Lone Wolf Sentinel Pilot
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Hey guys. Currently what i'm working on - I know it's huge but thanks for reading (even if it's just a little). It's part of a far larger piece so if you want to skip a bit of story in the start then feel free. Before any Empire fluff-ians try and lynch me I know some of the internal politics is a bit different and with the Count of Talabecland v Talabheim but please disregard and enjoy.
The War against Chivalry 2nd edn.
I: Beginnings
Sergeant Loker could do naught but stare at the vulnerable girl as she lay almost unconscious on the ground. The veteran warrior huffed and picked his sword up from where it lay beside him and with a practised movement returned it to its sheath without even the slightest glance downwards. Fed up with looking at the prone form, he began to walk away, calling over two of his men as he did.
“Sergeant?” one of the soldiers asked as he ran up and saluted. He was newly recruited to the 19th Talabec and after a gruelling few weeks of rudimentary training and discipline he was noticeably unwilling to take any action on his own initiative lest it result in further punishments, runs or food deprivation.
“Make sure she makes it back to Palace and bring me some water and food, the day is late”
The soldier saluted again, “Yes-” he began.
“You wouldn’t be leaving before our training had finished would you sergeant?” came a voice, though not from his subordinate but from the once prone form behind him.
“If this was indeed your plan then I most strenuously suggest you revise it before I tell my father that you disobeyed his orders” came the voice again.
Loker turned, surprised to see his duelling companion no longer in her vulnerable state but fully drawn up, her long brown hair matted with dirt but nonetheless flowing in the cold afternoon breeze which blew across the Talabheim crater. The girl bent down, snatching her own sword from where it lay in the dirt of the practice arena. The sergeant began to respond, but she quickly cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“No need to apologise, noble soldier, I could hear your huffing-and-puffing.” The sergeant raised an eyebrow. “And from that I must say that you believed me to be spent.” She kicked the dirt, sending a puff of dust across the rest of the field.
“Admittedly” she began “If I had not known better, I would have been of the same opinion. But it did make you drop your guard, no?” The soldier began to utter a response but it too was cut off, this time with a quick raise of the large sword to his throat. “No?” she repeated with a raised eyebrow, clearly satisfied with herself.
“Indeed it did, lady.” The sergeant said jokingly, pushing her sword away from his throat. “Indeed it did” he repeated, “I shall not doubt you again”. He turned and muttered something to the two soldiers he had called over before and they ran off towards the rest of their unit currently sparring with wooden posts on the other side of the field.
“However, this is only your first month of training at your father’s academy, and the first of these extended training sessions that your father has-“he paused “ordered me to provide you with. It is to be expected that you would not yet have developed your battle fitness. Your arm struggles with the weight of the practice sword. In battle you will have to carry this and fight for hours on end in the press of soldiers not in the breeze of the training field. In a real fight you would not get to have the little nap which you just took either, as soon as you are on the ground you are dead.”
“Indeed” she replied, “but that hardly excuses your drop in concentration.”
“Nay it does not, milady.” A brief smile touched the veteran soldier’s scarred face. “However, I would suggest most strenuously to you, lady, that you first attend to yourself and your own attention, and the events around you.”
The female figure looked stunned for a second, unsure of what to make of her trainer’s comment. She shot him an inquisitive glance and the man smiled briefly again. She began to look around, analysing the rest of the field. Suddenly a glimmer of movement appeared out of the corner of her eye. However before she could but raise her sword, the sergeant had drawn his own weapon and disarmed her with deft movements honed through years of training and experience in war. “You still have much to learn in the ways of war and of the sword milady” he said with a scoff.
The lady gave a nod of admiration to the veteran soldier and moved to retrieve her sword from where it lay three feet behind the man. However the soldier was not done with her yet and stopped her movement with an outstretched hand. She looked up at the man’s scarred face and he motioned behind her.
The lady turned, and recoiled with surprise. Behind her stood the hundred-strong 19th Talabec, formed up in ranks in parade formation, 25 ranks across and four deep, their banner flying proudly above them and the soldiers’ armour gleaming in the afternoon sun.
“Do not try to teach me about paying attention, lady.” The veteran warrior said sternly, his manner reverting to that of a trainer. “I have been here for far too many years to need lessons from a palace-dweller.” The girl shot him a shocked look, but then nodded, her eyes averting back to the assembled soldiers.
“Sorry master” she said, never averting her eyes from the 19th. “Tomorrow then?” she asked
“Tomorrow will be fine, milady” the warrior replied. He waved an arm and the 19th were fallen out and dispersed back to the training posts. He turned on his heels and moved towards to the other side of the arena where a squad of recruits lounged about in the shade of the city wall. “Nobility” he muttered under his breath before clearing his throat, his attention now turned to the men whose break had lasted a little too long.
II: Friends and Foes
Utterly spent from hours of training, the lady trudged up the small but heavily used path from the training grounds of the Talabheim state troops to the walled castle of the Elector Count. From behind her the crack-crack of disciplined volleys of handgun fire erupted, breaking the silence that had fallen upon the city. Even from over a mile away, the lady heard the call to reload as it resounded around the high rock and stone walls that surrounded the city. As quickly as it had been broken, the silence returned, the occasional rustling of leaves the only noises.
As she neared the towering gates to the castle, the honoured Greatswords on either side of the steps stood to attention. Their commander called the salute and the guards responded, flawlessly executing the movement in perfect timing. The lady nodded in return, walking up to the commander in his gleaming dwarven-forged armour at the top of the stairs.
“Sword-Lieutenant Lietdorf” she nodded “it is good to see your men still on duty”. The man did not respond, instead remaining in his erect position at the top of the stairs. “I give you permission to respond, Lieutenant”. The Lieutenant visibly relaxed, and turned his head to the new arrival. Lietdorf was a tall handsome man in his early thirties, clean shaved as most of the Greatswords were with short brown hair.
“Milady” he responded, nodding in kind. “We are always on duty, ma’am, it is our sworn duty to guard the Elector Count, his castle and his family. Even when we do not stand here we are always on duty ready for our lord’s call”.
“Of course, Lieutenant” the lady replied. “I did not mean to doubt your duty to our lord, nor this city”.
The man did not respond but returned to his erect position, his eyes returning suddenly to the base of the stairs. The lady shot him a questioning look and began to move past him.
“Greatswords; draw swords!” the Lieutenant ordered loudly. The men responded instantly, drawing their three-foot swords in a movement honed by days spent on the parade ground. The lady stopped and turned, puzzled. The Sword-Lieutenant had drawn his own sword. It glimmered beyond any normal means, even beyond that of the masterful dwarven smiths. As he moved down the stairs, the swords’ magical energy pulsed down it. Even as an un-enchanted weapon it would be deadly, easily cleaving a man in two. Enchanted as it was however, the lady had seen it effortlessly cut through armour and flesh with no visible deflection or change in speed.
The lady’s eyes followed the Sword-Lieutenant’s path down the stairs until her eyes rested upon the new arrival. The heavily-armed outrider rode an impressive charger, clearly tired as it was after several days of hard riding. The man was clad in armour, though not nearly as heavy and restrictive as the full plate armour worn by the honoured Greatswords. His face hinted his age at mid-forties, and he bore a flowing beard. He was also tall, and looked intimidating atop the mighty charger. His sword was drawn but held down in a non-threatening pose but the lady knew it could very quickly be brought up to defend or attack if necessary. His clothing was flamboyant, at least what the lady could see of it under the steel breastplate and armguards and it bore the white of the province of the Reikland, though it was stained with dirt and nicked in countless spots.
As he approached the man, Lieutenant Lietdorf raised his sword, pointing at the man and motioned for him to dismount. The man simply stared back, waiting impatiently.
“Dismount your horse, sir” the Greatsword said commandingly, his sword still raised. With a sigh, the man raised one leg and slid off the charger, motioning to a young boy who stood a few metres behind the Greatswords. As he approached to take the horse, a strong smell of hay and horse excrement wafted towards the lady and she could not help but cover her nose in disgust. As the boy led the horse away, the smell thankfully subsided.
“What is your business in the castle?” asked the Sword-Lieutenant, his sword following the man as he approached.
“I bear a message from the Emperor, noble Greatsword” the man replied, the impatient and arrogant tone of his voice growing with every word. Despite this, Lietdorf looked unconvinced, raising an eyebrow.
“From the Emperor you say?” he asked questioningly, his weapon still raised. The man nodded. “The where, soldier of the Reikland, is your guard? The roads are far too dangerous to sent but one soldier with such an important message, if it is – as you say – from the Emperor himself”
The outrider’s eyes narrowed. “Must a messenger be judged on the quality and size of guard, or lack of? This message bears the seal of the Elector Count of the Reikland, Emperor Franz, and thus bears the full authority of the Emperor, be it be accompanied by four guards or four-hundred” he said, showing Lietdorf the seal of the Emperor himself pressed in wax on the seal of the missive.
Lietdorf nodded, satisfied. He turned to face the lady that still stood at the doorway at the top of the stairs. “Lady, will you take the Emperor’s message to the Count?” asked Lietdorf politely.
The lady opened her mouth to answer but before she could the outrider place himself between them, shaking his head furiously. “Absolutely not!” he cried. “Who is this girl? She looks as though she’s barely into her twenties!” he continued “No, I will not permit the Emperor’s written word to be given to this girl!”
Lietdorf looked at the lady, and she inclined her head slightly. Lietdorf quickly spun around and grabbed the outrider with his left hand, bringing the tip of his sword to his neck with the other.
“This, Reiklander; is no ordinary girl” he said forcefully. The outrider visibly shrank before trying to shove the man off him.
“Who by Sigmar is she then?” he said. Lietdorf began to respond but the lady waved her hand and he fell silent.
“I can handle this, thank you Sword-Lieutenant” the lady began, nodding to Lietdorf and he pushed the man backwards, lowering his sword. “Reiklander, I am Ilse Feuerbach. My father is Helmut Feuerbach who you may remember is the incumbent Elector Count of this province. If you have been told to hand that message personally to the Elector Count, then follow me and I shall take you to him. If you carry darkness and lies in your heart then these men will strike you down without hesitation.”
Ilse had only just come of age at twenty. She was of middling height though nowhere equalling that of either Lietdorf or the outrider. She was pretty with long flowing brown hair, her skin tanned and freckles lining her cheeks. The daughter of one of the most powerful men in the Empire, she had grown up in luxury, well-fed but slim with a full set of white teeth unlike almost all of the citizens of the province as well as half the nobility.
The outrider paused, and then opened his mouth to speak but he was stopped with a glare from the Lieutenant and simply nodded. Ilse motioned for him to approach and the two of them entered the castle, flanked by Lietdorf and a pair of Greatswords.
III: Summons
The small group wound their way through the castle towards the hall. As they approached, the two Greatswords either side of the door came to attention and saluted, their armoured gauntlets clanging onto their equally protective helmets.
“Open the door” Lietdorf ordered. The men nodded and each gave the doors a shove. The heavy reinforced wooden doors creaked as they swung open. The Greatswords by the door took their positions inside. At the end of the room a grand figure called the order to draw swords and the noble soldiers, a dozen on each side of the woven central carpet, responded instantly and in perfect synchronisation along with their colleagues at the door.
The party entered the halls and the two Greatswords accompanying them also took positions by the door, their swords already drawn. Lietdorf motioned for the Reiklander to stop and the Outrider halted. His eyes wandered around the room. The fires and tapestries that dotted the room added life and warmth to the cold stone. Two stained glass windows ran on either side of the count, dazzling the room with coloured light as the afternoon sun shone through the scenes of famous battles from ages long past. A large circle of clear glass lay directly above the throne, creating a corridor of light up the centre of the room, shining off the buffed plate armour of the Greatswords in the guard along the lavish carpet.
Sword-Lieutenant Lietdorf escorted the party through the guard of troops, coming to a halt in front of the throne at the far side of the hall. Its occupant stopped talking to his advisors and looked up from the large wooden desk.
The man before them had seen almost fifty winters, the harsh sun and decades of war had not been kind to him leaving his forehead and around his eyes heavily wrinkled. The old man also bore a well-healed but still noticeable scar on the left side of his face. His face was full, although did not betray the Count’s noble upbringing and title, as he was far short of being inconvenienced by his own weight. He was lavishly dressed, as expected by his title of Elector Count, but Ilse knew this he never took well to, always preferring the cold steel of his plate armour instead of the expensive, and for the most part uncomfortable, fabrics. Ilse knew her father was never comfortable without his crackling Runefang in his hand as the work associated with the quill he now carried seemed to do nothing but frustrate him with seemingly endless piles of parchment.
Helmut Feuerbach had not been born into the palace. He, like his father before him, had been a minor noble in the province of Talabecland. A political scandal had seen the old Elector Count Gustav von Krieglitz removed from office and Ilse’s father raised in his place. Being the lord of both the province of Talabecland and the city-state of Talebheim meant he now held considerable power in the country, one of the chosen Elector Counts who would elect the new Emperor upon the death of the current emperor, Karl Franz of the Reikland.
“My Lord” Lietdorf began. The man looked up from his work and eyed the young Sword-Lieutenant. “A Reiklander is here, sir: an outrider. He claims to have a message from the Emperor himself, lord”
“Does the message bear Franz’ seal?” the man replied and Lietdorf acknowledged. The man nodded, “Bring him forth”.
“Yes, lord” Lietdorf replied and pulled back from the desk. Looking at the far end of the hall where the Reiklander stood alone, yet still visibly intimidated surrounded by a score-and-a-half Greatswords, all with their swords drawn. Lietdorf motioned for him to approach and the outrider made his way away the long woven carpet. His earlier arrogance seemed to have drained away as the woven carpet before his feet seemed to be never-ending, along with the ranks of Greatswords, each one he eyed apprehensively as he passed between the noble warriors.
He began to speak even as he approached the Elector Count but Lietdorf motioned for him to stop. The Reiklander gave a brief nod; he was clearly inexperienced with Court etiquette. As he approached, Lietdorf gave a slight incline and the outrider stopped, and saluted the Elector Count. The Count acknowledged the gesture and motioned for the outrider to speak. The man dropped his arm and drew the message from a pouch slung at his side. The outrider moved to step towards the Elector’s desk but Lietdorf stopped him, grabbing the tied roll of parchment and bowing as he offered it to old man.
The Reiklander stood puzzled for a while before resuming his previous position.
“Wait outside, Reiklander” the Count ordered, untying the message
“Lord-” the outrider protested, “-I have been ordered to return a message to the Emperor”
“I’m telling you to wait outside the doors, Reiklander, not outside the province, nor the city, nor even the castle. You will wait outside and you will get your reply, now stop questioning me and start obeying orders”.
“Of course, sir” he muttered weakly.
“Sword-Lieutenant, you and your men remain with this man” the Count said, without looking up. Lietdorf nodded and motioned for the Reiklander to follow. The two Greatswords who had accompanied them from the gate accompanied them as the two men left the hall. As the door-guards slammed the heavy wooden doors closed, the Greatswords returned their swords, all in perfect synchronisation without command.
“Come, daughter, sit” the Count said, looking up at Ilse who had remained silent and all-but unmoving since her arrival. He motioned to the seat to his right, motioning for its present occupant to depart. A small sigh escaped her lips as she sat her legs sore and tired after the exchange as well the day on the training field. She leaned over the desk and piles of parchment and snatched a pewter glass from under the Count’s outstretched hand, giggling as she did so. The strength of the liquor surprised her as she took a quick mouthful. She breathed out heavily and shuffled her chair to the other side of the desk.
She nodded briefly to the man who sat opposite, clad like the other Greatswords in full plate armour. Sword-Captain Marius Galis was the head of the elite troops and with that position the Elector Count’s chief military advisor. He was a fit man in his early forties but his face was as worn as Ilse’s father’s after a lifetime at war. He had only just returned from hunting a sizeable group of rebels in the state’s east and dark lines under his eyes betrayed his fatigue. However these were dangerous times and his counsel was always needed at court.
“What does our Emperor request?” she asked. The Count looked at her questioningly. “What does our Empire demand?” she corrected herself, and they both shot each other quick smiles.
“Military dues, it would seem” the Count said, scanning through the document. Eventually he placed the parchment down, visibly moved by what he had read. Ilse looked at him questioningly.
“Bretonnians it would seem” the Count said with a scoff. “It appears that our Bretonnian friends are trying to take advantage of our current weakened state”. “The new Duke of Montfort and the Duke of Gisoreux have led an Army through Axe Bite Pass and are currently besieging Helmgart” the old man recited.
“Why would the Emperor need our assistance then?” she asked. “Helmgart is heavily fortified; their cannons should have no problem dealing with them. Remember the Duke of Parravon only seven years ago?”
“Reports speak of a great host, thirty thousand at least. That will mean several thousand knights plus their men-at-arms, trebuchets and beasts.” He paused for a moment before turning to look Ilse in the eye. “No easy fight” he said with tired eyes.
The Count shook his head “No, Helmgart recently fended off a band of greenskins and most of its ammunition was expended, and that was only, what?” he trailed off, scanning his memories “a month ago. Plus it seems their recent resupply convoys haven’t been reaching the fort.”
Ilse looked shocked, “do they know why?”
“Robbers, bandits, rebels, greenskins or Bretonnian spies – take your pick” he replied. “This is serious though, the army of Averland still hasn’t recovered from the battle with the greenskins in the Black Fire Pass, and the nobles have been fighting amongst themselves for too long. They are weakened and still do not have an Elector Count to coordinate their armies.”
“What of Wissenland, Middenland or even Stirland; they could all provide troops faster” Ilse said, almost in desperation.
“Unfortunately not” replied the Count “Most of the Middenland army is dealing with a new under-creature threat in the Howling Hills plus they are ever watchful of the North” he recalled from memory. “Wissenland’s army is dealing with something in the Black Mountains, and Stirland-“ he scoffed “-their army seems to be little more than militia walking up and down a river, hardly what we need against a foe like heavily-armoured knights. Besides, they have probably sent some Huntsmen and though few in number I’ll admit those are tough men”.
“For militiamen” Galis added. The count gave a slight nod, taking a sip of wine.
“What does the Emperor demand?” Ilse asked.
“I don’t have a choice” he said, looking at Ilse “are borders are now secure thanks to the Sword-Captain, and the Emperor has summoned our assistance, it’s not really a choice” the Count looked from his daughter back to the Emperor’s message. He paused for a long time, engaged in thought. “We’ll have to almost empty the city-“
“-and the province” Ilse added. While he father was thinking she had taken the message and read it for herself “the Reikland army isn’t what it used to be, it’s been fighting quite a few battles recently, it lost another eight regiments only a few weeks ago” her father nodded at her knowledge, Ilse insisted on reading every report that came into the city, whether it be mercantile or military, and her father had long since given up trying to claim Imperial secrecy; given that she was now deft at picking locks and reading them anyway.
“If the Emperor’s scouts are correct” she continued “we’ll need at least ten thousand men, probably more – and we need to move them as soon as possible. Barges down the Talabec may be the only option. It will hurt our river-borne trade and the head of the merchants guild will not be pleased.”
“Or, I could pull the Emperor’s need card. He may be an insolent bastard to me but the needs of the Empire come above bitterness at losing at the joust” her father interjected, smiling.
“Yes, or you could do that” Ilse agreed, also smiling.
Galis largely silent up to this point began his council. “My lord, may I suggest we bring as many troops as we can muster to the city, and then march to Talagaad. Use its harbour to board the barges – we may need as many as a hundred, but no less than eighty. Take the Talabec down to Altdorf and march from there, we could be there in a week or two, three if the currents are slow; the fresh melt will mean that all the of the river should be passable with even the narrower points flowing freely.”
The Count nodded. “See to it. Assemble the banners on the fields outside the city. Leave the border patrols and the city guards; I don’t want those rebels springing up again. We shall march in five days to Talagaad.” Galis stood up, bumped his gauntlet against his breast and bowed his head in salute.
“Yes my lord” he said as he rushed away to begin the preparations, motioning for two of his men to accompany him as he departed out a side door.
“A good man that one” the count said as the door closed behind the Captain. “Come” he said, motioning to a side door on the opposite side of the room to where Galis departed.
He turned to Ilse as they walked towards the door. “You shall accompany the army. It shouldn’t be a long campaign and it would be good to get you some practical experience. I shall assign you to a staff role in Galis’ command. Pay attention, he’s a fine soldier and you will do well to pay attention and seek what wisdom and tutelage you can. It will certainly do you better than banging swords away at the academy.” The count motioned and the Greatswords manning the door opened it, the narrow passageway opening out into the grand balcony.
“Are you not going to lead the army father?” Ilse asked, her eyes squinting as they walked out into the light.
“No, not this time” the count said, leaning on the railing looking out over to where the sun was setting over the mountains. “I am old and tired now and as much as I would wish it my body is no longer suited to months in the saddle. Besides, the northern borders must remain secure and with all the electors and their troops rushing south I must remain to lead the North.” Ilse nodded, her father as wise as ever. He was never one for seeking personal fame and glory over the greater need of the Empire and his people.
“You shall be missed at the Emperor’s council I’m sure” Ilse replied.
“Indeed” her father said simply, the smile gone. “Well, I’d hate to keep that Reiklander waiting” he said, motioning for Ilse to depart and following her back to the main hall, taking a seat back at the large wooden desk.
“Father” she nodded as she turned to walk away. The count returned the gesture, took a piece of parchment off the pile and began to formulate a formal reply to the Emperor’s summons.
IV: Muster
As the count’s orders were distributed, troops dressed in the red and yellow of the Talabecland state troops began to pour into the muster field from all directions over the next few days. By necessity, the Count had been forced to strip the province of almost every available soldier. Minor garrisons had been stripped to a number of personnel that would barely be able to hold five-score warriors. Talabheim itself was reduced to a skeleton-garrison. The capital’s troops in their red and white livery marched alongside their provincial counterparts.
In addition to these state troops, recruiters had travelled to almost every corner of the province gathering recruits; some joining for national pride or adventure, others simply for the promise of a roll-out mattress, three meals and two copper coins.
So far the desperate muster had produced some eight-thousand troops which; though almost all of the Talabecland and Talabheim state troops were elite, still didn’t satisfy their Elector Count. Recently the Province’s artillery train and the handgunner units of both province and city-state had been suffering due to supply problems stemming from a recent backlog of orders on the great forges of Nuln. Cannons lost ten to fifteen years ago had not yet been replaced and most of the crews that remained were ill-equipped and ill-trained due to problems with ammunition procurement; as the Count had been unwilling to sacrifice the precious-few cannonballs they had on shooting at dummies and embankments as opposed to hostile threats.
Promises from the Reikland army itself to provide said-cannons, ammunition and trainers had not yet been provided; the Emperor had clearly been too pre-occupied with his own supply and training problems before seeing to the needs of his subjects.
In order to deal with these two problems, i.e. numbers and lack of trained crews, the Count had been forced to grudgingly recruit local militias as well as foreign mercenaries. Mercenaries from Tilea; trained in both cannon and crossbow as well as several regiments of pikemen and Heavy Infantry had joined the army, along with local militias and roaming bands which plagued the regions of the Great Forest around Talabheim; safe from the Beastmen that plagued their compatriots on the other side of the Talabec. All these warriors had come neither for national pride, nor for meals and mattresses but for the Count’s coin. However, Ilse’s father was more than happy to pay them – not to swell the ranks of his army but to safeguard his supply convoys from the attacks of such roaming bands. At least whilst they marched under his banner they were not raiding his lands! Also, the possibility always remained of turning these men, whose skills had been honed in countless skirmishes against the very troops they now fought beside, back to the light and enlisting them into the high-risk, low-pay world of an Imperial State Trooper.
Alongside this rather ramshackle army rode the heavily armed and armoured warriors of the Knightly Orders. Headquartered in Talabheim, the noble knights of the Knights Panther made up a notable part of the city’s defenders in any case and it had only required slight effort on the part of Ilse’s father to convince their Grand Master to permit his warriors to ride alongside his army on this campaign. In addition to the Knights Panther, the Knights of the White Wolf also have a chapter house in Talabheim. Although many had now been drawn north to combat the growing power of Chaos in the Drakwald forest as well as further north, the local Preceptor had also gifted the Elector Count with two-score knights.
The final part of the Count’s army consisted of the religious fanatics known as the Flagellants. Though unwieldy at the best of times, the priests of all the various gods that had a presence in Talabheim; Sigmar, Ulric and Taal, had managed to channel their hatred and single-mindedness towards the task at hand. With the Great Forest teeming with such fanatics it had not been difficult gathering a large host of these demented warriors.
Though largely unskilled, their raw fanaticism and thoughts of impending doom had proved to be effective on the battlefield in the past, the crazed men throwing themselves at the enemy and their animal fury has been known to tear through enemy regiments. However the problem for the Elector Count and his generals, indeed all generals that employed such warriors, was the need to channel this on the battlefield.
Fortunately for Ilse’s father, however, many priests of all persuasions had agreed to accompany the army on its long journey south; dealing with the flagellant’s raw religious fanaticism as well as attending to the spiritual needs of the more mentally-stable soldiers which, thankfully, made up the majority of the host which was now assembling on the fields outside Talabheim.
*
“Good morning, Captain” Ilse said as Galis pushed open the flaps of the command tent. She wore a light mail shirt over a comfortable but well-stitched tunic and pants. Her sword was strapped to her left side, a dagger at her belt on the right. Her padded cap and coif as well as a light welded steel breastplate lay on her chest in a corner of the room.
ANACHRONISTIC:
Galis nodded briefly in response. He had not been pleased when the Count had told him that his daughter would be joining him in the campaign. He did not hold the girl in high regard as a warrior or potential future commander. He had opposed her entry into the Academy but had been overruled by the count. She should be instructed alongside the other ladies of the court in the skills she would require – knitting, weaving, homemaking and perhaps dabbling in politics. Certainly a noble lady had no place in the military affairs of the court, let alone on the sword arena or the battlefield. Traditionally the role of the noble ladies was to marry to advance the cause of the family, tending to her husband’s needs and nurturing the next generation of lords, not playing soldier or commander on distant battlefields.
Galis was a member of the ‘old guard’ he supposed. Warfare was a man’s responsibility and a man’s burden. He had been incensed by the notion of having the count’s daughter looking over his shoulder during the campaign, asking questions when he held the lives of thousands in his mind. However, he followed the count’s instructions and hence here the girl was. Lietdorf had tried to justify the count’s decision and provide some positives to the situation. He had a taken a fancy to the girl Galis believed. Galis smiled to himself, it was impossible for a soldier, even a Sword-Lieutenant in the Greatswords or even himself to aspire to marry such a noble lady, her father would never allow it even if such an uneven partnership were to succeed.
“Morning milady” Galis said, motioning her to move out of the way as he moved further into the tent where his captains stood waiting. The girl shuffled out of the way and Galis shook his head slightly. ‘This was going to be a long campaign’ he thought.
“Report” he ordered to his captains as he approached the end of the tent. Lietdorf was the first to snap to attention.
“Sir, the Greatsword detachment is assembled, fully provisioned and ready to march on your order. The–” he paused “lady’s guard detachment has also been assembled and is to accompany her at all times.” Galis looked at Lietdorf quizzically. “By order of the count” Lietdorf finished. Galis sighed, “Captain Reiwulf have the men from the East arrived and been through the quartermaster?”
“Almost sir” Reiwulf responded. He was a short stocky man with short red hair and a long beard. He like many of the other captains was in his late thirties and had spent most of his adult life at war. His parents were descended from the men of the north and he had faced considerable resentment when he had been promoted to command. However he had won the respect of his men and the other captains. An exceptional swordsman and the Elector Count’s personal champion, he would carry the standard of Talabecland into battle. “The last detachment arrived ten minutes ago and is currently with the quartermaster being provisioned and re-equipped. They should be ready to march within the hour” he reported.
Galis nodded, listening to each of the other Captains’ reports in turn. The assembly of the army had taken shorter than he had expected but there had been nowhere near enough troops to spare either in the state or the capital. Despite the promise of gold only a handful of the remaining bandits had been drawn down from their forest hideouts and into the count’s service. He had eight-thousand swords at his command, far less than the ten thousand he had expected. They could wait no longer, however, as every day they wasted at the capital was another day the south was under siege and Galis would be damned if a single Breton would get in sight of Altdorf.
“Assemble your men and break camp, we depart at noon. I will leave to any units still to arrive to meet us at the dock. Questions?” Galis waved the men away when he did not receive a response.
“Sir?” Lietdorf asked. Galis nodded for him to go on.
“I would like to be assigned to take command of the lady’s guard detachment” Lietdorf stated. The seasoned Captain raised an eyebrow and turned to Ilse. “Lady, if you would give us the tent.” Ilse shot Galis a quizzical look and opened her mouth to speak but nodded and departed when Galis kept his gaze, her hair flowing in the breeze as she stepped outside.
“I know what you’re thinking, Lieutenant” Galis said once Ilse was out of earshot.
“Sir?” Lietdorf said.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t even think about even trying. You even try anything with that girl and you’ll be back to hammering horseshoes do you understand?”
Lietdorf lowered his head slightly. He certainly knew what the Captain was threatening. His father had been a blacksmith and had been dismayed when Lietdorf had joined the state troops instead of continuing his legacy. It had taken his entire career to get to where he was now, the highest rank someone of his standing could realistically aspire to. However, he knew that even this lofty height was far below anything that would be suitable for Ilse, ignoring the fact – as the nobility did most of the time – that she was almost half his age.
Lietdorf nodded, clearly understanding what the Captain meant. “Good” Galis said simply. “Your request is denied, Lieutenant, now go to your duties.” Lietdorf bumped his chest and nodded his head, turning to depart. “Put her out of her mind” Galis added sharply as Lietdorf left. Lietdorf turned slightly and nodded before leaving the tent.
*
“Lietdorf” Ilse shouted as she saw the Lieutenant emerge from the tent. He looked more sullen than before, a spring taken out of his step somewhat.
“Yes, milady?” he asked as she approached, her long brown hair glistening in the morning sun.
“So will I be seeing more of you around?” her face was a mixture of hope and anticipation like a child asking for a new toy or a boy expecting his first sword.
“No, milady. I shall retain at my current duties. Galis – that is the Captain – wanted me to attend personally to certain aspects of the campaign. It is better this way. If you need a job done right, you know?”
Ilse’s smile dropped slightly. “Oh, of course” she said. “Well then, I guess I will be seeing you around then, in and out of the command tent.”
“Yes milady” Lietdorf responded and turned to walk away. “You should ready your things to leave, the Commander does not suffer unnecessary delays due to laziness” he paused. “He especially dislikes waiting for ladies to pack their dresses” he finished, looking slightly nervous. His face visibly relaxed when Ilse laughed, thanked him for his advice and said goodbye. Lietdorf sighed slightly as he walked up the muddy path towards the quartermaster.
V: The Talabec
Ilse cringed as another of the state troops ran to the side of the barge, disgorging his lunch into the peaceful river water. It had been nigh on eight days since the army departed the docks at Talagaad and two weeks since the messenger had arrived in her father’s court. Since then the Army had pitched its camp and marched to the city of Talagaad. Usually only a city of a few thousand, it had been inundated by the eight-thousand strong host which now drifted south along the Talabec. It was late in the day and already the sun was beginning to set over the river.
“Pull us alongside” Galis said to the trumpeter. The man blew the falling three-note signal which had become familiar to the passengers over the last week. As the order was received the barges placed a flag at their bow to acknowledge its receipt.
“Slow ‘er down” the master of the barge commanded. The barge’s crew, largely ‘volunteered’ members of the embarked force experienced only by the last week on the water acted upon the master’s instructions and drew the large oars from the side of the vessel and placed them in the water, creating drag and slowing the barge down. The master directed the barge to the bank and the vessel slowly drifted in, knocking harmlessly on the soft dirt along the bank.
“Another day” Lietdorf said as he walked to take a place alongside Ilse on the bow of the barge.
“At least it’s a beautiful sunset” Ilse said, the sun glimmering across the gentle ripples of the river.
“Yes, it is” Lietdorf agreed. The two of them stood in silence for a moment on the bow of the barge looking off towards the golden sunset before Lietdorf turned to continue, “So how are you finding the–”he began before being cut off by a booming voice from behind them.
“Lieutenant, prepare the detachment to land. You will guard the pay chest and escort it to the command tent once it is pitched.” Galis ordered. “Lady, will you accompany me to site the defences of the camp?”
“Of course, Captain” Ilse responded. His manner had improved somewhat as the journey wound on. Lietdorf went to continue his question but then nodded, sighing slightly as he went to prepare the men to land.
*
The last rays of the sun were dancing across the river as Ilse and Galis returned to the command tent. It had been an hour or so of Ilse attempting to rapidly assimilate the mountains of information and experience that Galis was attempting to impart. He had seemed frustrated at times but ultimately he was patient enough to ensure that Ilse understood something before moving on. It had been simple but ultimately important lesson and Ilse was exhausted. She handed the reins of her horse to the soldier at the post and went inside her tent, giving a friendly greeting to the shift of Greatswords who were now permanently stationed outside her tent. Whether it was to keep enemies out or her in she was not yet sure, however it did allow her to sleep more soundly with the sounds of the wild surrounding her. This was her first extended period of time outside the comfortable secure confines of the castle in the capital and she was gradually becoming accustomed to the sounds of drill being called from the makeshift parade ground as some sense of military discipline was instilled into the militia, the dull thud of sword on wood from weapons practice or the cries and laughs of soldiers drinking and gambling long into the night. Officially the later practices were illegal but Galis tolerated them at this stage. Many of them would not return to their wives and homes and he saw no harm in letting them enjoy the peaceful journey down the Talabec, the calm before the storm.
**
Ilse had just stripped off her mail and tunic when the flap to her tent swung open. She gave a sharp yelp and Lietdorf apologised profusely as he backed out. She pulled her tunic back on and called for Lietdorf to enter.
“What?” she said, clearly irritated.
“Sorry milady” Lietdorf repeated. “It’s just a beautiful night and wondered if you would join me for a walk.”
Ilse gave out a slight sigh but acceded. She went to grab her mail shirt to place it back on but Lietdorf dismissed it; “I can protect you better than a piece of mail, milady. Besides, there are no Bretons around the camp.”
“Preparation is everything, so I learned today at nauseam. Besides, I need to get used to the weight” Ilse responded, pulling on her mail tunic and buckling on her sword and dagger. She also pulled on her leather cap, concealing her long hair in its flaps. “Okay” she said, making sure everything was secure. “How do I look?” she asked jokingly, striking a pose.
“Like a soldier” Lietdorf responded, Ilse gave a short laugh. The noise made the soldier smile. “Sure…” Ilse said sceptically. “Let’s go”.
**
Another group of soldier stood to attention and saluted as Lietdorf and Ilse passed them. As one of the only women in the camp she stood out somewhat, even by the light of the watch fires and in her ‘costume’ as Galis had called it. Suddenly Ilse heard the sound of baying in the distance outside the camp.
“What’s that?” Ilse asked.
“Beasts” Lietdorf responded: “Bloodthirsty beasts, as tall as a man they say and fanatical servants of the chaos gods. I said there wouldn’t be any Bretons, milady, I didn’t say anything about Beastmen.” Lietdorf shot Ilse a smile but the girl still seemed worried. “Don’t worry” he added, touching the two-handed sword slung across his back. The two continued to talk for what seemed like hours, ending up walking around the majority of the camp. Ilse had wanted to show off what she had learned and showed Lietdorf the exterior posts and telling him why they were in the particular locations they were, reciting the lessons Galis had taught her only hours earlier.
*
“You’re lost” Lietdorf said. The sun had now long since set but looking back he could see the watch fires of the main camp several hundred yards to their flank. Ilse had remembered the positions well so far but it had been almost a mile since they had seen the last sentry post as Lietdorf was becoming sceptical.
“I am not” Ilse said defiantly, waving the torch in her hand around as if it would suddenly light up the position in front of her and reclaim some of her dwindling pride.
“Well I get the point, Galis taught you well. You should go back and get some sleep – it is another long day on the morrow” Lietdorf said, starting to become slightly unnerved by the darkness.
“It’s just up here, I swear it is” Ilse said, running into the darkness, the light from her torch dancing in between the trees. Lietdorf saw her pause for a moment and hold the torch in her outstretched hand towards something just beyond the tree line. She looked back at Lietdorf who shot Ilse a confused look. He beckoned to her but she ignored him, pressing further into the trees.
“Ilse come back” Lietdorf yelled but she pressed on and then suddenly stopped again. Lietdorf began to walk towards her, curious. As he cleared the tree line he could see what Ilse had. He saw the watch fire first. It looked as though it had not been smouldering for an hour or so, red coals dotted in amongst the soot. Next to it laid the bodies of the watch. Two men clad in the red and white livery of the Talabheim state troopers. The men had been butchered, their throats slit and their bodies hacked up by the beasts’ crude axed. They had not had a chance, not having had time to draw their swords nor retrieve their shields from where they lay not two feet away. Ilse’s torch also shone onto a trail of blood, clearly indicating where their comrade had been dragged bleeding into the trees. He could see the man’s boot marks and marked dirt where he had struggled. The veteran Greatsword could feel the man’s terror, not wishing to even guess at the fate which awaited him should he still live.
“This is horrible” Ilse said, standing over the men. From what remained of their faces one looked as though he was in his late thirties. The other one looked as he had only just come of age – barely old enough to shave Lietdorf thought. The older one, a sergeant, had a silver locket around his neck, the torchlight illuminating an inscription on the back. Ilse knelt down and picked it up. ‘Kaitlyn’ it read. Ilse shed a tear, the hacked up form would not be returning to his family’s hearth.
Suddenly the baying, which had stopped for the last hour or so, began again. This time it seemed far closer than it had earlier. Lietdorf’s hand went back to his sword, loosening it in its scabbard. Ilse dropped the locket and stood up, her hand went to her belt as well. She scanned between the trees, shining her torch into the darkness. The baying resounded through the forest again, it was even closer and sounded as though it was coming from all around them. Ilse ran back to the veteran Greatsword, his sword now in his hands, the pulses of magical energy visible even under the fading light of the torch.
“Okay, let’s get back shall we?” Lietdorf said presenting an aura of calm, ushering Ilse towards the camp. It was still three hundred yards in front of them. They had only cleared the tree line by twenty yards when without warning a dark figure burst from the forest to their left. Ilse screamed and drew her sword as the figure closed in on the two, the figure letting out a feral cry as it ran. Ilse threw her torch towards it. The creature was taller than a man, charging towards them on two legs with matter dark brown fur and two large horns emerging from the side of its head. It had hooves almost like a horse’s, a crude war axe grasped in each hand.
Lietdorf sprung in front of Ilse, swinging his greatsword at the oncoming beast. The beast ducked the attack moving to strike Lietdorf’s now unprotected side. The veteran soldier strafed away, the axe cutting through air that had a second before been Lietdorf’s shoulder. The greatsword recovered his swing and brought his sword up into a guard, crying out for help from the main camp. Ilse could hear cries of alarm in the camp and the shouts of officers marshalling their soldiers, somewhere a trumpet sounded. Two more dark figures burst from the forest, these two carrying short spears and crude wooden shields.
The beastman sprung to attack Lietdorf again, swinging its axe in a high arc over his right shoulder, aiming at the soldier’s neck. Lietdorf parried this with the end of the sword, sparks flying , swinging the hilt of the long sword towards the beast’s neck. The hilt cut into the beast’s tough flesh, the magical energy cutting through it easily. Blood pumped from the wound and the beast cried out in pain. Lietdorf smashed it in the snout with the pommel of his sword before bringing his sword around in a wide arc, cleaving the beast in two from shoulder to waist. The beast dropped lifeless to the ground and Lietdorf recovered, searching for Ilse and the new threats.
*
As Lietdorf finished off the first beast the other two charged across the field, aiming straight towards Ilse. Ilse cried out for Lietdorf to help her and lifted her sword into the guard as Sergeant Loker had taught her. The first beast stabbed his spear at Ilse but she dodged to the left, swinging her sword out to knock it away. She tried to strike at the beast but it blocked her blow with its shield, the blade glancing off to the left.
Behind her Ilse could hear the cries of the state troops running from the main camp. They were locked in combat with a score more of the creatures and several had fallen already on each side, however if nothing else the sheer number of the humans would soon defeat the beasts.
The second beast went to strike at Ilse she pushed it away with her sword. The first one circled around and struck at Ilse’s side. She went to dodge backwards but her foot caught a rock and she tripped, spilling her to the ground. The dropped her sword as she fell and it clattered on the rocks to the her right just beyond reach. The beast took another step forward, looming above her as it prepared to deliver the final blow as Sergeant Loker had told her. She rolled to the left, the beast’s spear hitting the rock but putting her sword further out of reach. She tried to keep moving away but a large rock stopped her, leaving her helpless, only able to look up at the beast’s snarling fangs as it poised for the downwards thrust of the crude iron spear that would end her life. She could see the beast’s muscles tightening as it prepared the blow but suddenly its head was cleaved from its shoulder by the shimmer of a magical blade. The beast’s lifeless form fell away, blood pumping from its neck as it fell, pooling around the rocks next to Ilse. Lietdorf stood in its place, blood spattered across his face. Having just swung heavily to his left, Lietdorf’s flank was now exposed and it was this that the second beast jabbed his spear towards. The spear impacted with the side of Lietdorf’s plate armour, glancing off the armour but causing Lietdorf to cry out in pain.
*
Ilse scrambled to her feet, she went to her right, trying to find her sword but the combination of the darkness and the two hewn beasts meant that she could not see it. She heard Lietdorf cry out in pain and lower his sword even more. The beast drew the spear back for another blow and Ilse darted forward, drawing her dagged as she did and driving the blade to the hilt into the back of the beast’s neck. The beast cried out in pain and swung its shield around, hitting Ilse in the side of the head. She lost all coordination and stumbled, tripping over one of the lifeless beasts and falling to the ground, her head spinning. This distraction gave Lietdorf all the time he needed to draw up his sword and drive it through the beast’s chest. The beast roared out in pain and Lietdorf punched it in the face with his heavy steel gauntlet, driving it to the ground. The beast fell and Ilse looked up as Lietdorf drew his dagger and drove it into the beast’s face. The creature finally spasmed and died. Lietdorf wrenched his dagger out, a spurt of blood spattering droplets across his face as he did so. He grabbed the beast’s crude loincloth and cleaned his dagger on it, returning the blade to its place at his belt. He was panting heavily after the skirmish and took a deep breath to calm himself. He took the metal gauntlet off his right hand and wiped his face, looking at the smear of bestial blood on the leather inner.
He stood up, nodded to Ilse and offered her a hand. Ilse accepted it and Lietdorf pulled her to her feet, steadying her as she stood up. He walked over and retrieved her sword, cleaning it on the beast and offering it back to her, “your sword, milady” he said simply. Her mind still racing, Ilse simply nodded her thanks in reply.
As she slid the blade back into its scabbard, Galis rode up on his charger. Behind him the state troops were finishing off the last of the beasts. “Both of you, in the command tent” he said. Lietdorf bumped in chest and bowed his head in salute and Ilse simply looked at Galis. The veteran Captain met Ilse’s determined stare. “Back to the camp – now” he ordered before riding back towards the troops to supervise the clearance of the battlefield. Lietdorf looked at Isle, wrenching out his two-handed sword from where it was still impaled in the beast. “Shall we?” he asked with a stern face.
VI: Arrival
Galis had been perfect in his predictions. It had been a ten days since they left Talagaad when the capital came into view. He had chastised Ilse and Lietdorf for their recklessness but had begrudgingly thanked them as well. If they had not discovered the slain watchmen then a whole section of the camp would have been vulnerable to attack. The beasts would have been able to kill dozens in their sleep before a response could be coordinated. “You two work well together” he had said and with a stroke of the quill acceded to Lietdorf’s easier request, assigning him to command Ilse’s personal guard. Since then they had continued their journey, the capital coming into view as the sun set the previous night.
Now laid out before them the city of Altdorf was an impressive sight. It was a grand city, suitable for the seat of Imperial power and authority and the site of the Capitol. The most important buildings in the Empire dominated the skyline. The sixteen spires of the Colleges of Magic were the tallest building in the capital, glittering with a fey glow as they shot towards the clouds. None but the force’s battle mage could see them though, concealed as they are by spells of concealment. The grand temple of Sigmar, the Empire’s founder turned patron god, dominated the capital, rivalled only by the Emperor’s palace in its size and grandeur.
It was a vital trading hub, laying at the intersection of the two major rivers of the Empire; the River Reik which ran West along the border with Middenland to the Great Ocean and East along Talabecland’s southern border to the provinces of Stirland and Wissenland; and the River Talabec which ran North back past Talabheim. It was on the latter that the hundred-strong flotilla of barges carrying the Talabeclander army approached the Imperial City towards the large docks which supported the large volume of river-borne trade.
Galis had sent riders towards the city two days previously and the docks had been cleared, unhappy merchants tied up to posts on the other side of the river, forced to wait before plying their goods in the vast markets of the capital. In the dangerous world of the Empire the troops had first call on the use of such vital infrastructure. Ilse stood on the bow of the barge as it pulled up to the harbour. The troops manning the barge scrambled to tie it up. Many of the state troops looked thankful that it would be their final day pressed into service on the vessels. After a brief period a plank was lowered onto the docks and Ilse looked over towards the gangway as Galis walked to its foot, fully clad in his ceremonial plate armour.
“Will you accompany me milady?” he asked, indicating to the docks. Ilse nodded. Galis had told her to dress up for the occasion. He had been dismayed when she had emerged that morning with a steel breastplate over the finely woven fabric of her tunic. After a long discussion he finally convinced her to at least change out her trousers for a flowing skirt. Her father had sent a freshly woven dress for the occasion of her arrival at the capital but after the skirmish in the forest two nights ago she was rarely seen without some form of armour with her sword and dagger at her hip. She had at least agreed to wear the diamond-encrusted gold necklace and silver laurel wreath that her mother had given her for her coming of age two years previously, both of which had been polished the day before by the Greatswords’ armourer.
Galis offered his arm and Ilse accepted as they walked up the gangway and stepped onto the docks, Galis’ heavy steel boots landing heavily on the heavy wood of the pier. With Lietdorf, Reiwulf and the remainder of the Captains in tow, they walked towards the end of the pier where a flamboyantly dressed noble stood clearly awaiting their arrival. He was flanked by a half-score of Reiksguard in heavily-buffed plate armour. The Reiksguard were an order of knights devoted to the personal security of the Emperor and the Imperial palace. A warrior elite within the Imperial Army, their presence clearly meant that messenger was a representative of the Emperor himself.
Ilse halted as Galis did, curtsying as he saluted the messenger. Now closer, Ilse recognised him as Marius Vostokh. An overweight man in his forties, he had visited Talabheim several years before in order to try an exact better trade conditions for Reiklander traders. He had only gained more weight since then, clearly more at home in the comforts of the capital than on campaign. Lietdorf and the other Talabeclander officers moved forward and also saluted. The Reiksguard returned the salute, and Marius simply nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, Ilse saw Galis give a quick upturned lip as if insulted by the simple gesture.
Ignoring Galis’ reaction, Marius began “Greeting to you all, noble men of the glorious province of Talabecland”, his arms spread wide to exaggerate his welcome. He turned his attentions to Ilse, “And you to Lady Ilse, what a fine pleasure it is to be once again in your company.” He outstretched his hand as he spoke. Ilse took it to grasp it but Marius instead brought it up and kissed it. Ilse looked at Galis and shrugged. “And of age now as well” Marius continued “you will certainly be noticed in the Imperial Court.” Ilse blushed in response.
“She is not here to marry” Galis interrupted impatiently. “What news do you bring from the Emperor?”
“Of course, noble Captain.” Marius released Ilse’s hand and cleared his throat. “The Reiksmarshall sends me to summon you to the Chapter House of the Reiksguard to discuss the campaign. The Emperor is still in the North and so will not be joining you.”
“What of the men?” Galis asked.
Marius hesitated for a moment. “Just….keep them where they are” he said.
Galis paused for a moment slightly confused. “As the Reiksmarshall commands” he said. He turned and issued orders to the Captains to assemble the men in the field just off the side of the docks. The officers saluted and departed to execute the commands. Galis turned back to Marius. “Bring horses” he ordered. “Ours are still being unloaded and I have no wish to keep the Reiksmarshall waiting”. Marius hesitated but then nodded. “Of course” he said and indicated to the Reiksguard sergeant to his right. The man saluted and walked off, calling to the stable boys as he did.
The sun was high in the sky as Galis, Ilse and Lietdorf led by the Reiksguard from the dock rode through the high gates of the Reiksguard chapter house. Marius had left them as they had entered the city, muttering some excuse about meetings. It was an impressive structure and occupied a commanding position in the capital, symbolic of their status within the Empire. As they dismounted several squires ran out to grab their horses and lead them towards the large stables along the side of the complex. The Reiksguard led them towards the main building. There, a Reiksguard Captain saluted and welcomed them, indicating to the men by the doors.
The large wooden doors swung inwards on well-oiled hinges and they were led upstairs towards the war room. Impressive tapestries hung from the walls, each beautifully embroidered with scenes from famous battles. Heroes from the tales of the Reiksguard fought all manner of creatures; greenskins twice their height, wyverns, griffins or champions of the chaos gods. One had a knight dying at the feet of the Emperor, his armour penetrated in a half-dozen places by black-coloured shafts. Portraits of each the Reiksmarshalls throughout history hung over a grand fireplace, the light that danced from its confines giving life and warmth to the otherwise dark stone building.
As they approached the top of the staircase, Ilse could hear voices coming from one of the passageways. The Reiksguard officer stood at the end of the corridor indicated down the passageway. Ilse nodded her thanks as she passed him, Galis returning the salute offered by the officer.
The short passageway opened out into a large room. It was of simple construction with maps lining the walls with a large central wooden table in the centre of the room and smaller satellite tables surrounding it. One of the tables was covered with several small wooden figures; each appeared to be representations of units of troops, knights or artillery.
A map of the Reikland was spread out on the table and a large man was indicating at various places with a metal rod to a party of armoured onlookers. “time is of the essence” he finished as Ilse, Galis and Lietdorf approached. Lietdorf and Galis snapped to attention and saluted. The Reiksmarshall looked up from the map, waving his hand to move those onlookers who were in the way of the new arrivals.
As the Reiksmarshall Kurt Helborg was the Grand Marshal of the Reiksguard and with that title the commander of all of the Emperor’s forces, second only to the Emperor himself on military matters within the Empire. A veteran warrior in his forties, Helborg was a large muscly man, his form hardened by many campaigns and his face dominated by a flowing moustache that reached beyond his ears. In the war room he wore his ornate full plate armour and carried an ornate master-crafted half-and-a-half sword at his hip. Ilse knew, however, that when he rode into battle the Runefang sword of the lost province of Solland would be taken from the Imperial armoury and he would wield the fabled blade against the enemies of the Empire. The Runefangs were legendary weapons, gifted to Sigmar and his twelve chieftains a millennia before by the dwarves and able to cleave man and beast alike in twain with a single blow. Ilse’s father with his position of Elector Count carried one into battle as well but Helborg was the greatest swordsman in the Empire equalled only by Ludwig Schwartzhelm, the Emperor’s champion and standard bearer, blade to blade in single combat and could strike down any foe.
Helborg returned the Greatsword officers’ salute and indicting for Ilse to approach him, offering an outstretched hand as she approached. She offered it for him to take but he shook it with a strong hand. “You’re a soldier now, not a lady in your father’s court, Lady Feuerbach, and you will be treated as such” he said as Ilse gave a brief sigh in frustration.
“Welcome noble soldiers of Talabecland. I had wished your Elector Count at the Emperor’s military council, it is sorry that he could not join us” the Reiksmarshall began. “We welcome your blades in the army and your counsel at this council. We were discussing the current situation”. He beckoned the new arrivals closer and focussed back towards the map.
“Your last report had the Bretonnian army laying siege to Helmgart. Since that missive the fortress has fallen beneath the horde of southerners and the army is moving north. At this stage we have huntsmen from Stirland shadowing the mighty host. They have sacked a series of villages north of the Axe Bite Pass, putting all the inhabitants they found to the sword, Sigmar rest their souls.” Those in the room echoed the prayer. He shifted his metal pointer further north: “They have already exhausted their supply lines and the Stirlanders harry the supply columns which follow the host. With these logistical issues we believe they will be forced to follow the major rivers in order to water the horses within the army.”
“How many knights do we estimate that they have?” Ilse asked.
Helborg looked up at who asked the question, though as the only woman in the room Ilse’s voice hardly blended in with the crowd. “Approximately four thousand” he said. “With their squires and more fortunate retainers as well as the horses required to pull the trebuchets and other heavy equipment there cannot be less than fifteen thousand horses in the army” Helborg responded. “As I was saying” he continued “the mass of horses will confine them to the major river systems. They could go north from the pass along the River Schilder but the towns are more sparse and less prosperous. We will, however, send a force of five thousand to guard this avenue. General von Ludenhof will you lead this force?”
Ludenhof, a veteran general from the Reikland nodded “It would be an honour my lord” he said.
Helborg nodded, “the remainder of the force will march to block the passage up the River Bogen. Bogenhafen cannot be saved and I will send word for it to be abandoned. I predict that they will sack Bogenhafen and move north along the road towards the capital, here. We shall garrison and hold them at Castle Grauenburg and block the road north. Make no mistake gentlemen” he paused awkwardly and looked at Ilse, “and lady” he added. “If we fail to halt the southerners at Grauenburg there will be nothing between the Bretonnians and the capital and it will be open to attack.” He paused to let the reality of the situation dawn on the commanders in the room. The survival of the Imperial Capital lay at the stake and they all had stern looks on their face as they listened to the Reiksmarshall. Helborg could see in their eyes that none would shirk from their duty to the Empire.
“How many men are we facing?” one of the Generals asked.
Helborg placed down the pointer and placed his hands firmly on the table, looking around the room at his assembled commanders. “Forty thousand” he said simply.
“Sigmar’s blessing” one of the Generals said.
The Reiksmarshall continued, dismissing the prayer, “The Emperor and Schwartzhelm have taken the bulk of the Reikland forces north. We have five thousand men from the province and another two thousand from the capital. The Reiksguard also stand ready to assist the Empire. Whilst many have travelled with the Empire, there are still two hundred knights left in the capital. The two thousand men from Stirland have already arrived in additional to the huntsmen who have already been dispatched to harry to southerners. General Galis, how many men did you bring with you?”
“Eight thousand” Galis responded instantly. “Between the knightly orders of the White Wolf and Blazing Sun we have another three hundred knights plus a comparable number of light cavalry. The Elector Count has almost emptied the province of the remaining troops not taken in the Emperor’s due: fifteen regiments of halbediers, twelve regiments of swordsmen and nineteen regiments of spearmen; plus another six of handgunners and two regiments of archers, five and a half thousand in all. Sixteen regiments worth of militia have also enlisted plus four hundred and twenty flagellants.” Galis recited. “We are critically short of powder and shot but we have over eight thousand men” he concluded.
The Reiksmarshall looked at Galis, “I was expecting ten” he said simply.
“As was I, sir” Galis said.
Helborg nodded and walked over to the table full of miniatures. He picked up one of the small wooden knights, examined it for a second before walking back to the central map table. “With the force under General Ludenhof detached that means we have only twelve thousand men to resist the siege.” As he finished the sentence he slammed the knight on top of where Grauenburg was pictured on the map. “We cannot fail gentlemen” he said sternly. “We march at dawn.”
VII: South to War
The sun was just rising over the distant mountains to the East when the Empire army marched south. Whilst of importance due its status as the Imperial Capital, Altdorf was also a vital crossing point over the otherwise impassable torrent of the River Reik. As the river approached the city it split into a number of smaller channels. Considerably smaller than the great river itself, these tributaries were spanned by a series modern steam-bridges built by the College of Engineers. The bridges had been lowered to allow them to pass and a tall elven ship lay anchored to the west unable to pass through, its valuable cargo held short of the capital’s markets by the needs of the army.
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/ 
, 
, 
....and Bretonnia 
