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Nachhexen-8-2494
Everything had gone well, though I detested the idea of such a public marriage. I had imagined a small ceremony, with a few priests of Sigmar, the Grand Theogonist, and some close friends like Duran. Nothing more.
But what took place was a colossal festivity. Outside the cathedral throngs of pilgrims crowded together to catch even a glimpse, and the streets were overflowing thanks to the banquet the Emperor had ordered: food and drink were distributed in immense quantities to any who wished to join the celebration.
Ambassadors from other nations came, along with multitudes of nobles. The cathedral was packed, every seat taken, all to witness the ceremony in Sigmar's name, where the Grand Theogonist joined Katarin and me in marriage.And that was not even the worst of it for our private life.
The priestesses of Shallya took Katarin to examine her purity, and soon it became public that her maidenhood remained intact. I would have greatly preferred such a detail kept quiet, but no— it became the centerpiece of the day. For hours the whispers and jests revolved around my virility and Katarin's fertility.
I was uncomfortable; I loathe excessive attention, and now everything turned upon matters that should belong to the private. I would not have been surprised to find my private life written in the morning gazettes, so much was it spoken of in the halls and the streets.
After all that chaos, at least the ceremony ended with a banquet in the Imperial Palace. There were endless dances which, as guest of honor, I found tedious. At least now that I was wed, many of the ladies who used to approach me kept their distance… though a few still tried. Katarin, however, had changed since the union: more possessive, her cold gaze piercing every woman who came near me, whether for politics or for business.
For the first time I enjoyed a banquet in peace. Duran was in high spirits, drinking Bugman's ale as if it were water, laughing at the whole affair. Between toasts he promised me that when his turn came to wed a dawi of good standing, he would invite me to his marriage. Of course, that would be at least a decade or more away, for he was still young by dawi standards and still seeking the right alliance with a king who could bring him prestige.
The alliance with Kislev was now reality: in the eyes of all, the marriage had been consummated, despite all precautions and secrecy meant to prevent leaks. It was, however, a matter of the past; the night had ended.
When I awoke, I still felt the fatigue of the banquet. Katarin lay at my side, naked and asleep, the pillow marked by the drool she had left in her rest. Moving carefully so as not to wake her, I drew on my left gauntlet and, by sheer habit—too accustomed never to remove them—slipped on my rings. They were part of me as I began the day.
"Where are you going?" Katarin asked, half-rising, her voice still caught in sleep.
"I am going to see how our guests fare. You know the dawi grow quarrelsome when they drink; besides, I must get them a few more barrels of Bugman's ale so they can drink themselves to sleep." I answered with the calm I pretended to feel.
She nodded without a word, fussing with the sheets as I rose.
When I entered the chamber where the dawi had been lodged, I found them again lost in their drinking, savoring each draught with the seriousness of those who regard ale as nearly food. No surprise: the dwarfen recipe was famed for being nourishing and hearty; many could live off it for days. It was no wonder to see them drinking without thought of food.
"Duran, my friend… tell me, have my lodgings been worthy?" I asked the thane, looking over the piles of mugs and the rows of barrels.
"Ah… Dawongi… of course they have. I thank you for the invitation to be here, especially for your vast reserves of Bugman's. You've bought enough ale to sate a true hall of warriors." Duran pointed at the casks meant for thousands.
"I am glad to hear it… nothing pleases me more than knowing I have been a good host to my dawi friends. Ah, I nearly forgot—thank you for having your runesmiths aid me with the last details of my attire. I did not know how else to add value to something so simple, and the Emperor kept insisting, and insisting, that I must show economic power, that I could not simply go in plain blue cloth, for it would make me look poor and lacking in strength," I said, watching them still drinking.
"Ah, yes… showing power is important. No one likes a lord who shows no wealth. Can you imagine High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer walking? Ridiculous! The thought alone makes my beard bristle. The High King must ever remain upon his throne," Duran said gravely.
"True… though personally I dislike it. I find no joy in flaunting riches. But so be it… this year will be a great year, my friend. We go to Karak Eight Peaks, and this time we shall recover the fortress—or at the very least give all aid we can. We have a direct train to Karaz-a-Karak that will take us in a few days, and first I must only make a short journey to Kislev, where there will be a second ceremony. Thus I will fulfill my promise to aid the dawi in reclaiming what is theirs from the greenskins and the thagoraki."
My thoughts were already upon the campaign, the battles to come, and the wealth that might be found in one of the greatest fortresses of the Old World.
"I am glad to hear it. Any aid is welcome, especially yours and that of your personal army. I do not believe there is any better ally to support our honorable people in that mission." Duran smiled, turning his head to look at something.
When I turned, I saw Katarin had already returned, dressed in her usual garb, taking my right arm.
"So this is the lady of high birth from that northern empire… I hope the dowry was worthy, for she does not look fat enough," Duran said in a watchful tone, his eyes on Katarin.
"Thank you?" she replied coldly.
"For them, a plump, curvy woman is the most attractive thing they can find," I whispered to her.
"That's true, my friend — my beautiful wife." I put an arm around her and drew her to my waist.
"I'm glad to hear it. May Valaya bless your union and grant you many children! May they be friends of my future descendants, and may our friendship endure through the generations." Duran raised his mug; his kin and warriors followed suit.
Katarin rested her head on my shoulder as she watched the scene, and for a few moments I felt something strange: the happiness of possessing what had once been denied to me.
A metallic clatter pulled me from my thoughts. Turning my head, I saw one of my guards standing stiffly, waiting to address me.
"What is it?" I asked, taking Katarin's hand.
"My lord… we have received word of an attack. A group of Bretonnian Damsels crossed the border without our notice. They reached one of the new villages and tried to take several women. Fortunately, the populace raised such an outcry that it alerted the witch hunters; otherwise they would have escaped without difficulty."
"Bretonnia…? Were there casualties or did they only flee?" I asked, clenching my fist.
"There was a fight, sir. The sorceresses fought the witch hunters and the guards. They were shot down, but thirteen of our men fell in the skirmish. Hours later knights of the Grail arrived to recover the bodies. There was another clash and five more of our men fell before we managed to stop them."
"Shall we cancel the plans… and march to Bretonnia?" Katarin asked, looking at me with determination.
"Ah… those manlings, how dare they! Right on such an important day." Duran sprang up, filled with fury.
"It is serious, but I do not think it warrants going to Bretonnia… not now." I said, watching Duran's obvious consternation. "I can think of punishments that will hurt them a thousand times more than a defeat in the field. For the moment, everything remains as planned, except that we probably will not set out for Kislev immediately. I will have to speak with some people to see if something feasible can be arranged."
"Dawongi, you need not throw yourself away to help the dawi if your honour is unresolved. We understand there are more important matters." Duran spoke calmly, though his hands would not stop trembling.
"Calm yourself. I have a plan to strike back without going in person. Helping the dawi remains my priority, but that does not mean I will not seek vengeance. They will pay dearly." I said, with Katarin at my side and leaving the hall.
"What will we do, then, since you do not wish to go to Bretonnia?" Katarin asked, looking at me with resolve.
"If I go to Bretonnia now, I will not obtain the gold we need to fund the works and the troops. I want to crush them, believe me, but we would gain no wealth: only more debt. To make the Bretonnians productive again will require spending a great deal of coin; what I have now is borrowed and I cannot keep taking loans indefinitely without causing inflation. I need the dawi's gold for that—if spent correctly, it avoids those inflationary effects. That is why we cannot abandon the dawi or fail to visit them." I answered, weighing every word.
"Then what shall we do? Your reputation with the dwarfs is vital; all that runic armament you obtained through them is an economic and political asset. We cannot afford to lose that alliance." Katarin spoke seriously.
"I know. I have an idea: I cannot go to Bretonnia immediately. The notion of burning some ducal seat as reprisal would take months at best, and I would rather not it would mean facing hundreds of Bretonnian sorceresses.''i said
and I would also have to deal with a magical duel against the Fay Enchantress, unless I can find a way to eliminate her beforehand.
"I will see if I can gather some men from Kislev to join your forces. They may not be many, but you've seen they lack not for courage," Katarin said.
"Thanks," I replied. "That helps. I also know where to find more men, although I never liked the idea of recruiting Bretonnians. Even so, I can raise an army with them. The problem remains the gold. We will secure war funds by aiding the dawi; when we have the resources, we will launch the campaign against Bretonnia, probably in winter, using your witches' magic so the cold does not kill us. For now I will tell my dwarf friends that revenge will come later: everything is planned, and when we return from Karaz-a-Karak laden with gold, Bretonnia will burn." I said, tracing the strategy in my mind.
"Very well," Katarin answered. "I will go to Kislev to inform my father and see if he can send troops to aid you in the campaign." She looked at me firmly, as if already mapping the war.
I nodded and donned my armor. Everything required the appearance of movement: we had to seem ready to take immediate measures against Bretonnia. I requested an audience with the Emperor; I asked for time while diplomatic channels attempted to resolve the matter before I launched any strike. It was a perfect excuse: in the dawi's eyes, following the orders of one's superiors is sacred, and as long as the grievance rested with the hierarchy, honour would be deemed in the process of being addressed. In the end, by seeming to have followed proper channels, all would be well.
Afterward I went to Marienburg with the aim of beginning to recruit a force of Bretonnians who would appear destined to return to their lands: thus, when the time came to demonstrate readiness for war, I could show movement and organisation without spending now the gold we need for our works.
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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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