevchenko, welcome to Chebekov. I trust you had a pleasant journey?" I began the meeting.
"Pleasant enough for a territory with few decent roads and mostly scattered villages. Tell me, is that glorified goat path you call a road the best job you manlings can do?" Scoffed Burlok Gormsson.
Urist gave his cousin a meaningful look and muttered something to him in Khazalid. Burlok gave an annoyed grunt but didn't press further. I decided to speak up to spare Urist the need to apologize for his cousin's lack of tact. "As it happens that is part of what I am hoping to fix. A hundred years ago, your kinsmen helped to rebuild Kislev from the invasion of Asavar Kul. However, once the damage to Erengrad and Kislev was fixed and Praag fully rebuilt, the Tzar lost interest in developing the remainder of the nation further. Many of the Boyars are fickle, caring little of matters that do not directly impact them. A general malaise has swept over these lands, one that if it is not remedied may render us incapable of defending against another great invasion from Chaos. I hope to remedy this and that starts with the improvement of my lands. It is my hope that you and your family will help me in improving my lands, and in teaching apprentices to carry on your work should you for whatever reason wish to up stakes back to Erengrad." I explained.
This prompted Urist to speak up. "What would we be getting in return?" He asked.
"I would appoint one of you to my council to speak for your family and any other dwarves that might see fit to make their way to Chebekov as it grows. I have set aside land for workshop sites and living quarters and will fund your personal side projects so long as you are continuing to work for me. I will also provide you with a stipend for expenses incurred while serving in my court. We are not very wealthy like Erengrad is, but we are not very poor either. If your efforts bring in more revenue, then your funding and stipend will go up accordingly." I replied.
"In essence, you are offering us positions of power, land, and money, along with funding our own personal projects, in exchange for working for you?" Asked Urist's brother Snorri.
"I am. Land I have in abundance and positions of power are mine to give out as I will. The money will come from the coffers of the Voivodeship, as this is an expense that is necessary for further developing the Voivodeship economically." I replied.
"You are offering quite a bit. I cannot help but notice that we are the first Dwarves in Chebekov, however. Would you be willing to make allowances for our customs?" Asked Burlok.
"So long as they do not break the law or incite revolt, you will find that I do not much care what customs you practice. I am sure we can come to an accommodation." I replied.
Burlok gave an annoyed grunt at that, but Urist and Snorri both pinned him with a look and then began to haggle with me over terms. Had I not had Tadeusz's memories of haggling with particularly intractable Ungols, I am certain that the Malkissons would have managed to bargain me into paying for a full-on Dwarven Quarter. Urist had some extremely convincing points about some of the Erengrad Dwarves possibly wishing to migrate north to Chebekov if this land improvement scheme paid off, but I managed to delay any talk of that by stating that future Dwarven immigration is by no means a sure thing just yet. However, they just wouldn't be good Dwarves if they didn't try to get a good deal for their valuable services. In the end, I managed to get them to accept most of my terms with only a slight increase in their stipends thanks to a combination of Urist's persuasiveness and Burlok's stubbornness wearing me down on the issue. I finally had the Dwarves ready to work for me.
It was after this meeting that I met outside the walls of Chebekov with Boris Bearfriend, Priest of Ursun. Boris was an old man, but a remarkably in shape one. His gray beard was kept long and he bore a necklace of bear teeth around his neck. His roughspun clothes belied his peasant upbringing but were augmented by a massive bearskin that he wrapped around his wiry frame. Boris was the oldest Priest of Ursun in the Voivodeship and was only not the head cleric of the priesthood here because Father Anton was more respected by the nobility than the more rough mannered Boris. Boris took one look at me and he knew I had been touched by the Bear God. He clearly had the sight that let him see magic and enough knowledge to pick out the source of said magics.
"Father Bear has blessed you lad. I can see his mark on you clear as day. Were you a child, I would think that we would take you from your parents to be raised within the faith." He said.
"I am not a child, though." I replied.
"No, you are not. More's the pity. You are a man grown, if only just, and leader of a Voivodeship to boot. That may cause issues yet." Replied Boris.
"How so?" I asked.
"Well, for one thing, your upbringing as the son of a prominent Boyar has biased your outlook without you even realizing it. Many of the priesthood prefer to be out in nature, close to Father Bear, rather than advancing civilization into the wilds. Many of the high-ranking priesthood hold these views and others which will cause friction between you. Many of them are not gifted with the sight themselves and so may attempt to deny your blessings as the work of the Enemy should you make foes of them." Replied Boris.
"But not you." I stated.
"No, not me. I will not deny what I can plainly see. Your mark is that of Father Bear. This is truth." He replied.
"Then how can I get the priesthood on my side? What must I do?" I asked.
"For now? Nothing. Any of the trials that they might put you through to prove the favor of Father Bear is upon you will not happen now. Spring has already begun so you missed the first of the holy days where such challenges would occur. Unfortunately for you, that means that you will be forced to undertake a trial during the Winter, on the Solstice. Likely you will be sent into the Oblast to survive for several days with no supplies or equipment, if you live and prove free of taint, then you pass. If you die or draw on non-divine magics, you fail. The Trial of Strength in Faith. It is the only trial I could see that would convince everyone of your blessings." Replied Boris.
"Then I have at least 8 months to put things in order here before I must undertake this trial. I will prepare myself." I said.
"I am sure you will. In the meantime, I will speak to the other Clergy. I am curious, however, how you came to be marked by Ursun?" Asked Boris.
I relayed the dream I had of Ursun chasing me through the misty, frosty, void, and of what the Bear God had said during the dream. I made sure to stick to just the contents of the dream, as I'm sure that telling Boris about being inserted into Tadeusz's body from another world would wind up with me being executed for heresy and witchcraft. Boris nodded and simply said, "Interesting. It seems that Father Bear has awoken to the plight of his people at least in part."
I gave him a shocked look and he scoffed and said, "Do not take me for a fool, I am rustic, not blind. I can see that the Boyars are not motivated and the Tzars are unable to reign them in. This malaise as you call it that has gripped the nation for decades now is quite apparent to many of us who were not born into the nobility. Were I you, I would continue the preparations you are making, but also watch your back. You are not the first person to try and do something about this."
I simply nodded and Boris, satisfied, receded into the wilderness. For a first contact with the Priests of Ursun, that could have gone a lot worse.
Over the next month, labor and materials would be moved around and workshops would begin to be built to the Malkisson's expectations. In the meantime, Urist had taken up residence in Chebekov's Smithy and had immediately enlisted Snorri's aid in engineering an additional process to the smithy. For the next 4 days after our meeting, the tinkering would continue until on the 5th day, Snorri went out and began collecting plants from the local area. Hammering could be heard for another 5 days with periodic trips to go get more plants, until, on the 10th day of the whole process, Urist sent a runner to come get me from the Krepost. I headed to the smithy, wondering just what the Malkisson Brothers were up to.
As it happened, as I entered the transformed smithy, I saw the normal smith and his apprentices standing back, staring in wonder at what the dwarves had done. Looking over towards the forge, I had spotted that not only had the blast furnace been altered, but that there was also a large ceramic crucible and an open hearth refining bay, altogether it looked like a combination of the Ferghana Process and the Chinese Wuchaoni Process, but what really surprised me was the quenching process for the blades that they had made. Several plants had been ground up and their juices extracted to mix with the quenching oil. I recognized one of the plants as the spiny restharrow, the extract of which was used for the production of Russian bulat steel. It seemed that the Dwarves had converted a modest town smithy into a production center for high-quality carbon steel over the course of 9 days. Dwarven metallurgy and engineering expertise was complete bullshit.
From over by the forge, Urist presented me with a sabre of beautiful steel. The wave pattern indicative of the bulat steel quenching process that sought to mimic Damascus steel's qualities without the weaknesses of pattern welding. I drew the blade and it was obscenely well balanced. "That weapon is sharper than any Umgi sword you manlings can make, will hold its edge better than anything you can make, and is so durable as to be unbreakable. It's a shame that none of the runesmiths decided to come with us because if there were ever a weapon I made to be worthy of taking a rune, that would be one of them." He said.
"It's remarkably well balanced," I replied.
"I should hope so, it's dwarven steel after all." Snorted Urist.
"Can you make armor out of this? Weapons for my troops?" I asked.
"In time, manling. We've barely been able to convert this smithy into something passable enough to get the job done. Back in Erengrad, we had a dedicated workshop for this sort of thing. We're limited in what we can produce now until our current workshop gets built." Snorted Urist.
"Well if your brother and cousin work half as well as you do, Chebekov will get a boost to her economy in no time." I replied.
"Aye, they're more than up to the task. Burlok might grumble a bit but he's a solid mine engineer and Snorri is a dab hand at gunsmithing. Don't you worry, manling. We'll have your province up and ticking like clockwork yet." Nodded Urist before heading back to work.
On my way out I heard the Smith rattle off a number of questions and decided that Urist had this well in hand. Next, I was going to have to check-in with Burlok. At the same time as Snorri and Urist had been converting the Smithy, and the very day that construction crews and materials got started setting up proper workshops and quarters for them, Burlok Gormsson had gone to go survey some of the Stanitsas eking out a living on the very fringes of the Blight to see about the viability of bog iron and sulfur deposits. He had returned today after a 10-day excursion, before heading straight to one of the local taverns to wash the taste of the road out of his mouth with beer.
I found him sitting on a barstool that had been altered to accommodate his shorter frame, nursing a mug of Osterlander Stout. He looked to be in a decent mood, which was the ideal time to talk to him as I was finding out more and more. I pulled up to the stool next to him and ordered a mug of the house Kvas, to which the barman hurriedly obliged with a mutter of, "Of course, milord."
"So, you've come to ask after your investment no doubt?" Grunted out Burlok, starting the conversation.
"I have. How is it looking out there?" I asked.
"Well, if you don't mind putting a garrison in place to keep an eye on things, it should prove profitable enough. There's plenty of bog iron there and the sulfur deposits are decent enough, but I had to bludgeon a damned brigand with my hammer more than once when they thought that they could steal into my camp and sneak off with supplies. You'll need to put in a garrison to make sure that shipments don't go missing." Said Burlok. Strangely, I got the impression that he didn't mind having to kill a brigand or two.
"How soon do you think you could get a crew out there to start exploiting the deposits?" I asked.
"Depends on a few things. if it were Dwarves, I figure we could begin extraction within a month to a month and a half. With manlings? Give it two and a half months to get a mine set up and three before you start to see shipments. Of course, you'll need to send troops to safeguard things, as I said." Replied Burlok, stroking his beard.
"I'll get on it as soon as I can," I replied.
I sat there drinking my Kvas as Burlok nursed his beer in silence for a while before leaving as I finished my drink, tossing some gold onto the bartop for the Barkeep. From here I had to go meet with the rest of my council. One of the good things that had come out of the increased trade with Ostland had been an increased demand amongst the Ostlanders for Kislevite drinks. While Erengrad was making a killing off of selling Vodka to the Ostlanders, I had been informed that our local variety of Kvas had found favor with the Garrison of Gauschdorf, an Imperial Village on the border with Kislev that hosted the main border fort for this sector. The good news for us was that when soldiers from the garrison went on furlough to the City of Schonfeld, they brought their propensity for our variety of Kvas with them. That had lead to the Brewers guild getting a number of orders for Kvas from various tavern owners in Schonfeld, which when combined with the uptick in exported goods, just managed to outpace our imports enough to keep the slight economic boom going. I held no illusions that this would continue past Dieter IV's reign and so was resolved to develop my lands further in preparation for the resumption of imperial subsidies to the provinces once Dieter had been ousted due to the Marienburg Fiasco that was going to happen. The Harbormaster even reported that there was an average of 7 ships from Ostland a day, with a further 2 from Marienburg. Beyond that, Captain Mikolaj had reported that roughly half of the Kossars of my Pulk had received chainmail armor of varying types and that efforts to continue to equip and drill my forces were ongoing. Andrej Bartovski also reported that he had a number of agents heading into Lord Yusupov's lands to attempt to discern the lay of the land for our eventual retaliation for his sponsoring of brigandage in the outskirts of the Blight. So far they hadn't really had much to report as none of them had managed to work their way into Lord Yusupov's court, though one of them had managed to gain a position in his household guard thanks to his talents with a bow. I simply told him to keep them working on it so we wouldn't go into his lands blind once we were ready. Beyond that, I continued my sword practice with Otabeg. I was slowly learning the unique footwork that his father had picked up in Cathay and had trained his son in. As the month ticked by, Otabeg had to admit that I was getting better. Not enough to beat him in a spar, true, but my footwork wasn't hopelessly rigid anymore.
The end of the month saw both Urist and Snorri move into their workshops. True construction was still ongoing, but the core facilities were complete enough that work could begin. Urist began churning out dwarf-steel equipment for my Pulk and Snorri began working on turning out handguns for my Streltsi. The guns he began producing were flintlocks but were more reliable and accurate than Imperial designs. Much as it galled him to do so, he simply copied the design of his own personal handgun over and over, though he planned to use the funding I had provided for personal projects to tweak his own handgun further until it was at least a generation more advanced than what he was making for my Streltsi. I briefly mentioned that I had once heard a theory while aborad that you could produce a powerful explosive by dissolving mercury in spirit of niter and adding pure grain alcohol before leaving his workshop. As I left I could see him frantically jotting down notes and had hopefully put him on the path to figuring out how to make percussion caps with Mercury Fulminate. If anyone could do it with current chemical engineering, it would be a Dwarf.
Before I knew it 3 months had gone by since I had woken up in the world of Warhammer Fantasy. Bog Iron was starting to come in from the east after I had allocated labor and a small garrison to set up and defend a mine, as had sulfur. My Pulk was almost entirely decked out in equipment made in the Malkisson Workshops, and exports to Ostland were starting to include metalwork. I had taken the first few steps on turning my corner of Kislev around some. So, of course, it shouldn't be a surprise that someone had started to take notice that Chebekov was a Voivodeship on the rise. The first day of the fourth month saw an envoy from the Elector count of Nordland, Grand Baron Reinhardt Nikse hoping to forge a trade agreement with the Voivode. The Grand Baron had sent his daughter Annelise to try her hand at diplomacy abroad. All I could think at the time was why come to me instead of my father in Erengrad?
I would be soon to find out