Kaspar looked outside and saw hundreds of angry faces surrounding the coach, pressing in around the knights and hurling abuse at them. None dared approach them too closely, but Kaspar could see the mood was ugly.
'What are they doing?' said Kaspar, 'And what are they shouting?'
'They know about Alexander.' said Pavel in alarm. 'Not happy about it.'
The yells of the crowd grew louder and the motion of the carriage slowed yet further as more and more angry people pressed in around them. Kaspar now questioned the wisdom of travelling through the city in a carriage liveried with his own personal heraldry and that of the Empire. His knights yelled at the Kislevites to stand back, and even though their words were not understood, their meaning was plain from the way they jabbed their lance butts into the faces of those who got too close to the carriage.
Kaspar saw that they were less than a hundred yards from the palace gates, and there were a score of bronze armoured knights on snorting chargers sitting immobile before the massive building.
Why didn't they advance, wondered Kaspar? Surely they must see that they were in need of assistance?
Then he realised that the knights had probably been ordered not to intervene.
Wood splintered as a cobble torn up from the ground smashed into the carriage.
Kaspar flinched as more missiles rained down on the carriage, thudding against the woodwork and smashing the glass into lethal slivers. Cries of pain and alarm came from his guards on the running boards.
And the crowd surged forwards in anger.
VI
THE DOOR SPLINTERED under his assault, slamming back on its hinges and cracking the plastered wall behind it. He leapt through the doorway, scenting his prey from the upper levels of the townhouse. The inside of the dwelling was well appointed, obviously that of a wealthy man, though he had no idea of his name.
He had woken with a face burning in his mind, the early darkness of evening dispelled in the flood of anger and hate that surged through his veins at this latest feast set before him. He neither knew nor cared how these visions came to him to unleash his trueself; that they came and released him from the hellish servitude behind the mask of the beaten and abused otherself.
His trueself would not have suffered the abuse heaped upon the otherself. Had it not in fact ended it?
She had seen beyond the snivelling boy He had made him and awakened his trueself to its full potential. How he had laughed and wept the day he had ended the otherself'ssuffering, hacking Him into bloody pieces with the axe before setting down to devour the chunks of meat straight from the bone.
Only for her could he have done and continue to do such things.
The hallway was dark and he could see two armoured figures making their way down the stairs towards him, swords raised before them. Knights with panther pelts draped across their shoulder guards stood between him and his prey and that could not be allowed to happen.
Even through their enclosed helms, he could sense their disgust at his naked form and the dead skin mask he wore. How little they understood of him. One of the knights shouted something at him and he saw three figures sprint across the landing above. The scent of prey filled his senses and he roared in fury.
The first knight lunged, swinging his sword towards his midriff, but he rolled beneath the blow, dragging his knife from his flesh and thrusting it through the gap between the cuissart and tace of the knight's armour; The man screamed shrilly as the narrow blade split the links of his mail skirt and sheathed itself in his thigh. A twist of the wrist severed the main artery and he spun to his feet as the warrior fell, blood spraying from the wound.
The other knight stepped towards him and hammered his sword down, but he was no longer there, vaulting backwards over the slashing blade. He landed lightly, pivoting on one leg and thundering his barefoot into the side of the knight's thigh. Metal crumpled under the tremendous force of the blow and he heard the crack of his opponent's thighbone shattering.
The man roared in pain and collapsed. Even before the knight hit the ground, he was sprinting upstairs, taking them three at a time. He leapt to the landing, heading in the direction his prey had taken and smashing through every door between him and his goal.
He was close and shoulder charged the next door, entering a sumptuously appointed bedroom. A thick-timbered four-poster bed, draped in red and gold silks, dominated the room, but he paid it no mind as he saw the three people before him.
He saw their faces twist in terror as he stood before them in all his naked glory.
Their terror of him filled the air with a succulent tang and he laughed.
Then he saw her.
And his world turned upside down.
VII
'DRIVE!' SHOUTED KASPAR through the smashed carriage window.
He heard the crack of a whip, but the carriage could make little headway through the crowd pressed tightly around it. Angry shouts and yells filled the air and Kaspar could hear cries of pain mingled with those of rage as his guards and knights fought to defend him.
He saw that the knights had discarded their lances as too cumbersome to use in such close quarters and had drawn their swords. 'No!' yelled Kaspar. 'No killing.'
He had no way of knowing whether the knights had heard him until he saw that they were setting about themselves with the flats of their blades and pommels.
The embassy guards, still clinging to the carriage's running boards, lashed out with iron-shod boots, breaking limbs and fending off those members of the crowd who got too close to the carriage doors. More cobbles and other missiles rained down on the carriage and Kaspar knew it would not be long before they were totally overrun.
'Damn it, why don't those damned Kislevite knights sally out?' bellowed Kaspar, punching a yelling man's face as he attempted to climb inside the carriage.
'Ice Queen teach us lesson I think,' ventured Pavel, snapping a wrist that reached inside the broken window. There was a scream and the limb was hastily withdrawn.
The Knights Panther circled the carriage, smashing the flats of their blades down into the crowd as their horses stamped with their forelegs and drew sparks from the cobbles. The powerful shoulders of the giant warhorses stood taller than most of the people in the crowd and their great size was as much a deterrent as their lashing hooves.
But there was only so much the knights could do without resorting to lethal force and soon they were surrounded by the angry mob that struck at them with improvised clubs, rocks or whatever came to hand. None of these makeshift weapons stood any chance of penetrating the plate armour of the knights, but as the number of blows increased, they were eventually overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers.
One was dragged from his horse and the mob descended upon him, raining blows down upon his helmet until blood leaked from his gorget and stained the cobbles. Another knight's horse screamed in pain as some enterprising attacker managed to get behind it and slash the beast's hamstrings. It crashed to the ground, spilling its rider who, miraculously, was able to roll to his feet. He had lost his sword in the fall, but punched out with mailed gauntlets.
Kaspar kicked and punched as the crowd pushed their way in through the doors of his carriage. Pavel kept them at bay from the other door, but it was only a matter of time until they were dragged outside. Kaspar raged at the crowd's mob mentality and cursed the fact that his ambassadorship was likely to end on such a sour note; torn to pieces by the very people he was here to help.
Wood splintered as the crowd punched through the thin timbers of the carriage and began tearing through the walls.
'Pavel!' shouted Kaspar.
'I see!'
A screaming man lunged inside, spittle flying from his lips as he reached for Kaspar. His punch was hampered by the close confines of the carriage and Kaspar was able to roll with the blow. He felt the skin break on his cheek and grabbed the man by the front of his ragged, peasant's tunic, lowering his head and hammering his forehead into the man's face.
&
nbsp; The man screamed, bone broke and blood burst from his nose as he tumbled backwards.
A hand reached in and hauled him backwards as others pinned his arms by his side.
'Damn you!' he bellowed as he was struck on the side of the head. Fists and booted feet hammered his side and he felt himself being dragged outside. He thumped down onto the cobbles of the square, catching sight of Pavel on the other side of the coach as he landed. He covered his head with his arms and drew his legs up as blows continued to rain down on him.
Screams and noise filled the air, but even in the confusion, Kaspar could sense a different tenor to them. The people attacking him scattered, running as though the very daemons of Chaos were hot on their heels. He rolled onto his side, wincing as he felt a sharp pain in his ribs, and crawled across the slushy ground to take refuge beneath the smashed remains of his carriage.
Pavel joined him, his face a mask of blood where a kick had opened the skin above his left eye.
'Bastards wait until now...' observed the big Kislevite.
'What?' asked Kaspar, still breathless and dazed.
'There,' said Pavel, pointing to where a score of bronze-armoured knights rode through the crowd, their swords cutting a path through the mob towards them. Their breastplates were emblazoned with a silver bear and their helms were crowned with long-fanged skulls.
They herded the crowd away from the carriage, offering no quarter to anyone who didn't get out of the way quickly enough. Blood stained the cobbles as their swords chopped a path towards them. The six Knights Panther, one helmetless and supported by two of his brethren, formed a line of battle between these armoured giants and the ambassador. The embassy guards stumbled to join them and, seeing from their tattered uniforms and battered appearance that they too had fought tooth and nail with the enraged crowd, Kaspar's heart swelled with pride.
The Kislevite knights reined in their steeds before the Knights Panther, who raised their swords and stood ready to use them.
The lead knight sheathed his bloody blade and said, 'Ambassador von Velten, Ice Queen will see you now.'
Kaspar crawled out from beneath the carriage and pulled himself to his feet using the broken carriage wheel. His knee cracked painfully, and he wiped himself down as best he could, straightening his torn tunic and britches before addressing the knight. He fought to keep his voice even.
'Very well, if this is how she wants to play it, so be it.'
Surrounded by his battered entourage, Kaspar followed the knights through the gates of the Winter Palace.
VIII
THE HALLS OF the Ice Queen had not changed since he had last stood here. The walls of ice still glittered magnificently, the high ceiling's mosaic was still as impressive and the air was still as chill as he remembered. But rather than coming as a reluctant guest, this time he was here as an apologist. The bile rose in his throat at the thought of abasing himself before this haughty woman who had, to his mind, nearly gotten them all killed. As it was, one of his knights had a cracked skull and would likely not see active duty for many weeks. The embassy guards had broken limbs and severe cuts and bruises, and both he and Pavel would be badly bruised for some time to come as well.
Pavel dabbed a cold cloth on his forehead, cleaning the blood from his face as best he could while Kaspar made another futile attempt to make himself look more presentable and less like a filthy peasant.
He had hoped they would have been given time to clean up properly, but it appeared the Ice Queen was not to allow them that luxury either. As soon as they had entered the palace, a harried looking Pjotr Losov had rushed out to meet them, his face lined with concern.
'Ambassador von Velten!' he gushed. 'What times we live in when a man of your standing can be attacked by the mob. It shall not go unpunished I assure you.'
'It wouldn't have happened at all if your damn knights had come to our aid sooner,' snapped Kaspar, his patience worn thin.
'I know, I know, I cannot apologise enough, herr ambassador,' nodded Losov, 'but the palace knights have very specific orders that do not allow them to abandon their posts without express permission from their commander. Unfortunately, it took me some time to locate him.'
'How inconvenient...' said Pavel.
'Indeed so,' smiled Losov, oblivious to or, more likely, ignoring Pavel's sarcasm.
'Some of my men are badly hurt,' said Kaspar. 'They will need water and bandages.'
'I will see to it immediately,' assured Losov, snapping his fingers and barking orders at a blue-liveried servant.
'Your men will be attended to now, herr ambassador, but I'm afraid I must insist that you follow me to the South Hall immediately. The Tzarina awaits your pleasure, and she will not like to be kept waiting any longer than she has already.'
The Tzarina's chief advisor had led them through the main vestibule and up the garland-wreathed staircase they had ascended on their last visit to the palace, though it felt rather less grand than before.
All through the journey, Kaspar had fought for control. The Ice Queen, through Losov, was berating them for keeping her waiting! Damn her, but she was testing his patience.
They had entered the main hall where the dancing had taken place during his previous audience and, despite himself, he found himself craning his neck upwards to stare in wonder at the majesty of the Winter Palace.
He caught himself and returned his gaze to the double doors at the end of the hall, understanding the subtlety of the Ice Queen in choosing to hold her audiences in this place, where the incredible display of her sorcererous powers were so obviously demonstrated.
The clock above the doors chimed and they were thrown wide open as the Ice Queen entered the room, together with her bloated retinue of flunkies, favourites, aides, scribes and hangers-on. She was as magnificent as Kaspar remembered, and he could feel the temperature of the hall drop sharply as she neared. Dressed in a long, ivory gown sewn with pearls and shards of ice, she seemed to glide across the floor. Her hair was worn loosely about her shoulders, its hue more icy and cold than Kaspar had remembered it, secured about her forehead by clips of coloured ice. Kaspar saw that once again she was armed with the ancient blade of the Khan Queens, Fearfrost.
Her eyes were like diamonds, hard and sharp, and a painted tear of ice glittered on her cheek.
'She not look happy,' commented Pavel.
'No,' agreed Kaspar as a trio of burly warriors with bare chests, long topknots and waxed moustaches carried a high backed chair of gold and lapis lazuli and deposited it next to their queen before standing behind her with their powerfully muscled arms crossed.
She sat on the throne, not yet deigning to look in their direction as she arranged her scabbarded sword so that it rested upon her lap.
Kaspar shivered, feeling the waves of icy cold that radiated from the queen and her weapon. Before he could say a single word, the Ice Queen crossed her hands across the translucent scabbard and said, 'We have been grievously wounded, Ambassador von Velten. One of Kislev's beloved sons has been taken from us.'
Kaspar knew he had to choose his words carefully and said, 'Your Majesty, on behalf of the Emperor Karl-Franz, may I offer you my nation's most sincere apologies and most fervent condolences upon your loss. It is my understanding that Alexander was a credit to your family.'
The corners of the Ice Queen's mouth twitched as she said, 'Yes, he was a fine figure of a man and his loss will be felt keenly. Tell me, how is it that he died?'
Kaspar hesitated for the briefest second, realising that to lie would be pointless, but knowing that this was not the time to elaborate upon the sordid details of Alexander's death. He saw the veiled threat in the Tzarina's lightly asked question and carefully framed his answer in his head before speaking.
'He... ah, I am told he was killed by ruffians over a matter of some monies owed.'
'Monies? How is it that a noble of Kislev could find himself in such a position? My royal cousin was a man of means. More likely, your usurious clerks of Altdor
f hounded him to his death over a matter of a few pfennigs.'
'Your majesty, there is much I do not yet know of the circumstances surrounding Alexander's passing, I am merely here to offer the Emperor's condolences and present to you an offer of reparations for your loss.'
'Reparations?' snapped the Ice Queen. 'What manner of "reparations" can salve the loss of one so dear to me as Alexander. He was a saint amongst men, and your damned officious nation no doubt delighted in seeing him humbled so.'
'I assure you, Majesty, that is not the case,' said Kaspar evenly.
'Don't play games with me, Ambassador von Velten, it is no secret to me how your precious Emperor sees my nation: a vassal state, a convenient buffer between the Empire and the northern barbarian tribes. The deaths of our sons and daughters keep your lands safe. We are nothing more than allies of convenience for you and your people.'
'Your majesty-' began Kaspar, but the Ice Queen was not done yet.
'Every year the tribes of the north raid and plunder our lands, killing hundreds of my people. We bleed for this land and each time we drive them back to their wasteland homes. And what thanks do we get for this great sacrifice?'
Kaspar clenched his fists as the Ice Queen berated him. He couldn't believe she had the gall to suggest such things. Were not men of the Empire dying even now to defend her wretched land? As the Ice Queen berated him further, Kaspar could feel his temper, already frayed by the violence unleashed in Geroyev Square, threatening to get the better of him.
'We call upon your Emperor for aid, but only when you believe your own lands are threatened do you send any warriors.'
'Damn you, woman,' barked Kaspar, his patience finally at an end. He stepped forward, the Tzarina's guards stepping from behind her throne to intercept the enraged Empire general.
'Kaspar, no...' began Pavel, but it was too late.
'How dare you say such things,' shouted Kaspar. 'My countrymen are dying here and now in your miserable country to keep us safe. You know as well as I that our nations have always fought side by side against the tribes of Chaos. Thousands of the Emperor's soldiers are camped outside your walls right now, cold and hungry, but ready to stand before our enemies no matter what. I will not stand to hear these insults heaped on the heads of men of such courage. And if you don't like that, then you can go to hell... your majesty.'
Warhammer - [The Ambassador Chronicles 01] - The Ambassador Page 12