Fields close to Little round Top, Naggaroth, same time

Areta Bane should have known it; she had lived a Druchii life long enough. Good news always had some bad ones in tow. The good news were that both the usual coterie of Camp Followers and some supply wagons from Neustadt had reached the Druchii army. It meant that there was now a variety of food instead of gruel, it meant that things were on sale for the money she had received or was about to receive.
She was not yet sure what had been better-the extremely nice massage and the follow-up she had received from a Hung slavegirl or the brand-new silken socks she had been able to buy. The bathhouse that had been set up in a number of tents was burning all the meticulously planted stakes to heat enough water for their collapsible tubs. She was still debating with Breda if they wanted to use one together to save some money-on the first days the baths really were at a premium.

All of these good things meant that there had to be bad ones upcoming and the bad tidings did not disappoint. Lt. Richter had given them the news as far as he knew them already: All of the battle, all of the marching and fighting and dying had been a feint. A ruse to steal the attention from the real show.
Another Chaos band-this one smaller, but said to have a core of high-powered mages and Champions had used the Chaos of Dechella`s incursion into the Druchii`s lands and were currently occupying an old and disused mountain fortress. Said fortress preceded the Elves occupation of Naggaroth by quite ab bit and it was unknown who had built it or why it was given up. Best of all-nobody knew why the fortress was in that gods-forsaken area of Naggaroth.
What was quite clear was who got the job of clearing them out of it. Buying decent boots at Neustadt would have to wait for a while, but a new march was on.

Close to Neustadt, Naggaroth, next morning

Urglies Jeres was looking approvingly at the calendar. In two days Iskar Brightblood would have to sell him 1500 shares of the "Neustadt Small Arms Factory" at 24 denari each, the going price of 2 months ago.
Urglies had followed the news about the Auxilia closely, so he had a very good idea that more orders would be placed at the NSAF very shortly when he had agreed to give Brightblood the loan and insisted on being paid back in shares at the price the shares had then. Just that the factory had received orders for many more rifles and was now selling "revolvers" to anybody who would like to buy them. And all of that meant that the price of a NSAF share had now risen to 51 denary and Jeres was about to make a killing. Served Brightblood right, he could have socialized with the Germans as well or simply paid more attention to the news about the war.

He heard the muted sounds of Malik, his majordomos as the servant wanted him to hear them-surprising a Druchii Lord was never a good idea. "Master, please come"
"What is it?"
"Lady Heles is very sick, she has cramps and is barely breathing"
"I`ll be with you shortly."
Urglies felt hot and cold at the same time. Cold as the Lady Heles was his minor concubine and was eating anything he ate a couple of hours before him. Likely she had fallen victim to an assassination attempt by poisoning which he had now barely avoided. He felt hot as he had a very good idea who had made the attempt and that collecting the shares might very well involve the two new revolvers he had bought last week.

Ulthuan Embassy, Altdorf, evening of the same day

The servant pouring some more wine into Aurelius Ethelorne`s glass moved with the grace normally given to cats and putting a single drop of the drink outside of that glass was as unthinkable as spitting on her liege. The glass the wine flowed into was shaped into simple-looking curves that still could capture the eyes for hours if one let them.
The tableware that had hosted a variety of healthy and superbly-tasting foods was removed without sound at astonishing speed while never indicating undue haste. The Ulthuan ambassador waited until the last servant had removed himself before relaxing back into his chair slightly, thereby showing his willingness to talk to the other guests of this dinner.

"A very nice vintage ambassador, a Caledor `54 I presume."
"I would have thought so as well Thyriael if the cellarer would not have informed me, a Caledor `58 in fact. Nearly impossible to tell apart."
"Thank you, a worthy experience anyway."
"Well praised and appreciated then. But I take it that you wanted to discuss something different then?"
"Ah, my Lord does not miss anything. Yes, there is something that troubles me. Even with some time to distance us from the fight against the Skaven I still cannot understand why…"
"Why I honored the imperial defenders the way I did?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Ah, well, you have certainly earned the right to ask and I will abuse you as a mirror to my reasoning. First off-what I said during the fight stands-the humans simply fought very well and stood their ground when by all experience they should have run. Even an Asur unit would have a hard time fighting on when having incurred such losses and facing such numbers. For humans to stand in such a way it is even more remarkable and accepting that is as natural as seeing that the sun rises in the do not gain anything if we ignore the obvious.

But there is, of course, more. I had us join the fight for a simple reason. One more attack like the one the footmen stopped by themselves would have broken them without our assistance-and then we would have to face the Skaven alone. I preferred to fight with allies in their ground instead of alone in our embassy."
"A worthy tactical appraisal My Lord, I can see that. But I do not understand why you say we have to adapt or be left behind. Surely we can acquire such weapons as the Germans use sooner or later. And then we will certainly learn to use them much better than they ever could."
"Yes, I believed that too, for a while. But the more I studied the Germans the more I become convinced that this will be different if we do not change much more fundamentally."
"And why is that Sire?"
"How long have you practiced with your current sword Thyriael?"
"221 years now."
"And you Aeolus, how long are you now practicing with your bow?"
"38 years Ambassador, I am slowly getting competent with it"
"I think you are already competent Aeolus, but that is beside the point. Imagine I would obtain one of the K98 rifles that the imperials used to such effect for you, and you get to practice the next 38 years on it. Then you would surely be able to shoot more than 25 times a minute with it and could outshoot any of these footmen, right?"
"I surely hope so my liege"
"I would think so-but it would not matter. Because in 38 years the imperial footman will likely shoot with a self-loading assault rifle with an optical sight and his German counterpart will probably have a weapon of totally different design. They never stay still and every few years they have to learn totally new things. That they do not live as long as we do is no matter as long as they have their "progress". The long training we can put into such things is not useless, no. But its value has decreased immensely. We have to learn and to adapt much more quickly than in the past or in a human generation or two we will no longer be a Great Power."

"What, Sire surely you cannot mean-sorry I misspoke."
"Nothing happened; I had the same feeling when I started my research into the new realities we all face. But consider this Thyriael-if this Angela Merkel wants it any city in the Old World she names within the old world could be destroyed within 12 hours or so. There is, if I have seen and read things right, simply no army on this world which could defeat the Germans in a stand-up fight-none. Even if all the hordes of Chaos would decide to leave the wastes and deserts now-all of them and not just a fraction-they would die long before they reach Germany.
This is the world we now live in and we have to learn how to do that. And if that means that I read in this "I-Pad" till my eyes bleed I do that. And if this means that I give kudos, deservedly or not, to Imperials, I do that too-and it has paid off already, I have an invitation by Marshall Hellborg which sounds quite different from before. If we learn the future can be very bright, in fact unbelievingly better that we imagine now. If we do not learn we will be part of a theme park in merely a hundred years."
"Sire, I do not understand."
"Accepting that is a valuable first step-not easy for one of our race. And that is why from this evening, for every evening from 8 PM, you get this blasted "I-Pad" and can follow link after link after link just as I do."
"Yes, Sire-err what is a link, Sire?"

Neustadt, Naggaroth, some hours later

Yerna Halics lay on a rather hard wooden floor, with only a blanket between her and its cool surface. She had another blanket with which to cover herself, that was a welcome novelty as she had earned its use only recently through unquestioning obedience over quite some time and in tasks which she did not like to remember.
She had not been called her name since several months, usually it was "Slave" or "you there" and slowly but surely she thought of herself as Yerna less and less. Less than a year ago she had a different station in life-she was the daughter of an arrogant, over bearing and know-it-all true elven father and an equally Druchii serf mother.
She obviously had miscalculated on the forgiveness of her father who had found that he needed a favor of Jasla, the witch working for the German mercenaries. Her feeling of self-esteem had even more declined when she was bartered like a used blanket for an arcane technological device, called a field-telephone to a German chemist.

She had not given in to the designs of the chemist, not at first. She had fought every centimeter and every second when he wanted to bind her, punish her or use her. As long as her mouth was free to do so, she had cursed the sadistic German, threatened him and screamed her hate. Nothing of this had done her any good and to her dismay she had learned that the German may be clumsy but had his own lore of pain and humiliation that he perfected on her.
His methods were maybe simplistic and not very creative by true elven standards but he had managed to make her yield time and time again as he managed to inflict sufficient pain without injuring her to a crippling extend. He had rebelled with additional energy when she realized that and it had gained her only more of the same.

When she cooperated, even a little, she gained such nice things-a spoon, less chains and now even a blanket. Bit by bit and day by day she had learner her new reality and came to see that her Master was just and only punisher her as she had been bad-anybody could see that and anybody who she could see these days said so. She had after all come to love her Master.
Even later, when she was sure everybody was asleep she pulled the long nail that held one of the floorboards. Spitting on the tip and mixing that with some sand she ground that tip against the metal plate that held the chain to her neck to the wall. It was already needle sharp but that had to become better.
She loved her Master.
She was Druchii.
Druchii kill what they love.

House in Hassloch, Germany

Heinz Brausewetter, except maybe his family name, could be considered as average as a citizen could be. In a way, this was not unusual. His home Hassloch, Germany´s largest village, had already been a place for market research before the Weltensturz due to the population structure.

Now the scientists were less interested in market research, but how the events since coming to the Warhammer world had affected the normal populace and Heinz was a good example.
Germany had a feelable drop or at least change in living standard. Nobody had to be hungry, Germany could feed her citizens easily, but the normal, little luxuries were often not so normal any longer. Same for the range of available products.
While now, more than 2 years after arrival, in some cases solutions were there, for instance Germany had found enough sources of cocoa that the prices for chocolate products were steadily falling back towards Earth levels, in others the situation was grim. One example was coffee. At the moment, there were not enough sources to truly satisfy demand, so the prices for real coffee had skyrocketed in Germany. Most of the nation drank various ersatz-coffees, some good, some concoctions like from the darkest days of the World Wars.
Herbal teas were unproblematic in cost and taste range, especially with the addition of some tasty WH herbals, but Black Tea had become a rare treat. East Frisian Tea was now a local specialty. Concerning Green Tea the situation was less tense, Nanseitochi could help out.

When it came to fruits and berries, the official and private expansion of the capacities had achived a priceworthy satisfaction of demand for local fruits like apples, strawberries, cherries, plums and others, but now the seasons played a stronger role than before what fruits were when available. Warhammer fruits like e.g. Skadi fruits from Norsca and parts of the Empire became an ever more important factor of the food situation.
But even the best and efficient (re-)expansion of grain and fruit agriculture could do nothing when it came to tropical fruits. Germany had landed in a comparable weather zone like on Earth, so not much could be done when tropical fruits were needed. They had become expensive and in some circles, the last Mango cans were weighted in gold, since to this day no Mangos had ever been found.
Meat, fowl and fish were nearly unchanged, indeed, fish and game had become cheaper, due to the very rich and untapped populations. Even with species protection laws the markets could be satisfied and the range of availabe meat and fish had expanded to include Warhammer specific wildlife.

Close to Bay of Drusila, North of Ulthuan, at Sea, same time

Admiral Aslan`s legs reacted to the movement of the ship under him as automatically as he was breathing. The Dragon ship had rather unpredictable rolls as its multihull took the swell differently according to course and the length of individual waves but offered the ability to go higher against the wind as any other ship he knew with the exception of the smaller Eagle Ships.
His small fleet was watching one approach to the Bay of Drusilla that was used a lot of the Druchii to gain their base in the Bay of Drusilla. They tried to make this approach at night to avoid the attention of Aslan and his colleagues and the transports were regular enough to earn nicknames. This particular approach between several islands was "The Slot" and the Druchii ships were the "Rat Transports".

The Admiral was no stranger to the Winds of magic and used the lore he had amassed in the centuries to enhance his already impressive night sight. This was a much asked-for commodity these days. The Druchii had sensibly denied the Asur the great battle between fleets that only the true elves could have won. Instead they had occupied a barren bay they could not defend easily. The price for their choice of battlefield and the unopposed landing was that they could not live of the land-there were simply too few Asur to enslave, too few farms and manors to plunder and loot. Instead the Druchii were welcome to the denizens of Naggaryte who viewed them with a blazing hate that even the rest of the Asur found disturbing. So if the Darkies wanted to eat, shoot bolts from their crossbows or to receive reinforcements they had to bring them from cursed Naggaroth-and this was where the elven fleets came in.
Instead of huge fleets that vied for position and engaged in honorable combat small squadrons tried to pass the blockade or keep it up. The fighting between Sea Monsters and hallowed ships might bring glory, help quench the hate and reduce the enemy's capabilities but the real prices were the comparatively fat-bellied ships that brought grain and weapons. This was not a too uncommon way to wage war, honed by the hate of centuries, but it still struck in the Admirals craw. But it was the only war to be had and none would find him shrinking from duty.

He heard the call from the tops as well as any other Elf on Deck but his dignity demanded that he wait until the message had been noted by an officer, who talked to the captain of the "Bright Dragon" who in turn approached him.
"My Lord, the lookout reports sails to the south-south-west. We have no count so far, but they seem to be sail ships and Doom Reavers arranged in 3 lines."
"Thank you Master Limael, I will have a look by my own."
Admiral Aslan was a High Elf and as such not so much exposed to the ravages of old ages as the lesser races. Still he was by no means as sprite or light as he had been in his Cadet days when he clambered up the masts like some Lustrian monkey. Still he managed without a wound to his pride and was given space in the crow`s nest by the young sailors. The spy glass that he could have used was useless at night as they tended to reduce available light too much. No matter-a number of gestures and a moment of concentration brought the sight he needed. Which did not mean he liked what he saw:
In the foreground a group of snakelike bodies undulated through the water crowned by heads which could bite the bow of a Hawkship. The middle of their reptilian bodies were crowned with the round turrets of fortress towers which had been set on the backs of the sea monsters.
Behind that group were a double line of Hydra ships and Skiffs which made their best speed to their . Balancing urgency against gravitas Aslan decided that is was urgent enough and bend his arms and legs around some standing rigging and slid down like some crew member that lived in front of the masts.
The Captain of the "Bright Dragon" and his staff tried to look as if nothing had happened when he approached them. "9 Doom Reavers and Doom Fortress, behind them 15 or so sailing ships. We keep course for 15 more minutes, then we head in. Begin signaling the squadron."

Getting back to his place on the afterdeck Aslan went down on a carpet placed there by his Flag Lieutenant, folded himself into his favorite cross-legged position and started to imitate meditating. He was certainly not in the mood for such antics, but it calmed the crew to no end.
Instead of thinking about the nature of the 9 spheres or something like that he listened closely to the terse conversations about him. His Flag Lieutenant knew about this play and made sure that all necessary information was spoken about in his vicinity. So he allowed himself an internal smile about the combination of his planning and luck that had brought his squadron squarely windward of the enemy. While the Druchii sea Monsters could maneuver independently of the wind his ships were much better with the wind. Still timing was crucial and the more he heard the more he wanted to look himself.

Finally his play would not serve it purpose anymore, so he got up and stretched, all the while looking at the enemy who had come much closer while changing the bearing from forward to abeam. Looking at the wake gave him a pretty good estimate of his speed, the exertions of the enemy monsters gave theirs. Playing the mental chess in his mind he saw the two groups getting towards the point he intended to use.
"Captain Liramos, change course to south-south-east on my mark. Lieut-signal the squadron that we attack on my mark." Aslan watched as the colored lanterns were lifted on the afterdeck, saw the answering lights on the other ships, saw the bearing change of the enemy "Now-Mark Mark"
From his single command terse orders emerged from the officers, warrants and ratings moved in a well-rehearsed choreography and sail-bearing beams swung about. The Ships of the squadron turned as one, changing their line formation into one abreast and charged directly towards the enemy.
"Captain Liramos, you may open fire upon your convenience". The Admiral watched the onrushing enemy, but a short glance showed how the great ballistae were charged by heaving muscles and the big bolts lifted into their grooves. Glyphs on both the ballista and the bolts began to glow in unison and he heard the warrants on the weapons instruct their crews "Aim high-they have no waterline-aim high."

The distance to the towering monsters seemed to vanish and then the "Fire" commands rose from the ships. The bolts were ejected from their weapons and accelerated even after they left their ships-such was their magic. Bolts made from the living woods of starwood trees topped by razor-sharp tips made from meteoric iron sped to their targets. At this range many missed-that was not a surprise at this range-but others met their mark and thudded home. Aslan watched as several bolts impacted on the Doom Reaver closest to the "Bright Dragon", several vanished inside the fortress on the monster`s back, doing damage he could not estimate, one scratched the gigantic neck-and one went directly into the eye.
The Reaver froze for a second and then went into a series of cramps and convulsions that first threw the elf-made structures on its back off and then took it below the black waves, leaving a field of flotsam.

At the same time the crew of the "Bright Dragon" went through the exertions of changing course again and Aslan felt the deck tilt under his feet when the Dragonship changed course in a way that would bring tears of envy into the eyes of the lesser navies were they to see it. Dark bolts came their way and numerous small waterspouts went up, mostly in from of his ships, a very few among them. His ballistae could not shoot as often as the repeater bolt throwers used by the Druchii but outranged them considerably. Due to his windward position his much faster squadron could keep their distance and pummel the enemy at will in a battle of attrition.
He went to the rail of the starboard side to estimate courses and distances again and when the time was right the commands and the moves were put in again. This time none of the monsters went down, but one of the Doom Fortress stopped shooting from its Tower. During the jibe one of the enemy`s bolts went into the side of the "Bright Dragons" hull, but barely penetrated and did nothing else as the hit was above the water line. Again his line went in, again the bolts reached out-this time one of the Doom Reavers slowed down as its tail was hit and it could no longer move fully-and then everything changed.

"Captain Liramos, signal course change south west to the Eagles, change on my mark." When the answering lanterns were all up. "Mark, Mark" divided his squadron in two. The nimble Hawkships turned 180 degree again and would continue to attack the Druchii from a distance, but his three eagle Ships and the "Bright Dragon" would come much closer.
His ballistae crews were as good as befitting to a Dragonship and managed to reload their weapons in time to shoot at the point when the enemy was closest. The Bolts were much more accurate now and the jubilant cries of his crew accompanied another Doom Reaver who went below the waves in agony. But this time the Sea Monsters were much closer and there was a price to pay for the attack. Scores of bolts were shot from the closes Doom Fortress and all around the Admiral crashing sounds told of their hits. He was jerked backwards by his Flag Lieutenant and wanted to admonish his aide when a tackle with some stays crashed into the deck right where he had stood before. Screaming crewmembers close by demonstrated the dangers of flying splinters and more quiet bodies were pierced by the rune-encrusted bolts. The next salvo was better-the range had opened again and the closest enemy was no more. Thankfully all ships in his half-squadron had survived the encounter and now it was time for the real target. In front of him the lines of Hydra ships and Skiffs were making their best speed towards safety-but measured against the best sail ships afloat their best was not very good, and their escorts were now behind him. They had the choice to chase him with Monsters who could move at half his speed and be harassed by the Hawkships all the way or fight with the other half of his squadron. He did not care much either way, as the real prize was in front of him.

The Druchii sail ships should have been slower than his ships but not that much slower as they turned out to be. Their low freeboard spoke of heavy loads that reduced their speed. "Captain, signal "Valedor" and "Asur`s" pride to attack the starboard column, we will take the larboard one with "Caledor". Coming up from astern Aslan brought his ships into a parallel course to the Druchii ships and used his ballistae for some opening salvoes. "Aim high-we need to slow them"
Watching the masts of two Skiffs go and the ships flounder in the waves without movement the Admiral had to make decisions again. Fight from the distance would keep the risks low, but so would be the rewards. Thinking about the sailors who had bought him this chance the decision was easy.
"Captain, signal the Caledor to keep shooting at the stranglers. And take us in, this ship has Dragon Shears for a reason."
"Yes, My Lord, with pleasure"

Taking the Dragon Ship so close to the enemy had its own share of risks. When the "Bright Dragon" came about, the Druchii ships in range started to concentrate her fire into her. So far most bolts had been rejected by the stout hull or had passed through the sails without doing much harm, but that was about to change. Scream from the rigging and a red rain dropping from above mixed with a storm of flying splinters, some as long as Aslan`s forearm. His Flag Lieutenant had one sticking out of his right arm and the warrant who directed the ballistae so ably curled around one that struck from his belly. But it was worth the price-the Dragon ship bore in on the Hydra ship Aslan had elected to be its first victim and managed to crash into the sides at the tremendous speed of 12 knots.

The bow of the "Bright Dragon" was reinforced by a ram called the "Dragon`s Shears". Made from an alloy hardened in the fire of a Dragon`s breath they were possibly the toughest piece of armor around on this world-till the Germans arrived. Sharpened to a knives edge it did not crush the hulls planking so much but rather cut through it. Even the keels of the Hydra ship were no real brake on the ram`s onslaught and so under groaning noises, falling debris from the wildly swinging masts the Dragonship drove right through its victim. Leaving two sinking ship-halves behind them Admiral Aslan watched unperturbed as the crew made the few repairs they could while coming to a new heading. One ship down, many more to go.
At the end of the night only very few supplies would make it to the Bay of Drusilla.

Passau, Germany, same time

Andy Thrope`s wife had set a very nice table and the Dinner had left everybody in the room with a full stomach and slightly tired. While she was putting the plates away into the kitchen the 3 men left at the table looked at each other, sizing themselves up.
Andy himself was dwarfing the two others not only by height, but also by his broad shoulders and strong arms. Some lines in his face showed where he had lost weight after the Weltensprung, the absence of many foods he loved and the enforced cycling had taken care of his "love handles" where nothing else would.
On the other side of the table were two smaller men, one a black-haired stocky 20-something, the other a slim-and trim man in his 40`s who`s plaited shirt, long blonde hair bound into a pony tail and brocade vest set him apart from the others who wore German modern clothing.
This man opened the conversation.

"Dear Andy, kindly convey my compliments to your wife, she has made a most acceptable meal. And thanks for the invitation, the opportunity to improve the lot of my erstwhile countrymen is very welcome."
"What makes you want to free serfs all of a sudden Noble? It wasn`t as if you did not have some of their own after all?"
"Jean, I can understand your hate of the nobles, I have learned a great lot since leaving Bretonia. In the past I thought it would be enough to treat serfs well, now I see the very fact that there are serfs as a disgrace. What can I say-both of us are children of Bretonia. But of you ask the citizens of Nouvelle Trois Fountaines and they will tell you who I have been and what we do now."
"Actually I did, this is why I am here now."
"I will never, ever understand why this bl.. country is set up like that and why the serfs take it. It is a disgrace, starting from the fact that the serfs starve at times, that they belong to somebody, somebody who treats them like dirt and if they move off it is a crime. And do not get me started on "first nights…"
Both Bretons looked at each other for who was going to answer that one. Both gave a most Gallic shrug at the same time, smirked at that and wordlessly agreed that the Marquis de Lac got the job.

"Ah, my friend Andy, when it all began it was not a bad thing. Have you seen a Breton Knight? He is all covered in steel armor, as are parts of his horse. He uses a Lance and a shield, so that means he has to learn to steer his horse with his knees and the horse has to be a special one that can carry all that weight. His armor is worth the same as a small village and he has to learn to ride and fight at the same time he learns to walk. Because of this he can beat nearly any infantry around, even if they are more of them-by far. So the villages agreed to make the best guy a fighter and to keep him up while he just practices. So far, so good. Now add to the mix that the Lady of the Lake actually endorses the system and that her Grail Knights are quite literally superhuman-glowing eyes, highly charismatic, extremely strong and courageous-you get the drift. All of that enhances the idea that some guys are better than the others.
Originally the chivalric code made sure that the Knights treated the serfs decently-as far as that goes. But during the last centuries more and more nobles went the way of the scoundrel and treat their serfs as slaves and feel no obligation towards them. I have been arguing against this before, and you can see where this has led me."
"The path to hell is paved by good intentions."
"Something like that. The question is: do we do something about that and what?"

"Well, between me and Jean we have discussed to run an underground railroad – helping serfs to escape to Germany. The German government will currently accept all of them as asylum seekers and will not extradite them. Actually most of them will be swallowed by the labor market in a matter of days. It will be a good thing in itself, but it should also help move things in Bretonia as well."
"A worthy goal for sure, but I cannot see how this will help in Bretonia?"
"Well, only the Serfs of assholes will run, so said assholes-excuse me, the worthy nobles of great birth of course-will find themselves out of serfs to till their fields. That should teach them manners."
"That could work, indeed. But there are dangers both to the helpers as well as for the serfs."
Jean, who had been quiet so far went for that: "I think should know of these dangers-but I also know very well what the serfs currently go through. It is worth the risks and I am pretty sure we can be careful."
"Very well then, if you want my help, I am in. I can no longer travel to Bretonia, I am too recognizable. But some members of my household can and are willing to. They can establish connections to those nobles who think like me-and help on the way. How does that fit into your plans?"
"Once the harvest is over I can spare a couple of months and by now I know a lot of ex-serfs in Germany who also want to help."
"So my Andy Thrope-how about you?"
"Oh, I can help with some financing, there are quite a few Germans pissed off at the Bretons as it is. Also I will help with the first and last part of the trips and maybe more. Let me show you what I have in mind."
The three men looked at each other for confirmation, the nodded, one after the other.

Andy Thrope was the first to speak up. "We are three bleeding musketeers, aren't we?"
"Who are the 3 musketeers?"
"Oh fu-I will lend you the book or the DVD, you might enjoy. A group of heroic do-gooders and cynics. But to more important matters
The Englishman put a map on the table that showed both large sections of Bretonia and the North-West of Bretonia.
"Here is the German Border in Lower Saxony-they are on the lookout for armed forces, but we should be able to pass with a little bit of preparation-some of the Germans who do not like Serf-keepers are in the Federal Police who guard the borders. Then we have the Couronne Wilderness-that part is mostly risk-free but for some beastmen and similar. There we mostly need some armed men and have to establish depots for food and the like. And then Bretonia proper-there the problems begin. I have already discussed this with Jean and we think we already know how to move there too."
"How"
"We hide in plain sight"