Everything was going well. Not only had I signed lucrative trade treaties with Ostland and Nordland in the Empire, not only had I been improving my lands, and not only had I been equipping and drilling my Pulk to a higher standard, but Snorri had managed a limited run of his new Grenades. They used a mercury fulminate core to ignite a black powder charge with a brittle, cast iron shell. The extra power of the mercury fulminate core allowed a crude, but somewhat effective, fragmentation grenade as the brittle cast iron shell would burst apart into shrapnel. The biggest problem with producing them was that Snorri could only make limited quantities of mercury fulminate and the fuse required to make them viable was also more labor-intensive and needed qualified alchemists or engineers to actually produce. I'm certain that a place like Nuln could have churned them out if they could figure out how to make them, but Chebekov was no Nuln. I still had enough of the grenades to equip 50 of my household guard as grenadiers, though I had them drill with potatoes rather than the more expensive grenades. After all, the grenade was about the size and weight of a potato, and potatoes were extremely cheap.
Indeed, after 5 months in the Warhammer world, things were going so well that of course, something had to happen. It started out small. Ships plying the Sea of Claws mentioning run-ins with Norscan dragon ships, Ungol Nomads coming down from Troll Country to trade mentioning Sarl Villages on the coast practically emptying out onto their ships and heading out to sea. I had the Pulk pull together when I heard that, but it wasn't until I received a missive from my father in Erengrad that it really sunk in. A Sarl Armada had begun prowling the waters of the Sea of Claws, sticking close to the southern coasts near Ostland and Erengrad and picking off ships and raiding villages. The Armada had raided west into Ostland and had hit the town of Verborgenbucht, sacking it and carrying off a wealth of plunder from the town while the Baron of Verborgenbucht had shut himself up in his country estate outside the city. A Relief force of State Troops from the City of Salkalten had arrived too late to save the town and the Sarls had already sailed off to the east, towards Erengrad, pillaging a number of smaller settlements along the way. My father intended to trap the Armada in Starivoda Bay and force the Sarls to fight a stand-up battle with his forces. He was calling in the Pulks of all his subordinate Voivodeships and expected me to bring mine to aid him.
I called together a council with everyone, not just my normal council, but the Malkisson Dwarves and Otabeg were there as well. As I sat in the council, I knew that with what I had, I was likely the best equipped of his Voivodes. The question was how much I could afford to send him.
"Captain Mikolaj, how many men do we have under arms in our Pulk?" I asked.
The Captain, ever prepared, replied, "The Pulk of Chebekov is not large. We have some 1,000 Kossars, 500 Streltsi, 250 Ungol Horse Archers, and 250 Winged Lancers. We also have some 40 cannons available for use as field artillery. Plus your Household Guard puts the number at 2,050 men under arms."
"I see, and what of our neighbors?" I asked.
"Officially? Pradeshynya has some 750 Kossars, 250 Streltsi, 150 Ungol Horse Archers, and 150 Winged Lancers along with 15 cannons, though we know that Lord Yusupov has anywhere from 500-750 extra irregular troops in the form of brigands that infest his section of the Blight. Accurate numbers are difficult to come by without doing something that might rouse the Beastmen and Greenskins that make the center of the Blight their lair. We know that across the border in Troll Country there are a number of Ungol and Roppsmen settlements and Nomads, centered on the Roppsmen town of Lebelya and the Ungol settlement of Ungolya. Again accurate numbers are hard to come by, but we estimate them to have some 5,000 men of fighting strength, possibly more. Your father in Erengrad controls some 5,000 Kossars 2,000 Streltsi, 1,000 Winged Lancers, 1,000 Ungol Horse Archers, a 500 Strong Contingent of the Gryphon Legion, and some 500 Ursun's Chosen mounted on war bears. We also know he has some 78 Cannons and a number of Ice Witches from Frosthome. This information, of course, doesn't take into account the Pulks of the Verge and Lower Urskoy Voivodeships further south, who together can match the Pulk of Erengrad in numbers. All told the Western Oblast should have some 23,350 Troops available to it." Replied Captain Mikolaj.
"The question is how much of my 2,050 troops can I bring to my Father's aid without inviting attacks from those 5,000 in Troll Country or Yusupov's brigands?" I asked.
"My Lord, it might be wise to keep at least 1,000 troops back to deter attacks. That should be plenty to deter casual raids from Troll Country nomads or Yusupov's brigands." Said Andrej Bartovski.
"I do not often agree with the Lord Bartovski, but I know Troll Country. Any raids from there will be looking for soft targets, preferably ones that are underdefended. If we leave 1,000 troops back, they will likely move on to richer targets." Concurred Otabeg.
I nodded, that made sense. Most raiders who weren't hopped up on religious zealotry for the Dark Gods were in it for the loot and wanted to get it with as little fuss as possible. I would take with me 500 Kossars, 250 Streltsi, 125 Winged lancers, 125 Ungol Horse Archers, and 20 cannons. I would also take my Household Guard with me. I told my council as much, then turned to Snorri and Urist Malkisson. "Do we have enough munitions to support an expeditionary force of this size?" I asked.
"Aye, we can supply that force in the field till winter at least. The Guilds would know more about food and fodder than us though." Nodded Urist after briefly conferring with Snorri in hushed Khazalid.
I turned to the Guild Representative, currently Olaf Ivanov, the Grandmaster of the Brewers Guild. "We can keep the Pulk in Kvas, Hardtack, and Salt Pork for the duration along with fodder for the horses and any number of other sundries you might need, My Lord. You have paid the guilds rather generously to supply the Pulk with their daily marching needs, after all." He nodded.
"Good, then it seems like I will be heading to rendezvous with my Father at Erengrad. Gods willing, we will stop this Sarl Armada cold." I nodded.
"Maybe even literally if the Witches of Frosthome get their way." Chuckled Otabeg, cutting the tension with grim humor like a knife.
"That would certainly be something to see." I grinned.
"I've seen many things, Manling, but I've never seen a man freeze solid before. That alone would be worth going along on your adventure." Chuckled Urist Malkisson.
"Are you sure you want to come with?" I asked. "You don't have to, you know. It isn't like I expect you to fight my wars for me."
"Bah! What kind of Dwarf would I be if I didn't take out the old axe every now and again? Besides, I just finished upgrading my armor. it'd be a shame to just have it gather dust." Scoffed Urist.
More hushed Khazalid between Urist and Snorri followed, with Burlok interjecting here and there before the three of them seemed to come to an agreement.
"I'm going with too, Manling. Snorri will stay behind and continue to oversee things here. My Hammer should be useful in this situation." Replied Burlok, Gruffly.
For a second I was puzzled at what had happened until I realized what the three were doing. They wanted to help because I'd elevated them from mere craftsman into actual wealthy burghers and gave them a seat on my council but needed one of them to stay behind while the other two helped with the war in case they didn't come back. I was actually amazed that the few short months I'd known them had put me so high up in their esteem. Usually, it took saving a Dwarf's Life for something like this to happen.
"You really don't have to." I tried one more time.
"No, Manling. We're doing this. You've placed us high up in your council and given us a new home away from some of the more cranky graybeards, what's more, is that you've actually been consulting us on projects and asking after the family. You're not a Dwarf Friend yet, but you're well on your way to becoming one. We'll hear no more arguments on keeping us back." Grunted out Urist. Burlok backed him up with an affirmative grunt and crossed his large arms over his barrel chest in a pose that signified that there would be no more discussion on the issue.
And with that, my course was set. I had Captain Mikolaj call the Pulk together for reassignment and over the next week we pulled together troops and supplies for the campaign. It was the beginning of the 1st Week of the Month of Dazh that we rode out. I was decked out in a full plate suit of dwarfsteel armor, my Sabre and pistol hanging off my belt. Next to me rode Otabeg, armored similarly in a coat of scales and armed with a compound bow, lance, and his everpresent Ungol scimitar. Urist Malkisson was also present on a smaller Pony, his armor was something I hadn't ever seen before, oh sure it was dwarfsteel full-plate, but what I really noticed was the silvery rune traced out on the breastplate. I could see the magic tightly leashed into it.
I arched an eyebrow at him and he said, "I paid a Runesmith a King's Ransom in good yellow gold to put together a rune on this suit about a month into our stay here, you didn't think all that gold I got for personal projects was just being stockpiled did you?" He chuckled.
"Is this runesmith available for hire?" I asked.
"Should be, he's my wife's cousin. I know what you're thinking and yes, he is open to commissions for some basic things if you have the gold." He grinned.
I nodded at that. Looking around, I paused before I said, "I don't see Burlok?"
"Bah, he's off supervising the artillery train. You know him, always wants to keep an eye on things." Replied Urist.
I nodded and then looked around at my Pulk. Over a thousand men plus equipment and supplies had been gathered together on the field outside the gates of Chebekov. The fight ahead would show whether or not my reforms were worth it. I hoped that they would prove equal to the task, but you never could tell with Chaos. The Norscan's gods had a way of interfering with things in ways that were hazardous to the health of everyone on the field, their own followers included. I just hoped that it wouldn't be the death of me and all that I'd built up in Chebekov over the past 5 months. I reached down to my saddle and picked up the dwarfsteel helmet that had been hanging off the pommel. It was a unique thing, made to my specifications. Most Kislevite helmets were old school conical helms. This one however I'd had made special because of how it looked. it was a Szyszak-style lobster tailed pot helm. Like the kind the Winged Hussars wore into battle in my old world. I put it on and fastened it to my head, moving my neck around to ensure it stayed on. I needn't have bothered, Urist did nothing but the best work, as fits a Dwarf. I drew my Sabre and pointed out at the south.
"Alright, sally forth!" I ordered.
And the Pulk began to move towards its first challenge