Neuville, Bretonnia, during Vorhexen month

Neuville was a town in northern Bretonnia and "capital" of the fief of Baron Claude Lafleur. The Baron, a mid-forty brown-haired noble, broad-shouldered with a now fashionable close cut beard, looked out from the highest tower of his castle onto the Sea of Claws.
From Neuville the German coast could only be seen with a looking glass and good weather, but Lafleur wished they could sense his hate directly there. He hated the new neighbour with all his heart. Since that nation suddenly popped up over 3 years ago, the fate of Bretonnia had taken a turn for the worse.
His fief, due to the relative closeness to the Reik and the German coast, had become a major waypoint of fleeing serfs. The Lafleur coastal guard ships had their hands full hunting down boats, dingies and floats. All trying to reach the mouth of the Reik and the German riverside or other points along the German sea coast. Lafleur had already expanded his patrols twice, which was rather costly. The only bright spot was that by royal order border region nobles catching fleeing serfs could keep most of them themselves, sending back only 20%. This had made his fief more wealthy even counting the costs for more ships and men.
Still, even here the Germans interfered. His closeness to Germany and his rising number of fresh and eager-to-try-fleeing-again serfs had made it necessary to copy some practises of Germany. Not doing so would some day topple it all. Lafleur had to keep his "core" serfs pacified, so he had lightened the burdens and even build up some small "manufactures", proto-factories.

This had helped him keeping his land quiet, but if catching serfs were all, he would had few reasons to hate and more to be happy. It was just the tip of the iceberg. Like most nations of the Old World, Bretonnia had to weather more and stronger attacks by the Norscan raiders and Druchii sadists. With Germany and the Empire off-limits for any savvy Norscan captain, other lands had to bear the brunt of their raids.
Neuville had been attacked by them 6 times in the last two years alone. While Lafleur had been successful in repelling them, he knew that other coast regions, towns and thorps were not so lucky.
What grated on the Baron even stronger, was the loss of commerce. As the Baron this did touch him only peripherically, but when his merchants came complaining in regular intervalls, it became his problem.
The Empire was the biggest customer of Bretonnia´s wine, clearly the best in the Old World. Karl-Franz´ realm had own vineyards, mostly in the southern provinces, but few of comparable quality to Bretonnian and not enough to satisfy their needs.
Germany, once the northernmost real wine region on Earth, might not even on Warhammer have the climatic situation to grow wine easier than on Earth, but the Germans had centuries of knowledge on wine production more than Bretonnia. The German wine regions could produce high quality wine for a lower price than Bretonnia could. So the Empire had begun to meet it´s wine imports by buying in Germany. Not only that, but German and Empire vintners started to cooperate and exchange tips and plants for selective cultivation.

Bretonnia slowly began to slide down the totem pole of importance to Altdorf. A lot more had to done, if it could be done in the stagnate society of Bretonnia, to regain importance from the Empire and in the Old World in general. There were some strides done that helped, but until that became a trend, if it would become one, hating the people the Bretons saw as responsible for their loss had become a "national sport". Having a scapegoat was always easier than to look in the mirror.

BlackArk "Eternal Torment", 50 kilometers from the Bay of Drusilla, morning, 27. Sigmarstag

The ruined eyeball would certainly never provide sight to the human again, but the optic nerve was another path to inflict agony. The Captain pushed a slightly glowing needle in and listened to the hoarse screams. They were only possible as sorcery kept the human alive and conscious, otherwise he would have fainted long ago. Even this level of magic could not keep what sanity the slave had possessed last night but he retained the faculties to suffer and scream, that was enough.
The sole reason for this torture was the similarity this human had to Hartmut, son of Klawitter, the German who had so brazenly lied about the invulnerability of the Arks to his countrymen. It was just coincidence that the Germans had decided to demonstrate their power instead of exercising it.

He would never display it openly, but cold fear had grasped the Captain when the cliff had started to move and drop into the sea. The surprise and violence of the attack had frozen the Druchii on the Arks who had witnessed it stiff, but none were more effected than the Dread Lords that ruled over them like tiny gods.
Smaller Arks might have been sunken in the past and some bigger ones successfully boarded. But never ever in the long memory of the Druchii had one of the great Arks been sunk. And now Erlik had seen forces at work that could have sunken his ship, his home, his source of power and the weapon to smite Naggaroth`s enemies. And the arrogant, never-sufficiently-damned Germans obviously thought so little of him and so much of their own powers that they had just demonstrated that they could kill him instead of actually doing so. Doing so with a ease a elven swordsman might demonstrate the sharpness of his sword and his prowess by taking off the head of a worthless slave.
It was disgusting.
It was bad for his position in Druchii society.
It was an insult.
It meant that he had to explain himself to the Witch King.
It was very very frightening and Erlik had not been frightened for a great length of time. He hated the feeling with a vengeance and decided that he had abused the slave`s eyes enough. Time to get to the genitals, he had a lot of frustrations to work off.

Before the Hills of Contrition, same time

It was one of the beautiful winter days that even this blasted part of Ulthuan could deliver. Nary a cloud in the sky, a sun that promised great warmth and even dispelled the chill when one was directly in its rays. The hills not far from the Camp had enough pines in them not to look totally barren and a wild but beautiful countryside surrounded the army.
The field taken by the army had been despoiled of course. Many feet, wheels, claws and hoofs had destroyed what little vegetation had clung to the ground and mixed the earth below with the winter rains that happened often enough into black, clinging mud spiced by the manure of animals and less savory indigents. The many tents that stood in orderly rows displayed the same sign as their inhabitants: great artistry, slender build often of the finest materials but worn by the constant campaigning in the last year. As the Dragon Gate had never been breached and the Druchii had to lay a lengthy siege both the warriors and the equipment showed signs of tear and wear. The black of the tents had faded into an uneven charcoal grey, the well-cut clothes had frayed collars and sleeves. Armor had dents and scratches that marred ornaments that would have been granted a place in many art galleries.
Even the very spirit of the army seemed exhausted. Their fortunes had known great ups and downs during the last year. The successful crossing of the ocean, the unopposed landing and the rapid advance deep into Ulthuan had fired up the Dark Elves. The bloody stalemate of the Dragon Gate had sapped them of their furor. Now a great victory had been won and they were on the brink of another that would crush an enemy that had eluded them too many times already and yet they had seen the Black Dragons humbled. The meeting that was just shaping up was fraught with many hopes for the better and the weary expectation it might only bring more of the same.

Malus Darkblade watched the small group of humans and Druchii that walked down the camps main way with disgust. They represented so many wrongs that it was hard to decide where to start. They were the embodiment of his failure. If he had managed to breach the Dragon Gate as he had intended he would not have to ask for reinforcements, the newcomers were the symbol of failure. They were humans of great power who considered themselves the equal of true Elves, who had the ear of Malekith and who were introducing strange new ways into Naggarond which were successful while he was not around to shape it.
Worst of all-the humans were not just any humans but Germans. Germans who might fight for him, but who were still from the same people who had burned his city, killed his warriors, sunk his fleet and stole his slaves. Not to pull his Warpsword and simply kill the lot of them was taking all the self-control that he possessed.
Up close they did not seem so powerful. This Wolfgang, Son of Böhler was clearly old, at least half a head smaller than him and while he held himself erect he did not display the hulking build that some of the soldiers he had seen during the German raid displayed. He was wearing hardy-looking grey-green clothing that would probably be hard to see in the field, an armored vest of some kind and a slender rifle slung on his back. He had brought a couple of aides along, a mixture of true elves and humans. Having Druchii working for a human was an affront of its own and that they had replaced a part of their garb by human clothing rubbed it in.
The small group stopped the few meters that convention demanded from him, all of them bowing from their waists and performing a strange salute. The salute he could not place, but the bow would have been fitting a true elven commander that lead a part of his army. The sheer gall of the Germans was astounding. Yet Malus Darkblade came from a society where you went to an audience to be tortured for an imagined failing by ones superior and were expected to say "thank you" at the end of it. He had endured worse and he would probably do so again later.

"Wolfgang Böhler reports as ordered General Darkblade"
"Well met Wolfgang, Son of Böhler, it is good to finally meet you in person. Come inside, then we can discuss how to beat those cowards in the hills yonder."
"Yes Highness."
The inside of the tent was nice, yet its greatest feature for Darkblade was that he no longer had to treat the German as an equal in front of large parts of the army.
"I am happy that you could hold Tyrion in place for me until I arrived. Now we can beat him properly and not just fend off his attacks. Tell me Wolfgang, what can you do that Tyrion fears so much and that will help winning the battle?"
"My Auxilia is currently down to 3720 effectives due to the recent battle. We have received supplies to replace the munitions that we expended in the recent battle and the troops are well rested. Our capabilities…well we have an artillery train of one gun and 12 mortars. These can destroy anything above ground up to a range of 3 kilometers.
We have several heavy weapons platoons. They have two heavy machine guns, 6 general purpose machine guns and 8 mechanical ones. These are our main weapons against infantry and cavalry and can be used up to one kilometer, they need line-of-sight. Within these limitations they can stop nearly any assault.
To top it off we have 1500 riflemen, they provide the other half of the firepower."

"Ah yes, very well. Very impressive I am sure, unfortunately not enough to fend your erstwhile countrymen off. So how do you think you could aid my army?"
"We can take out mages or command posts with the artillery, so elven leadership will be damaged and your mages can work without bother. In the current situation we propose to make up a line of fire close to the hills and take the Asurian positions under fire to keep the heads of the High Elves down. Then you can assault them from the flanks without getting under fire from the elven archers."
"And reduce your risk to almost nothing in turn?"
"This is the best we can do. If we assault the Hills directly we give up many of the advantages that we currently have. I am sure we would do well, but then we are just a small drop in the ocean. The tactics I suggest will play to the strengths of each unit."
"What else can you do?"
"I can lend you a couple of wireless operators. They can contact you or each other instantly in battle so you can coordinate better."
"Do you think we are unable to operate your wireless sets? I am using one of yours myself German."
"Of course I do not insinuate such a thing Highness. Yet these wireless sets are very valuable and I have orders to keep them under my control at all times."
"So you do not trust me?"
"I have my orders highness."
"I take this as a "yes" then, so noted. Yet, your plan has merit I think. So where do you plan to post your troops?"

It was quite a while later when a plan had been agreed and Böhler`s staff hashed out the details with Malus` leaders when Malus went for the German sniper again.
"Since you are such a master of the wireless, have you received any news from the Bay of Drusilla since yesterday?"
"No Sire. The few Germans who were there are on the way to this position or are already here. There is a wireless set at the Bay, but it seems to be broken or nobody uses it."
"Marvelous, just marvelous. Suppose the Germans indeed blockade the Bay-what do you believe we should do?"
"Send unarmed ships Highness, the blockade is for warships only."
"So our decadent cousins can sink them with impunity?"
"The Total Exclusion Zone is for all warships, not just ours."
"So our ships should rely on the protection of the Germans? Are you mad?"
"I see no other way highness. We certainly cannot fight them, especially when they have somehow gotten some fighters here."
"So you Germans take away our weapons and those of the Asur because we are like little children, is it that?"
"I am no longer German highness and I cannot vouch for the motivations of my former country."
"So you say…."
Malus Darkblade never offered food or drink to the Wolfgang Böhler till he left for his camp again, something the sniper was truly grateful for. He had the next day to prepare as the day after tomorrow would be a hot one, despite the winter weather.

Castle Wolfenfels, Middenland, afternoon

The locomotive that pulled the late train into the small railway station was a smallish 2C, one of the most common steam engines in the Empire these days. They pulled smaller freight trains with the same ease than the carriages of the regional passenger lines that stopped even at such small railway stations as Castle Wolfenfels.
The couple that climbed from the 1st. Class carriage had a mix to it that was an analog for the new times in both the Empire and Germany. The man wore the uniform of an Army Pilot, the woman the traditional traveling garb of an Imperial noblewoman of low-to-middling standing. Both went arm in arm to the small group of people who welcomed them.
"Wolfgang, a pleasure to too you again."
"Likewise Sir Nathan, Mylady you look lovely. Please follow me, the carriage awaits. On the way to the carriage Nathan could not help to be impressed by all the new buildings that had sprung up close to the railroad station and the station itself.
The building were all made from wooden boards and had a "Old West" feeling all over them, provided one ignored such details as the "Wendenknüppel", wooden horse heads that adorned the roof ridges of most houses or the corrugated PVC sheets that adorned many a roof. Everything smelled of freshly cut wood and closer inspection would reveal some gaps left by shrinking wood here and there. Still, it was a vast contrast to the hovels that had existed here just 18 months ago.

"You certainly have been eager beavers while I was away. What is all that?"
"Oh the new sawmill produces wooden boards so quickly as the loggers can bring the trees-and nails as so plentiful and cheap these days that it seems like child`s play. My, we erected the outer walls and the roof of that warehouse over there in a day I swear. Well, we have station building itself, we have the Store house of the Raiffeisen association and the new stores. If you were to look at Fallow Field one of these days you would see the new houses for the farmers, very nice even if they look goofy-all roof and no walls."
"Sounds great, I´ll do. Good to see that things are picking up."
The carriage they used was as much a mix of the new and the old as the rest. Rubber tires, steel springs and friction dampers held up a wooden body that was finely carved and painted. The ride to the Castle was a short one and they were indeed given some time to fresh up and change before the dinner commenced. Nathan saw the new-style cutlery and dinnerware, the tablecloth that now covered the table and the glasses that replaced the jugs that would have served before. His eyebrows must have risen to a noticeable level as the Baron`s smile increased even more.
"You remember that stupid "movie" they made here last summer-they simply left all of that when they went home for a pittance."
"Ah, that is nice."
Full but not too full Nathan retreated to the Baron`s study a while later and while the stove-heated room was nice enough and the Baron in a jovial mood there was an underlying tension between the two men as something needed to be discussed. But not right away. First there was an Obstler to consume and small talk to be made before the meat of the matter was reached. It took the two men a good ten minutes to settle themselves in their chairs and demolish the first rounds of shots before things drew to a close.

"You seem to do quite well Baron Heinrich, it is a sight to see"
"So it is Sir Nathan, I would never have thought it a year before. The castle half-demolished, the farms burned, the fields fallow- I was pretty sure that we would go hungry. And then your army turns up, the engineers help to make the castle viable again and pay a lot of money to the farmers who help them.
Then the crazy Babelsberg guys turn up and pay even more money for letting them make a movie-and now we have the Raiffeisen Union that allows us to take up farming for real. The footmen`s company are by now all Raiffeisen members and all have their small farm-or not so small. And you should see our own one-Wolfgang is heading it and does such a job of it. But enough of me young man-how about you, what are your prospects these days?"
"As of last Sigmar`s day I am back in astronaut training, thank god. Even if I were to wash out-and at this stage this is unlikely-I still would be an officer with the army with a decent wage and a pension-so I am set."
"I hear you Sir Nathan Alpers, I hear you very well. I have heard from Wolfgang that your family now has holdings along the Reik from Wolfgang and about your exploits against the Skaven from Ermine. But I did not need to hear that. All I needed to know about you in the two ruts you left in my Castle."
"Uh, sorry Sir but I do not get you?"
"Ha-when the siege started you flew here to drop us munition, you will not have forgotten that, right."
"No Sir."
"I remember it became easier when we started using that cable to snag your canisters but the first flight you made some daredevil maneuver that meant we got what we needed and you nearly crashed. When you went down the wheels of your Storch dug some ruts into the embankment-that told me nearly everything I needed to know about you.
When you came back the next day and had rigged up a system that was nearly safe to use I knew the rest. You are quite a capable and courageous man Nathan Alpers."

So this was the moment to say it-easy. Just that the words would not come. What if the grey bear in front of him would say no, What of he asked him to give up his position to take over governing the castle what…
An so Nathan Alpers, the man who had shot Chaos assassins from three meters, who flew against an enemy without arms and who landed a fixed-wing plane in places where some people would not park their cars choked. He simply could not say what he wanted to say and it became worse with every second.
Heinrich of Wolfenfels, warrior and father looked at the spectacle for a full minute before he opened his mouth again. "Come on Nathan-you want her or not?"
"Yes Sir, I want her very much"
The German pilot passed the final test with flying colors-he survived the fierce bear hug he was subjected to. When the Baron filled the shot glasses again Nathan thought he saw something like a tear in the old man`s eye, but that surely was an illusion.

Before the Hills of Contrition, Ulthuan, at night

The small glade was hemmed in by evergreen trees that even now kept their foliage in the onset of Winter, shielding the light from the small fire that burned in the middle of it. The solitary figure that sat on a tree stomp before it was as far from a lone wanderer as possible and he was not lost in thought even if he affected that air. Instead he took great pains not to look into the fire that he kept alive so not to destroy his night vision. Nor was the figure as lonely or as solitary as a first glance indicated as in the forest surrounding the glade a deadly game of hide-and-seek between Shadow Warriors and Druchii assassins played itself out in near-total silence.
When faint rustling and the movement of leaves announced the arrival of a visitor the figure did not try to feign surprise or a warm welcome to his hearth. Instead he got to his feet in a movement that seemed languid until one realized how very fast he had gotten into an alert stance. On the opposite sides if then fire stood two beings that seemed like photo and negative. Both were tall, slender and radiated a commanding presence. Both wore the finest of arms and armor artisans could make that had many centuries to practice and who weaved handcraft and magic into a seamless whole. Both were gifted leaders of their people, highly capable and utterly deadly.

"Normally I would say well met Malus Darkblade, but with you I will make an exception."
"Any meeting with you that leaves you alive and free is a wretched one Tyrion"
"And yet you have called for such a meeting and I wonder why."
"Because we are both about to do something stupid that we should both avoid."
"And that would be?"
"We do the job of the Germans for them."
"Which task do you have in mind?"
"Kill each other off."
"You want to tell me in earnest that you do not want to kill me?"
"Kill you? If I had my druthers you would live in pain for a thousand years. Yet this is not the time and not the place."
"So you have finally heard that the Black Arks were chased away from the Bay of Drusilla like children that annoy their parents and want to avoid a spanking."
"Ever since noontime and yet that is all the Germans did-and I am still here."
"Well, they make your Dragons crawl on the ground like so many Wyrms. Yet as long as my army is here you cannot assault the Dragon Gate and fight your way deeper in Ulthuan. And with your supplies no longer coming you will not stay here for long."
"And if I attack you tomorrow I will push you from that hill and kill any of your warriors stupid enough to make a stand."
"Ah, you think your Germans can help you so much. It must hurt depending so much on them."
"Look at who is talking. But yes, they can give me the means to pull your carcass from that primitive fortress of yours. You should be ashamed of yourself, even an Orc could do better."
"They do the job. Let us assume that you can do as you plan-even you will not for a second believe that you could do this without incurring heavy losses. And when you are done you are still in front of the Dragon Gate with no fresh supplies and the winter coming in."
"Yes, but you would not be there to see that and so would a great lots of haughty Asur. That alone might make me do that."
"So that is what you mean by doing the Germans` job for them."

"Yes, indeed. Khaine, even you have to see that the Germans want to govern the seas and all land that tickles their fancy. Shall we make that easier for them?"
"Be that as it may, what are you proposing?"
"I withdraw my army from Ulthuan, you do not attack, we both go home and explain to our rulers why we could not do what we promised."
"Oh I promised to defend Ulthuan from your likes. Your head on a pike would just make a nice bonus I could do without that for a while."
"So-do we have an agreement?"
"Nearly so, there is a matter of a small retribution."
"If you think the Witch King or I will pay tribute…."
"No no, not that. This new unit-that Auxilia, that cannot go. They need to die."
"Why for Khaine`s sake, they have just arrived."
"They have just arrived and there is no family of noble lineage in all of Caledor that is not missing at least one member now. Letting them go would be politically ..awkward.
"And that is all? Do you think I have to do the job for you or are you indeed capable of some fighting of your own?"
"No, the Dragon Prices can cut the pound of flesh by themselves. Just a place in the rear guard that is surprisingly unsupported would do the trick I am sure."
"So you think I will throw my own allies, of which the greatest part is Druchii, to the wolves to save my skin, do you?"
"Yes, of course."
"And you are right. We have a deal. And I suggest a night attack actually, the Germans always tell me they can only kill what they see."
"Do they indeed."

Tower of Cold, Naggarond,

Elric Straker had served Malekith for more than 400 years and had brought him the good news as well as the bad. Even if he sometimes did not understand why Malekith rejoiced on news he had deemed bad and exuded an even more intense hatred when he brought the good he had always survived them. Survived them with a fright and a nick at times, but survived.
Today was one of the few times when he was not sure he would do so. The Witch King had not become louder or swore, yet the quiet whisper that emerged from his helmet and the witchfire that emerged from his sword frightened the courtiers in the room more than any amount of shouting could have.

"So did the message from Lord Silverhawk say something why Lord Bloodcrest assaults Neustadt and our mercenaries-the mercenaries which I have placed under my personal protection?"
"The message just stated that Lord Bloodcrest demanded the Germans to surrender their weapons and when they did not they were attacked by Lord Bloodcrest`s forces."
"So what is the situation now?"
"The Germans have retreated into their fastness and are under siege but report that they can do this for several weeks if needed. They also state that at present the Neustadt factories cannot produce anything Highness."
"Did you tell Bloodcrest that he should disarm the Germans?"
"No Sire, only that he should bring them to the Tower with all speed. Lord Bloodcrest made this demand on his own initiative."
"Then he can explain his reasoning to me in great detail. Send messengers to Lord Bloodcrest to lift the siege immediately. He is to report to me at the earliest convenience. Send another messenger to Lord Silverhawk, he is to contact Claus Tolles, explain to him that we have to hide his men from his own countrymen and escort him here-with their own weapons of course."
"Yes Highness"
In front of the two Druchii a certain shuffle played itself out as every petitioner tried not to be the next one to be in line to plead his case with the Witch King. This could only end badly.

Close to the Hill of Contrition, Ulthuan, roughly same time

Wolfgang Böhler felt ill at ease presently, which was hardly surprising. First off he had to do something he knew he did not do well and did not like at all-riding a horse- in full view for all of the Auxilia. The mercenaries were performing one of the more difficult maneuvers, marching in a square, in difficult terrain.
Secondly he had a severe case of "Battlus Interuptus" as he had geared himself up to the battle with the Asur in the hills and only this morning he had been told that it was not to be. The Druchii navy had totally abandoned the Bay of Drusilla at the moment and it seemed that this had given Malus Darkblade cause to withdraw. The Druchii general had not given any deep insight into his strategy and just assigned the Auxilia the rearguard duty. As the Asur had been quick to deploy their surviving cavalry the Auxilia had been forced to assume the formation best used to the defense against them-the square. With rifles on the outside the leadership, the supply wagons and the heavy weapons were protected inside. Yet this big square was the devil to keep during the march and Böhler was happy for every hour of drill the Auxilia had undergone.
Well, about five more hours of this, then his ass would be numb-hopefully-and would only wake up when the camp was already erected.

On the other side of the field a scrawny figure watched the Auxilia march at the tail of an Army that had killed countless Asur. He would simply be a very slender, but not verybeautifulhuman if not for his eyes and ears. In a society of refined elegance and beauty he had been as close to an outcast as his high birth and undoubted abilities allowed. It had left him bitter and a cynic, yet duty compelled him to aid his brother as well as he could.
Teclis was probably the most powerful mage the light side of the Warhammer World knew and he was assessing a unit nearly devoid of magic as his target. It should be easy, but long experience hadtaughtTeclis that few things were as easy as they should be on a battlefield. Slumping in the saddle he closed his eyes to look at the enemy with other senses. There were indeed few mages there, a Witch and maybe some helpers. The Witch read strange, a bit like seeing something a little vague through heat waves-she was probably shielding her identity. That would not matter too much, even when most Asurian mages were still out he was more than capable of taking care of them.
Opening his eyes again he saw that he should act soon-the Dragon Princes were getting ready for the charge. Morvael had been sure he needed no such help as he was no longer attacking a fixed position but given the recent battles Tyrion and Teclis had decided that saving lives was more important than saving ego. It was bad enough that Tyrion had to allow for a daylight attack, yet the Dragon Prices might have attacked on their own if he had insisted on it. Cavalry does not attack at night and the Caledor nobles wanted to avenge their dead by piling up more of them.

Well a test then-changing into his warpsight again Teclis choose a spell that would deny the Winds of Magic from the Druchii witch. He could see the currents of the warp move as he wished-and then the carefully arranged pattern of forces unraveled like a line of knitting on which the loose end was pulled . Ok, not such an easy opponent then.
The next attempt was more direct-an arrow of pure energy that would take out the Witch and some of the mercenary commanders. He doubted that there were ten mages in this world who could cast this spell at such a distance and it took a lot out of him. It formed well enough and went for a third of the distance before it simply left the physical plane and went directly into the warp where it had come from. Now that was unexpected, yet he was pretty sure it had been countered with a Scroll of Warding. She could only have a few of those and he was pretty sure he now had the measure of her. Time to show that hag who really understood magic.
He started to "stack" up spells in his mind, recalling the words of power from a perfect memory. Behind three spells that should tax her he packed one that would take her out of play-and one that would keep the mercenaries from fighting properly. And none too soon it seemed-the Witch was no longer moving and the shadows put into the warp by the Druchii and their German allies no longer shifted position much-they were probably shaking themselves out into fighting formation.

"Push you morons-you want to be caught dawdling about when the bloody horse buggerers come or you want to shoot them?" Lurhel Blackheart had to do his own cussing these days as Hardass Areta was away on some kind of hush-hush mission. Funny-two weeks or so ago he would have gladly killed her if he could have gotten away with it, now he would be reassured when she would have been here.. Could not be helped though. His crew managed to be the first at its post in the middle of the triple line of marksdruchii who faced the enemy directly, the crew of the second machine gun was a couple of meters to his right, and to his secret delight behind.
The corners of the square were the most important and received the German machine guns. Weapons of nearly mythical power they were able to shoot at least 3 times as fast as even his crack team managed from a gun which weighted less than a tenth of his. He had always been envious of the Germans manning them, yet now he was nearly relieved that so much responsibility was resting on other shoulders.
Some of the Auxilia`s sappers tried to improve the line in front of them, but Lurhel doubted that they could do much in such a short time. In front of the Auxilia it was obvious that the decadent cousins were getting it up.

Horns pealed, fragments of speech and acclamations could be heard over the distance, while the Auxilia waited. Lurhel was by now good at not turning the head, but the lightshow behind was even too much to ignore for him. He swiveled his head back in a second, but the picture of many wraiths and other less identifiable things that assaulted the Auxilia`s Witch was one he would not forget soon. They did not seem to actually harm her but would distract anybody from what she was doing. This could not be well. He was looking in the right direction again-towards the enemy, when he felt something crawl up his leg. He looked down to find that the vines and grass on the ground had formed limbs that moved around his legs, rooting them to the spot and crawling upwards on his body to do even more harm. The curses and shouts from all sides showed him that he was not alone in his plight.
On the other side of the field the charge took off. At the moment the horses were just cantering-even the elven horses would tire if they tried the full distance at a gallop. But even so the distance grew shorter with terrible swiftness, making it possible to see the long lances, the sword and maces in great detail without the ability to do anything about it.
And to the flanks of the accelerating cavalry archers made their way forward. If these came in range things would get very ugly very fast.

Wolfgang Böhler had seen his Auxilia in dire straits before, but this was worse than anything he had faced before. Still he had to do his best, this was what he owed the troops that he had raised and trained.
"Richter, get the reserves to cut the machine gunners free. Post a line 10 meters behind the first one. And somebody find me that bloody mage that does this to us. Manfred, contact Malus Darkblade and ask him for reinforcements
The former sniper could see what was to happen in his mind`s eye. Saw the much reduced fire that would not stop the charging Dragon Princes, saw the archers that would launch volley after volley on his troops in open ground-he sawthe downfall of his troops.
He saw his wireless operator who shrugged with his shoulders in getting no reply and he saw his Witch Hellebane who stabbed her hands at the wraiths around her and shrieked something his mind refused to parse. And then he saw even more.
When commanding officers come under great pressure they sometimes lapse into roles they had long ago and concentrate on very small parts of the battle instead of the great whole. Wolfgang Böhler stopped commanding, stood up in the saddle and took up his Mauser rifle. He aimed for five eternal seconds before pulling the trigger.

One second Lurhel had fought the vines that slowed him, the very next they dropped and left him, which meant that he promptly dropped on his ass. He sprung up like stung and went to his gun again and came up just in time.
"Target Cavalry 400 meters-fire"
It was just the moment when the cavalry went from the canter to the gallop, when the archers had just a few more meters to go and everything was packed into a few hundred meters that could be used between the two forests on the sides. Into this packed mass several hundred rifles and six machine guns fire. At this range it was possible to miss-and then usually to hit somebody else. The well-trained Druchii managed to fire their rifles 12 times a minute in an emergency-and this certainly qualified. The machine guns were cementing their bad reputation in Ulthuan when they sent salvo after salvo into the charging Asur, killing dozens in seconds.
For Blackheart and his crew only their field of fire counted, barely 30 meters broad when they could fire again. By now the charging horses and their riders could be so clearly seen, their voices heard and their willingness to kill all of them mercilessly felt. And yet they did what had been drilled into them countless times. Lurhel swiveled the machine gun when he turned the crank, distributing death without discrimination. Iliasses replaced the magazine plates with a speed that exceeded anything he had displayed before. The rounds that sped downrange hurt the enemy terribly. The armor worn by the Dragon Princes was not proof against the fast bronze projectiles and deformed from the initial impact the bullets ripped hideous wounds. The Asurian horses took the hits even worse and their screams of pain would normally warm a Druchii heart.

And all of that seemed to make no difference at all. Horses and men fell, riders slumped in their saddles screams of pain mixed with battle cries-and the Dragon Princes still charged. With every meter they came closer the fire became more effective-and still they charged. Their hate for anything Druchii, their need to avenge their fallen and the need to prove their place as a decisive force combined to make the cavalry immune to the losses they incurred. Blackheart saw from the corners of his eyes that the riflemen in the first line to his left and right stopped shooting and put their rifles butts against the ground and their boots, the tips of their bayonets upwards and outwards. Any normal cavalry would be stopped by that, their horses would not run into a hedge of sharpness. Yet the long lances worn by the Asur considerably outranged the bayonets-this was going to end badly.
The cavalry was so close that he could see everything-the wide open eyes, the delicate scrollwork on their armor, the pointed tips of the spears-and then the world went mad. The small boxes the sappers had left in front of the Auxilia`s lines exploded with a nasty firecracker sound and the first lines of Dragon Prices went down as if somebody had cut their strings at once. The resulting pileup was the target for several hundred enthusiastic shooters including his machine gun and the survivors parted in front and rode by the sides of the square, getting shot all the time.
He felt the hand of his platoon leader on his shoulder "Target the archers-now."
Shifting aim to the blocks of infantry that tried to close the range he saw the instant-poplar shapes of mortar impacts that started appearing among the Asur. Lurhel started to believe that he would live another day.

Teclis still pressed the bandage against what was left of his left ear and could only helplessly watch the cavalry pass the mercenaries formation, bleeding bodies all the time. Watch them retreat into the woods to the sides of the battlefield so not to be killed by the so few and so deadly Druchii and watched those who came too close to Malus Darkblades forces not being engaged. At least the Druchii General was holding up his part of the bargain.
He had the time to marvel at his close brush with death before he realized that he would be even uglier than before and even more jokes would be cracked at his expense.