Here's something I managed to put together quickly. Sorry if there are a lot of mistakes, but now that I've uploaded it, I'm going to sleep, because I'm exhausted and the only reason I'm still standing is because I drank an energy drink, and after a year without caffeine, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
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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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Nachhexen-16-18-2494
We hadn't wasted much time. The ceremony with Katarin was held in Kislev, officiated by the Patriarch himself. The hall was filled with venomous eyes—nobles, courtiers, and spies, each watching for their own reasons. The only pleasant conversations came from a few boyars who once again thanked me for the aid I had provided the previous year; the rest looked at me with hatred, envy, or distrust.
Everything was kept brief. We remained in Kislev barely an hour after the ceremony; I had no intention of staying to drink from a cup that might be poisoned.
Even so, the situation in Kislev had improved remarkably. Firearms were proving invaluable in fighting off small hordes of Chaos followers and in hunting down the vermin that still infested the region. The forests I had ordered burned months earlier no longer harbored goblins—their threat was gone. With the land cleared, Boris now focused his attention on the northern woods, where an orc tribe had entrenched itself. He was determined to wipe them out entirely.
Meanwhile, Ungol hunting parties had spent the past few months tirelessly exterminating trolls. Everything that could be salvaged from their bodies—skin, bones, blood—was sold in the markets of Erengrad, gradually filling Kislev's coffers and strengthening its economy after the devastation wrought by Chaos.
For the moment, then, all was well in Kislev. With its fortresses rebuilt and armies reinforced, any Chaos host attempting to cross the border would have to face several thousand men ready to intercept them before they could multiply like the plague they are. Tsar Boris had also launched an ambitious fortification program: new strongholds were being raised along the northern passes to seal them off completely. Yet that plan demanded a colossal investment, for Kislev's mountain passes were not narrow like those of the Empire—they were wide and open, and closing them would require immense labor and resources.
We set out south immediately. We took the train connecting to Altdorf and from there continued toward the Dawi fortresses. We crossed Nuln and Averland swiftly, until we reached the great fortress of the Black Fire Pass. Most of the construction was already complete—only a few towers and walls remained unfinished—but the central bastion, held by some five thousand Sigmarite zealots, stood imposing and seemingly impregnable from either side. It was, without a doubt, a masterpiece of dawi engineering, capable of withstanding any invasion.
The entire pass system was perfectly organized: on one side, the trade route for merchant caravans; on the other, the railway line for trains. My stay there was brief. I stopped only to greet the commander—a member of the Order of the Knights of the Fiery Heart—who provided me with supplies for the campaign before we continued our journey.
Upon reaching the Border Princes, we found the region far more chaotic than when I had last left it. Several local princes had apparently joined in a defensive coalition against the Empire, launching constant skirmishes in an attempt to disrupt our harvests. Their efforts, however, were in vain. The cities and farmlands lay several kilometers from the borders, and the once-scattered population had been relocated to the new city I had ordered built there—a place of large estates where all livestock was now concentrated.
Despite the hostility, the mercenary armies under my employ had faithfully fulfilled their contracts. They devoted themselves entirely to defending the region, exterminating the goblin and orc tribes that still infested the valleys. Thanks to their efforts, the territory had become truly secure.
It was likely the only place in the entire region where no orcs or goblins remained, except for the occasional small band that descended from the south or the mountains—easily dispatched by our patrols. Many mercenaries had died, but far more had arrived, drawn by the bounties I paid for every greenskin slain and for the defense of the territory. It wasn't a problem. The garrison I left behind had successfully held the most fortified sector of the lands, enough to discourage any attempt from the coalition of princes. Their unity, after all, was as fragile as their urge to betray one another; according to several trustworthy reports, more than one of their battles had been fought among themselves. Treachery, it seemed, was their daily bread.
"How was the harvest here?" I asked one of my men, who had remained behind as governor in my stead.
"Well… eh… the Dawi have the exact numbers, my lord. The harvest was good, though not as much as we expected. But we still have problems with the people… many of them… well, they weren't very cooperative with their work. They're nothing like the Bretonnians. We had to keep overseers watching at all times to make them work. Too many thefts… many women selling themselves… constant tavern brawls… it was hell getting this place to function. It only works because of the strong military presence—otherwise, only Sigmar himself could straighten these people out." The governor looked exhausted as he spoke.
"I see… that complicates things," I replied, watching the city still under construction. "The witch hunters must be busy."
"We only have a group of five, and they're completely overwhelmed by the number of missions. I've given them all the support I can, but… Sigmar preserve us… we fix one problem only to find another. The cells are full, waiting for a judge who was supposed to arrive months ago. The Cult of Verena promised to send three new judges, but none have shown up." The governor wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Why wasn't I informed of this?" I asked, stepping slowly to stand to his right.
"What? But I sent a messenger three months ago informing you my lord about the harvest and the problems, and that the railway was almost finished and only lacked the Dawi king's final authorization to enter his domains…" the governor said, incredulous, his face quickly shifting to nervousness as he licked his lips.
"*Gasp* That means they killed the messenger…and the judges too... I need his name so I can notify his family," I said, placing the back of my hand to my mouth as I thought about what could have happened.
The governor closed his eyes tightly and pressed his lips together. "Damn… I sent him to Reinsfeld to visit his family… he begged me for the chance, my lord… I… I'll give you his name immediately," the governor stammered, beginning to falter as he recounted everything that had happened.
"Shit… the road was long… where would they have intercepted him… but the real question is who," I said, considering all the possibilities.
I could only think of… more than half the Empire… almost all of Kislev… the Border Princes… and, of course, all the ruinous powers—so that doesn't narrow down my possible enemies who've made a mess of this.
"Sergeant, take your men and return to Altdorf by train. I need you to inform the Cult of Verena that I urgently require judges for this city, and tell the Cult of Sigmar to send witch-hunters at once… and a couple more priests wouldn't hurt either, since we need permanent clergy not only the priest from the fortress at the Black Fire Pass," I told one of my sergeants who had been listening to the whole situation.
"Yes, my lord… I will carry out my duty… shall I inform the family and the widow if there is one?" the sergeant asked, straightening as he heard my order.
"I entrust that to you, and please make sure they receive the pension as they should. Notify my Dawi advisers if necessary—this is a priority," I said, making a face at how this had developed.
I waited until he left, and that meant I'd have to reinforce the guards along the rails. Having five thousand men watching the tracks was one thing, but if this killing of a messenger extended to sabotaging the rails… I'd be in serious trouble, since any damage could cause an accident and a day lost once the sabotage was discovered. Considering how extensive the tracks are right now, I'd have to double or triple the forces to keep them well defended.
"Damn… more expenses and expenses… at this rate I'll end up poorer than when I earned a hundred crowns a year in taxes after expenses," I cursed as I walked through the city. "Let's hope the Dawi steel used in the parallel tracks is strong enough that, without explosives, they can't break them," I muttered as I paced the city.
The city had been built following a model similar to my Bretonnian towns, designed to construct apartment blocks to house the population and integrated into a fortification system: every street had walkways on the third floors connecting all the four-story blocks. Where a single family might once have lived, now a dozen were housed, each receiving a comparable amount of square metres of property so there would be no overcrowding. When finished, this city would be a siege nightmare: breaching the outer walls would only mean other doors in the adjacent streets would close, turning it into an attritional hell—this city already had more than twenty extra rings of security.
For the most part everything was still under construction: the sewer system had been built, with a water distribution network… being so close to Karaz-a-Karak, there were a lot of Dawi inventions I could access because I was trusted by the Dawi, so much Dawi technology—normally reserved as showcases of their engineering—was available in large numbers here to be tested before spending fortunes improving the construction of new cities.
Finally, entering the city I could see a little of what the governor had described: public order was not at its best. The city centre was a boiling pot of different cultures and you could plainly see the presence of gangs; there were clearly many brothels or houses of pleasure in the area disguised as taverns, and at the first sign of soldiers most of them vanished quickly—it seemed normal, since many of my hired mercenaries clearly warned them in advance of my men's movements.
I sighed heavily to see how my presence seemed to unpick the chaos and how everyone tried to feign innocence. "They really do love proving those corrupt judges of Verena right, don't they? The ones who hand out death sentences for everything. Give these people a bit of freedom and they fall straight into this kind of degeneracy." I asked, shaking my head.
"Orders, my lord," said one of my guards, putting his hand on his sword.
"Put the damned city in order… coordinate with the witch-hunters and carry out a thorough purge. Fill even more the prisons if necessary; I cannot have this at my back," I said, turning and spreading my hands as I watched in total displeasure.
"At your orders, my lord… you heard him—coordinate with the local garrison and the witch-hunters. We'll bring the city to order," said the captain who followed me and quickly went to the city fortress to contact the guard captain.
Not long after, I followed them up to the fortress and watched from the heights as thousands of my men began to pour into the streets, blocking many potential escape routes and closing several of the rings to trap people inside while cries rose up below.
"What a mess… I almost named it for Sigmar—Sigmarheim or something like that—what a disgrace it would have been to dedicate this city to the god of humanity," I said, watching as thousands of garrison troops began to restore order.
I turned to see the governor, who was pale. "I put you in charge because you had resolve," I said, watching him.
"I know, my lord… I appreciate your trust but… I need orders. These things are only your will… the witch-hunters demanded hundreds of burnings a day to put the city in order and I didn't know what to do," the governor said, breathing rapidly as his chest rose and fell unevenly.
"Do not let your hand tremble… these are not Bretonnians—some have a work ethic, some do not, but they are not like Bretonnians who live under the yoke of Bretonnian knights. If necessary, be harsh. This city is important… too important to become another Marienburg filled with chaos," I said, looking at him sternly.
The governor nodded after wiping his brow, already soaked with sweat that had reached his eyebrows.
"I'll take reserves from eight silos… the rest should be enough to keep the city supplied and provide the seeds needed for the harvest."
"Yes, my lord," said the governor.
"Keep at it. Make sure the city is put in order. More soldiers should arrive within a few hours—use them to restore everything. I'm going to visit King Thorgrim and see if I can secure some support from the Dawi," I said.
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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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