Slaves to Darkness 02 (The Blades of Chaos)

by Warhammer

  'What do you think this "Expedition to the East" is?' he said, handing it back. 'Nothing but orcs and dwarfs in the Grey Mountains, so what's a lady of Marienburg want there?'

  'I've no answer, just as I've had no answer all the other times you've asked me that question,' Ursula said. 'If you've got such misgivings, why did you agree to come?'

  Ruprecht felt a pang of guilt. He had not told Ursula of his decision to leave her - it had seemed unnecessary at the time. However, it was too late now, it would only cause her more hurt, and now that she was so much brighter, it seemed the wrong thing to do.

  'Someone's got to keep an eye on you, stop you getting yourself into more trouble,' he said. It was only a half-lie, after all. He really did care about Ursula and certainly wasn't going to let her stumble off into some half-arsed escapade that could wind up with her lying dead on some distant mountain.

  Goeyen returned with plates of fish stew and a loaf of bread. Behind him came a short, fat man with olive skin and narrow eyes and a black pointed beard, swathed in a heavy travelling cloak.

  'This is Asbadul Khemen, Lady Halste's envoy,' the landlord told them. 'He's the man who'll tell you what you need to know.'

  With a nod, Goeyen wandered off, leaving Khemen standing opposite Ruprecht and Ursula. He smiled hesitantly.

  'Oh, please, sit down,' Ursula said, standing and pulling another chair up to the table. 'You don't mind if we talk and eat, do you? Only, I'm famished and didn't have breakfast today.'

  'Please, whatever you wish,' Khemen said, plucking a handkerchief from his voluminous cloak and wiping down the seat before sitting. They sat there for a moment in silence, Khemen eyeing them nervously, Ruprecht surrounded by an almost tangible cloud of suspicion.

  'My name is Ursula Schenk,' Ursula said, reaching for her plate. 'And this is my friend Ruprecht. He used to be called The Bear, you know.'

  'Really?' Khemen replied, looking the burly Ruprecht up and down. 'I can see the similarity.'

  They sat again in awkward silence for a while. Unable to wait any longer, Ursula started eating.

  'Well, you must have plenty of questions,' Khemen eventually said with a clap of his hands. 'However, forgive me, but there are questions I need to ask you before I can tell you more.'

  'Go on,' said Ruprecht, leaning forward and grabbing his own plate and spoon.

  'Perhaps if you begin by telling me a little about yourselves, where you hail from, what experience in this sort of endeavour you have,' said Khemen. Ruprecht exchanged a glance with Ursula, and at that moment Goeyen walked over carrying a steaming goblet, which he handed to Khemen. 'Mulled wine, keeps out the damnable chill,' the Arabian explained with a smile.

  'I'm from Talabheim,' Ruprecht said between mouthfuls of fish and turnip. 'Ursula hails from the Ostermark.'

  'Talabheim? Ostermark?' said Khemen, placing his goblet on the table and steepling his fingers to his bearded chin. 'So, you're not local. That might be inappropriate.'

  'Why?' asked Ursula, gobbling down a hunk of bread.

  Khemen stared at them both for a moment, before nodding to himself. He deplored the drama, but Lady Halste's instructions had been specific. Lure them in with a bit of intrigue, and they would agree to anything, that's what she had said. For his part, Khemen thought that most of those who had offered their services were more interested in the gold than anything else, but it was not his place to argue against his mistress's will.

  'The expedition that Lady Halste is commissioning impacts heavily upon the future of Marienburg, and the whole Empire,' he said, leaning closer and dropping his voice. 'It may be that agents of the other states would wish our endeavour to fail, and so I must be cautious.'

  'Politics,' said Ruprecht, slurping down the last of his stew and discarding the plate onto the table with a clatter.

  'Such matters are beyond normal men such as you and I,' said Khemen with a conciliatory nod of the head. 'But you must swear by your gods that what you hear today will go no further. Until you make that oath, I can tell you no more.'

  'I swear by almighty Sigmar that you have our full trust,' Ursula said immediately. Khemen glanced at her and then turned his look back to Ruprecht, who gave a sigh.

  'I also swear by the gods to uphold my silence,' he said.

  'Splendid!' said Khemen with another small clap of his hands. 'In that case, perhaps you would care to accompany me upstairs. If you've finished, that is?'

  Taking their beers with them, Ruprecht and Ursula followed the agent out of the main room to a stairwell at the back of the building. He led them up to the top of the stairs and along the landing. Opening a double door, he ushered them into the suite beyond, and bid them sit in the lounge. He disappeared through another door.

  'Expensive.' muttered Ruprecht, looking around the room. It was very well appointed, the furniture clean and new rugs on the floor, with heavy drapes on the windows. Crystal goblets and a half-full decanter stood on a sideboard, and a fire burned fitfully in a marble-trimmed fireplace.

  The door opened again, and a woman swept in, her long purple dress trailing along the floor. Her long hair was bound up on her head with a gem-studded tiara, her arms ringed with gold bangles and her hands shining with rings. With a delicate chiming of jewellery, she paced into the room, a wide smile on her face. It was the woman they had seen earlier looking down into the street.

  'I am Lady Halste.' she told them. 'And you are my honoured guests.'

  As the afternoon passed, Lady Halste told them about herself and her quest. The only child of one of Marienburg's merchant princes and an Estalian lady, she had grown up in southern Estalia with her mother, only occasionally seeing her father. However, shunned by her own people, she had felt more a citizen of Marienburg than of her home country. She had learned as much as she could from her father, but he had always been unwilling to bring her back north with him, rightfully claiming that her health would suffer in the colder, wetter reaches of the Empire, in particular in the polluted port city. Then, last year, her father had died at sea when a convoy he had been master of was attacked by ships hailing from Nordland.

  She had bid goodbye to her family and set off north with a small entourage, determined to visit the Empire and Marienburg. He father's death had left her emotionally troubled, she explained, and unable to take ship from fear of meeting a similar fate. Thus her caravan had made its way north overland, risking the orcs and brigands of the Border Princes into the eastern Empire. She had been lucky, crossing the Black Mountains barely a week before the horde of Gorbad Ironclaw had descended on Solland. Unaware of the devastation being wreaked behind her, she had travelled westwards through Nuln and Altdorf, until finally she had come to her ancestral home in Marienburg.

  There, her father's creditors, owed money from the ill-fated convoy, had repossessed his lands and taken what remained of his ships. He had been wise though, much of his money had been in Estalia, and his name was still well-respected. Taking lodgings for herself, she had made the acquaintance of Asbadul Khemen, who had been glad to take employment as her agent in these strange lands, and set about investing the wealth she had brought with her.

  Her reputation had grown and before long she had been invited to dine at the court of the count. Here she had met the great man himself, and had heard his impassioned speech about the state of the Empire.

  Decrying the internecine war that was tearing the land apart, he had called to the gods for deliverance from these evil times. He also called on every faithful Marienburger and Wastelander to turn their every effort to the restoration of the power of the state so that they might rise above the squabbles of the other provinces and unite them once again.

  Ursula, who had been listening quietly to this story until that point, stirred in her seat and leaned forwards.

  'A plan to reunite the Empire?' she said. 'What makes the Count of Marienburg the rightful leader?'

  'My dear, does it truly matter who wears the crown of the Emperor?' said Lady Halste. 'Is
it not enough that one man alone becomes Emperor, with the support of all the counts? It is this kind of thought that has divided the Empire these past centuries.'

  'And how do you plan to help?' said Ruprecht, sipping his ale, which had been refreshed by Khemen a few moments earlier. 'What is this expedition for?'

  'You ask many questions,' said Lady Halste. 'Khemen tells me that you are not from the Wasteland.'

  'We're not spies,' Ursula said, guessing the lady's thoughts. 'I am dispossessed, I owe loyalty to no single man or place, but to Sigmar himself and the legacy he left us.'

  Lady Halste smiled warmly.

  'Then I will trust to my own judgement of character,' she said. 'As you know, every count believes he has a rightful claim to the throne of the Emperor. Three of them even now bear the title Emperor, and yet none command the loyalty of their usurped position. In these troubled times, the next Emperor must be approved by all of the electors; it is not enough to have a vote of the majority. If the Empire is to drag itself from this mire, then every back must be bent in the labour.'

  'And you think you have a way that will gain the backing of all the electors?' asked Ursula, her eyes betraying her doubt.

  'In my studies of the history of Marienburg, to better learn the ways and traditions of my fathers, I came across a particular reference that piqued my interest,' said Lady Halste. 'Investigating further, with the aid of Khemen, I have devised a way that the glory of Marienburg, and thus the Empire, might be restored.'

  'So what is it?' asked Ursula, growing impatient.

  'Over eighteen hundred years before in the dark days before the coming of Sigmar,' Lady Halste told them, 'the people of the Empire lived in scattered tribes. Greatest chieftain of the tribes of the Wasteland was Marbad, known as the Silverblade in the ancient legends. He was so named for a great family heirloom he carried - an elven blade from antiquity that his family had wielded for generations. It was said that the sword, called Ulfshard in the tongue of the old tribes, could cut through metal or stone with a single blow, ward away evil magics and hide the bearer from the sight of monsters and daemons.'

  'And you believe this legend legitimises the count's claim to be Emperor?' said Ruprecht. 'Any one of the states can trace its roots back to the time of Sigmar, and they all have their legends about how their leader was a great warrior, gifted with mythical swords or shields or armour.'

  'This legend,' the lady said, 'is in fact truth. It was Marbad Silverblade who swore allegiance to Sigmar when his Unberogens had joined with Marbad's folk to drive out the bestial creatures who preyed upon them from the marshes. He swore his oath of friendship upon Ghal Maraz, Skull Splitter, famed dwarf-forged Hammer of Sigmar. In return, Sigmar pledged his alliance on the blade of Ulfshard. Thus their two destinies became intertwined.'

  'All of the original chieftains swore allegiance to Sigmar, I still don't see the relevance.' said Ursula, slumping back on the couch.

  'There is only one of the great artefacts that has survived to this day.' Halste said. 'Ghal Maraz, the Hammer of Sigmar, is the symbol of the Emperor himself. It currently resides in Altdorf, but its value as a symbol of power has been turned into a mockery.'

  'So you think that by producing Ulfshard, the Count of Marienburg will have something else for the electors to unite behind?' said Ruprecht. 'Surely if it was that easy, his forefathers would have done so decades, centuries ago.'

  'When Sigmar had cleared the forests of the orcs, driving them into the World's Edge Mountains to the east, Marbad, along with the other chieftains, fought at his side.' said Lady Halste. 'In the great battle of Black Fire Pass, when the grand alliance of men and dwarfs warred against the endless orc and goblin hordes in their massive final confrontation, Marbad was one of Sigmar's closest lieutenants. An ambush by the greenskins waylaid the future Emperor, but Marbad threw himself between the foe and Sigmar, sacrificing himself to their black-shafted arrows. Pierced through the lungs and stomach by the wicked darts, he died, and Ulfshard fell from his grip.'

  'And the sword was lost.' said Ursula with a nod of understanding.

  'As we all know, Sigmar's men and King Kurgan's dwarfs triumphed that day, smashing the orc and goblin horde and securing the freedom of the Empire from their raids.' said Lady Halste. She stood, crossed the room to the window and stood there for a moment, looking out at the grey cityscape of Marienburg. She turned, her eyes shining. 'Marbad was taken back to his people atop a great bier, his body burned on a pyre upon the waters of the Reik as was the custom of his lands. His son became the new chieftain and became the first Count of the Wasteland when Sigmar passed away into the east.'

  'And his sword?' said Ruprecht.

  'Of Ulfshard, there was no record.' said Lady Halste with a shake of her head. 'No record of man, at least, for men had not mastered the writing of history at that time, and though the legends were told to future generations, they would not be recorded for many centuries. And so it was that Ulfshard passed out of knowledge.'

  'But Khemen, the gods bless him, found a reference to the ancient elven sword. A translation of a dwarf text revealed that the blade of Marbad had not been lost on the field of battle. The dwarfs had found it as they protected his body from the greenskins, and taken it into their care. Other histories showed that the dwarfs who had fought with Marbad hailed from the hold of Karak Norn in the Grey Mountains.'

  'And so you're organising an expedition to the Grey Mountains to reclaim the sword.' said Ursula.

  'I tell you this because I want you to understand the importance of what we do.' said Lady Halste, sitting down again. 'My blood is from Marienburg, so it is my duty. However, what you say is true, this might seem like another example of the detestable infighting that plagues our realm. It would, but for one thing. Should the count arise with a legitimate claim to the throne, it would secure the alliance with Nordland. With the armies of Nordland and the Wasteland, the count would march to the relief of Reikland and throw back this horde of orcs that plagues Altdorf.'

  The lady sipped her wine and her smile faded, a more calculating expression replacing her jollity.

  'With Marienburg, Reikland and Nordland all united as one, then Middenland must also join the cause, for the Count of Middenheim will be surrounded on three sides,' said Lady Halste. 'If he does not, he must fear an alliance from Hochland to his east and he will truly be isolated and if it should come to war would soon be overpowered.'

  Her expression eased and she lounged back on the couch, draping a beringed hand over the arm, the goblet dangling precariously from her fingers.

  'It is my upbringing, I'm afraid,' she said with a brief grin. 'Politics is in my blood, and to survive with my station in life, one must learn to plot and scheme. But that is neither here nor there. With Middenland dropping its claim to the Emperor's hammer, Hochland and Ostland will surely join forces as well. Over half of the Empire will be for our cause.'

  'You make it sound simple,' said Ruprecht. 'Men will still die, orphans and widows will still mourn them.'

  'Yes, that is true,' said Lady Halste, sitting forward and clasping the stem of her glass in both hands. 'There will still be fighting and dying to be done. But if nobody stands up and grasps the thorn, then nobody will be able to smell the rose, as they say in Estalia.'

  'What matters is that the states unite again, that there is a single Emperor to take up the mantle left by Sigmar,' Ursula said. 'If we could have but one Emperor, then surely the Empire will rebuild itself.'

  Ruprecht glanced at her and recognised the expression on her face. This was why Sigmar had brought her here, or so she thought. He sighed inwardly, full of foreboding. In his time as Marius van Diesl's right hand man he had learnt a very simple truth - nobility and a quest for power was always a sure recipe for corruption. He could tell from Ursula's tone and look, though, that there would be no persuading her of this.

  'We will do anything we can to help you,' said Ursula, and Lady Halste looked to Ruprecht for confirmation. He nodd
ed, meeting her steady gaze.

  'You, Ruprecht my dear, have the build and the look of a fighter,' she said. 'We are to travel through troubled lands, and I have employed a substantial armed guard to keep us safe. You are welcome to join them.'

  'Consider it agreed then,' Ruprecht said.

  'And you, my darling,' Lady Halste said, standing up and pacing over to Ursula, placing a hand on her cheek. 'You are both beautiful and intelligent, and I can think of no better companion to be one of my maids.'

  'I would be honoured, my lady,' Ursula replied. 'I can also fight if necessary.'

  'Really? How novel,' said Lady Halste, crossing the room to refill her glass. 'It is all settled then. You are welcome to lodge here at my expense, that is if you have no other arrangements. The caravan will be assembling tomorrow at first light by the south gate. I will see you there.'

  Ruprecht cracked his knuckles nervously, and Ursula exchanged a glance with him. Lady Halste noticed the exchange.

  'There is a problem?' she said.

  Ruprecht cleared his throat.

  'We, well that is, to say, Ursula and I...' he stuttered.

  'We haven't any money at the moment.' Ursula said, plucking at the ragged clothes she was wearing. Lady Halste opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again, in thought.

  'Khemen will advance you some of your retainer.' she said after a moment. 'Tell him how much you need to be adequately supplied and he will note it in my accounts. And Ursula, I trust you will find yourself some attire more suitable for the companion of an Imperial lady.'

  Ursula glanced at her leggings and jerkin with a blush and nodded.

  'Good, I shall see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.' said Lady Halste, standing and waving a hand to the door.

  Courteously dismissed, Ruprecht and Ursula thanked the lady and left, remembering to take their tin tankards with them. As Khemen closed the door behind the pair, Lady Halste flopped back down onto the couch, splashing wine onto the floor.