Chapter I: Toil (Part II)

The rest of the walk was rather silent and tranquil; The soft silence of nature was a gift in itself. My mind was soothed momentarily from the day-to-day laborious work set upon me by my parents and no doubt the magistrates of the nearby township.

Initially, I spent many years intentionally ignoring the traditions and even the name of the nearby settlement in spiteful rage at my situation. It was understandable, then- I was plagued by a myriad of existential crises, and steeped in mind-numbing misery over the course of many years as I had little opportunities outside of monotonous farm work.

(Music: "Promenade", David Garcia Diaz)

Of course, I found many activities to occupy my mind, and as the passage of time continued, I gradually became less bored as I crafted and discovered new opportunities for entertainment and knowledge where they could be found. Despite the Dark Age setting I was in, it baffled me how there was no shortage of intriguing secrets and adventures to be found, even in the dull countryside community I was a part of.

At this point in time, by age twelve, I had capitalized on my labor by contributing to the community with diligent labor and the little bits of past memories I gleaned from deep thought- Carrying coal from the mines to the blacksmith, refilling the water supply from the river by introducing the use of aqueducts (there seemed to not be an engineer of the village by any measure, though it was certainly plentiful in priests), even spelunking with patrols into underground tunnels and sewers in the larger township to clear out any shadowed threats.

And yet, I grit my teeth in silent fury. Despite all the hard work the others put into their own survival and community, they were thricefold held back by their own superstition and complacent magistrates. It was only a few hundred years ago (as I had learned from reading what few books I could get my hands on) that this province began to fully acknowledge and combat the threat of an entire species of rat-men living under their cities, right under their very noses. The same could not be said of many other Imperial provinces.

"Oh!" I muttered quietly, seeing a small, but vibrant frog sitting on a lone rock amidst the small stream running alongside the trail. The frog's eyes beamed at me with a curious look, as if studying me the same as I was doing to him.

This pondering led me to look introspectively. In my past life, I remembered vividly my passions and greatest miseries- everything else, information-wise, was incredibly murky and distorted, leaving me with only clusters of memories.

I was a writer, and spent much of my childhood and adulthood engaged in diligent study and enjoying the numerous luxuries of my time. I lived in a rather modern world, though it escaped me on how to describe any of the improvements or inventions of the time; Above all, a burgeoning entrepreneurial landscape- how I sorely preferred the blights of a free market over this hardcore theocratic feudalism!

This monotony over the years of my childhood, being confined to a small farming settlement near a larger city, was torture in of itself. Hearing the same prayers, day in and day out, toiling the ground and managing arduous work over long hours…

This was a mere step above Hell- Purgatory, one might declare it.

I soon came upon the gates of Nuln, the cityscape nearing the settlement from whence I was born. The daunting towers and steeply-rising rows of buildings that formed a fantastical architectural monolith before my tiny eyes gleamed magnificently in the golden hue of the setting sun.

The childish comprehension and volatile emotions within me wrestled with my soul- It was difficult enough to repress my emotions on the daily, and now I was once-more greeted by a view of the truly natural, the ethereal, the larger-than-life feel that I had yearned for in my past life. Would not any human want to break down at such a magnificent sight? Would not any person of decent imagination find such a view to be otherworldly- inherently magical to witness?

"Oi, Enos. Stop starin' off into space, you loony child."

I was momentarily disrupted from my train of thought by the rough, yet comical tone of the guardsman before me; A tall, robust gentleman with brown hair and a polite mustache and goatee, which mirrored the stereotypical facial hair you would see on an Imperial soldier. And yet, as he leaned down to brush my head, I could see the bouncing joy in his eyes; He was far more appreciative of life and the world than I was by a good measure. Oddly enough, this kind of existential optimism was mirrored by most of the other citizens of this country I'd met- An incredible paradox compared to the tales I'd heard about this world.

"I see yer carryin' a sack of coin on ya. Perhaps yer gettin' into the merchant business?" He joked, a warm smile rising across his face. "And at such a young age, too!"

I smiled involuntarily- This man was more of a father to me than my own biological father in this life. Though I could not blame him- His cold, stoic personality was the result of many dead sons and daughters before my birth, as I had learned one particular night after-hours; seeing him courted by a small, wooden keg of Keigel's brew.

"Your humor is beyond me, Mister Bernard." I said, mustering a grin and feigning sheepish behavior. "I am buying groceries for… Mother, and fearing her wrath if I return with no spare coin!"

My returning joke, despite being meagre by every proportion, was well-received by Bernard, who grinned from ear to ear and bellowed in laughter. Otto, the other guardsman on duty, seemed to crack a smile as well. I felt a swelling of joy in my chest, if only momentarily- it was comforting to see that light-hearted small talk carried across worlds.

"Ah, you clever child!" Bernard praised aloud, laying his gloved hand on my shoulder. "Your wit exceeds that of your age. I look forward to seeing how you grow, my young friend!"

With that, he patted me on the shoulder once more, beckoning me into the city to attend to my chore. I bowed my head to him in gratitude one last time before making my way through the winding streets of Nuln, eager to find the nearest bazaar.

Only an hour passed, as I searched for and found the items my mother requested. The merchants were clever and deceitful, but I was far more cautious of their schemes than they expected- one of the few benefits of being a young child was being able to so easily maintain an innocent guile.

I managed to purchase the supplies, with considerable change left over, and left the market with an upbeat attitude. There were few victories I achieved in this merciless world, but this turn of events was certainly one of them.

The crescent moon of Mannslieb began to rise above the city's great architecture as I strolled down the empty streets of Nuln. Encountering only a few foot patrols on my way back to the entrance, I once more slipped into a lull of thought, pondering the state of things, as well as the circumstances of my own situation. From the interactions, and the stories fed to me by my family and community, this world sounded vaguely familiar to a popular lore I'd heard about in my past life…

Something… about a... hammer?

Ah, It was futile. Everytime I tried to scratch at the repressed memories in my mind, they were immediately gone- wisped away at the faintest recollection. It was as if there was a proactive attempt to prevent me from uncovering these old memories of mine.

Skritch, skritch.

I froze momentarily- hearing the familiar scratching sounds made by the Skaven when they were moving around. Their jagged claws would screech across the hard stone, reverberating throughout the sewer systems that my patrol had more than often encountered…

Without hesitation, I unsheathed the small knife granted to me the very moment I could reliably grasp and hold objects; Any form of self-defense was a necessity in this overly-aggressive world.

Placing my basket of goods to the side, I crept towards the skittish sounds emanating from a nearby alleyway, and-

(Music: "The Shadows Hymn", Peter Gundry)

"By Sigmar!" I remarked involuntarily -the teachings of my cultist priests had been ingrained into me despite heavy mental resistance- and immediately I scrambled to hide behind the corner of the building that bordered the alleyway I was peering into.

A few feet into the pitch-black darkness of the side alley, I could barely discern the gleam of the dirtied claws and beady-black eyes of a Skaven rat-man. My nerves were on edge- my skin crawling with worry and apprehension; I was ill-prepared to deal with even a single Skaven in my state. A child, with only a small knife for protection. If this Skaven were merely a herald for a Vermintide…!

By God, I couldn't think straight! Despite all of the patrols I'd gone on through the sewers, having seen the Skaven threat more than a few times, I had not once had to face them down directly.

Doubt and terror began to grip me, magnified by my childish emotions and conflicted mind- This terror was manifesting in me, feeding some foreign entity I could hardly comprehend…

A dragon's head-

Crooked rows of jagged teeth-

Twisting horns jutting from its scalp-

A hulking mass of flesh; Individual muscle fibers dwarfed the largest war machines of the Empire-

And yet, in the same vein, this fear invigorated me with a desperation; To survive, to overcome this threat, and find a way out of this!

Steeling my resolve, I whipped around the corner, raising my knife-

"Skee...aaahh…."

Before me sat a sickly, clearly-starved rat-man; In full view, it was larger than life, and just as mortifying to look at; A man-sized rat, its night-black fur glistening with bloodied wounds under its sleek-black tattered outfit; It was so deprived of energy that, even upon registering my presence, it could only shift its head a few inches to chitter weakly and aggressively; As if it were hurling some form of verbal abuse at me in its own language.

Even after all the indoctrination and fearful tales of woe I was told about the Skaven, I found it increasingly difficult to raise my blade to such a pitiable-looking being. Most of the Skaven I'd seen in the sewers were only glimpses I could distinguish from the pitch-black darkness; Most usually they were covered in some filth and adorning tattered garments, scurrying away at the very sight of us.

(Music: "Meaning of Life", by Ramin Djawadi)

But this Skaven… just looking at it changed my entire perspective on the way I viewed Skaven as a whole. Initially, I had thought them to be mere beasts of nature, with little intellect and sentience in the way of things.

And yet, this Skaven was dressed in an actual uniform. Despite splotches of dirt and filth, there was effort shown to remain relatively clean. And above all, the desperation and sheer terror in its eyes shone more brightly than Mannslieb itself.

This rat-man had status, ambitions, fears and worries, just as Guardsman Bernard or my father did. From a mere glance, I could see the intricate complexities of the Skaven's appearance, mind, body and soul; I could somewhat understand the motives, beliefs and social reinforcements behind this rat-man. Living in a world like this, surrounded by horror and terror and death, blood, destruction and violence-

Who wouldn't crack under this kind of hell?

I had heard the tales of evil, the pettiness of their existence, but…

This bleeding heart empathy will get you killed.

That distinct thought was prevalent in my mind; And yet still, was I even afraid at this point? While I certainly was fascinated by the magical and otherworldly qualities of this world, I was still partial to death; Compared to the previous life I had, even with the little knowledge I had, I could still gladly accept my death if it were oncoming. My family would certainly not care, at least not…

…

…

Well… she would care….

…

End him.

Without thinking, I cut the corner quickly, raising my knife to deal the killing blow. I saw the rat's eyes widen in fear and apprehension, and yet still it proved its own helplessness by jolting ever so slightly, as if trying to scurry away from the oncoming threat. Despite its efforts, I could see the despair in its beady pupils as it seemed to become even more exhausted, eventually falling limp entirely in sheer fatigue.

Even as I hovered the blade over its neck, I could see the sheer horror in its features, the immeasurable desperation in its eyes to persist living. But why? Why would such a creature, in such terrible circumstances, want to continue living in this awful world? Why did it not accept death even until the very end?

Why? WHY? WHY IS EVERYONE IN THIS WORLD SO DAMN DESPERATE?

In a fit of emotional agony, I had sheathed my knife and thrown one of the pieces of bread from the basket onto the ground, next to the Skaven-

And I ran away without looking back.

Oh, God, what have I done? Why did I do that? Why did I just feed the enemy? Why did I give it bread? What was the fucking point of that?!

These thoughts ran endlessly through my mind as I hurried back to the homestead, belligerently cursing myself for my own weak-willed nature and soft-heartedness- Fear and anxiety coursed through my veins in tandem, only further spurring me towards the one place I felt truly comfortable in this world- that one, small home.

After a quick identification check with the gate guardsmen (Bernard was not on-duty most nights), I hurried out of the gates as subtly and quickly as I could muster, making my way towards my settlement with haste. It had been an arduously-long day, and I was certainly ready to find rest.

More minutes passed, possibly hours as I trudged back to my settlement, eventually coming upon the quaint wooden walls of the hamlet, I sighed deeply as the sight of my mother came into my view. Seeing me, she smiled and waved her right hand slowly, keeping her arm wrapped around the basket in her other hand.

Thwip!

And... just like that, the next few moments reminded me once again,

What it truly meant to live in an unfair world.