Villa close to Wismar, same time

The villa had certainly seen better times. It had been erected in the 1880s and two wars and two dictatorships had not been good to it. It had been restored somewhat and some rooms had indeed regained an approximation of their former grandeur. They provided a nice backdrop for various-themed sex parties and porn films. As the greatest source of the latter, California, was in another universe and the Versailles link did not bother with them there was increased demand.

Max Stahl had a different name in his passport, but he had no need to memorize the names of the other actors. Conversation was rather limited in the somewhat low-rent films he participated in and any plot was superfluous. The Viagra he had popped two hours earlier was badly needed though. He was an old hand and had not expected much from the new chick from the Empire. Very nice on the eyes for sure, but most of them were really green. This one was different though, had displayed no restraint at all, even when some of the more exotic fetishes were asked for and had tons of stamina. Today was a simple gangbang and while a slender woman of maybe 50 kilograms should by now be done she still showed no signs of giving up. Given that he was one of four male actors this was certainly remarkable, as was the fact that she led them instead of the other way around.

He was about to position himself behind the shapely behind when his world ended. There were several almighty flashes that left his vision filled with green dots. There was a bang that kept him from hearing anything but a high-pitched whine for a moment and the sheer violence of it all made him freeze. Before he could regain his wits something heavy was on his back pinning him to the ground and he felt restraints being applied.

When his hearing had returned the first sounds he could decipher were "GSG-9" and "Freeze" followed by several three-round bursts. Something dropped into his field of vision and turned out to be the very dead body of the female lead. Her face was no longer beautiful and her right hand was in mid-transformation into a claw.
Fuck, his producer had promised to check for Slaneshe when he hired. This stupid, cheap waste of oxygen.

Science Expedition "Waratah", near the ship´s last position, close to the Southlands Coast, Brunntag 2. Jahrdrang

The years since Germany arrived on the Warhammer world, the discovery of the SS Waratah beached near the southernmost part of the Southlands and getting Germany at least halfway back on track had been filled with many tasks to be done, problems and crisis´ to be solved.

As such, it took all those years to finally send an expedition down there to search for the succeeding relatives of the shipwreck´s survivors. If they had made it at all.

Since all Zeppelins were needed for other tasks it was decided to make it an oceanographic "trip" as well and the Navy took over. But in view of the realities on their new home world, the number of ships used was small for several reasons. One of the biggest was the shortage on Navy vessels. Despite the number of commissioned ships having risen sharply in the intervening years, that still was not enough under the circumstances found on Warhammer. Most of Germany´s yards pace was filled with construction for the Marine.

Just the Frigate Sachsen, the science vessel Polarstern and a Tender ship sailed into the Deep South. In the first few days after arriving at the wreck site, which had been found by Lütjens years ago, the Waratah was examined by experts. One reason for this was the scenario that the wreckage might be still preserved enough to make point of interest out of the vessel.

It turned out that the Waratah had seriously degraded in the century past, something the scientists expected but had hoped that on Warhammer it might work differently under the new weather system.

The shipbuilding materials available in the early 20th century were simply not of the same caliber as the modern stuff. This was even worse for non-military ships. This had been found when Titanic and Bismarck had been located. The Titanic, despite "just" having the ripped open below water line as sinking damage, showed serious decomposion. The Bismarck, scuttled by her crew after a long, heavy battle and resting under worse undersea conditions, was more intact even after accounting for her warship status and being 3 decades younger.

According to Dr. Jensch, the Waratah might be preserved as a landmark only if a repair crew would soon start to work on her. This would be costly, but if or at all starting to do so would be for Berlin to decide after homecoming.

A lot of time was spent deciding which was the likeliest direction the survivors of the Waratah had taken. Scouts and Helicopters searched the area, but it soon became clear that considering the local flora and fauna, the people from the Waratah would have travelled quite a distance and relocating about 20 sea miles up coast, before starting there again would be needed in a few days.

Before relocation the ships and their crews waited for the scientists to make their last experiments and the helicopters to return from some search areas which still held some promise to find the survivors closer to the wreck than assumed.

For Sachsen that meant a few rather relaxed days ahead. When Germany battled the Black Pyramid, most of the crew and officers watched the fight on the military channels. A jubilee roar echoed through the ship when the mushroom cloud rose over the last position of the monstrous pyramid, followed shortly after by a single voice joining in. Sachsen´s CO asked his ship´s sorcerer how he felt.

"Quite OK! I knew to prepare, as did my colleagues in Germany, the Empire and our allies, but the sorcerers of other nations will remember it for days. This battle blew up a, pardon, frakload of Warpstone and I, even at this distance, felt a magical shockwave and resonance hit me like a drumbeat. It would have been much worse without preparedness."

"Did we kill it?"
"Yes, Martin, we did. Such a strong magical event and shockwave would not have happened if the Pyramid had survived."
"Sigmar be praised! I think it is time for a fruit punch, since we still are on duty, to celebrate the win over such a monstrosity."

After arriving on Warhammer, duty in the Funkstation (wireless station), be it civilian or military, became a rather cushy job. In the beginning, only Germany was on air, over time and to a certain extend nations close to Germany followed, but the airwaves could be near depressingly empty. And here, deep in the southern hemisphere this was even more pronounced. The only transmitters in thousands of miles around the Sachsen were Wang Chan, the Imperial Southlands colony and Neupapenburg.

With the civilian transmitters not having the reach, except for routine traffic between ships, convoys and home the ether around Sachsen was empty. While the airwaves were dutifully scanned, the operators had lots of time for doing stuff beside work.

The situation being like this, it was a surprise when a message started to came in from an supposedly empty frequency. The operator took a look at the transscription he made and called the bridge.

"Dennis, give me the Old Man... Herr Kapitän, we caught a ciphered message on a band where nothing should send. Yes, ciphered... we are already working on decoding it... hmm, going by signal strength and other parameters, the sender cannot be more than 50 seamiles away, tops. Yes, as you say, the coastline with the many islands makes hiding from radar easier. I call again after decoding the message."

It took less time than anticipated. The code was among the known ones. After reading the translation, the operator immediately called the bridge.

"Herr Kapitän, you should come down here and read it yourself. This is something the science guys will love to solve and the situation went way above our pay-grade now."

Close to Soreil

A pale spring sun shone on a field of dark rich earth and smallish plants that had been planted in orderly rows months ago. A pair of oxen made its way between the rows, urged onwards by a sturdy Breton woman. Another sat on a strange contraption that combined sharp edges, a spinning wheel with pointy edges that threw stuff around and many levers and other mechanical bits. A couple of children and women followed the mechanical monster and gathered something from the ground.

Another group watched the proceedings from a few dozen meters off. There were several humans in a strange mix of traditional Bretonian and modern clothing and a very tall, very beautiful woman that seemed to glow from within.

"So this is the secret weapon that you spoke about Pierre?"
"Oui Milady"
"I will admit I fail to see how this will harm the enemy. Do you want to drive this over the archers maybe?"
"Non Milady, this is not a weapon of that kind. This is a potato harvester."
"So how will this help us?"
"We need to feed the troops and we need to feed all of us. There is some aid from Germany but I would not like to depend on it."

"The soil of our provinces would be enough to feed us all."
"Who am I to say no Milady. But who is going to plant and harvest? The same lads that we expect to fight."
"Interesting, so very interesting. So these machines help to bring the harvest with fewer people?"
"The potatoes can be planted in soil that will not support grain, can be hidden underground and is more nutritious in some ways. And this harvester allows to unearth them quickly and with far less work. I will show you a reaper and baler next if you are interested, it does the same job for grain."

"So this will allow more men into the Army of the Republic then."
"Oui Milady."
"What will they do when the war is won then? Will we burn these machines?"
"For the love of god, no. If we need less people to feed us all the rest can do different things. Build roads that do not turn into mud baths every time it rains. Dig decent wells so the water does not kill our children, houses to replace hovels and teach them. We can build factories and make our own stuff, oh there is so much to do…"

"That does not sound as if you want to go back to the Bretonia of the times of glory."
"If they ever existed. No, we do not want to. We want better lives for all of us and that is a way."
"Through technology."
"Oui naturellement….."

It was then that the French engineer saw the smile that extended to the eyes.

"Yes you are right Milady, technology is a tool to achieve our goals and a powerful one. But it can be used for mayhem as well as for miracles. Let`s make sure the miracles show up when the time is right."

"I do believe they will Pierre and I do believe that you contribute more than most to our fight. Even more I think you will contribute to our future and I am looking forward to that Pierre Laval."

The potatoes would indeed become a staple of Rebel cuisine. Mostly they were simply boiled and often loathed when they were served again and again. It fell to one of the few Germans that served the Lady to introduce another way of preparing them. He suggested cutting them into sticks, then frying them and serving with a kind of tomato sauce. These were well received and would be known as "Pommes de Liberte`", Freedom Fries.

Close to Castle Atrois, Bretonia

"Se lever cancre"

Gaston was awake immediately and knew that he had to turn and rise fast. His body was just not able to follow his urges and so pain ripped through his back when a piece of rawhide was swung with malice. When he was finally on his feet he managed to focus on Jacques of Artois, also known as Jacques the Bastard when the serfs were in a forgiving mood. Not that they would ever tell this to his face, that would mean a serious whipping of they were lucky. Even before the snow had started to melt The Baron had declared the original inhabitants of Atrois the village overseers who would make sure that the serfs that had been rounded up from the rest of his fiefdom work properly. And how the little bastards had rejoiced. They had never been happy at being coped together will all the newcomer, with sharing their meager provisions with the newcomers. Now they could take out all the frustrations and had first dibs at what food their masters would leave them.

What they left him and the other serfs was meager indeed. He had a bowl full that was mostly water and unidentifiable bits of something that reminded his stomach how hungry he really was.

They assembled in the pre-dawn darkness on the square between the huts in rows s they could be counted easily and were marched off when that had happened. Today only one serf had failed to show up. Thankfully he was dead in his cot, if he had run they would have been kept here till he was captured. That way they were sent on their way to the distant fields by the way of roads that sucked at their feet with every step. It would take two hours to get there, no matter how hard they were whipped, and then the real work would begin. He got more comfortable once he settled down for the march and when his feet became so numb from marching through the near-freezing much that he hardly felt them

Gaston had drawn the long straw, so he went behind the plow that was pulled by the two unlucky members of his draw. He watched their leg`s muscles stain under a skin that held nearly no fat at all and knew very well that his own were not in any better shape. He had to replace Martin when he got another bout of the runs, he would have to work hard just to make up for this. If his team failed to achieve today`s goal his family`s rations would be cut again.

A very few men would be left there to watch the seeds they planted from the birds. The men chosen for this duty were those with children, they would never think of fleeing. Not after witnessing what happened to the kids the first time.

Couronne, Bretonia

The goblet was made from the finest crystal, irreplaceable as the artists who made it had died centuries ago. There was still some wine in it, a vintage fit for the ransom of kings, but it leaked from the vessel as it tumbled through its trajectory. That trajectory took it through a room that few ever got to see. There was a heavy desk that had been colored by ago, the smoke from the fireplace and the candle`s soot. There were a few comfortable armchairs, a low table and two of the reasons why this room was available only to a few. The books he used for reference would cast the wrong image. The German lamp that gave off such clear unblinking light when placed in the sun during the day was worse. It would hint at trade with the despised people that denied Bretonia its rightful claims and hint at King Leoncour`s fading sight. That would certainly not do, especially now.

The goblet managed to hit the fireplace, confining the splinters and stains to an area that could be cleared. The King had reached for line that would summon his scribe by then and he pulled energetically while the red fluid dripped from the mantlestone. The small delay alerted his subconsciousness that something was off before the door opened and he had half-turned when someone entered the room who was certainly not the scribe.

Leon had been a knight before he became prince, drunk from the Grail and received the rarely given kiss from his Goddess when still a prince and so he was on one knee before he had consciously decided to. He was far too well conditioned not to do so. Morgiana Le Fay, the Fay Enchantress, the mortal representative of the Lady was the one who appointed the Kings of Bretonia and deposed them if the need arose.

Her gown hid most of her body but left no doubt about her erect poise. Her face was unlined by age or sorrow and her eyes were blue like a icy lake in winter.

"Lady Morgiana, an unexpected pleasure. What brings you to this place?"
"What you were about to do my King. You must not do it."
"Do what Milady? It is not what I want to do, it is that I need to stop something. Some of those who profess to be the servants of the Lady are murdering my subjects."
"You were told before that these do indeed the work of the Lady, hard as their task may be."

"I refuse to believe that the Lady wants innocents murdered in her name. She gave us the chivalric code, she made us see that the end is not all that counts, the means have to be just as well. And I have reports, verified reports this time from my personal emissaries, that atrocities are performed in our name. Children are starved, poisoned and killed if their parents are not working hard enough. We freeze our serfs, we starve them and incarcerate them under circumstances that will kill many of them before the year is over. We do this not to rebels, to traitors or foreign enemies. This is what we do to our people, the very people we vowed to protect. Is this the will of the Lady?"

"The Lady sees these hardships and weeps my King. Yet she sees this and sees no other path to victory."
"I am greatly moved by the sorrow of the Lady. But there has to be another way."
"There is no other. King Leoncour, the Lady has the wisdom of millennia. She has seen Empires rise and fall. She has even stepped down to do the unthinkable and has studied what passes for wisdom among the accursed Germans. She never saw another."

"Lady Morgiana, Bretonia is built upon a simple code. We protect the weak, they serve us. This is the basis of the chivalric code and while I know that many of our nobles flaunted it, sometimes in dastardly ways, this is who we are."
"Yes it is. My King, Bretonia, the state that we all love will be no more in a few years time. The question is what will replace it? Will there be another Empire, another state that tries so hard to become Germans that they forget who they are. Or will there be a Bretonia, a state that swears fealty to the Lady and the King, a state that will heal itself and stay true to what really counts. My King, there are indeed greater things than the chivalric code, personal honor or the lives of some serfs, things greater than Bretonia as we know it when it comes to it."

"And we can only decide that outcome by murdering our own."
"We decide that by doing everything what is necessary. My King we have studied the history books that the Germans fail to keep close to their chests. Their world knew this kind of war well enough, we do not. It has many names: Guerrilla, the small war, bushfire, asymmetric warfare, insurrection. It is the worst kind of war you can have and the kind of war most alien to us. It is not of our choosing, it has been forced upon us.

The books have told us of many such wars, hundreds of them. In all of them a small number of badly equipped rebels challenged much larger and better armed armies. They avoided open battle, attacked where the enemy was weak and refused battle where he was strong. In many cases they had some sort of refuge where the stronger army could not follow, places where they could recuperate, train and equip themselves. Whenever there was such a conflict the stronger army lost sooner or later."

"So can we give up now or do we have to kill more serfs before?"
"This does not become a king Leon. The books showed two ways, one we know already and one closed to us. There is something they called "winning hearts and minds", where the government made sure that the population knew that prosperity was when one supported it. The Rebels have upstaged us there, we have few chance to make any serf think that supporting the Lady as is right and proper will make his personal life better. The other one is utter ruthlessness and keeping control of the serfs in any way necessary. We have to make sure enough stock is left for a restoration after the war. Till then we have to exploit the rebel`s mistake to the fullest."

"What mistake are you talking about?"
"The rebels have declared two provinces theirs. They have a provisional government and a capital in Soreil. They have provided us with a target, one that we can attack and one that they cannot afford to lose. Do what you do best, lead the mighty host against the Rebels and beat them in open battle. They may have gotten some toys and tricks, but they are serfs. They have been bred, born and raised to serve us. Without the backing of their betters, without the blessing of the Lady they will run when they get under pressure. They will fail. The harder you press them the sooner this is over and the sooner our serfs will take their ordained place in life without the terror we have to employ now."

"So I am to murder my Knights together by waging a hasty campaign so we have to murder less innocent serfs."
"This is what Kings do King Leoncour. Are you up to it?"