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Nachhexen-7-2494
Pov of Karl Franz Holswig-Schliestein
"Which one do you think she will like best?" asked Albrecht, showing me the box with its collection of rings.
"I do not feel the magic in the rings as you do," I replied, casting a cold glance over them. "I cannot tell what they do, nor which wind empowers them."
Albrecht let out a short, impatient laugh. "It is hardly that difficult. This one is runic, with a rune of restoration; this enchanted with Ghyran to strengthen regeneration. This other draws from the wind of Chamon: it repairs metal every few seconds—it is my own creation, I had thought to add it to my weapons. Here is one of Hysh, to help steady the mind. These are what I have; the others should have arrived, but they are delayed."
I studied him for a moment, weighing the similar effects of several of the rings. "The dawi ring is the most fitting. It shows your wife also seeks to bind herself closer to the dwarfs."
Albrecht nodded and carefully set the rings back into the box. "I only hope she will like it."
I raised a brow. "Are you having trouble with Katarin?" I asked, mindful of the alliance with Kislev.
"Not at all," Albrecht answered, calm but strained. "She has been steadier since we aided Kislev; letters say the realm is recovering after the defeat of the Chaos host. Her urgent calls have ceased, and now she conducts herself as one would expect—cold, distant… though at times she smiles. I only pray this does not sour into a venomous marriage."
"It should not," I replied, fixing him with a steady gaze. "Unless all I know of you is false, I see no reason for disaster. You fret over which ring to give her as a token, and you keep no mistresses—known ones, at least. Beyond your manner, there is little cause for her contempt."
Albrecht exhaled deeply and closed the lid of the box. "Was it truly necessary for so many nobles to attend the ceremony? I would have preferred something private, without the Empire's fanfare."
"This is an alliance of the highest order," I said. "The nobility must witness it, and they must know the Emperor's hand supports the union. The plan to bind Kislev as vassal must be made plain—though the true circumstances that led you into this match with the Tsar and his daughter are another matter entirely. And with those loans from the Imperial Bank, I trust you have little reason to complain of the marriage."
Albrecht fell silent, thoughtful, a faint smile crossing his face. I pressed him with a difficult question. "After your marriage—and I know my father will want to ask the same—have you any notion why the Bretonnians flee en masse into your lands? The Bretonnian envoy presses us to act, and I know not how to halt it without imposing heavy restrictions on trade, which would anger the merchants. So I ask you: do you have anything to do with it?"
"What?" said Albrecht, surprised. "I have no knowledge of that… though it might explain that increase in population beyond my plans. The problem is, I do not yet know how many heads there are: the census has not been taken. But no, Franz. My priorities are clear: first the dawi; then cleansing the forests of beastmen and dealing with the necromancers; and only then, if the Bretonnians keep sending knights intent on killing me, would I consider action against Bretonnia. For now, I will not involve myself in a Bretonnian campaign. I have affairs with the dawi and preparations ahead; then I shall look north to aid Kislev. This has nothing to do with me."
I nodded, convinced of his sincerity: he had ever been methodical and focused upon his goals. "I am glad to hear it. I suppose you will be preparing; all takes place soon, does it not?" I said, gathering my cloak.
"A couple of hours yet, but it is better to be ready. I will not arrive late to my own wedding—Katarin would never forgive me," said Albrecht, smiling with a mixture of nerves and relief.
Quickly, the champion of Sigmar left the palace for the cathedral, occupied with the last arrangements of a wedding already spoken of throughout the city. What had been kept secret had swiftly turned to rumor; the local papers carried the news, and the taverns repeated the wildest tales brought in by Reikguard spies.
No expense had been spared in security: ambassadors of other nations would attend, and the risk of an attempt compelled stricter measures. Hundreds of Reikguard watched the streets around the cathedral; warrior-priests and witch hunters rotated through the guard shifts; wizards remained alert to any indiscreet use of magic that might endanger the ceremony. In the week before, witch hunters had doubled their patrols across the city, and after thorough investigations had seized two suspect groups, proven guilty and already paraded in the square.
We had done all we could to ensure success; moreover, several Electors would attend, for one of their number was to be wed.
I reviewed the last security reports delivered to me by Reikguard agents and the city guard commanders: all was in order. With my father and sister, I rode by carriage to the cathedral adjoining the Imperial Palace; we were among the first of the high nobility to arrive. Passing through the sea of pilgrims and townsfolk eager to witness the ceremony, I noted the blend of curiosity and devotion: it was striking that the faith which had hunted wizards for centuries now stood to bless the marriage of two of them.
We took our seats of honor, from where we could see both the readers and arch-lectors of the Cult, as well as the greater part of the Electors who had accepted the invitation. Conversations around us circled the recent incidents in the city, the cults uncovered, and the aid dispatched to Stirland; men and women traded rumors and conjecture in hushed tones as we waited.
Albrecht arrived as always: sheathed in an immaculate blue coat that made plain he could afford fabrics and pigments denied to most. The row of buttons, the work of runic smiths, gleamed with a flawless finish; the adornments at the collar and forearm bore inlays crafted by dawi runesmiths. A chain of blessed silver crossed his chest on the left, from which several Sigmar medallions hung. Matching blue trousers and a sword at his side completed the image; his black leather boots were sober, yet the value of the runic fittings and dyes could well equal the price of a house in the noble quarter.
Katarin appeared in keeping with Kislevite custom: layered cloaks and furs, tanned and dyed a pale blue. She carried small enchanted trinkets, rings and amulets that gave off a chill—more austere than her husband's presence. The contrast between them was telling, and made it quickly clear which of the two was the wealthier.
As they walked smiling, the great theogonist waited beneath the imposing statue of Sigmar that watched over the square.
"My Emperor, we have a problem," one of the Reikguard spies whispered.
"What is it? Is it grave?" my father asked without turning his gaze from the ceremony, though his smile tightened.
"The matter is diplomatic and could escalate to war. The Bretonnian ambassador demands an immediate audience and also calls for a representative of the witch hunters." The spy spoke low, trying not to alarm those nearby.
"What happened that has the Bretonnian ambassador so enraged?" I asked the spy.
"An incident with Damsels of the Grail inside Imperial territory," he began, hurried to explain.
"Damsels of the Grail inside the Empire? Have the Bretonnians lost their minds? Those women serve only their king and dukes; it must have been a Bretonnian action… what exactly happened?" I said, noting the spy's hesitation as the carriage moved.
"According to the witch hunter, they were attempting to take a group of women from the villages of the Westerlands to serve their goddess. A contingent of witch hunters, supported by a local Bretonnian and members of the elector count's garrison, intervened. It ended in a fight in the city: three witch hunters and ten garrison men died, and the Damsels were killed by a priest of Sigmar and other witch hunters in the area."
"Damn…" I muttered. "This will put Albrecht straight on their necks—he is most aggressive with such offenses. I cannot imagine how he will take this when he learns it all. Is that why the ambassador is furious? We should be the ones demanding explanations." I brought my hand to my face, incredulous at the scale of the disaster.
The spy raised his shoulders. "I do not know, my Prince. It seems the ambassador was informed that three Damsels had been killed and claimed those servants remained the property of Bretonnia, that this property had never been recognized as anything else, and that the murder of Damsels attempting to be taken—something belonging to the realm—was a grave offense," the spy said, wearing a face that showed he could hardly believe what the ambassador was alleging.
"These blasted Bretonnians making a scene…" I mumbled between my teeth. "Knowing Albrecht, he will want heads to roll. After the purge he carried out against that tribe of green skins near the Pale Sisters, I would not be surprised if he provoked an invasion of Bretonnia. Exactly what we do not need: one of the elector counts already making everyone nervous with his growing power. I am certain he will crush the Bretonnians if he decides to. What shall we do… will he accept that we do not expand his territory further?"
The spy forced a tight smile; his teeth showed the strain. "Do you not think negotiation might be possible?"
"Negotiate?" I repeated, incredulous. "For Sigmar's sake, with what face could I negotiate when neither Bretonnia nor Albrecht will yield? If Bretonnia thinks it can enter Imperial lands to retrieve a chosen of their goddess as if nothing happened, we are in trouble. I very much doubt they seek a peaceful solution. If we demand reparations, they will grow angrier if they believe themselves right."
I closed my eyes for a second and ran my hand across my face, exhausted. "And Albrecht… that case is lost. Unless Bretonnia humiliates itself and begs pardon on its knees, he will throw himself upon them until they are dead.
At last we returned to the palace, which remained calm, ignorant of the chaos being stirred.
"Let us hope this finishes without ruining the night by telling him now… we cannot spoil this evening by giving him this news. Let us pray no one informs him, or he will be very angry. Negotiation is likely lost, but I will see what I can do and try to bring the Bretonnians to reason," I said as I walked toward where the ambassador was to be found, waiting.
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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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