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POV of Josef
Erntezeit-10-11-2493
"What a crazy year, by blessed Sigmar… I hope this break lasts longer than a simple stroll through Altdorf," I said, running my hands over my face as I slumped into the train seat.
"Not even space to stretch these damned legs…" I muttered while trying to make myself comfortable. The seats were narrow, uncomfortable, built more to cram in as many soldiers as possible than to give us any kind of rest.
I turned toward the empty seat beside me. "Looks like Lukas didn't make it…" I thought, letting out a sigh. I was so exhausted I could barely keep my head up. We had just come from forced marches to reach the station in Kislev and catch the train back to Altdorf. After nearly a year of campaigning—maybe more, I'd already lost count—all that was left was the march home. March, fight, march again… that had been the rhythm the whole time.
I was already nodding off, about to fall asleep, when the doors of the carriage burst open. Lukas stormed in, running with all his gear hanging off him.
"Shit, shit, shit… I almost missed it, and I wasn't about to wait for another train," he panted, dumping his backpack and musket in the luggage rack before trying to arrange everything as quickly as possible.
"I thought you wouldn't make it," I told him, half-asleep.
"Never let me touch kvas again, you hear me? I've been shitting myself for two days since I drank that sour milk… Blessed Sigmar, have mercy on me, don't let me fail on this trip. I don't want to suffer the worst shame of my life with stained trousers," he prayed with a devotion I had never seen in him.
"The kvas wasn't that bad… tolerable if you were thirsty enough," I answered, remembering the taste of that drink that hadn't sat too well with me either.
"Speak for yourself… it tore my guts apart," Lukas replied, collapsing into the seat next to me, clutching his stomach as if his life depended on it.
"Ha, ha… that's because you drank like a madman. It wasn't just one horn of kvas, it was several, while you threw your coins around like leaves in the wind," I said with a faint grin.
"Two days of rest are a treasure here. If we're finally going back to Altdorf, at least I want to take with me a good memory of being in a foreign land," Lukas finally said, settling in at my side.
"Yeah, it's going to be a nice memory… because I'm going to make sure to remind you of it often," I said with a smile.
"Bastard," Lukas muttered, yawning. His yawn got me at once.
It didn't take long before, crammed into those seats, the train lurched forward. The rattling of the tracks marked our return to the Empire after who knew how long away. Lukas looked pale; his stomach wasn't giving him any peace, but before long he drifted off. I followed soon after.
The ride went by quickly, though more than once I was jolted awake by the snores echoing through the carriage, packed with soldiers just as drained as we were.
The last time I opened my eyes, Lukas was drooling on my shoulder. I tilted my head to shake him off and, through the window, I recognized the walls of Altdorf, the same ones I had seen countless times in my years helping my family with their errands in the city.
"Lukas… Lukas," I shook him.
"The trumpet hasn't sounded yet… let me sleep…" he grumbled, trying to turn his back on me.
"We've arrived, idiot. We're in Altdorf."
"What…? Eh… right… shit, we're here!" he said, rubbing his eyes while the sunlight blinded him a little.
"Get ready, I want to be one of the first out. I'm not staying trapped in the carriage queue," I told him, pushing him so he'd move.
At last he got up and we started gathering our things. The train skirted the walls and soon after entered the station. I hadn't slept well, but it was still a thousand times better than trying to rest in a Kislevite tent, with the cold sinking into our bones and the locals glaring at us with unfriendly faces.
When the train finally stopped, we got off quickly. The station was teeming with life: merchants crowded in, offering their wares, hoping to snatch a few coins from the freshly returned soldiers.
"Hurry up!" an officer shouted, calling the attention of everyone disembarking.
"What's going on, sergeant?" I asked, raising my voice while saluting him.
"Everyone must first pass through the money-changer. The Council doesn't want Cathayan or Kislevite coins circulating in the city market uncontrolled." The sergeant pointed to a nearby building marked with the Imperial symbol.
We nodded silently and, like the rest of the men, slung our packs over our shoulders and started walking toward the building.
It didn't take long to arrive. We found a group of workers hauling chests while several dwarfs sat behind heavy tables, with abacuses and scales in front of them.
"Manling, come here!" one of the dwarfs barked, pointing at me with one of his thick fingers.
I stepped forward at once.
"What have you got? Cathayan coins? Kislevite rubles? Something from the Princes?" he asked, opening a ledger and dipping his metal pen in ink.
"Ah, yes…" I said, setting my pack down and fishing out my coin pouch. "Here. All of these are foreign coins."
The dwarf grabbed the pouch and spilled more than two hundred coins across the table.
"Cathayan coins… quite a few. Eighty-four gold," he muttered as he counted them one by one. Then he pulled out a tool: a pair of metal tongs. He picked up a coin, flicked it with a sharp snap of his finger, and examined it with an expert eye.
"Pure gold," he confirmed, jotting it in his book before placing them on the scale. He weighed them carefully, balancing them against Imperial crowns until satisfied. "Fifty-one Imperial crowns. That's what you had in Cathayan coin."
"Seriously? I thought it would be more…" I said, frowning at the scales.
"Cathayan coins weigh less than Imperial crowns. It's normal. Now let's see the Bretonnian and the rubles."
He repeated the process with each pile, until one rang hollow.
"This one doesn't sound right…" the dwarf growled. He took a heavy pair of shears, clipped the edge of the coin, and nodded grimly. "Fake. Tin-filled. A cruel trick." He tossed it into a container and swapped it for a silver shilling.
He kept at it patiently, checking each piece. At last, he handed me back a pouch with the result of the whole exchange.
"Good. In total: seventy golden crowns and ten silver shillings. By order of the Prince of Marienburg, leader of the Reikland Imperial Bank Council, no fee is charged for this task. Just one more question: do you reside in Altdorf?" he said before handing me the pouch.
"Yes, I live in the capital of the Empire," I answered.
"Perfect. Then I must inform you—" he continued, setting a few coins aside, "—that, under the city's taxes, His Imperial Majesty takes ten percent of your earnings."
"What…? But… right…" I muttered, pressing my lips together as I watched him store my coins in a chest and record them in another ledger.
"All done. You may go," the dwarf concluded, handing me the pouch back. I stashed it quickly and walked away, still with anger churning in my stomach.
I stepped outside and saw Lukas waiting, looking sour.
"What happened?" I asked.
"They plucked me clean," he answered with a frown. "Twenty-three crowns in taxes, can you believe it? That's more than two years of what I earned hauling crates, gone in a breath."
"Wait, wait… twenty-three? That means you had…" I did the math on my fingers.
"More than two hundred," Lukas replied, still upset.
"And how the hell did you get three times what I had?" I said, completely shocked.
"Dah… gambling, how else?" he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"What?" I blurted, incredulous.
"Yes… in taverns. Dice, cards… the usual," he answered with a frustrated look.
"And you wasted it like an idiot? How much did you have in total?" I pressed.
"Twice as much," he said, wiping his nose quickly with a finger.
"Nooo!" I said, staring at him.
"Drop it already. I don't want to talk about it anymore. We've got days off, let's make the most of them," Lukas said.
"Who said that?" I asked, interested.
"The sergeant. A whole week free. After that we report five days a week at the camp while waiting for the next campaign. It'll be next year, though nobody knows in which month. So enjoy while you can."
"I see… then I'll head home and see how things are. I haven't heard a word from my family since I left the city," I said, adjusting my pack.
"Yeah, me too… though first I'm going to see if any tavern sells Bugman's beer. That kick is worth it," Lukas said with a grin.
"I don't know how you could drink that without passing out," I answered, shaking my head.
"It's called having a refined palate… for good dwarfen beer," Lukas shot back, before disappearing into the city crowd and leaving me alone in the square.
I quickly adjusted my musket and started walking through the city toward my home. Nothing seemed to have changed much, except the streets looked cleaner and more orderly. There were more guards than usual—of course, the great harvest festival was near, and security always doubled around those dates.
When I arrived, my house looked the same, which calmed me down: nothing serious had happened. I didn't waste time before banging on the door.
I knocked several times until finally, someone opened it. A head peeked out.
"Yes?... we already paid this year's taxes, officer," said my mother.
"Come now, mother… I haven't changed so much that you can't recognize me," I said with a huge smile.
She narrowed her eyes. "Josef?" she asked, reaching her hands toward my face. "Josef! My son, what joy to see you again… but what happened to you? You look so different… that beard, all dirty and unkempt!"
"Enough, stop it, ha, ha… where are father and my brothers?" I asked as I stepped inside and saw my sisters helping mother with the cooking.
"Working. Your father found a job with a merchant who needs men to move goods around the city. He's been there almost three months now, pays well," my mother answered, wiping her hands on her apron.
I dropped my pack, set the musket aside, and put the bayonet back into its pouch.
"Ah… blessed Sigmar, I'm so tired," I sighed, collapsing into one of the chairs.
"The campaign, did it go well?" one of my sisters asked, her hands covered in flour.
"Yes… though my feet felt like they were full of needles, from so much marching without rest. Days upon days walking, from the south of the Empire. We fought against greenskins, the terrifying waaaaagh giant-greens," I said while picking up my younger sister, who was clumsily slicing apples.
"By Shallya…!" my mother exclaimed, worried. "And Lukas? How is he?"
"He's fine. Probably drunk already… he's grown fond of dwarfen beer. Says it makes him feel invincible the day after drinking that oil-like stuff. But our general never sent us to the front, always kept us behind. You can rest easy," I said, trying to reassure her.
"You don't know how much relief that brings me… You came back alive, and that's what matters. Now I hope you quit this life and find work with your father and brothers," she said, her eyes still filled with concern.
"What for? Look." I set my younger sister back down so she could keep cutting and pulled the coin pouch from my pack. "Look what I earned while away."
I placed it in her hands. She opened it and went pale.
"Josef… where did you steal this from?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"No, mother! It's my pay… and part of my right to loot," I said to calm her.
"Ah, blessed Sigmar!" she murmured.
"How much is it?" one of my sisters asked while kneading the crust of an apple pie.
"About seventy gold crowns… and a pile of silver," I answered.
"That's a lot…" said the eldest.
"Too much," added the middle one.
"Well, I'm still under contract. I'm still working for the general until I'm discharged from the army. By the way, mother… is my bed free? I need more sleep," I said, turning to her while counting the coins with trembling hands.
"Yes, it's always been ready for the day you returned," she answered.
I went up to my room and collapsed on the bed. I don't know how long I slept, but I woke up suddenly when something heavy landed on my stomach. I opened my eyes: my coins were scattered over me and my father was standing there with a smile.
"Come eat. Your brothers want to hear more of your stories," he said cheerfully.
"Yeah, sure," I replied, getting up with a yawn.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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