Close to Castle Artois, two weeks later
The "Spatz" went through the air at a leisurely 100 kph. While this was still above the plane`s stall speed it made for nasty drafts inside the cabin when the sliding door was opened and a camera were pointed down. The plane had been chartered by two independent German journalists in the Empire. While German owner-operators worked under stricter rules the Empire`s laws about all things airborne still had to catch up with the realities, as in overflying Bretonia. The journalists were prompted by the pictures and video they had received from the Rebels. They had made headlines enough and anybody who could offer verification was about to make a killing. The modern cameras managed to give very good pictures of the "fortified village" below. They were good enough to identify two of the pillory`s occupants as children and would be on the front pages of several newspapers pretty soon. They would join interviews by Luis and others, more photos and videos provided by various sources including the Rebels.
The German language had lots of loan words from English, something very slowly receding during the last decade. One of the survivors fit perfectly for the what was forming in Germany: shitstorm. It would go down from there.
Closer to Castle Artois, one week later
The cart was one of the dozen that left Castle Artois. Like the others, it had been used to transport hay and similar and now tarpaulins stretched from one wall to the other. They were meant to ease the suffering of those placed on them. Whenever the carts hit one of the many bumps in what went for a road curses from some and moans of pain emerged from the others, this one was occupied by a silent passenger. That did not mean that he was out of it, that he was indifferent to his fate or free of the pain, far to the contrary. Robert de Grail felt a hot iron going through his leg whenever the wooden wheels dropped into one of the many holes or climbed over the logs that made up part of the road. He was in pain, he was desperate to make up for his failure and frustrated by his inability to do so.
His own body had betrayed him after he had killed the Rebel infiltrators. The wound in his leg had been nothing special, the needle-shaped blade had penetrated cleanly and missed all important blood vessels and nerves. His body had closed on the wound within days and apart from washing the wound he had not let any healer at it. The Lady would provide for her faithful. The small piece of cloth the Leon Curvier`s last bayonet thrust had deposited deep inside the wound had been but a nuisance and did not really register with the Grail Knight. His body had done a great job in trying to fight the infection by several rather nasty bacteria but ultimately succumbed to the attack. A normal human would have gone into septic shock by that time and amputation would have been a heroic attempt to save Robert`s life. Instead he had chewed on a piece of leather while a healer had dug out the cloth with more than a bit of necrotic tissue. It had taken Dame Poignard`s services to keep things attacked and functioning.
Even now a piece of alcohol-soaked cloth was deep in the wound and provided a convenient way for the pus to leave the body. Robert de Grail would miss the next battles, that was for sure. And equally sure was that there would be battles soon. Behind the carts for the noble wounded were long lines of serfs who were marched towards Uesin. There was a Rebel army coming and there would be a siege of Castle Artois. The serfs would be useless mouths to feed and be more useful in the fields around Uesin. The Royal army was assembling at Larret and would try to intervene, nobody could say how that would go.
Achaes, the Border Kingdoms, same time
Achaes was a city of great history and also of a great present. Its citizens were not so sure of its future though. It had been the birthplace of Aleksandr the Great who had united the Border Kingdoms so long ago. It was the home of the Acheatic Trade League and as such had amassed serious wealth. The city-state had not rested on its military laurels and indeed adapted its armed forces when necessary. Where once the Phalanx had marched from its gates the pride of place was now taken by Harquebusiers and pikemen. All of that was well and good and in some ways things looked up. The seas were nearly free of pirates these days and ships were much more likely to come back. There was more wealth in this world, trade had exceeded all hopes during the last years.
All would be good but for the Tileans, the Germans and the Dawi. The Germans were willing buyers for many of the products that were traded in Achaes. They also gave the Tileans such interesting new ships and harbors, and that reduced the traffic to Achaes. The Tileans, or at least some of them, now had weapons that made conflict a losing preposition and they knew it. And the Dawi in Barak Varr had an ever-increasing appetite for goods like food or raw materials. And they had new ships and weapons second only to the Germans themselves. And their new harbor meant that ships were more likely to dock there, instead of here. There were such interesting new items available, but often at fearful cost.
There were only a few Acheans who were poorer than ten years ago when the madness started. Many were actually richer than before and probably safer. But as human nature dictated they only saw that others became even more rich than they and they resented that. They had to learn that the world was changing, that the old rules would not apply anymore and they resented that even more. So the city of Achates was moderately well-fed, safe and frustrated.
The city was hemmed in by walls and the harbor. It was rebuilt as vanity and the ravages of age asked for and financial constraints allowed. It sported a vaguely classic-Mediterranean look to it. The town`s was taken by a forum. It had been there so long that nobody could remember who founded it and its cobblestones were sanded flat by the passage of innumerable feet. The morning saw an open-aired market on them, it was removed in the afternoon and only the ships in the arcades that bordered it were still doing business. One of the premises offered snacks and wine, both of acceptable quality. The hour meant that there were not so many customers were hogging the tables.
Even if there were more one table would have only one occupant and he was watched as closely as surreptitiously. He was slender, pale in spite of the copious sunlight and his ears gave him away as an Elf. Elves were not unknown in harbor cities around this world, far from it. Those with black hair and a cruel slant to their mouth were. These were not not often seen but the stories about them often heard. Achaes lived on trade with anybody with coin, so he was unmolested as long as he did nothing illegal. Which did not keep anybody from having a weary eye on somebody who would never need a reason to kill somebody. Currently he was slowly drinking a watered-down wine and grabbed morsels of goat cheese to go along with it. When his mouth was not busy with food one corner rose in a derisive smile. The spectacle he watched in the forum was obviously failed to impress him. Truth to be told it amused, irritated, bored and confused the locals in equal measure.
Several old men stood around the plinth called "philosopher`s corner" that allowed anybody who styled himself wise to sprout his thoughts without fearing retribution by the senate. It did nothing to protect them from rotten tomatoes or similar though and these regularly made their way if the locals disliked what they heard too much. These were not in any danger of that, they did not insult or tried to preach the fell god`s lore. Instead they dressed in the togas that had been the clothing style more than a thousand years ago. Their chosen speaker had a somewhat thin, reedy voice that made what he had to say harder to take at face value than it already was.
"Further, as to rights, ethical life, and the state, the truth is as old as that in which it is openly displayed and recognized, namely, the law, morality, and religion. But as the thinking spirit is not satisfied with possessing the truth in this simple way, it must conceive it, and thus acquire a rational form for a content which is already rational implicitly. In this way the substance is justified before the bar of free thought. Free thought cannot be satisfied with what is given to it, whether by the external positive authority of the state or human agreement, or by the authority of internal feelings, the heart, and the witness of the spirit, which coincides unquestioningly with the heart. It is the nature of free thought rather to proceed out of its own self, and hence to demand that it should know itself as thoroughly one with truth."
The speaker closed his presentation with an expensive gesture that was designed to rouse the applause of the audience. It would have been thin enough as it were, things were not improved when he choose to remove some spittle from his mouth with a tip of his toga.
"For millennia this world has heard the same philosophies, the same thoughts and the same patterns. The Germans have brought such treasures into this world, they gave us ideas and inspirations beyond measure and we have to study them. They have so much to say to us, about the way we live about the way we perceive this world. If you give us more of your valuable attention we will aid you in understanding them."
There were no tomatoes, neither boos nor an attempt to shut the old men up. There was just indifference and that made them quit as effectively as anything demanding more energy and effort.
The Druchii left his table a few minutes after the philosophers finished.
Haltdorf, Empire, same time
Farmer Eberhard drove his "Lanz" down Haltdorf`s main road. He needed more pesticides from the "Raiffeisen" cooperative. Now that the corn started to grow the little buggers were at it with a vengeance. And while everybody was bitching about being forbidden the most effective ones, there were still enough weapons in the arsenal to reduce them to nuisance status.
His Lanz might be a sloth compared to the German tractors he had seen in the Wochenschau (Weekly Review) or even the newer models the sales rep tried to talk him into. Still it was a damn sight faster than he could walk and made hauling the load so much easier. He had just switched off the tractor when he started hearing the strangest thing. It was neither car, nor train or plane, he knew all of these. It was more like his Lanz, but at a faster rate and more quiet. He started looking for the source and was joined by Hans, the Raiffeisen manager and his apprentice.
The sounds came from the old road that paralleled Altdorf-Middenheim railway and soon resolved himself into something.
"Can someone please kick me, I am not really sure if I am awake?"
The sound came from a tractor, a bit smaller than their own Lanz models. It putted merrily along the road at the speed of a slow jog. An old man sat behind the wheel, looking like he did the most normal thing and a strange cart was pulled behind the tractor. It was all enclosed and had windows of all things. Well, nothing about this looked dangerous, so they flagged the old man down. Found indeed nothing nefarious and enough reason to invite him to a tea and a few bites into the Raiffeisen, which suddenly got an influx of "customers" who were not curious at all, honest.
They sat around the table in the Raiffeisen office when munching and talked to the stranger. What they heard confirmed again that the world had changed and that Germans were totally crazy. Father Hark was doing most of the talking.
"So Winfried, let´s see if I got that right: You do not like to fly and get are a bit lonely since your wife died. There are not too many opportunities for vacation, whatever that may be. So you decide to drive to Altdorf and Nuln with a tractor and a box you can sleep in?"
"Yes, you got it."
"Don`t get me wrong now, may I ask your age?"
"I am 87 as of this month."
"Sigmar wept, I hope to be in your shape when I get to be that old. Winfried, have you heard of beastmen? Of robbers and brigands? Of the Goblins and the things that live in the forest."
"Of course I have. I also heard it became much better these years and I have a can of pepper spray on me."
"And you believe that this "pepper spray" will stop a beastman?"
"No idea, I have yet to meet one."
"Either you are the luckiest man alive or the gods have plans with you. So when do you plan to arrive in Nuln?"
"Oh, Robert is not that fast, about 15 kph. I`ll be there in a month or two. If more people like you invite me, it`ll take a bit longer, I do not care."
"Oh 15 kph, not so slow for a tractor."
"My neighbors in Lauenförde certainly would not think so, but I restored that thing myself. It is very reliable if nothing else."
"How old is your Robert, if you had to restore it? It certainly looks more modern than my Lanz."
"Oh is 57."
"You go through half the Empire with a tractor that is my age armed with pepper spray at an age where most people are with Morr or need to eat mush. Sigmar, these must be the last days as the signs are on us. Winfried, at 15 kph you will sleep in the woods when you set out now. Allow us to invite you to dinner then and we`ll find you a place to sleep."
"Thanks for the invitation, I`d love to join dinner but I have my bed with me."
"Please show me that, and your tractor while you are at it."
Much later Farmer Eberhard and Father Hark sat at the table when their guest had gone off to his trailer which popped up a higher roof all of a sudden.
"Father, he must be telling tales, right?"
"Actually I put in some phone calls before dinner. He is real."
"And he came here without being robbed and killed? I mean things are better these days, but so much? What is next, a naked virgin with a sack of gold can traverse the Empire?"
"Pretty sure that your son will see such times. Me and you, let`s see what Sigmar has to say about that."
"You are joking, right?"
"I am not sure."
Before Castle Artois, ten days later
The sky held a mix of sun and clouds, the air the moisture of the rain showers that had ran their course during the morning. Rays of light danced over the landscape, illuminating desolation. A week ago there had been fields and meadows here, a fortified village and a small park. All of that served the castle and its inhabitants that stood in the background. It had been a place filled with a riot of colors, the song of birds and the crack of the whip.
Now brown mud replaced the green, it having succumbed to countless feet and hooves. The fortified village was gone, burned to deny shelter to the army that besieged the castle. Its remains had joined the chopped trees in building a long wall around the Rebel`s camp.
The camp`s walls sported wooden towers at its gates and at the corners. A bit bigger than a raised hide it usually held some guards. Now Andy Thrope used it to watch progress again and he did not like what he saw. Compared to Castle Artois Castle Graspar had been a molehill. Where a single curtain wall had protected the former three of them formed concentric circles in this one. These were also thicker and several of its former inhabitants had indicated that they were solid instead of having rubble cores. If that were true his potato guns would have a hard time breaching them. There was a much larger force of Knights in the fortress and its size meant many bottlenecks that would bleed any attacker badly.
He had received a new toy from the redoubtable Pierre Laval and given his recent successes he should not doubt him. He still waited for the first improvised weapon system to fail badly and was pretty sure Murphy waited for his turn. The local baron had denied surrender so vehemently that he had to prepare to storm when or of the walls were breached. He watched the diggers who worked on the tranches that led to the walls when a small commotion behind and below him drew his attention.
A troop of cavalry had arrived and one of them was talking to guard detail. Both the riders and their mount were quite unusual, even for the Rebels. While a few few Bretonian nobles had joined the revolution they were typical Knights. They rode beautiful, big chargers that could bear them and their armor around. These troopers wore very light armor, a combination of swords, bows and guns and their appearance was much more subdued than any knight would allow himself. Their mounts were no great chargers but shaggy ponies, the kind that looked like a joke when compared to their "betters". Just that these mounts would keep going long after the horses would collapse and survive the worst of weather.
A year ago these had been mounted yeoman, the commoner cavalry the knights loved to despise. Now they were something different and the reason for that made his way up the tower to meet with Andy.
The man who displaced two of Andy`s staff members came up to Thorpe`s shoulders and was a bit broader than him. If there was any flab under the mixture of German and local clothing and gear Andy failed to spot it. There were jokes that if one were to hit Walter Theodoric St Helier with an ax handle the only sound one would hear were splintering wood.
The coal-shuttle helmet rested on the Walter`s hips by now, the head was crowned by a full shock of hair where ginger fought a delaying action against the encroaching gray. The full beard below was similar and partially hid a face that had currently no smile. A heavy revolver rode on one hip, a cavalry saber on the other.
"Reporting as ordered Sir."
"Good to see you back in one piece Walter. How are things."
"We found the main body of the Royal army Sir, they are 20 kilometers from Larrat. They will be here in a week at most."
"How many?"
"They are very strung out along the road, so any estimate should be taken with a bit of salt. Best estimate is 50.000 men."
"So they picked up reinforcements after the drubbing we gave them?"
"Looks like it. We have spotted Tilean mercenaries with them, some standards we did not spot before too."
"Too bad we have nobody in those woods."
"We discussed it before Sir. No ways, no good lines of resupply or retreat. We also lack local knowledge."
"Yes, I do remember. Still would be nice though. We can be ready here in a week, not a problem. Get together with Jean, you need to go back tomorrow. Slow them, but do not stay put. Make them deploy, then fade. If you gain us a day or two, more power to you, but do not lose people to achieve that. We`ll need them for the real target."
"Supplies Sir?"
"Exactly. These guys are used to forage. Lets see how they handle their resupply when they cannot and you make things interesting for them."
"Can do Sir."
Pariser Platz, Berlin, Germany
The Marquis de Roque had never liked the Embassy, the country he had been sent to or the mission itself. The Embassy had belonged to the French state before the Weltensprung and had been assigned to the crown when diplomatic relations were established. Regarded as an utterly modern building by its former owners it was as alien to the ambassador and his team as the back side of Mannslieb. A lot of renovation and great changes in everybody`s habits had been asked for to make it work.
The Germans had been nearly too much for the Marquis to take on. They were like the building, utterly alien, full of surprises and unexpected capabilities. Allied to a state that had fought a short, nasty war with Bretonia, harboring the Underground Railroad that absconded serfs from their rightful owners and sprouting revolutionary ideas left right and center they had always been a challenge to the Breton ambassador. His workload had increased even more when the revolt tore his country asunder. He had been asked to provide intelligence on the German intentions, about the Rebel doings and to stop the Germans from interfering on their side.
He had made some progress on these fronts despite everything when disaster struck. Ever since the last week his Embassy was under a siege by angry protestors who screamed their hate at their betters. What did they know about Bretonia, why did they think they had any right to comment on anything done by the King. There was a double line of police before the building, a water cannon and more besides. Behind these a sea of demonstrators wielded placards, shouted insults and generally showed off their low birth. There had been demonstrations before, often only a few hundred people. Now there was hardly a piece of street to be seen as the crowd had grown to epic proportions.
He turned his back to the sorry sight with a will and faced his visitor again.
The man was about his age, with a full shock of silver hair and a straight bearing. Rimless glasses framed icy blue eyes which did not reflect their owner`s smile in the slightest. The Marquis had been in Germany long enough to recognize the suit as expensive and up to date in a conservative way.
"So you were about to tell me what roused this rabble out there to such heights Herr von Gerstorf?"
"Sevaral of the major newspapers in Germany and a couple of blogs have used the word, Marquis."
"What word could have the power to rouse the rabble so much."
"Konzentrationslager, they used the word Konzentrationslager to describe the "fortified villages" you use for your serfs."
"So? Oh, were Konzentrationslager the places where so many people were killed by Germans."
"They were places where killing was brought to industrial standards of efficiency. My countrymen think them as places of pure evil and rightly so. If the public gains the opinion that you are treating serfs in a similar way there will be unfortunate repercussions."
"Such as?"
"Such as intervention. At the very least weapons shipments to the Rebels, maybe full-fledged alliance with them if things go seriously wrong for you."
"I am not as knowledgeable as I should be about this subject Herr von Gerstdorf, but it seems very unfair to make that comparison."
"Oh I agree Ambassador, you are certainly correct. And it also does not matter in the slightest. If the public perception of these camps cannot be corrected soon the German government will be forced to act. You are here long enough, you know what that could mean."
"Yes, I do. So may I ask what you believe can be done about this. What does a lobbyist do anyway?"
"Many, many things Ambassador. I can help your cause with the government and the media if you ask me to. Well if you are willing that is."
"Willing to meet your demands?"
"I would not take your case on a pro-bono basis, that is for sure."
