One army had left Altdorf, but several more had converged on it and even the mighty imperial capital was struggling under the strain.
Prince Tyrion looked on Altdorf with barely disguised jealousy. His experience of cities had been in Ulthuan, where mansions lay empty and unoccupied for want of Asur to live there, where the walls, though tall, were beginning to weather without men to occupy or maintain them. But here, the walls barely contained the massive population, which spilled out like lave from Vaul's Anvil, with villages stretching along the rivers for fishing and manors for the rich men of the city to escape the claustrophobic quarters of the city itself. Finubar had been impressed with the humans, and Tyrion reluctantly saw why. "Don't worry, Tyrion," his brother said softly from beside him as they looked over the city. The Asur had made their camp a short distance away, so they wouldn't get swept up in the morass of humans. "Aliathra will be recovered."
Tyrion nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Teclis, his frail brother was one of few who knew the truth of Aliathra, but the rest of this host didn't and he needed them to follow him loyally. It was not the most powerful army he had ever led, but with limited time to gather it, he would have to make do. He clenched his fists, he would tear his way through Sylvania single handed if that was what it took to recover Aliathra, but Teclis and Belannaer insisted that they at least try to get help from this Empire of men. "I know," he replied. "But every day we wait is another day that my- that the Everchild is in danger, and she must be recovered before any harm comes to her."
"Too much haste is too little speed, brother," Teclis reminded him as a patrol of White Lions moved behind them. Most of that regiment remained on Ulthuan to await the coronation of the next king, but Finubar had ordered Korhil to provide some men to assist Tyrion. "Besides, we may not be waiting too much longer, look."
Teclis pointed to the west, to the road from Marienburg that his host had entered by to see an armoured caterpillar snaking its way down the road. A large force of knights in glinting armour, flying banners with holy cups, blessed lances and sword-wielding lions was coming down, shadowed at all times by a host of Pegasus riders. The Knights of Bretonnia had come.
Louen had wasted no time when Franz's messenger had come. Bretonnia knew well the dangers imposed by the forces of the Undead and by the agents of the Dark Gods, in the name of the lady, they would stand by their allies to defend the world. He had given orders at home that most of the Dukes ready their knights and call up the peasants to arms, before taking the knights of Courone, his home Duchy, to go to Franz's great council. The Empire and Bretonnia may well be neighbouring human realms, but they were not ready allies in all things, and whenever they met, it was always with a display of strength behind them. But not all Dukes remained behind. Knowing that the undead were to be discussed, Louen had ordered that Duke Tancred d'Quenelles, the champion who had defeated Heinrich Kemmler, the Lichemeister, at the Battle of La Maisontaal, to accompany him with a column of knights.
Louen looked down on his knights from the back of Beaquis, his faithful Hippogriff, and smiled at the sight of so much knightly chivalry approaching the Empire. In whatever battles were to come, his knights would distinguish themselves – they would purge evil from the world in the Lady's blessed name. "A fine sight, Duke Tancred!" He called out to the Duke, riding his Pegasus next to him.
"Indeed sire!" Tancred replied. "But it seems our speed was surpassed by another." He gestured and Louen turned his head, eyes widening in surprise. Elves? Here? The white clad host was gathered not far from the city. Louen had expected Dwarfs, but Elves as well? The situation must be truly dire for them to bestir themselves.
As they got closer to the city they descended, the column of knights turning out, peeling apart like an envelope, folding around both sides of the road and lining, only the very best would be accompanying the two of them into the city.
Beaquis folded his wings when they got close to the city and they fell into a dive. He could sense his Pegasus riders falling in behind him, Duke Tancred as well. The wind rushed through his hair as Beaquis opened his full wingspan and they glided over the walls, his steed's claws passing inches above the helmets of the city watchmen before they rose again. Even up here, he heard the cries of wonder from the people in the courtyard below. Not surprising, the Empire had griffins in the Imperial zoo and Pegasi, but so rarely seen outside. Such noble beasts shouldn't be caged, they should be in battle.
They swept over the city heading for the imperial palace. "Rise, rise!" He cried as they got close and they did so, spiralling up and up around the tallest spires before diving towards the courtyard. Four great squares of halberdiers filled the square, a thin line held back the crowds but most stood at parade rest before their Emperor and Reiksmarshall, who stood before them on the steps leading into the palace. They'd left an open area for him and his men to land in and Louen and his knights descended, landing on the cobbles with a clatter of claws and hooves. Beaquis gave out a great roar before settling down and allowing Louen to dismount.
"Emperor Franz," he bowed in civil greeting.
"King Leoncouer," Franz replied, inclining his head. "I'm glad you could make it. We have much to discuss, both the Empire and Bretonnia stand at risk."
Louen nodded. "Indeed, the urgency and contents of your missive told me as such. I notice the Elves are outside the city, are we ready to begin?"
"Not yet," Franz replied. "High King Thorgrim should be here shortly, we'll await his arrival, then we can start."
A dwarf throng on the march was an implacable beast, unhindered by weather, terrain or foe, and through this they could nearly match the speed of the long legged manlings.
This was not the largest throng Thorgrim had led, he had left most of his armies at Karaz-a-Karak, but it was more than enough to make an impression. He had to admit, that Franz's message came at an ill-opportune time. Reports were coming in of an increase in activity. The silence of the underdark had ended, greenskin and ratmen incursions had started up and other holds were reporting that they were under assault. Now the elven king who had tried to open relations was dead, his daughter and intended diplomat was taken by the Uzkular and the armies of chaos were now approaching their allies. Honour demanded that the Dawi act.
The march overland had been long. He's seen the magical barrier erected around the land of undeath and met imperial armies marching north to confront the new threat, but eventually Thorgrim and his throng arrived at the Imperial capital.
"Franz!" He greeted the Emperor just outside the city, where he had come with an honour guard to greet him.
"High King!" Franz replied with a smile on his face. "It is an honour, to host our grandest allies from the mountains."
"The men of the Empire have long been friends to the Dawi, and we repay that friendship." His thronebearers lowered his throne and he got off it stamping up to the Emperor, clapping his gauntleted hands together. "Are we to begin then, I'm eager to start."
Franz nodded. "We are, with your arrival we are all gathered and this council can begin."
The Council gathered in the throne room of the Empire. A grand circular table was set out with four sets of three seats for the different parties. Franz had gone to great length to make sure that the chairs were suited to the bearers, smaller for the Dwarfs and taller for the elves. He himself sat before his throne, not on it, now was not the time for dominance, besides, he had set out the seats, already this room was his more than any other. At his right hand side was Kurt Helborg, and the chair to his left, currently vacant, was to be occupied by Balthasar Gelt, when he arrived. Opposite him was Louen Leoncouer, who was joined by Duke Tancred and a fair damsel of Bretonnia, who's beauty struck Franz deeply, and even the Elves took notice of her flowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes. But Franz knew that if Louen had brought her she was more than beautiful, the damsels of Bretonnia were skilled in the magical arts, as well as the spokespeople for the Bretonnian goddess, the Lady of the Lake. It would not do to underestimate her. Thorgrim had decided to set his throne aside and take the seat that Franz had put for him. He kept a careful eye on their blasted Great Book of Grudges, if he had slighted Thorgrim, it may well be noted and revenge taken later on. To Thorgrim's right was another dwarfen warrior, with a long beard, grey and braided, and to his left was a more youthful dwarf, a scribe, who was to record the meeting for dwarfen memories. The High Elves sat down smartly, Prince Tyrion, the strong warrior, was sat in the middle, his sword resting on the table before them, while his brother Prince Teclis and the Elven emissary Belannaer took the seats either side of them. All three had armed detachments behind them. Louen had brought a dozen Grail Knights with him, knights that Franz knew outmatched any that came from the Empire, even his Reiksguard. Thorgrim's guard consisted of his Hammerers, clutching their heavy weapons tightly, ready for anything, while the Elven defenders were more of a mix of warriors, some with great axes, others with spears and swords and bows. Franz's Reiksguard stood behind him, ready to intervene if things got out of hand. "Are we ready to begin?" Asked the impatient Prince Tyrion. Helborg's hand shifted ever so slightly towards his sword, an action not missed by any around the table, and Franz placated him with a touch to the arm.
"We only await my last advisor, he will be here shortly," he said.
Sure enough, Balthasar entered the room shortly, circling the table without the slightest glance at the others before taking his seat. "I apologise for my lateness, there were matters I had to attend to."
Franz nodded and turned back to the table. "Now, let us begin."
Before Franz could begin, Prince Tyrion of the High Elves spoke up. "The Everchild, and future Everqueen has been taken by the undead, to be used in a foul ritual to restore the Great Necromancer Nagash to this world. She must be recovered and the plot foiled. All other matters can wait."
"Respectfully, Prince Tyrion, they cannot," Franz replied. "Kislev has already fallen, and Chaos moves on the northern border, to allow them to cross unchallenged is unacceptable."
Tyrion's knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists. "Your attention can be turned to these marauders once the undead are dealt with."
"Be careful Elgi," Thorgrim spoke up. "You shouldn't tell the Emperor what to do with his own realm, I wouldn't allow you to demand I open the gates of the Everpeak to the enemy in order to scourge something beneath her halls."
"Well maybe, dwarf, if the Emperor had dealt with the boil on the back of his Empire already, we could turn all our attention to-"
"We are not here to discuss what should have been done, only what must be. But I agree with High King Thorgrim," Louen said, his voice calming across the table. "We cannot ignore Chaos to deal with the undead. Both threats are upon us and both must be faced."
Tyrion turned his anger on King Louen but his brother took his arm. "Anger won't help us here, Tyrion, nor will it help the Everchild." He turned to Louen. "What do you propose, King Louen?"
The king steepled his fingers with regal grace on the hard mahogany surface. "I imagine that Franz sent out his call because he doesn't have the strength alone to meet these threats, but here we are together, and together, we do. We have enough strength to hold Chaos while we crush Sylvania, then turn our full might north to dispense with this Everchosen."
"I won't be able to bring all the strength of the Dawi," Thorgrim said, sitting back, his expression dark and brooding. "Our holds are under threat again, and I must leave strength to see to their defence, and I will struggle to bring all the realms of the Karaz Ankor to bear, the Kings will have to see to their own defences as well. I can count on King Ungrim, King Alrik and some others, but there are those who will look to the Dawi first and the world after."
"You are their High King, command them otherwise," Tyrion scoffed at the weak power of the so called High King. Why did Finubar think his daughter a worthy emissary to these stump legs?
Thorgrim fixed him with a stern eye. "Says the warrior here to recover his Everchild, not face the agents of Chaos in battle."
"The Asur recognise the danger of Chaos," Prince Teclis declared. "I agree with King Louen's plan. If my brother leads the expedition we've assembled to Sylvania, I will accompany the armies to the north to face the invasion of Chaos."
Franz felt his heart lift at that. Prince Teclis had been instrumental in defeating the previous invasion of Chaos and, at Magnus the Pious' wish, had remained to establish the Colleges of Magic within the Empire. With him at their side, their chances of victory were greater.
A commotion outside made them all look to the door. "What's going on?" Franz demanded, getting up and resting his fists on the table. The Reiksguard at the door opened it to reveal a bedraggled Bretonnian knight standing before them, his blue and yellow tabard bearing the Trident of Bordeleaux.
"Forgive me, sire," he said, panting heavily, his eyes fixed solely on Louen. "I came as fast as I could." He rushed over and, without any of the usual Bretonnian pomp, completely ignoring the rest of the room, handed the king of Bretonnia a missive to the king.
Louen slit open the scroll and unfurled it. His eyes widened in shock, horror and anger as they traced their way over the paper. He turned to the knight. "Is this true?"
The knight nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so, sire, Duke Alberic is attempting to contain the enemy as they pour south, but Lyonesse has already been overrun Duke Adalhard was slainand his knights have scattered, seeing to their own defences, Artois is under threat and yet more foes continue to emerge from Mousillon itself."
Louen cursed and got to his feet. "At this time, Mousillon rises up now, Lady damn them all, this must be answered!"
"Louen, what is happening?" Franz asked.
King Louen turned to them as though he had only just remembered that they were there. "I must apologise, Franz," he said, bowing his head solemnly. "It seems I have troubles of my own to attend to. The accursed remnants of Mousillon have risen up again, and have declared rebellion, they bring dark powers to fight alongside them, the followers of Chaos."
Franz bit back his retort. Mousillon was Bretonnia's Sylvania, a vampire Duke had risen up there in ages past and been defeated. Most of Mousillon had been taken on by the rest of Bretonnia, but the heart of the Duchy remained vacant, for no sane man would want to rule it. He couldn't well reprimand Louen for leaving it as a festering pit and at the same time ask him to help with Sylvania. It seemed that they'd both been lax in their duties, to their detriment. A chaotic uprising in Bretonnia just as a new Everchosen lay waste to Kislev, and an undead rising in Sylvania looking to restore the great Necromancer. So many threats to counter, all at once, they would be stretched to their very limits.
"Fear not, Franz," Louen said, with a grim determination etched across his face. "I will hold to my word, these other threats must be faced. Duke Tancred," he gestured to the Duke, who looked up at his king, "will remain. His forces will accompany whatever you send against Sylvania. You will find his experience invaluable. I will deal with this rebellion and then the knights of Bretonnia will assist you in the wars to come."
Prince Teclis spoke up next. "You have one force going to Sylvania, my brother will lead another, both bring power and strength."
"Be wary of overconfidence," Gelt warned the council. "Mannfred has gathered many vampires to his side, and Arkhan the Black has power all on his own."
"But actions must be taken," Franz told Gelt. "King Louen is right, action must be taken while we have the strength to do so." It seemed that another threat could arise at any point to sap their strength once more. They had to strike while bleeding or bleed out before they could. "You say there was strength left in Volkmar's Crusade?"
Gelt nodded. "Indeed, Hans Leitdorf still commands a strong force, though it is battle worn."
"They are men of the Empire, and Hans is an experienced knight. They will join the expedition into Sylvania."
"Then it sounds like armies are gathering," Thorgrim declared, seemingly eager. "I did not bring my full strength, but what I have brought will join you in holding your northern border, Franz."
Franz nodded. "Knights, Elves, and imperial armies march on Sylvania, while dwarves and the Empire's hard strength march on the north. You will have to cut your way across most of Sylvania to reach Drakenhoff," he said to Prince Tyrion."
"I'll cut my way across half the world if that's what it takes," the warrior prince declared.
"Mannfred will mass his men to stop you, it will not be easy, he will make you fight for every inch."
"Then we divide and conquer," Thorgrim declared, slamming a fist on the table. "There is more than one Dawi hold left in this world. Long has the Slayer King, Ungrim Ironfist, watched over Sylvania's east. I will send word to him. As the combined army attacks from the west, the throng of Karak Kadrin will attack from the east."
"I thought you said it would be difficult to rouse the other Dwarf Kings?" Belannaer commented.
Thorgrim nodded. "I did, but Ungrim is not like the rest. He is a slayer, the biting axe blade of the Dawi, he will answer when called to war."
"Dwarfs from Karak Kadrin as well, together it should be enough to break through Sylvania," Franz said. "And with the armies gathering in the north to repel Chaos the crises may yet be averted."
"Are we settled?" Prince Tyrion demanded, getting to his feet. "The Everchild cannot wait much longer."
"We are," Franz said.
"Actually," Gelt said, cutting across them all like a sharp knife. "We aren't. Not yet."
"What is it?" Teclis asked.
Gelt got to his feet. "The magical barrier around Sylvania is still in place, in order for the army to invade, I'll need to lower it."
Everyone looked to each other. "So lower it," said Helborg, speaking for the first time. "What's the concern?"
"I will, but I need something else in return."
Franz ground his teeth in frustration. Gelt was powerful, knowledgeable and a worthy advisor to him, but he was still a wizard at heart, and his drive to increase his own knowledge and collect arcane artefacts was at times as frustrating as it was constant, and with the High Elves present...
"What?" asked Teclis tentatively.
Gelt turned his masked head towards the Arch Mage. "I need the Scroll of Hoeth."
A collective breath came from the High Elf escort, Teclis' eyes widened in alarm and Tyrion scoffed in indignation. "The Scroll of Hoeth is mine to bear," Teclis replied curtly, a hint of steel in his voice, "I cannot turn it over to you."
"I do not seek it for my own selfish studies," Gelt replied, "not at this hour of darkness. I ask because I also seek to hold back Chaos, to prevent it bringing ruin to my home. I do not seek to keep it, I only need to peruse it's contents. I will return it shortly."
"I cannot-"
"Brother!" Tyrion cut across Teclis. "The Everchild needs to be recovered. He swears he will return the scroll. Is that not enough?" He leant down and whispered in his brother's ear so that only he may hear. "You have said, as Finubar often did, that humans are the bulwark against Chaos, it's why you taught them magic in the first place. Why does this irk you so?"
"There are some things that humans are not ready to learn," Teclis replied. He looked up into Tyrion's eyes and sighed in resignation. "But Aliathra is my niece as well. Very well," he said to the table, taking the strong cylinder that contained the scroll from his belt. "You may read the scroll, Supreme Patriarch, but you will not copy it's contents."
"That will not be necessary. When I join you on the northern war front, I will return it, unblemished." He took a scroll from his own belt and slid it across the table. "This contains the spell to end the barrier. Make sure that you end the threat, or there will be nothing to contain it."
"Have no fear in that regard," Tyrion replied. "Those who dared bring harm to the Everchild will not see the turn of the year."
An awkward pause hung over the table like a thick frost until High King Thorgrim spoke. "Well then. Now that last matter is settled, let us all of us make ready for war."
There was no clamour of cheers and celebration from any of the warriors or delegates, they knew that the wars to come were not to be fought for glory, honour or riches, but for survival, that their people might live, they may not necessarily see a better tomorrow, but they would at least see another one.
