The rain had soaked the ground, which was now nothing but slush. A liquid mud, on which the feet threatened to slip with each step. The autumn dampness seeped through her clothes, and the strands of her hair stuck to the skin of her forehead, smeared with a mixture of sweat and water droplets of mist.
Fortunately, the sun was back, and its rays warmed her heart a few.
- Stop! a muffled by the helmet, very deep voice barked.
Marjan Gottlieb stopped walking. She lowered her head and sighed wearily.
- Don't fall asleep! shouted the voice.
A pull on the chain made the young woman groan in pain.
- They're here, guys!
- Are you sure, My Lord?
- I can smell them... I can smell the dead rat three miles away!
The immense figure dismounted its black horse, brandished its mace, and roared in Queekish:
- Show yourselves, Children of the Horned Rat! I am Lennart Fireblood, almighty champion of Khorne, the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!
The whole company took up this odious refrain:
- Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!
Only Marjan remained silent.
After a long minute, the battalion commander lowered his weapon and raised his hand. The marauders fell silent. Several leaf rustlings sounded all around the group. The blonde woman swallowed her saliva when she saw about fifteen Feral Skaven come out of the bushes and form a circle around them.
A taller Feral Skaven, which wore a pink velvet cape with a brooch, probably stolen from a rich victim, approached.
- Well-well, who dares to come to our territory?
- Are you deaf, Skaven? I am Lennart Fireblood, and all of these are my warriors!
- Oh, I see-see. Very well. I am Clawleader Kirgarsh. Perfect! New slaves for the Horned Rat, ha ha!
Lennart Fireblood stamped his foot on the ground.
- What do you think, cum licker? We serve Khorne, and no one else!
Kirgarsh stopped smiling, and quickly considered the intruders facing him. There were about thirty of them, nothing but men-things who wore motley helmets and pieces of armour. Some were shirtless, others wore leather armour sewn haphazardly together. A symbol could be seen painted on shields, breastplates, or visible skin areas, the fearsome skull of Khorne.
The armoured warrior seemed twice as dangerous as all the others. He was gigantic, and the vertical horns of his helmet reinforced this impression of hugeness all the more. To wear such massive heavy armour without tiring, a powerful musculature was essential, the Clawleader had no trouble imagining it. Impossible to see his face under his helmet, not even his eyes were visible through the narrow visor. Besides the symbol of Khorne painted over the entire surface of the left flank, Lennart Fireblood's armour, forged in red metal, was lined with iron spikes, some were topped with more or less large pieces of flesh, like toes or tongues, as trophies. His spiked mace still bore the marks of the last skulls to have been crushed under its weight.
The Champion of Khorne was the only one in the company to have a horse, a huge black stallion caparisoned with red plates. Two long chains were attached to the pommel of the saddle. At the end of each chain was a prisoner with an iron collar around the throat.
The first one was a she-thing. Kirgarsh had seen she-things before in the surface villages. He was surprised at her strange appearance: unusually tall, her head covered with yellow fur, mud-brown canvas clothes covered her body. She had neither weapon nor armour, and if she-things were generally protected by dresses, breeches like those of the males encircled her legs. And yet, her smell and the protuberances visible under her shirt suggested that she was indeed a she-thing.
The other prisoner was even more remarkable. He was a Skaven, it could be guessed from his feet, his hands and his tail of rings of flesh, but anything else couldn't be seen: he was wearing a dark red robe, torn from a man-thing priest, who barely disguised a rather small, but very chubby silhouette – this character would doubtless have come from a burrow where he had a rather important position to be able to eat much more than normal. The fur that stuck out from his sleeves was very dark brown. And it was impossible to see his face, because his head was stuck in a metal helmet matching the shape of a Skaven skull. This helmet was black, dented all over, and had a kind of crown of quills. There were two openings covered with a light mesh at eye level, which gave the wearer the impression of having two frighteningly bulging eyeballs, as well as a small hatch in front of the mouth location, visible to the eye, inside the carved in steel monster's mouth. Everything was securely held in place by a system of fasteners at the back.
Curious, Kirgarsh approached the Skaven in the iron mask.
- What is that?
He reached for the helmet. The robed Skaven stepped back with a groan. The Chaos Champion growled:
- Keep your dirty, rodent paws away from my prisoner!
- Oh, is this your prisoner-prisoner?
- Yeah, it is! Now lead me to your master!
- My master? What master?
The huge warrior slowly raised his club. Then, suddenly, he threw it with a precise gesture. It rammed head-on one of the Skaven accompanying Kirgarsh. The unfortunate creature died instantly, its ribs pulverized, its lungs and heart reduced to mush.
- Don't take me for a fool, you fucking beaver! You have a master! A warlord, a Grey Seer, perhaps? Answer me, or the next wallop will be for you!
- Yes-yes, O magnificent-powerful knight! Kirgarsh hastened to reply in a pleading voice. Grey Seer Karhi is our master!
- Take me to him, Kirgarsh. I want to talk to him.
- Right away, great-strong champion of weird-things!
The Skaven barked out some orders. Lennart Fireblood picked up his weapon, climbed back on the saddle, and the whole company set out to ride deeper into the forest.
Marjan felt her lungs constrict. All around her, the landscape seemed to change little by little as they walked. Midday had recently passed, and yet her eyes had difficulty in perceiving the rays of the sun. It was hardly surprising; the mist had thickened in front of them, greyer, shifting, and damp. The trees were getting tighter and tighter, thicker and thicker, and above all, the golden colour that the leaves usually took on at this time of the year was gradually overwhelmed by a blackish mould.
The young noble woman shivered with cold, the temperature had also dropped significantly. And the air, laden with miasma and an indescribable smell of rotting flesh, soot and other bodily fluids, was increasingly difficult to inhale.
Suddenly, as they seemed to arrive deep in the forest, the light startled Marjan. Skaven and Humans had arrived at a large clearing. The trees had been clumsily cut or even torn out in a circle, all around a sixty-foot-wide crater. The young woman widened her eyes.
What the hell is that?
She had never seen or heard of such a crater, yet Nedland had explored this forest when he had mapped the country four years earlier. He couldn't have missed a hole that size.
- It's here-here, Kirgarsh chuckled. Ysibos. City of Grey Seer Karhi!
- Are you kidding me, hairy runt? Lennart growled. It's just a hole!
- Hole leads to Ysibos! You and your weird-things, follow me, now-now!
- Watch out, talking rat! Try to lure me into a trap, and you die first! Understood?
- Understood-understood, O sublime-magnificent great lord-warrior! But this is not a trap.
The company resumed its march. Marjan quickly saw that this crater was in fact the entrance to a tunnel, which descended into the depths of the earth. She noticed many rocks and piles of gravel all around the opening.
That's it! These Feral Skaven must have come from the other side, and dug this hole to be able to come out on the surface. But where did they start from? And how did they get to Vereinbarung?
The deeper the tunnel went underground, the wider it got. It was also high enough to allow the warrior in red armour to progress in it without having to get off his mount. It finally emerged into a huge, incredibly deep cavern. The ground still sloped gently towards a building below. Without accustomed to the darkness of the caves ratman eyes, she couldn't make out clearly what it was.
She wasn't the only one. Lennart Fireblood flew into a rage.
- Hey, I can't see anything! This is my last warning, Kirgarsh: if you ambush me, I slaughter you!
- No need to worry, O mighty-husky Lennart!
Kirgarsh took three steps forward, then hissed loudly a multitude of cries and squeals. In the distance, other similar noises answered. The flames of two braziers lit up the whole cave. The young woman couldn't restrain a small cry of surprise.
The construction, now clearly visible, was a building that looked like a guardhouse. But it had nothing to do with the hazardous assemblies of the Feral Skaven which always looked ready to crumble. This reinforced gate was thirty feet high, had a sturdy portcullis, and massive bronze statues were set in the walls on either side of the opening. Without a doubt, it was Dwarf craftsmanship.
Incredible! There's a Dwarven outpost underground, and the Feral Skaven have set their paws on it! Master Barisson shall be warned about it.
Behind the door, at the end of another corridor just as long and wide, the company finally came in sight of a small fortress. The Human felt sweat rise to her brow: the entire building was teeming with activity. Feral Skaven were coming and going everywhere, like so many insults to the people of the Dwarves. The closer they got, the more she felt her stomach compress. She knew the slightest look, the slightest gesture, could trigger a bestial fury in the Children of the Horned Rat. Only the man in the red armour could save her from being cut into small pieces.
She shook her head when she saw a small delegation waiting for them. Kirgarsh lunged at the leading ratman, and flattened himself to the ground.
- Here I am with guests, O matchless-splendid Grey Seer Karhi!
The Grey Seer Karhi, as his title suggested, was a White Skaven. He was not particularly tall, on the other hand he was very fat, even more than the Skaven in the iron mask. Two tufts of hair on his cheeks formed long whiskers compressed by his twisted horns that came up behind his ears. His small red eyes blinked in astonishment.
- Who are they?
- Weird-things come to parley with Grey Seer Karhi!
The Grey Seer snapped his finger. The Skaven on his right advanced in turn. Marjan frowned at the sight of him. It was a huge Skaven with an ochre coat, its body covered with mutilations, perhaps consented to, but all intended to make it a war weapon. Iron blades were grafted along the entire length of its tail. Its left hand was extended with artificial claws. Its right arm was gnarled and thigh-wide, with prominent veins through the fur, and ended in a heavy bracelet at the end of which was attached a cannonball. Its muzzle was particularly huge, and quivered loudly.
- This one is Warlord Blokfiste of Clan Moulder. He obeys me, but be careful not to upset-offence him.
A small alarm bell rang in the mind of the tall blonde woman.
Blokfiste… This name reminds me something. Yes, I remember! By Ulric's fangs!
Marjan again heard the voice of his friend Sigmund speaking with rage of the warlord who had fled after polluting the Nichetti Estate.
So, that means this Karhi is indeed the White Skaven accomplice of Iapoch! The circle is complete.
The man in red armour dismounted from his black horse, and struck his chest with his gloved fist.
- I am Lennart Fireblood! I serve Khorne, the Blood God!
He pointed to the four Skaven surrounding Karhi and Blokfiste.
- Your soldiers look strange, Grey Seer.
- That's right, great knight, but nothing to fear-dread from them as long as you are our friend.
Marjan looked at them in turn, and her mind clouded. The four Skaven surrounding Karhi and Blokfiste did not look at all the same as the Sons of the Horned Rat that she had faced in hundreds. They looked relatively young, barely out of childhood. However, no normal Grey Seer would accept having inexperienced field mice as close guards. It was easy to see they were inexperienced, as unlike the Clanrats, their bodies were unscarred. A Clanrat who had survived the slightest battle bore at least some visible marks, such as a gouged eye, a severed tail, missing teeth, a tonsure in the coat, or any other mutilation. Those really didn't have a mark. This was easily verified, because their only clothing was a metal plate on their torso attached to their shoulders by leather straps, another plate on their back, and a thick reinforced leather loincloth. They were thin without being skinny or too small. Each brandished a long halberd.
The young woman spotted one more thing.
They have no scarification on their left ear!
Another mystery, each Feral Skaven normally had such markings on the pavilion of its left ear in order to have a sign of belonging to a terrier. But the young woman could not define which was the most worrying between the last two elements:
Their gaze, or their behaviour?
Indeed, all four had eyes sparking with an intense green glow, as if they had nuggets of warpstone instead of eyeballs. And unlike the common Feral Skaven, they were unusually calm and disciplined. Not a start, not a yelp, not the slightest scratching gesture, not a quivering moustache. Besides, the other Feral Skaven seemed to fear them, and did not dare approach them, nor look at them.
The red knight asked aloud the same question the blonde woman had in mind.
- Where do they come from?
- A Son of the Horned Rat sold them to me for a large bag of warpstone a few moons ago. To settle here, I needed a new guard. His master needed warpstone. Everyone happy-satisfied. But let's talk about more serious things, shall we? What do you want from me, Lennart Fireblood, to venture into my house?
- I want to cause immense carnage in Vereinbarung, and your army can help me.
- Interesting-funny, but… why would I help you? I don't need you to attack the surface, and satisfy the Horned Rat!
- We've been spying on the locals for a few weeks. One of their leaders is dead, the Prince's minions are devouring each other, and your Gutter Runners have caused quite a panic by kidnapping the little ratlings. Another little panic strike or two, and they'll be so terrified they won't be able to fight back.
- Hum… And those two?
Marjan understood the Grey Seer was referring to the two prisoners, that is to say the Skaven encased in his iron mask… and herself.
- The she-thing is called Marjan. She is one of Prince Steiner's friends, so she is particularly precious, as long as she is alive. So she must not die. If anything bad happens to her, I'll kill you.
The fat White Skaven nodded limply, then he held out his finger to the only Skaven around who was not under his command.
- What about this one?
- This one is a Warlock Engineer from Clan Skryre.
- A Warlock Engineer, huh? What's his name?
The man in red armour pulled the chain.
- Answer, you filthy little shit!
The helmeted Skaven threw himself on the ground, trembling with fear. He moaned in a high-pitched voice:
- Ouch-ouch! Have mercy, O wondrous-sublime Lord Lennart Fireblood! I am the infamous-insignificant Fershitt Melted Mouth, at your command!
- "Melted Mouth"? repeated the White Skaven. So you're so ugly-disgraceful under that mask?
- Accident with a boiler! Poor little Fershitt burned by fire!
Grey Seer Karhi gazed at the red-robed Skaven with immeasurable contempt.
- If you were a real Warlock Engineer, you would never have this kind of accident!
- Have mercy-mercy, O admirable-generous Grey Seer! Fershitt learned the lesson well! Never-never accident again! Always-always great results!
Karhi looked up at Lennart Fireblood.
- Why did you keep him alive? Is he as precious as your she-thing?
- Fershitt is from Clan Skryre, he could make new weapons and war machines for you and me.
- Machines that will explode on his snout, again!
- No, Grey Seer Karhi, be reassured. I saw his inventions at work when I captured him. He's not lying, they work well. I want to fight alongside the Skaven of your burrow. I don't have many troops, but I can bring more. And if you agree to help me, we can overthrow this crummy little prince. With my muscles and your unexampled-incomparable intelligence, nothing will stop us. Fershitt Melted Mouth will help us with his inventions.
- Hum… You, get up!
Fershitt Melted Mouth stood up, clasped his hands in emphasis of his pleas, and lowered his muzzle nervously, aware that he was of lower status than the Grey Seer.
- What kind of weapons can you craft, Skryre?
- Lots and lots, sublime-powerful Grey Seer! Ikit Claw's Wheel of Doom! Doomflayers! Fershitt even knows the secrets to Stormfiend, if you let him work with Clan Moulder's Master Mutator!
Fershitt then searched into the folds of his robe.
- Poor little Fershitt has a present for Grand Master of the Burrow.
Karhi's eyes narrowed into two tiny glowing slits, but suddenly widened when he saw what the Warlock Engineer had in his hands. It was a solid gold mask, with a leather strap to better hold it. It was round like a large plate, with many chisels all over its surface, but the interior was moulded in such a way as to be able to contain the muzzle of a Skaven. Although he had never seen it, the Grey Seer had no trouble recognizing the object.
- Where do you get that from, Fershitt? It was for me!
- And yet, it was not in your hands that we found-recovered it.
- Two of my servants had to bring it back to me!
- In that case, you should watch-train your Clanrats better, O sublime-awesome Grey Seer.
- We caught those two runaways running in the opposite direction from your base, snarled Lennart Fireblood. They were fighting each other for this package.
The Grey Seer squeaked in rage.
- So that's how it is! Those two simpletons-dumbasses fooled me! They will suffer an exemplary punishment!
- No need, Grey Seer Karhi. When they saw us coming, they tried to flee, but the first tripped over a root and smashed his head on a tree trunk, and the other took refuge in a cave where a bear was sleeping.
Karhi spat on the ground.
- A miserable end for a despicable life! Alright, let's go to my lab, we'll be between us.
- Wait, Grey Seer, do you have a place where I can store my prisoner?
The White Skaven scratched his head.
- Hmm… Yes! In the pit, she will leave us alone, will not be able to escape, will be safe. Follow me, everyone.
The company sank into the depths of the buried fortress.
For long minutes, Marjan looked in all directions to capture and retain as much information as she could. She had often wanted to see what a real Dwarf Karak looked like, now she had the answer. The Feral Skaven had not yet taken the time to completely redevelop it according to their "architecture". They had built many bridges, lifts and catwalks with hung, tied or nailed anyhow wooden planks. The statues bearing the effigy of Dwarfs, famous heroes or Gods, had been copiously soiled by shovelfuls of excrement. Lighting was provided by a complex system of torches supplied with oil through gutters, but a good half of these torches were not lit, because of the lack of fuel.
The hooves of Lennart Fireblood's horse clacked on the cobblestone road, and the sound ricocheted off the cubic columns that rose on either side. Finally, the procession arrived in front of a monumental double door wide open. The doors, made of wood, were three feet thick.
A minute later, Marjan heard a chorus of clicking high above her. She looked up, and spotted a large horizontal wheel pushed by three slaves – the opening mechanism. The double doors closed behind them with a loud crash.
The Feral Skaven came and went by dozens. When they saw the Chaos marauders passing surrounded by the Clanrats, the reactions were varied. Some squealed in astonishment, others snickered, but all fell silent and fell to the ground as soon as they saw the Grey Seer.
- Your warriors look submissive-docile, Grey Seer. It's fine.
- It's normal, powerful Lennart Fireblood. I am a chosen-chosen one of the Horned Rat. I am almighty. You can help me get my revenge on those pitiful man-things who think they can steal what belongs to the Horned Rat! I will-will do it, because I have a good army! And because I will be able to build another, bigger one!
- How shall you do it?
- See for yourself!
The group had arrived in front of a large circular metal grid embedded in the ground, watched by half a dozen Black Skaven. Its diameter was about fifty feet. A hook suspended at the end of a chain connected to a crane made it possible to lift this heavy mass. A large brazier not far from the crane lit up the surroundings.
- Open! Karhi ordered.
Two of the Black Skaven grabbed the steering wheels of the crane, and made them spin. The grate moved with a great scrape and was suspended a few feet high.
- Behold the future of Ysibos!
The Chaos Warrior leaned forward.
- Hmm… Useless!
- So wait a few years, you'll see-see! For the moment, this is where I suggest you park your she-thing, if you agree.
The man in red armour looked alternately at Karhi, then at Marjan.
- So be it.
- Well, since it's agreed-settled, let's talk about serious things.
- I follow you.
Lennart Fireblood took a key from his pocket, approached Marjan, grabbed her tunic, and opened the lock of her collar. He let her fall on the cobblestones, stooped down towards her, and murmured in reikspiel in a cruel voice:
- Be nice, if you want to stay in one piece.
Marjan responded with a spit on his helmet. The knight immediately sanctioned her with a powerful slap that made her roll on the stones.
- Remember where you belong!
Then he grabbed the reins of his horse, and followed the Grey Seer. The latter yelped:
- Kirgarsh, throw that she-thing in.
- At your command, formidable-awesome Grey Seer!
The two chieftains walked away, still accompanied by the marauders and the four luminous-eyed Skaven. Marjan heard them again:
- Do you want me to take care of your animal-creature?
- Yes, of course! So that it ends up into your stomach? You're kidding me, you wacko!
Marjan couldn't understand anything more, her ears still humming because of the shock. She struggled to her feet, and realized that she was in a delicate position. She couldn't suppress a shiver. Like the terrible night she had been imprisoned by the invaders who brought down her parents' domain, years earlier, she was surrounded by several Clanrats attracted by curiosity. The Feral Skaven felt her fear and her disgust, which excited them more and more.
One of them reached out to touch her. She grabbed its arm, and pushed it away firmly. Another, behind her, dug its claws into her shirt and pulled with a yelp. A long tear crisscrossed the garment.
- Wait-stop!
Surprised, the Feral Skaven moved away from Marjan. The squat figure of Fershitt Melted Mouth approached.
- Don't touch that she-thing! Go away!
He pushed the Clanrats back by slapping them while moaning in a very irritating way. Curiously, none dared to protest or return the favour, probably because everyone feared the owner of the masked Skaven.
Kirgarsh, however, had his say.
- Come on! What do you want to do?
- She-thing mine! I want to mark it!
- Do you? Are you kidding me? You filthy little worm! I take that she-thing! You're just a slave to that weird-thing warrior!
Marjan rolled her eyes.
That Clawleader is pathetic!
- No-no! Thief-liar! squeaked the masked Skaven. Lennart Fireblood let me mark this she-thing. If you don't leave that she-thing to me, I'll repeat it to my master, who will crunch you to dust-crumbs! Do you want to take the risk?
Kirgarsh wanted to answer, but something caught his vocal cords. His instinct for survival that rudely prompted him not to annoy the huge weird-thing in his menacing armour. After all, the life of a common she-thing was not worth it.
- Hmm… Well, right, you dirty masked toad. Keep your she-thing! I don't want it!
Kirgarsh raised his muzzle, and left after a last scornful glance. Fershitt Melted Mouth sneered and rubbed his hands. He snapped his finger at the Stormvermin.
- You guys lay that she-thing down. Now!
Two of the Black Skaven grabbed the young woman by her arms, and tackled her to the ground.
- This she-thing is mine! Just mine, for me, and I prove it!
He planted himself right in front of Marjan, then lifted his dress with one hand, and brought the other to his crotch. Marjan understood what he was about to do. She closed her eyes, and laid her head on the stone. She then felt the hot liquid flow over her neck and back. The young woman gritted her teeth, but had to make up her mind. After a long dozen of seconds, it was over. Satisfied, Fershitt Melted Mouth straightened his dress. Marjan opened her eyes and looked up. This disgusting act had undoubtedly prolonged her life, in any case no one would dare to question her belonging to the masked Skaven. She didn't hold back her words though.
- Damn you, you filthy bastard! I'll cut-rip the package of yours off in order to make you eat it in a salad!
The masked Skaven backed away with a sneer, but his chuckles died in the back of his throat when he saw the imposing figure of Lennart Fireblood approaching.
- So, dissolved face, hurry! I allowed you to piss on her, not to chat with! And you, Kirgarsh, that girl is mine and Fershitt's, so beware if you damage her!
Pleased to be defended by the man in red armour, the fat Skaven sneered again. Once in range, the knight grabbed him by the chain, and roughly pulled him towards him.
- Enough waste of time, slave! We have work!
It was Kirgarsh's turn to laugh as he heard the Warlock Engineer's squeals of pain.
- Alright, enough laughing. Throw that she-thing into the pit, Stormvermin!
The two Black Skaven obeyed. They brutally pulled up the young woman, and threw her without restraint into the black well.
The pit, fortunately, was not very deep, barely eight feet. The sand cushioned the fall of Marjan, who rolled on the ground smoothly.
The steel grid fell loudly above her. Marjan stood up, and studied the situation. Which really wasn't brilliant. She was in the middle of the pit, already covered in sand, and...
Her ear twitched when she heard a faint hiss. Something moved not far from her.
No, I'm not alone.
She frowned, and focused her gaze on one of the areas of the pit that the light from the braziers did not reach. She saw pairs of eyes blinking in the darkness all around her. When her own eyes finally adjusted to the lack of lighting, she realized what was left for her to understand, and her heart sank.
All around her, lined up against the wall, Skaven children were staring at her, some in astonishment, others already had their eyes empty of all emotion. All, however, were in a horrible condition. Terrified, exhausted, clothes torn and covered with dark stains, trembling. The oldest couldn't be more than forty months old. A few cowered and groaned when she looked in their direction. Marjan soon noticed that all the little prisoners around her were only boys. They had been separated from the girls.
- Time to feed the real Children of the Horned Rat! Hardly articulated in Reikspiel a whining voice from above the pit.
She looked up, and gritted her teeth when she saw between the thick iron bars a frail, stubby figure. It was a Feral Skaven slave, without its left ear. It was so thin it looked like a pitiful puppet with rattling bones. The strips that covered his whole body were sticky with various organic materials. It was pushing a wheelbarrow with its weak strength, with contents Marjan could not see. A Stormvermin accompanied it, and titillated it with the tip of its spear.
The slave stopped near the gate, and began to empty the contents of the wheelbarrow into the pit by dumping it between the bars.
- The strongest-meanest will eat, and will become real Children of the Horned Rat!
Several quarters of red meat fell limply on the sand, forming a big heap. This meat was not very fresh, and gave off a strong smell of carrion. The two Feral Skaven disappeared.
The children's behaviour changed in seconds. Fear was replaced by a kind of fever. Eyes burned with impatience, saliva flowed from between lips, tongues clicked.
Marjan saw without believing three of the little Skaven rushing towards the pile of meat. The taller one lunged at one of the larger pieces—a pork's backbone—and bit into the rotten flesh. The second feverishly shoved into his wide-open mouth as much meat as he could. The third took an animal's leg into a corner and gnawed it at full speed.
The other rat-children approached, their mouths foaming. Quickly, the situation degenerated. Two of them fought over a pig's head, the older ones brutally pushed the younger ones away, sometimes with claws. Whimpers, yelps, and spurts of blood finished to anger the tall Human woman.
Marjan straightened to her full height, and shouted in a powerful voice:
- Stop! That's enough!
Immediately, the little Skaven flattened themselves against the wall again, and fell silent, petrified with terror. The taller nervously spat out the piece of meat stuck in his mouth.
- So what? One of these bastards just has to shake a little meat under your nose to turn you into rabid dogs? You make me sick! If you obey this cockroach, you will become like them, and that's what they want! That's not the way your parents raised you. This is not the way our Gods want you to behave!
Furious, she spun around so she could watch all the children in a circle around her, while continuing her argument.
- Many Humans, then Skaven, took incredible risks for you. As soon as I was old enough, I participated in all the Harvests I could until the last one, six months ago! I personally snatched from their clutches many of you, or perhaps your fathers or your mothers. Our goal was to allow you to live happily and freely. The Children of the Horned Rat are prisoners of their own fear and hatred. Their God represents the complete opposite of what you are. The Horned Rat is not your God. If someone is watching over you from the heavens, it's Shallya, Taal, Rhya, Verena! These Gods that your parents learned to worship, and who make you real people!
All aggression had disappeared from the children. There were only tears of anguish, tremors, and terrified sobbing. Marjan's anger turned to compassion.
- I know it's hard, because you're hungry, and you're terrified, but you have to learn to control yourself! You must not give in to your instincts as long as you can be yourself! You're scared, I'm scared too. And I understand how you feel; when I was a little girl, I was captured by the Feral Skaven with my mother and my brother. They killed my father that night. My mother is no longer there, but I retained what she told me: we must remain united, and support each other. Then we will no longer be afraid. And since we won't be afraid anymore, they can do whatever they want to us, it won't work. We will be stronger than them!
She caught her breath and added:
- Listen, Prince Steiner is not going to sit idly by. He must have learned at this hour that you have all been kidnapped. He will send scouts to find this fortress, then the soldiers will come. We must resist while waiting for them. Let's stay strong and united until our army arrives. You can do it. I trust you all.
Some of the Skaven children dared approach. One of them asked timidly:
- So… can we eat?
- You can, but we shall share the food. Everyone should be able to eat something.
She then noticed in a corner a ratboy lying in the sand, breathing heavily.
- This one, over there… How long has he not eaten?
- It's Ethan. He arrived two days ago, but he did not move.
- He looks sick… Maybe he caught a cold, or the Feral Skaven who brought him here poisoned him? In any case, if he hasn't moved for two days, that means he has nothing in his stomach! We have to fix that.
Marjan spotted a piece of fabric on the floor. She picked it up, wiped it on a damp patch on the wall, and approached Ethan. His frown was hot.
- Sorry, son, it's not Ulthuan wine, but it's still better than nothing.
She gently lifted the little ratboy's head, put it on her lap, opened his mouth, and wrung the cloth so that the liquid fell on his tongue. Ethan coughed, and opened his eyes. She slipped a piece of red meat between his teeth.
- Eat, it will fill your stomach.
She called the tall rat-child who had spoken to her.
- You there, what's your name?
- Balin, my Lady. And you?
- You're right, Balin, I didn't introduce myself, answered the woman with a smile. My name is Marjan Gottlieb, I am a good friend of the Prince. Come take my place, Balin, and hold his head up while he eats. I will distribute this pittance to you.
She searched for a way to cut the meat, and eventually spotted a broken bone with a roughly sharp end. She cut a few pieces.
- The older ones, give it to the little ones, you will have your share afterwards. Be sure not to cheat, I'm watching you.
She had tried as best she could to give this invective with a slightly more joking tone. Already, she felt hope warming her heart when she saw the children obeying obediently. Suddenly, a loud voice burst above them.
- You're wasting your breath, she-thing!
It was Blokfiste, the Moulder with the oversized muzzle, who cruelly exhibited his incisors in a repugnant grin.
- Soon, Children of the Horned Rat, you will learn to fear-respect your leader, the great Grey Seer Karhi!
Marjan stood up, and looked up at the Moulder. She focused her gaze straight on the large ochre Feral Skaven, her fists clenched, her eyes sparkling with a gleam of defiance. Blokfiste stopped smiling. Then he growled, spat at her through the bars, and walked away. The young Lady couldn't help but wrinkle her corners when she imagined the body of the Feral Skaven dislocated under the blows of her Black Skaven friend.
Just wait until Sigmund finds you, asshole...
Oh yes, Sigmund would really rejoice by celebrating his reunion with this warlord!