Marienburg, Shield Coin District, Dwarven Craftsmen's Guild.
Although called a guild, the Dwarven Craftsmen's Guild was essentially a small fortress. Spanning almost one hectare, it was a fully independent dwarf community, with homes, taverns, inns, and various food shops all within its walls. The dwarfs here lived in close-knit solidarity, turning the guild into an impenetrable stronghold. Tall walls, watchtowers, and reinforced iron gates made it a formidable place.
Tonight, however, the usual peace was interrupted by the presence of an armed force. Soldiers clad in half-plate armor, wearing bearskin hats and armed to the teeth, were scattered around in small groups, ready for battle.
"The taste of dwarf beer is just too thick for me. I really can't get used to it," Sir Bertrand, commander of the Old Guard, said to his deputy, Nicolas Davout. They were seated around a small table, where a dwarven chef had just placed roasted beef shanks and buttered bread before them. As requested, the beer had been swapped for Imperial dark ale, though the chef had grumbled that only lower-class folks couldn't appreciate fine dwarf brews.
The two commanders enjoyed their meal while over 300 members of the Old Guard rested and awaited orders.
"Didn't the king say there was a chance the merchant princes might do something drastic and surround the guild?" Davout asked Bertrand, looking puzzled. "We've been waiting all night."
"The king said it was possible, not certain," Bertrand replied, stroking his brown beard, which he took great pride in. "Besides, this place is a fortress. With our help, no mercenaries could breach it."
"What about the docks?" Davout inquired, taking a bite of bread. The glow of the Lady's blessing shone faintly around him, his eyes occasionally flashing with divine light. Bertrand, somewhat envious, often wondered if he would ever receive such a blessing from the Lady himself. After a pause, he said, "The docks are covered. The vice-commander of the Ashen Legion, Fernando Pilazzo, and Fugen's Phoenix Guard are stationed there."
"I've always thought Fugen seems more like a brother to the king," Davout chuckled.
"Hey, don't joke about that, though I kind of agree," Bertrand laughed before signaling that the topic should be dropped. "Let's stop there. That's not for us to discuss."
The Old Guard continued to rest, confident that even if an attack came, the fortress-like guild would hold. Meanwhile, young Sorgrin Ironhammer, son of the dwarven king Belegar, paced the guild restlessly, holding a grudge-loaded dwarven scattergun in one hand, shield and axe strapped to his back. The dwarves were tense, their mood growing increasingly agitated.
Suddenly, the sound of musket fire in the distance set everyone on edge. The Old Guard instantly grabbed their weapons, moving into defensive positions with practiced precision. Sorgrin cocked his scattergun, ready for action.
But nothing happened.
From the watchtower, two young dwarves signaled to those below, shaking their heads. "No one on the streets. The sound came from at least three blocks away. Not aimed at us."
"Stay put. We hold the guild. Whatever's happening outside isn't our concern," Bertrand ordered. "The king's command was to protect the Dwarven Craftsmen's Guild."
"Understood," came the replies as the men returned to their posts, resuming their wait.
At the same time, under the cover of night, a major confrontation unfolded in Marienburg.
In the darkness, it was clear that Emperor Karl Franz's forces were outnumbered and unprepared, caught off-guard, while the private army of the Jutone Trading Company, fully equipped with firearms and ready for battle, had the upper hand. Tensions were high, and the Jutone soldiers, on edge, instinctively drew their weapons when they saw a group of armed soldiers approaching.
The Imperial forces, however, could not afford any risks with the emperor present. When the Jutone troops brandished their weapons, the Reiksguard and Griffon Knights immediately prepared for combat, drawing their swords.
There might have been a brief chance to de-escalate, but Balthasar Gelt's exclamation, "An assassination! A planned ambush!" shattered any hope of peace. The Jutone soldiers, convinced their cover was blown, opened fire. The Imperial forces, fearing for the emperor's safety, retaliated.
"Fire!" The order was given, and dozens of musketeers formed a line, their black gun barrels aimed at the emperor and his entourage.
A volley of musket fire rang out, bullets whistling through the air, seemingly about to catch the Imperial party off-guard.
But with the Imperial Chief Alchemist, Balthasar Gelt, present, the outcome was far from certain.
"Golden Robe!" Gelt instantly cast a high-level alchemical spell, covering the soldiers and knights in shimmering robes of golden scales. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the magical armor.
"Reiksguard, advance!"
"Griffon Knights, with me!" shouted the Griffon Duke, Ivan Ferdinand.
At their command, the elite Reiksguard and Griffon Knights charged forward. The Reiksguard, the emperor's finest soldiers, selected from noble families with proven military records, were renowned for their unwavering loyalty and skill in both mounted and foot combat. They would fight to the death for the emperor.
The Griffon Knights, led by Duke Ivan, were no less formidable. Each knight had earned their scars through grueling trials, including the capture and taming of their griffon mounts in the perilous Griffonwood. Those who survived were among the Empire's most respected warriors.
And then there was Gelt's personal guard—the Eldred Lancers.
After rebuilding Solland, Gelt realized he needed an elite force to withstand the threats from the Grey and Black Mountains. His soldiers were equipped with the best blackpowder weapons, courtesy of Nuln's finest forges. The Eldred Lancers were trained to form impenetrable lines with their long spears and shields, providing a solid defense against the enemy's charges, allowing Gelt's cannons and magic to wreak havoc.
Though wizards were not typically known for their military prowess, Gelt was an exception. His leadership in both governance and warfare had been consistently impressive. Under his guidance, Solland had flourished, its people recovering from past devastations. The Eldred Lancers, though newly formed, were already gaining a reputation for their discipline and strength.
Following Gelt's orders, the Lancers raised their shields, forming a tight phalanx with their spears pointed outward, ready to defend the emperor.
In a matter of seconds, the Imperial forces were ready, far quicker than the Jutone Trading Company's private army could react. As the Reiksguard and Griffon Knights closed in, the Jutone soldiers, despite their well-maintained equipment, began to falter. Their lack of combat experience became evident against the battle-hardened Imperial elites.
Swords clashed and the air filled with the sounds of battle. Though the Jutone soldiers wore good armor, they couldn't withstand the precision and skill of the Reiksguard and Griffon Knights. The Imperial knights expertly targeted the weak points in their enemies' armor, their swords slicing through gaps and vulnerable joints.
Panic set in as the Jutone soldiers realized that even the shimmering golden robes worn by the Imperial soldiers seemed impervious to their weapons.
"Charge! For the Empire!" shouted Rudolf, an Imperial general, as he cleaved through a Jutone soldier's helmet with his sword, finishing him off with a swift thrust to the face. Behind him, the Reiksguard followed, cutting down the Jutone troops as they tried to retreat.
Duke Ivan was a whirlwind of destruction, his silvered griffon blade cutting through armor as if it were paper, leaving dismembered bodies in his wake. His movements were elegant, almost as if he were dancing, yet each step left blood and broken limbs strewn across the streets of Marienburg.
The Griffon Knights followed closely behind, their dwarf-forged greatswords and halberds slicing through the Jutone soldiers' defenses. Meanwhile, under Gelt's direction, the Eldred Lancers steadily advanced, their spears forming an impenetrable wall.
Within minutes, the Jutone soldiers were being pushed back. Count Van Huggmans, seeing the situation deteriorating, began to consider fleeing.
"We're Marienburgers?" Gelt and Duke Ivan both recognized that they were likely facing private soldiers of Marienburg's merchant class. Ivan, after decapitating two soldiers, was about to shout to the emperor that they had likely mistaken mercenaries for attackers.
But Gelt spoke faster, loudly proclaiming, "Marienburg merchants attempted to assassinate the emperor!" The Chief Alchemist raised his Staff of Volans, unleashing a wave of molten metal across the battlefield. "Protect the emperor! Destroy the enemy!"
"Yes! For the Empire! For Karl Franz! For Sigmar!" The Imperial forces, bolstered by Gelt's declaration, surged forward with renewed energy. Ivan, hearing Gelt's words, abandoned any thought of negotiation. The emperor's safety came first, and Gelt's actions were completely justified. Ivan charged back into the fray, cutting down more Jutone soldiers.
Within ten minutes, the Jutone forces were in full retreat, leaving over a hundred dead behind them. Van Huggmans, sensing defeat, was ready to flee when the city's g
arrison finally arrived.
"Stop! What's going on here?" shouted one of the "Pathfinders," the city's elite guards, as they rushed forward, accompanied by several hundred mercenaries.
"They tried to assassinate the emperor!" Gelt accused, his Staff of Volans glowing brightly, illuminating the scene. In the bright light, everyone could see Emperor Karl Franz, his face twisted in anger. If not for his standard-bearer, Ludwig, holding him back, the emperor might have drawn his rune sword and joined the battle himself.
"The Protector of the Empire, the Defender of the Faith, the Heir of Charlemagne, and the Emperor of the Reikland, Karl Franz, is here!" Ludwig shouted with a voice so loud it echoed through the nearby streets. "Surrender now or face immediate execution!"
At first, the Jutone soldiers refused to believe it. How could the emperor himself be here? But when Van Huggmans looked closer, he saw that it truly was Karl Franz standing before him. His legs gave way, and he nearly fell off his horse.
The emperor was no stranger to the battlefield, and many in the Empire had seen him in person, including Huggmans.
Now faced with this realization, Huggmans was torn. The thought of killing the emperor crossed his mind, but with more city guards arriving and his forces retreating, he knew it was over. Signaling for his men to surrender, Huggmans dismounted and knelt before the emperor. "It's a misunderstanding, Your Majesty. A terrible misunderstanding!"
"A misunderstanding?" Karl Franz surveyed the blood-soaked streets, his voice cold with fury. "This is no misunderstanding."
"It's a conspiracy! An attempt on your life!" Gelt interjected, seizing the moment. "These merchant princes are out of their minds! I request permission to lock down both chambers of Marienburg's government. We need to see who's behind this treasonous plot!"
"Very well, Gelt, I leave it to you," Karl Franz agreed, seizing the opportunity. "As for this man, take him away for interrogation. I want to know exactly what kind of 'misunderstanding' this is."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
As Huggmans was dragged away, Karl Franz's sharp political instincts kicked in. He realized this could be the chance he had been waiting for.
The chance to finally bring Marienburg back into the Empire's fold after hundreds of years.
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