Quarry, same time

Kurt Müller was braking for his life-and the life of many others. Major Gerber ordered him to stop at the end of the railroad line in small switchyard in the middle of the quarry-but not to drive into the quarry too slowly.
So Kurt had estimated the braking distance needed best as he could and had added some reserve. But about 100 meters since the gate into the quarry the train had squarely collided with a mass of packed beastmen. It was like driving the train into a mass like the one which can be found at open air concerts. The trains great mass had flung those directly in its path away in bloody ruin even at its slow seeming speed, but others had gotten under the wheels and were now providing a lubrication that the railroad engineer had not factored in. So now he had to apply full emergency brakes. The high-pitched scream of the brakes mixed itself with the three great locomotives steam pipes into a crescendo this world had never heard.

It stopped most fighting in the quarry cold and friend and foe alike could just stare and watch the armored monster bore its way through the huge warherd packed onto the quarry`s floor. The train reached the bumper at the end of the line with less energy needed to unearth it. Kurt Müller was quite happy with this already.
In his old life Kurt Müller would have been aghast at such a lousy breaking maneuver and would have been horrified by the massacre his train had already wrought. Kurt Müller, the friendly, slightly bald and overweight train enthusiast, the patient instructor of novice railroad engineers was about to personally kill more living beings than Sigmar Heldenhammer in his entire life.

Steam locomotives are notoriously inefficient. Even the improvements the Germans had included for every horsepower developed by the big pistons four horsepower of thermal energy had to be produced. When the train had settled Kurt pulled the safety off a red lever and pushed it downwards with all his force.
All the steam needed to produce nearly 10000 horsepower was now funneled through high pressure lines all under the train and ejected through carefully shaped nozzles mounted low on both sides of the carriages. As the steam was still superheated when it emerged from the nozzles which moved through 90 degree arcs it was virtually invisible-but for its effects.
Those beastmen who were too close to the train were ripped into pieces when the steam jets passed over them. The cuts were strangely bloodless as they were cauterized by the hot gas. They were the lucky ones.
Those beasts who were a few meters off were saturated by the hot steam-and when the steam condensed into water on their skins it dumped all the energy needed to convert the water into steam in the first place right into the flesh it touched.
Steam burns all over the bodies, eyes turned into hard-boiled balls of coagulated proteins, throats burned so badly on the inside that they swelled shut and cut off the air-the steam close defense system knew many ways to kill its targets.
And it did kill-horribly, efficiently and in great numbers. But it did not do the job alone.

All over the long train muzzle flashes told of weapons which threw rounds at the beastmen at point blank range. From 155 mm shells which tore bloody fans through the crowd to the thousands of rounds per minute shot by the air-defense turrets and the heavy machine gun turrets to the assault rifles of the Landwehr who fired through special slots the train meted out death in many forms. All modern weapons have the potential to kill huge numbers but rarely realize them as most shots hit nothing but soil and air. On the quarry`s floor this time was different.

The beastmen were packed in so tightly in the quarry that aiming was a luxury-any projectile was bound to hit something-and usually did. It took Major Gerber about a minute to get everybody to cease fire and another minute passed before the smoke and steam cleared sufficiently to see any results.
It might have been quicker to use a nuke on the beastmen-but not more thorough. The great Warherd, the biggest this world had seen since Sigmars time, was no more.

Caves, same time

The fighting had changed after the first cavern-now it was going down endless tunnels which branched off at odd intervals. The Germans used something called echolocation and the small self-propelled carts, the Dwarves their experience and instinct to pick the right branches.
Sealing off tunnels with explosives made attacks from the rear less likely and cut down on the points which needed to be guarded-but it did not keep the beastmen from attacking from the front again and again.
The firepower brought by the tunnelers proved to be decisive every time-but all too often the victory was paid for in bullets and blood when the Children of Chaos came faster than they could be killed.
The tunnel fighters started to rely a lot of their "Einstossflammenwerfer"-single use flame throwers. They were tubes which could be clipped under the assault rifles like grenade launchers or were hand held and which filled 30 meters or more of a tunnel with chemical powered hell.
The beastmen did storm machine guns and magical axes without any fear-but respected the fire immensely. For Felix the fighting was a mixture of old and new-the old waiting for the attack and the new thunder of the rapid fire rifles. The old uncertainty and seeing only a small part of the battle and the efficient destruction of every living being by impossible weapons.
Still, meter by meter, skirmish by skirmish they closed to the center of whatever made this storm tick-and not a second too soon. While the tunnel fighters expended sweat and bullets the magicians fought a different battle and their white faces bore testimony that they would not be able to fight much longer.

He was looking to the rear of the formation so intensely that he missed the sudden stop of the column. "Watch it."
"Sorry, what`s up sergeant"
"Looks like there is another cavern ahead-let`s see what`s it this time"
Felix watched the repeat of the routine he had already witnessed before-the deployment of a drone, the shooting of "missiles" into the chamber, the assault which was met mostly by the dead.
He entered the Cavern as one of the last humans and found the Germans and dwarves not busy with establishing a perimeter looking at some beastmen remains. They did not look like being killed by the blast-whatever had killed them had left them withered husks which had been stacked like cordwood at one wall of the cavern.
"Hello Herr Jäger-seen anything like this before?"
"No, I do not think so-whatever happened here drained them of their life force-but why or how, beats me"

Felix was still examining the remains of the beastmen when the Germans got excited at the other end of the cavern. Walking over to them he was asked to come into another short tunnel. It ended in another cave.
Like the other he stood in awe and revulsion at the sight in front of him: at the far wall of the cave the withered husk of a beastman shaman sat on a throne-like seat formed by the roots of an otherwise unseen but gigantic plant. His back seemed pierced by some of these roots while other appendages connected countless other Children of Chaos with the mage.
Some of these were still healthy looking, others were nearly as devastated as the corpses he had just examined. Small black lightnings crackled along the beasts and the roots which connected them all. Felix did not need to be a mage to feel the massive magic worked in this cavern. So this was how the beastmen were able to work such magic-concentrating the psychic powers of so many of their kind into the Shaman.

He could not see any defenders and was about to have a closer look when one of the Landwehr dwarves stopped him. "Halt friend-this is not healthy. Have a look" The dwarf threw a fist sized stone into the cavern which was immediately hit by several lightnings before its remains came to a dead stop in midair.
"What in Sigmar`s name…."
"No idea, but let`s see what happens when we challenge it for real"
The dwarf stepped back a couple of meters and lifted his MG21 to the shoulder. Firing off a couple of short bursts they watched quite a firework-and some glowing metal objects slowly dropping down before they entered the cave proper.
"Oh shit, this is not good"

Felix stepped back to let other look for a solution when he saw Grotek. The slayer had a look on his face that his human companion had never seen before. On a human face Felix would have said it showed somebody finding a long lost love-for the slayer it meant a different thing.
For more than 20 years Grotek had looked for his doom and it had averted him at every turn. He was seeking atonement by death in combat for a crime that Felix had never learned about. He had battled Druchii, Trolls, dragons and demons and had prevailed even in battles that by all rights should have killed him a dozen times over.
Now the dwarf saw something that would finally bring the death and salvation about that he had longed for for far too long.
He knew better than to stop him. He could only watch in awe when his friend stepped into the cavern that contained the doom-for all of them if it were not stopped soon.

The slayer had not gone more than a few meters when he too was met by the lightning. The runes in his axe glowed like lit by the fire that made them and drew the energy into it. Walking slowly forward till the spot at which the bullets lay on the ground the dwarf advanced without much problem. Then he was stopped like everything else which tried to penetrate the invisible barrier.
The runes shone brighter, much brighter, the muscles on the dwarfs arms and legs showed in stark relief with the strain exerted by the dwarven warrior. Lines of white and black ran over the surface of whatever protected the shaman.
Felix waited with bated breath for the outcome of this struggle-and then the barriers gave a sound like breaking glass and a tortured soul rolled into one.

First the axe and then the Slayer passed the barrier into the cave. From the speed, the heavy breathing and the strained muscles everybody could see that Grotek had to fight for every meter like he was wading through tar. With every step the axe shone brighter until its outline could hardly be seen.
To the tunnelers horror they saw the skin of the dwarf redden, then blister. The proud red crest on the slayers head started to smoke and then, like his beard, went up in a flashburn. Still the dwarven warrior fought his way towards the shaman step by bloody step holding the axe in front of him-until his feet caught one of the roots and he fell.

Skin that was covered in blisters broke bloodily open and started to blacken in places and the face of the dwarf was no longer recognizable as such. To Felix and all the other onlookers it was clear that the bloody path of the slayer was at its end.
The piece of bloody blackened meat on the ground could not move – couldn`t it.
The being that looked out through the shamans eyes was the only one to see the truth of the matter and did something it had not done in aeons, it nearly froze with fear.

The Axe that Grotek had claimed for himself was indeed the second axe of Grimnir, the dwarven god of warfare. The first slayer who had fought at the Chaos Gate so ably until the elves had channeled the empyrean`s energy into the winds of magic had put a considerable part of himself into the axe before he threw it away at his death.
During the years in the slayers hands it had formed Grotek in ways that made him more useful to the dwarven god`s purpose-changing his flesh and his thoughts far beyond the abilities of any normal slayer.
When confronted with the possibility of a new Chaos Gate the amalgam of god-forged weapon and god-fragment still there had put Grotek on a path to end this evil before it could come to fruition. And it they would not be denied by a root or simple gravity.

Muscles which should be useless pieces of underdone meat moved sinews that should by rights be without function. Nerves that no longer exchanged ions gave signals to a brain that could not work any longer in a rational universe – and did.
Getting up from the floor the Slayer resumed his march towards the shaman, leaving small pieces of himself on the floor wherever he stepped. Lips that no longer were there opened a mouth for a ferocious warcry and the glowing axe finally bit into the mages head which parted like an overripe melon.

At the other side of reality a Chaos God tried urgently to stop the flow of energy that he had funneled so freely into what mortals called reality-and failed to do so in time. Denied its outlet the stream of energy found no way forward and bounded back to the place it had come from-a lot of energy.
The warp is a place where human experience does not count for much and so any sensation gained from it shows only the small part that can be interpreted by a human frame, making any information gained this way partitial at best and misleading at worst.
The most overwhelming sensation a human observer would gain now was the smell of singed feathers and a sound like the mewling of an injured cat at the sound level of a landslide.

With a final explosion of light the barrier that had held the tunnelers back went away-as did the pressure on everybody`s mind that had been the warpstorm up close.
Silence filled the caverns that had just witnessed such titanic struggle. Even when all was clear nobody wanted to be the first to talk loudly and all stepped lightly. Felix Jäger thought it wrong-Grotek would have wanted cries of victory and happiness at a slayer that had finally found the doom he had chased for half a lifetime-but even he could not shake the feeling of loss.

The Quarry, same time

Joakim Vos undid the straps that had held him during the wild ride that was the end run of "Hammer" to relive the Quarry. He was not sure if he should curse the madman that had managed to run the train so fast over bad rails-or admire the genius.
After having a quick look at his platoon who seemed to have survived the run like him without greater harm he freed his rifle from its cradle. Like other "special forces" the 1st Landwehr had a free pick for their personal weapons as long as caliber was met. He had fallen in love with an old but superbly made G8. This variant of the MG21 was originally made for police forces. Combining a sniper rifles bull barrel with a robust machine guns mechanism and allowing for 50 and 100 round magazines the 8 kg rifle was quite a handful-and offered superior firepower.
Very heavy for a rifle it was well controllable by anybody with a ton of muscle-and the intense training of the last months had seen him acquiring these. Pulling the straps of his armor tighter he stood up and made his way to the exit.

Seeing that his troop leaders were organizing the soldiers he contacted his boss on a dedicated channel.
"Henrik-Joakim here. We are ready to take names and kick ass"
"Good-I have a job for you. The Major in charge of this clusterfuck just reached me. It seems that at the end of the Quarry some beasties still attack their infirmary. We have come as far as we can with "Hammer" – hoof it at 260 degree for 500 meters to the tunnel entrance and rescue the damsels in distress."
"Can do Boss"
A couple of fast orders brought everybody in front of the assault ramp. Time to go to work, and to try their new warcry-the 1st Landwehr`s first battle needed one.
When the ramp came down and armored figures stormed forward from it wielding heavy projectile weapons their throats shouted the same:
"To the Emperor"

Garek Brightfur had been special. He had charisma, the ability to lead and to inspire his Children of Chaos to do what needed to be done as if it were their own wish.
He had a great intellect, unschooled but brilliant. He had seen the beastmen`s weaknesses and had tried to eradicate or circumvent them and had been successful in that.
With the demise of his Great Warherd and the end of the storm all of that was gone like it never existed. All that remained was an aggressive fighter that wanted revenge for the horrible things that had been done to his people. He wanted the satisfaction of personal combat wanted to see his enemies cry in despair and bloodily perish.
He had taken command of the few survivors that had tried to penetrate into the caverns that lay at the end of this cursed tunnel. He had to order his few beasts to pull out the many dead that choked the tunnel so that they could storm inside.

When the final corpses were removed the hated rifle fire that he and his troops had to endure for so long took up again, but it was desultory and few shots connected with his warriors. Feeling the rage redoubling again at humans who were so willing to kill but so reluctant to die he pushed past the beastmen between him and the human defenders.
He was greeted by a sight that startled him for a second. He had expected some stalwart human soldiers who faithfully guarded the path, warriors worthy to give him a last chance at revenge and a good fight.

Instead he saw a hodgepodge of exhausted human figures who warily looked at him from some meters distance. A shooter at the floor was just fumbling at his rifle, another was bowed over him and tried to help with one arm.
A few other humans brandished axes or hand tools while a white clad woman was pulling a bandaged wounded back into the cave some meters behind the defenders. In the middle of this group a huge human handled a hammer like born with it while still showing numerous small wounds and lesions. Screaming at the fate that had denied him a last grand fight the doombull ran forward.

His few surviving beastmen attacked with him and assaulted the humans besides the blonde, leaving the only worthy for to Garek. The human was surprisingly fast and strong for his kind but bore no armor. A hammer is not a good weapon to parry-but neither was the axe that Garek brandished. Screaming his hate the bull furiously attacked with great blows that were barely met by the mundane seeming hammer. Impossible as it was his axe was not able to penetrate the human parries until a rebound allowed him to punch the pick side of his axe into the humans side who dropped to his knees.

Shouting his triumph he lifted the axe for the overhead strike which would part the human lengthwise. His powerful stroke was met by the axes haft just before it smashed the head-and the axe would not move another millimeter. This was not possible-no human, especially no injured human could show just strength-but here it was.
Garek never saw the hammer head start to glow, never saw Valten gather the strength to stand up against the pressure-his head was removed by a short burst of 7,62 ammo from a Landwehr sergeant.
Joakim Vos stepped forward over the fallen doombull and let his rifle fall into its sling. He pressed his right fist on the bleeding wound in the blonde warriors side while hoping his wireless would work inside the tunnel.
"Boss, send me a couple of medics stat-we have some live ones."

Close to the cave mouth, an hour later

Felix Jäger had stumbled through the way back to the surface without any conscious thought, his brain felt simply empty. For 20 years he had accompanied the slayer on adventures that should by rights have killed them both. He could barely remember a life before his oath-bound quest and had never had expected to survive it.
The thought of a life without Grotek, without constant danger was a strange one. Like a sore tooth that is probed by a tongue many times no matter how futile the human tried to wrap his mind about it and found he could not.

The Germans had gotten the blackened corpse out of the blasted cavern and had worked mightily on it-sticking tubes in maimed limbs and what used to be Groteks throat. They had pumped fluids and air into him and even tried to compress his mighty breast to get his heart to work.
Felix would never forget the look of the German doctor who rose from besides the stretcher and shook his head. The human adventurer had left then, all that needed to be said had been.

Quarry, three hours later

A lot was being done in the quarry-wounded were being triaged and treated, dead beastmen were bulldozed into big heaps into places where they were not in the way and could later be burned without setting anything on fire which was not meant to, the first repairs were done and more.

Major Brenneke was no longer looking like shit. When it became clear that the Quarry was safe he collapsed in total exhaustion and was in the hands of a less irate but heavily overworked Klaus Reichert who, together with the doctors of the 1st Landwehr, tried to keep as many humans alive as possible.

Many of the Majors responsibilities had landed with Heinz Albers who had promptly kicked off most of them to his fellow Captains-what needed to be done he saw as engineering problems-and they all knew how to solve them. Having taken care of the most immediate problems he found time to look after one of his own. Walking into the cave that still served as the infirmary after the destruction of the original one he sought Luthor Huss, the Sigmarite. He found him sitting in a chair in front of the curtained area that was used for surgery. His face looked like he should be inside the treatment area, distraught and translucently pale.

"Good evening Father Huss. How are you?"
"I am well, thanks to your efforts in part. But Valten is in there, they are cutting him open-his fate is in Sigmars hands now."
"As far as I can see he is in Doctor Reichert`s hands now Father. And despite his gruff behavior the doctor is quite capable. Your charge should be fine."
"He has a pierced abdomen-how can you say he will be fine-he has a choice between a fast death and a slow one unless a miracle happens. And I am a priest of Sigmar-what do I know of healing?
"I am no doctor myself, but as Valten was ambulatory when we found him his chances are excellent. Doctor Reichert will close the wounds and then administer antibiotics. So far we have not found something in this world which is immune to a healthy dose of Penicillin."
"What are you saying-that your doctor can heal the inflammation?"
"If nothing untoward happens there will be no inflammation. I would think Valten will be walking again next time this week."
"Do not joke in such a serious matter"
"I do not Priest"
The Sigmarite was unable to say much for a while. "This is a new world now-a lot to learn for the Order"

"It is a new world for all of us Father and we all have to learn much. In this matter I have a favor to ask – do you have a little bit of time for me later?"
"Sure I have, especially for the bearer of so much hope. About what if I may ask"
"Father, when the gates were breached I…choked. I was so sure all was lost that was unable to perform my duties."
"How can you say so, I saw you taking command of your company and defending us all ably"
"Yes Father-but only after you invoked Sigmar. I do not know what I felt, I do not know what happened inside me-but whatever I did had something to do with that. And here I need your help"
"Oh, I see. Well, consider yourself blessed-and you are right we need to talk further."

Breitenfelde, North Germany, same Night

Professor (emeritus) Gerhard Lüth was as happy as he could be at his age. He had gotten the Janitor of his Old People`s Home to carry his Celestron Schmidt-Cassegrain Telescope to the back end of the Park. He had taken a chair, a ton of covers, some tea and stuffed bread rolls with him to engage in the remaining passion of his life: star-gazing.
Punctually at 11.00 PM the Parks lights were extinguished as were the few light on the one road leading into the 64-inhabitants village. So small that it was not shown on many maps Breitenfelde had not been much before the Weltensprung-and not much had changed after that.
That the next town with all-night street illumination was 20 kilometers away made it an astronomers dream-and the cold cloudless night meant that Gerhard could indulge in his hobby to his hearts contents.

Amateur astronomy was getting a lot of attention these days as there was, quite literally, a new sky to behold. Two moons, new Planets and totally new stars and galaxies meant that everybody with a binox could make a discovery if he were patient. The pensioned astronomer already had two supernovae under his belt as well as a Seyfert-Galaxy analog and he aimed to find more.
Having adjusted his telescope (and his old joints) to his satisfaction he looked again into the nights sky with wonder.

It took the object little time to get his attention-it had a changing albedo. Even in the cold night of Germany`s autumn stars would "blink" a little bit, but this one changed its apparent luminosity every 30 seconds or so.
This made the astronomers sit up and take notice-this was too slow for atmospheric disturbance-and too fast for a Cephid. Focusing on the object took his fingers longer than he liked, then he dialed in the maximum magnification of 122x.
What he saw then took his breath away. Fumbling fingers still found the camera buttons and digital photo after photo was committed to silicon memory.
The same night a phone call to one of his former students at the Cologne-Bonn University and several emails with his pictures started quite a stir.

Middenheim, Two days after Battle of the Quarry

Igolf the writer had always enjoyed the sight of the Middenheim Palace. Inside it was an impressive hall with a high arched ceiling and many windows alternately giving a view over Middenheim Province or showing scenes from the Ulric faith in stained glass artwork.
Boris Todbringer, his staff officers, the priests of Ulric and the courtiers were a showcase of Middenheim fashion and elegance if you cared about such things.
Today he could not indulge in this-he had to write was said in this room, which required him to keep his head focused at his wax board-and there was the other reason.

Currently he was using his own version of shorthand to write down what the German army officer called a "briefing". He was using pictures magically projected to a white screen to underline his words. The officer`s aide had promised him to give him copies of these pictures and Igolf wondered how many months it would take to make the copies-their detail and coloration would need skilled artisans to paint. That the copies would be with him tomorrow was out of the question-wasn`t it.

Like any other imperial citizen he had heard a lot about the wonders performed by these Germans, but as Middenheim was not yet connected to Altdorf and Germany the contact of ordinary imperials to Germans was limited.
The planes and airships that came and went from the "airport" were quite a spectacle but the German "Lager" was off-limits to most Middenlanders.
Well, time to write up the rest of the briefing.

"This concludes what we know about the enemy's dispositions and movements. We are just updating this picture though as we have just resumed flight operations, so we will give another briefing in a couple of days. Now about the reinforcements you can expect from Germany. As the railroad is about 6 months from completion the road from Altdorf and the airport are the only available supply routes.
The road is still of old construction and in many parts not very good, few of the bridges can carry vehicles of any weight. The airport is unimproved grass and fuel for the planes has to be flown in as well-this strongly limits what we can bring in here in a short time.
I am afraid that until the projected arrival of the enemy we can just send you light troops, but no real armored vehicles or artillery"

"Our abilities to strike the approaching army by air are also few-Middenheim is so far out that we have to refuel any plane by air twice, and while we have sufficient strike planes we currently lack tankers. Presently the enemy is well dispersed on the march so they can forage better-we can harass them from the air, but we will not be able to stop them totally.
If the enemy were to accelerate his march I am afraid that we will not be able to bring more than very few reinforcements at all."
Igolf had no way to write down the deadly silence that followed.

He was very glad when he was finally able to leave the hall-he was already feeling the burn again. For a few hours there would be nothing, but then it would start to build up to a torture nobody could stand.
Hurrying down the roads and alleys to his home he went by the Colleague of Physicians-not that they could help him. Finally reaching his small apartment he had to concentrate so very hard just getting the lock of his door open over the pain and he nearly dropped into his small assembly of rooms when he had managed.
Anybody else would have been aghast at their state. The rooms which were sparsely furnished but clean and airy before were now dark and the ground as any other horizontal surface was covered by garbage of all descriptions. Some of it moved by its own violation.
Igolf had no eye for any of it-his salvation was in the back room. The being that greeted him there made his soiled rooms still look tidy and clean. Insects crowded around it so it was hard to make out except for outline.
A voice which managed to sound hoarse and full of unsavory liquids at the same time greeted him. "Little Ingolf, so nice of you to come to me. You do not look well Ingolf, you need help. But so do I Ingolf….."

Imperial Palace, Altdorf. One week after the Battle

Major Gerber was standing ramrod-straight before the desk of Colonel Grube, the Chief of Staff for all Imperial-German Landwehr units. He had stood at attention for far longer than normal or comfortable and it was obvious that the Colonel who was currently reading from a folder in front of him was upset at the Major.
"Train Hammer, unless otherwise directed I will take the "Hammer" to the Quarry immediately as it is in danger of being destroyed. I will leave sufficient forces to protect the railhead"
"This is what the communication log shows as send before you took "Hammer" to the Quarry to relieve the forces there-did you send it?"
"Yes, Sir, I had it send"
"You know what bothered me about this message?"
"No Sir"
"The buzzing sound that swallowed more than half of the massage and that made it clear that any attempt to "direct you otherwise" would fail due to the interference by the warp storm. That buzzing bothered me a lot. I could not place it but I was very sure I had heard it before. Can you imagine what it was?"
"No Sir"

"Well, yesterday morning it came to me-during shaving. Because this buzzing sounded very much like my Phillips electric shaver-isn´t that remarkable?"
"Yes Sir"
"I do fondly believe that you used a shaver to simulate bad communications so that you could finally do what you have asked us for about 5 times-take this armored monstrosity and relieve the quarry. That was a worthy goal and well executed-but it was not your decision to make. That you took "Hammer" off the railhead did not cause a catastrophe as you left a holding force. But "Hammer" is not your personal plaything. Do you believe that you can take it for a spin when you feel like it Major Gerber?"
"No Sir"
"I cannot prove anything of this, and I am not stupid enough to go after an officer who will have his rank made permanent by the Emperor himself and who will receive the German Medal of Courage at the same time as an introduction into the Honor Company of the Reiksguard. But I will keep watching you, because either you are a failure waiting to happen or a brilliant officer with initiative-and I have not decided which it is yet. Do not fail me Gerber-dismissed."
"Yes Sir, thank you Sir"

Quarry, same time

The series of small detonations sounded good in Heinz Albers ears. It might be a costly method of removing tree stumps but it was a fast one, and that seemed to be the main factor at present. He was currently helping to clear a large patch of ground close to the Quarry, a job that took most of the Quarries resources at present. Construction of the railway had ceased for now, but that did not mean that the quarry or the depot were idle-far from it.

Besides regular Bundeswehr infantry for security the last trains had brought the Pionierregiment 100 (Engineer Regiment) and several air mobile engineer units. As a lot of living quarters had been damaged or destroyed during the final battle that meant that most people were again sleeping under canvass but given the recent events nobody had problems with more soldiers around.
The small switchyard and depot had suffered only superficial damage and had been repaired within 3 days. Now they were accepting an ever increasing flood of material. Thankfully most was containerized so storage was not too much of a problem.

Other trains had brought countless trucks who should supposedly use the old Road to Middenheim-but that had to wait until the engineer units had improved at least the worst bottlenecks. What the Fend tractors which had been delivered also were for Heinz had no idea for.
The light breeze had removed most of the dust, showing the blaster the results of his handiwork. Time to remove the debris.

300 Kilometers north of Middenheim, same date

Erk put his spearpoint into the soft ground and pushed. The wet loam parted easily enough for the first 50 centimeter but refused to yield after that. A little bit of digging showed some boards protecting earthenware pots. Pulling one out required the help of one of his comrades and after the wax seal was removed it proved to be full of good rye.
It had just taken 3 liters of water forced into the throat of the farmer and a couple of kicks to his stomach until he had divulged where he had hid his seed stock and other foodstuff. Looking over his shoulder he saw that some of the guys were amusing themselves by forcing more liquid into the Farmers mouth. As he was useless now they had switched to slurry from the farms dung heap.

Some moans from the hovel that served as the Farmhouse made Erk happy again that he was walking point for his band-that had given him the rights for the first round with the farmer`s wife-the daughter was for the Boss-too young for him anyway. Both would not be good for much of anything once all the lads had their ways with them-better to have first dibs.
Neither Erk nor the other men were regular members of any Chaos army or band. They had been bandits, misfits or dispossessed farmers when the Chaos army burned their way into the Ostmark. As there was nothing and nobody left after their passage whom they could rob or plunder they attached themselves to the fringes of the Chaos troops. Their "mission" was to keep to the flanks of the armies march and steal as many supplies as possible.

Most of what they found they had to bring to the armies quartermasters but they could keep enough for themselves that they managed to survive. They would not dare to keep too much for themselves as they were genuinely frightened by the "real" Chaos Warriors-they seemed more than human to them.
But even so life was good while it lasted. Making any plans beyond tomorrow was foolish in this world.
A gurgling sound made by a slashed throat in the hovel proved the wisdom of that.

Castle Wolfenfels, next day

Count Heinrich watched another supply drop-the third one today. Everybody around the Castle was used to them by now and they were handled with routine. What had not been routine was the "Clean-up" they had to perform before.
The first drop had been one of the flexible fuel blisters the Germans used. Together with a fuel pump they had used most of the kerosene to douse the remains of the Chaos Spawn and the remains of the enemy`s camp. Fire should cleanse the ground of all Chaos defilement-or so it was hoped.
The count had not climbed the long stairs to the Donjon because he needed to see another drop-he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He did not know about Wellington, but if he would have heard about "There is nothing more sad than a battle won-except for a battle lost" he would have agreed wholeheartedly.

Yes, his Castle was still standing-but it was much demolished both by attack and the demolitions needed for the defense.
Yes, his armsmen and most of his farmers were still alive, but with many farmhouses burned and a lot of the seed stock gone, the next years would be hungry ones.
Yes, the Germans and the Reiksguard had done much to aid the defense, but now he was told that both would have to leave the castle to take part in the bigger battle that was about to take place near Middenheim.
And all of a sudden he saw something that took his mind off the misery that had followed the elation about victory. A flying machine like he had never seen before approached the castle. He had seen the Helicopters that had brought Lt. Hermann and his team-but these were far bigger.

Later in the evening he was offering a Beer in his office to Lt. Hermann and the newcomer, a Major Herbst. "As stated we want to use your fiefdom as an offloading point for the materials used for the improvement of the Middenheim Road and as a helicopter landing field."
"So you want to pay rent for the use of the exercise field and the place where the tavern was and need the work of my armsmen?"
"That is the gist of our offer. Lieutenant Hermann told me that you would be willing to offer a reasonable price-something like 5000 Euro a month for the rent and 2,50 Euro per man-hour."
Biting back his surprise and wishing that he could do more for the KSK officer the Count set back.
"Lt. Hermann is presuming much on my generosity, but I think in the interests of the alliance and in the light of the honorable and brave service of the KSK I can agree if you….."
A modest amount of haggling later the Engineer major had offered to transport the purchases the Count was going to make within reason and some help by his engineers in making the castle fit for Winter. Things were looking up in Castle Wolfenfels.