To put it plainly, Marienburg is a very unique city in the history of the Empire.
The city first appeared around 20 IC, when the Jutones tribe settled here. They established Marienburg at the mouth of the Reik River, on the ruins of an abandoned Elf fortress and dock. However, the settlement soon faced attacks from the Mist Demons of the southern marshlands. It took the Jutones ten years to defeat the Mist Demons.
In 501 IC, Emperor Sigismund the Conqueror of the Empire defeated the Jutones in the Battle of Marienburg. King Juttenis agreed to peacefully unify with the Empire, incorporating Marienburg and its surrounding areas into the province of Westerland. From that point on, Marienburg became part of the Empire, and the Jutones kingdom disappeared from history. However, as part of the peaceful unification, the Jutones royal family was granted numerous privileges that have been passed down to the present day.
In 632 IC, the Norse marauded Marienburg for the first time. This brutal war dragged on for over a century, until a truce was signed with the Norse in 765 IC, temporarily halting the conflict.
Marienburg remained part of the Empire until the beginning of the Time of Three Emperors. At that time, three emperors vied for the throne, leading the electors to begin governing their territories independently. Marienburg and Westerland started to show signs of separatism during this period. Around 1600 IC, the merchants and guilds of Marienburg, with the support of Elector Count von Beek, declared the establishment of the Marienburg Autonomous Council Government, gradually detaching from imperial rule.
In 1979 IC, Elector Countess Margarita III of Westerland was elected Empress by the Electoral Council, but none of the churches—the Church of Sigmar, the White Wolf Church, or others—agreed to crown her. Margarita III decided, with the support of the Cult of Manann, to declare herself Emperor of Marienburg. From that day, Marienburg officially seceded from the Empire, and the Rune Fang of Westerland was later smuggled back to the Empire by loyalists, where it was handed over to the Nordland province.
Afterward came the Great War Against Chaos. Ludwig the Savior gathered all the Empire's remaining forces, and at this point, Marienburg gave up its imperial title. The merchants decided to contribute everything they had to supply the Savior's forces. After the war, Marienburg agreed to rejoin the Empire, offering a vast fortune to help rebuild it. However, the condition was total autonomy, and the Empire could not interfere in Marienburg's internal affairs. Ludwig, after much thought, agreed, granting them full autonomy.
When the Grand Prince of Reikland, Friedrich, ascended the imperial throne, Emperor Leopold—Karl Franz's grandfather—attempted to recapture Marienburg but was repelled by the local forces. The Grand Princes of Reikland tried several times thereafter to reclaim Marienburg, but all attempts were in vain.
Marienburg also has the only enclave of High Elves in the Old World—Aethis-ithil, as previously mentioned.
Due to all this, the merchants of Marienburg have faced numerous crises after the Great War, but they always managed to find a way out. They could request help from the Empire, Bretonnia, or, if necessary, the High Elves.
These merchant princes had grown fearless.
After all, it's just a matter of money!
But this time, things were different.
This time, it was the dwarfs seeking vengeance!
In the Upper Senate of Marienburg, inside the spacious and well-lit hall, the merchant princes gathered to discuss what to do.
The Grand Duke of Marienburg, van der Koop-Schultz, remained expressionless, lounging in his luxurious chair and sipping gin, chatting casually with the second-richest merchant in Marienburg, Viscount Casanova of the Gentlemen's League.
These two didn't seem to care—the vengeance clearly wasn't aimed at them. The other merchant leaders were well aware that Viscount Casanova had gone to great lengths to hire the famous mercenary duo Gotrek and Felix. This made the merchant princes grit their teeth, inwardly cursing Casanova for being a backstabber.
Among the main merchants present were:
The third-largest trading house in Marienburg, the Bachel family, the Old World's largest food distributor with branches and trading outposts across the Old World.
The fourth-largest merchant house, the Jutones Trading Company, led by van Huggmans, a descendant of the Jutones royal family. The Jutones had suffered significant losses trying to short-sell the debt of Karak Eight Peaks, causing them to slip from third to fourth place.
And the fifth-largest, the Lucien Trading Company, led by Claude Junker.
These three were the main targets of the dwarfs' vengeance. Huggmans, sweating nervously, was the first to place the dwarfs' Grudge Book flyers on the table. "Gentlemen, we have a problem."
"Damn dwarfs!" Becker, the head of the Bachel family, grumbled impatiently. "We're just conducting normal business. Do they think Marienburg is some backwater? This is a free trade hub! Everyone has the right to freedom of speech and choice! Who do they think they are to threaten us and demand compensation and judgment from us?"
"Exactly. I agree," Claude Junker, dressed in a grey-black uniform with a thin sword at his waist, cursed the dwarfs as fools. "I propose we pelt them with stones and rotten fruit from the city walls and drive them off!"
"And then they'll return fire with mercury bullets and cannons!" Huggmans, the descendant of the Jutones royal family, snapped. "Have you seen those two ironclads? Compared to them, our fleet might as well be fishing boats!"
Marienburg did indeed have a small navy, but it was a brown-water fleet, and neither the Reikland nor Nordland navies, both part of the Empire's forces, belonged to Marienburg.
The merchant princes doubted their few warships could even scratch the ironclads' armor.
"...Those aren't dwarf ironclads," someone in the senate pointed out. "The dwarfs just hitched a ride on Bretonnian and Ash Legion ships."
"They might as well be dwarf ironclads! They were built by dwarfs, and the dwarfs disembarked from them!" Huggmans said sternly. "Are you all pretending not to understand? The Ash Legion and those Bretonnian knights are in cahoots with the dwarfs!"
"King Ryan and Ash Legion Commander Fugen are brothers. They brought the dwarfs here and anchored in our port. Don't you get it? If we make a move, they'll have every reason to attack," Huggmans continued, looking around the room.
The group fell silent. The merchant princes were in a bind.
"How much do the dwarfs want?" Becker, the head of the Bachel family, finally spoke. This sixty-year-old gentleman, dressed in a tailcoat with a black bowler hat and gold-rimmed monocle, had pondered the situation for a while before slowly saying, "We just want peace. What do the dwarfs want? Let's pool our resources and end this matter here, or how will we conduct business?"
"It's all written on the flyer," Huggmans said, pulling out a slightly crumpled leaflet and laying it on the table.
"For the disrespect shown to the Angrund clan: 3,000 gold coins."
"For the disrespect shown to all dwarf clans: 5,000 gold coins."
"For the disrespect shown to the dwarfs who died reclaiming Karak Eight Peaks: 10,000 gold coins."
"Finally, to atone for the baseless insult of calling Belegar and his royal family 'failures,' and to celebrate their return home: 20,000 gold coins and the head of José Mourinho!"
The merchant princes exchanged uneasy glances. Claude Junker, dressed in a silk robe and light trousers, furrowed his brows as he took the flyer from Huggmans and examined it closely. "So, the dwarfs want 38,000 gold coins and the head of that Mr. Mourinho?"
"Exactly," Becker adjusted his monocle. "The dwarfs want an answer within three days. Today is the first. Can we meet the deadline, gentlemen?"
"Seriously, are we going to pay up?" Junker scowled darkly. "That'll make us look like pushovers! The dwarfs could demand payment once, twice, three times—endlessly! We're not their personal gold mine! Becker, have you lost your mind?"
"Dwarfs aren't like humans, Junker," Becker said, intertwining his fingers on the table. "Gold can settle their grievances and send them home satisfied. The matter will be over. If you'd listen to me, I suggest we scrape together the money and pay them off."
"How much are we supposed to gather?" Huggmans asked irritably. "And don't forget, this is Imperial territory! We're Imperial citizens. The dwarfs can't haul Marienburg back to their mountains! That would be like declaring war on the Empire. Those bearded little fellows don't represent the entire dwarf race!"
"Karl Franz's court won't go to war with the dwarfs on our behalf!" Becker retorted. "The High King Thorgrim's grievance is already on the Emperor's desk. Who do you think the Empire values more: us
or their alliance with the dwarfs?"
"We have the Savior's founding charter!" Huggmans shouted. "Complete autonomy!"
"The dwarfs have the Holy Alliance with Emperor Sigmar!" Becker shouted back. "Put aside your Jutones pride, Huggmans. That's a higher-ranking pact. The Empire can't afford to lose the dwarfs as allies, and neither can we! Do you know how much of Marienburg's trade depends on agreements with the dwarfs?"
"So what? We're just going to roll over and pay them?" Huggmans asked, exasperated, sitting down heavily.
"How about this—we gather 18,000 gold marks," Junker suggested. "We'll agree to pay the first three demands, but we'll only accept half of the last one. What does their return to Karak Eight Peaks have to do with us? We refuse that. And as for Mr. Mourinho... Huggmans, where is he?"
"He's hiding out at an estate outside the city," Huggmans sighed. "I've had my men keep an eye on him, but..."
"Hand him over to the dwarfs," Becker said hoarsely, his voice worn from shouting earlier. "Consider it an offering of atonement."
"But if we do that, who will speak for us in the future?" Huggmans protested. "And what about our friend Adabe, the smooth talker? Where's he gone? Why is he missing at such a crucial time?"
"You should know him by now," Becker replied. "That old dragon is cunning. Alright, send Mr. Mourinho to the dwarfs. As for the 18,000 gold coins, we three major companies will raise 12,000. The rest of you can chip in the remaining 6,000. Let's pay them off and end this. We're all businessmen here. Do you really want to stir up trouble and ruin our peace?"
"Agreed," Huggmans sighed in defeat.
In the end, the Marienburg Senate agreed to raise the money and send it to the dwarfs, hoping to settle the matter and avoid further complications. They appointed High Priest Aldrich of the Church of Manann to handle the negotiations.
Meanwhile, in the Marienburg underworld, Adabe Hensman, the underground king, had also heard the news of the dwarfs' vengeance.
"Father, what do we do? The dwarfs are seeking vengeance! The knights are seeking vengeance!" Adabe's son, Alphons, was panicking. "Damn it! Why didn't they perish at Karak Eight Peaks?"
Adabe remained calm. Sitting behind his desk, he leisurely opened a safe, throwing incriminating documents into the fire. The old gentleman showed no signs of distress. In fact, he seemed unusually composed. "What should we do? What have we done? Did we short-sell the Karak Eight Peaks debt? Or offend the Knight King or the Dwarf King? Think carefully. Did we leave any evidence behind?"
One by one, the ledgers burned to ashes. Adabe smiled. "Besides, we've sent generous gifts to Bretonnia. Whoever they hold accountable, it won't be us. Calm down, Alphons. Stay composed. Making a scene now is a death sentence! There's a proper way to face trouble, and this isn't it."
"Father, you're always so foresighted," Alphons said, calming down as he recalled their actions. Without realizing it, his back was drenched in sweat.
"Always think things through—anticipate danger, plan an escape, and adapt to change. Only by recognizing danger can you avoid it." Adabe, frowning, ensured that all evidence was burned. Then, he opened a small vault and took out a large box.
Inside were hundreds of god-tokens, each marked with the visage of the Lady of Fortune. The box contained over a hundred coins, worth over 100,000 gold marks. Handing the box to his son, Adabe sighed and said, "Take this. Use it to smooth things over, buy lavish gifts. Send some to the Ash Legion and some to the King and Queen of Bretonnia. Keep a few coins for yourself. Get the best equipment and seek the blessing of the Church of Manann. I've already registered you. Starting the day after tomorrow, you'll be a new recruit in the Ash Legion's First Army—a knight-in-training."
"Father?!" Alphons rushed forward, clearly upset. "You're sending me to the Ash Legion? Father, that's a death sentence! Are you pushing me to join the New World expedition? What about you?"
"Heh, let me share with you a saying often used by Imperial generals," Adabe chuckled grimly, pulling his son to sit beside him. As the king of Marienburg's underworld for over twenty years, he pointed to the ashes in the fire. "Place yourself in a deadly position, and only then can you live."
"I've carefully observed and gathered intelligence over the past few years. The future of the New World will belong to the Purple Phoenix sooner or later. And the Purple Phoenix has close ties with King Ryan and Schultz," Adabe said with a sense of longing. "Don't let our recent success fool you. It's because we were still useful. The merchant princes needed us to handle the underworld and clean up dirty corners. That's why we got our chance. But men like us are just rags—not even tools. After more than twenty years, I can feel it. The Senate is thinking about replacing us, and we picked the wrong side in the recent bond issue."
"What? After everything we've done for them?!" Alphons shouted angrily. "Are we just destined to..."
"That's why I'm sending you to serve in the Ash Legion," Adabe said, closing his eyes and nodding slowly. "Alphons, my son, let me tell you this. Keep your head down and serve. Prove yourself to Commander Fugen and the generals and soldiers of the Ash Legion. I've spent over twenty years and spared no expense to train you. Your swordsmanship, your horsemanship—they'll hold up even in the Ash Legion. Once you're there, forget that you're my son. Forget you're a prince of Marienburg's underworld. You're just a new recruit, a knight-in-training. Be a good soldier."
"I understand, Father," Alphons said, tears streaming down his face. He wiped his tears with his hands, lowering the head he had always held high.
"Go now," Adabe sighed deeply. "When Grand Duke Schultz decides to replace me, your father's life might depend on you."
"Otherwise, men like us are doomed to an unhappy end."
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