I made my way to my father's study in the Citadel of Erengrad. The Ruler of the Oblast had their apartments high up in the main bastion of the Citadel so any attacker would have to first fight through the city, then fight through all other parts of the citadel to reach these rooms. It was something that wasn't really seen much in the homes of the High Nobility in other nations. Hell, apparently the Imperial Palace in Altdorf isn't a defensive structure so much as Mundus' own version of Versailles, with ballrooms, a zoo, gardens, even a room devoted entirely to mirrors. In Kislev, however, we didn't have the luxury of not building our residences for defense. Even the Tzar's Palace in Kislev City was built with defense in mind, with walls and towers that could withstand cannon fire, buttressed by magic. We were simply too close to Chaos up here in Kislev to not build for defense.
As I entered my Father's Study, I was struck by the mementos on display. I recalled from the memories of Tadeusz's life that each item on display in the study had a story attached to it. Here there was the head of a Bearsonling Axe, the chaotic power of the weapon shattered ritually by the priesthood after a battle up north some 20 years ago and the metal head on display. There was a fang of a frost dragon that he had helped my grandfather slay in his youth after it had come down from Troll Country to terrorize the Oblast. There a bearskin rug that marked his confirmation into the Church of Ursun. All around the study, there were little mementos and trophies like that. My father himself was seated behind a great oaken desk, carved with images of ships at sea. He was writing down something on a piece of parchment and had a glass of what looked like Brettonian Brandy in his other hand. The old man was still clad in a Gambeson and riding leathers like he had come to his study before he even had a chance to bathe after returning to the city.
He put down the quill and regarded me with ice blue eyes. "You have come a long way from when I saw you last, my son. In a short time too. When I sent you to Chebekov, I had despaired of ever seeing you apply yourself to anything beyond carousing. I must ask, what changed?" He asked.
"I was visited in a dream by Ursun. He marked me with his mark and told me to help his people. A visit from a God does much to put a man's life in perspective." I replied.
"Yes, I had heard that you bear the Mark of the Bear God, though the priesthood as a whole is waiting for the results of your test to come out on the subject one way or another. Old Father Boris seems to be convinced, though. I do find it curious that you seem to be advancing civilization in your holdings though. Normally Ursun prefers that the Wilderness stay wild, or so the Priests tell me, yet you are building distilleries, arsenals, mines, roads, even founding new Staritsas in the outer blight, pulling sulfur for gunpowder, Iron for foundries, and peat for fuel out of those cursed bogs. You endorse trade as well and I have heard of your pet dwarves experiments in alchemy. One would think a man with Ursun's blessing would shy away from these actions." Said my Father.
"Ursun commanded me to aid in the defense of Kislev. He seemed to think that there would be another invasion from Chaos at some point in the future. This was the best way I could think of to be ready for such a thing." I replied.
My father frowned and asked, "How so?"
"One has only to look at the Empire to see the strength of such an undertaking. We in Kislev were helpless before Asavar Kul's Horde, losing battles at the Border, at Praag. Then the Empire came, bringing with them large armies clad in steel plate, artillery in numbers that shook the earth, forces beyond anything we could muster. They stemmed the tide at the Capitol and broke Asavar Kul's Army. Our population is not so far below theirs and our nation not so resource-poor that we could not imitate that feat, it is only the complacency and apathy that has so gripped the Boyars and Voivodes in the century since the end of the Great War Against Chaos that has prevented us from harnessing such power. I hope that by providing an example of what we could do, the other Voivodes and Boyars will come to see the value in this approach." I replied, Honestly.
My father pondered my answer for a moment, stroking his drooping mustache, the black, walrus-like mustache fading to gray as he aged. Finally, he nodded and said, "There is merit in your approach, my son. One only has to look at how Erengrad has grown on the back of trade to see that. I am glad that you are finally using that brain of yours for more than harebrained schemes aimed at getting some new woman into bed, even if it required divine intervention for you to do so. Now, there is more unpleasant business that we must turn to. Your brother, may he rest in peace, was my heir. Now that he is dead, slain by the damned Sarls, you are the heir to the Oblast. Now that you are heir, I will need to arrange a match for you. Beyond that, I will need to send an Ice Witch to Chebekov to sit on your council and advise you. I have asked around the Frosthome and have spoken to several Boyars with kin in the Ice Witches and I believe I have found a suitable candidate for someone so clearly interested in knowledge that he would hire dwarves to perform Alchemy."
I frowned because I knew of at least one Ice Witch that fit that description. "Who did you have in mind father?" I asked with some trepidation.
"Oksana Ivanova, the librarian of Frosthome. She is the daughter of the Voivode of Goranitch and she is quite capable of the academic aspects of being an Ice Witch, though the Elders tell me her practicals are lacking. Something about having too heated a temperament to excel in their magics. Regardless, she volunteered for the assignment and after consultation with her father, I agreed to send her with you." Nodded my father.
Inwardly I groaned, though I knew that this was likely a decision that had already been made. My father was nothing if not prone to sticking his nose in his children's business. I still had to object though. "Father, I do not think that wise, she has been following me for several days." I protested.
"So you are already familiar with each other? Excellent." Grinned my father.
"That's not the point and you know it." I huffed.
"Regardless, the decision has already been made. Besides, I have cut quite the deal with her father as part of this. We are getting a good deal on copper and tin from his mines in exchange for helping Oksana advance through the ranks of the Ice Witches like this. The poor girl has been stuck languishing in the Library of Frosthome for a year now. This has been finalized, there is nothing to do but go through with it." Repled my father.
I sighed knowing that this whole arrangement had been more about getting the copper and tin my father needed to cast bronze cannons at a reduced rate than my safety. "Very well, father." I relented. It seemed that my stalker would be coming with me back to Chebekov.
I would have to find a way to work with her. I just didn't know how to do that without potentially causing her seeming obsession with me to boil over even hotter than it clearly already was. The Ice Witch I had met in the Frozen Goblin had made it very clear that Oksana's heated emotions were the cause of her stunted growth in Ice Magic. I didn't know what would happen if those emotions got even more intense, and I didn't want to find out. Given that Slaanesh was a thing? Probably nothing good. It seemed like my conversation with my father was done with for now, though, so I turned and headed down towards the quarters I was given. I was just gonna have to figure out how to work with someone who had an obsession with me.
That shouldn't be too hard, right