30 Kilometers from Artois Castle

The "Golden Hinde" wallowed over the corduroy road like its namesake would have 500 years ago. The modified Land Rover managed to traveled the road and toss its inhabitants about with equal ease. Walter was very glad about every bit of padding that surrounded the port his upper body struck through, he would have broken some ribs without them. He was driving point for his raiders who rode in both sides of the road or inside the woods of they were light enough for that purpose. Behind him and between the riders a clutch of elderly trucks made their way over the barely improvised road. They were far less nimble than his vehicle, belched black smoke whenever power was needed and still managed to make the trip. The trucks had been built in East Germany more than 30 years ago and most of them had been used by Fire Brigades or similar. The Rebels had been able to buy the IFA W60s cheap and had been restored to the point where they could make supply runs. Their engines were low-powered, they burned about three liters of diesel fuel for every kilometers they drove and their worth to the Rebels was hard to overstate.

The Rebels operated more than a hundred kilometers from their territory and the army besieging Castle Artois was their largest. It could not and would not live by foraging and so resupply was a major part of the operations. Normally Walter Theodoric St. Helier would not guard a simply supply convoy, today was different. Two more IFA trucks were at the very end of the convoy, they kept a great distance from the rest and each other. Everybody had the greatest respect for them, nobody wanted to be near them and they were the most important part of the resupply. One way or another, their drivers would not be able to pay for their beer when they were done with this mission.

Nürburgring Racing Circuit, Germany

Günter Koch was a savings-minded person, like so many other Germans. "Spare in der Zeit, dann hast du in der Not", Save in (good) time, then you have in the time of need, was a German proverb which had gotten new uplift after the Weltensprung.
Even now, a decade later, when the times began to become better again, most Germans kept to it. But some joys of life all citizens liked to enjoy, some the same, others very different ones.

Günter´s "vices" were sweets, he was an openly-admitted sweet-tooth and had the often envied genetics to cope without weight gain, books and his car. In fact, driving his car was his only real vice. Sweets, books or music were a full part of his life and he would buy them anyway, but his activities after the Weltensprung enabled him to buy a car he had only dreamed about before.

Being an important sorcerer now had opened various sources of income for him and made him quite well-off. Now at last he could buy cars which had been out of reach for him "in the Time before" and only possessed as model automobiles.

The car and renovating and slightly expanding his house were the only outward signs of his changed financial situation.

His car was the newest evolution of one of the world´s best known sports cars, the Porsche 911. While Günter often used his Honda Elo, a compact E-car produced at the German Honda factory, for shopping at the next bakery, when he wanted to "really drive", he took the Porsche.
The electric car had come a long way since the development of the gigacap technology and had some nice features concerning movement, but one thing only the expensive e-Cars and few at that solved was Fahrspaß (Fun of Driving).

An E-Car drove itself quite sterile, Günter often said that it was perfect for commuting, but cruising for instance Elmstein Valley at a weekend an E-Car lacked patina and feel. That was something you definitely could not say about his combustion engine car, the 911 was a legendary design. While Porsche, moving with the times, had electric variants of their iconic sports car, they were a small share of the units sold.

The vast majority of the buyers were Petrolheads and/or liked the lifestyle feel the car gave them, so Otto engines were still the norm. Günter`s metallic black 911 4S was not the top model, but it wasn´t the baseline either. The all wheels driven car had a turbocharged "Boxer" engine, with all sport options on nearly 700 horsepower were pushing the car forward. Warhammer with it´s magic and Imperial and Dwarven engineers had given enough ideas to refine the various engine parts even more, not just electro engines. Sturdier, lighter combustion engines, with more horsepower and still lower fuel consumption were the results.

Able to buy now some luxury options, like special contouring seats or multispeaker Bose sound system, Günter was held snugly in his seat while cruising along the track of the "Green Hell", one of the nicknames of the famous racing circuit in the Eifel. The music he liked best was coming from the Bose system with a feel like sitting in a concert hall, with just a hint of the raspy engine sound coming through.

The Porsche was nearing the Fuchsröhre part of the track and the afternoon sun was shining down on car options made common by being on Warhammer. The weapons rack between the front seats, the self-tinting Panzerglas (lit. armoured glass = bulletproof glass), thinner and lighter now than on Earth and another feature especially present in upper class vehicles and not only there, the general armor.

While the general armor was not on the level of truly special-made armored limousines, the immigrating fauna of Warhammer made some defensive measures a good idea if meeting them outside the cities and villages of Germany. The car manufacturers had armor options available, only the true city cars lacked it or were quite expensive for them. Most of these armor variants were Spidersilk and synthetic resins below the "skin", but there were further options from the really professional amour systems available. Günter`s Porsche did not show it on the outside as well, but the car experts could recognize the reinforced structure beneath.
Not visible at the moment were other options, like the wards put on the car by Porsche and Günter himself. There was nothing here to defend against, so the wards were inactive and invisible to the naked eye.

Likewise the expensive magical matrix built in the car, enabling a sorcerer to flood it with the Winds of Magic to raise a barrier spell.
Magical options were expensive, but not all were so sophisticated for only the well-off and the truly magical Gifted. The Jade Order took in quite a nice sum of license fees via their members working for the car manufacturers for a perpetual cabin air refresh, rechargeable at the normal inspection intervalls.

Or the Amber Order, while having few things they needed money for, sold quite well a service mostly ordered by country-side car owners, an enchantment laid on the cars to keep normal wildlife away from crossing the streets until the car passed by.

Royal Camp, close to Castle Artois

"Francois, Francois, come here you stupid bleeder. I have need of you."

Graspar de Dubois was exasperated. He did not like to have to call his servant more than once and now he had to do it three times, with no discernible result. Finally he finished dressing himself and when he left his tent he took his favorite dog whip with him. Francois would learn to listen when...oh fuck.

Graspars nose told the story before his eyes and his ears confirmed it. His manservant had the runs and had even taken the pains to dig a small hole before he squatted over it. Francois was a sorry sight, having nearly collapsed into his own hole. His skin was far too white and far too wrinkled, he needed to drink more, runs or no. Even Graspar would not whip a man in this state. He managed to shave himself with only two nicks, drank water that was only slightly murky and went to his troop. Today they went to reserve again, keeping their horses close and standing to in full armor. In the hot weather it was as miserable a business as it was necessary.

The Rebels had proven several times now that their camp was unassailable to the Royal army in its current shape. Graspar had taken part in three assaults and all three had been repulsed bloodily. That did not mean that they should pack up and leave. As long as the Rebels were in their camp they might be safe. Things would change very much when they finally amassed the courage to assault Castle Artois. Sooner or later they had to, the castle had provisions for a long time and the Royal army was supplied after a fashion. So now the Royals bid their time until the Rebels made their move. Then Graspar and the other knights would attack their flanks and roll over the scum in a wave of hooves, armor and cold steel.

And yet, today was not that day. The Rebels did something again in their camp and some horseless chariots arrived noisily. That brought some alarm and even made Graspar mount his charger for a while. And when nothing happened and dismounted again, all the while sweating copiously under all that armor. He drunk more than a bit of water. Most of it was mixed with a bit of vinegar. That was much safer than simple water and would not cloud his head when the attack was called for. He had a few bottles of wine left, he would open one when he arrived back at his tent. He`d still water it though, they had to last for a while.

Evening took far too long to arrive and when he was relived his skin chafed miserably from rubbing against sweat-soaked fabrics. When he guided his horse through the camp the realized the stink had gotten worse than ever before. He did not need to see the many Men-at-Arms and serfs, he could hear and smell them well enough. When he passed the serf holding pens that had been erected to protect the serfs at night from more night assaults things got to the point where he nearly puked. At the same time the sun finally dipped below the horizon and a chill went through him and stayed.
He had to use the chamber pot far too often that night and the next morning found him unable to perform his duties. He was far from the only one.

Rebel camp, close to Castle Artois, one week later.

The tower held Andy Thrope, Walter Theodoric St. Hellier and a few of their respective staffs. Both alternated looking at the bustle in the Royal camp through their binoculars and on the tablets that displayed the pictures taken from the observation balloons.

"Looks really like they are packing up and leaving Walter."
"Told you so."
"Never doubted your reports. Seeing them go with their tails between their legs is something else still. Lo and behold, that Wallenstein guy really knew what he did."
"Pardon Sir?"
"Oh come on Walter, you must know Generalissimus Wallenstein, commanding the Imperial forces during the Thirty Years war."
"Heard of the bloke for sure."
"Well, this was one of his beloved tricks. He simply camped in a place the enemy had to take or at least lay siege to. His camps were pretty well organized for their time, his opponents normally not so. So after a few weeks in one place their other guys got dysentery or some like that, his army did not. Won him several campaigns. And you helped immensely, the Royals never got enough supplies."
"Glad to be of service Sir."

"Normally I would tell you to cheer up a bit, but we both know this was the easy part, don`t we."
"In-bleeding-deed. This castle is going to be a handful and a half. Three curtain walls, all with their own gate house and a substantial keep. And the inside is just built to make our lives as miserable as it can get."
"Yes, it is. Let`s see if Pierre`s lads know what they do. If not we can pack up as well, we won`t get anything like the siege artillery needed for these walls this year.
"I know that. And I do know that won`t go into that bunker again."
"If the lads do it…."
"The lads are crazy brave, that`s what they are. And if they screw up just a tiny little bit while you don`t do your job over there they won`t be enough left to bury you to fill a matchbox. Really, don`t."
"Yes, yes."

Rebel Bunker, close to Castle Artois

The bunker could only be reached by a trench that zigg-zagged from the Rebel camp. It had been dug about 200 meters from Castle Artois outer walls. Barely out of Trebuchet and arrow range it had been dug into the ground during several nights. The walls and the rood were tree trunks covered with lots of loam. There were a few vision slots that allowed to see, not enough ventilation and mortal danger.

During the last weeks the task had been back-breaking work interspersed with alarms when the defenders had looked ready to sally. This had come about twice and ended at the barbed wire that lay between castle and bunker. Andy Thrope had no problem at all using his rifle platoons to keep the Knights away from the bunker, this was siege`s fulcrum. A sickly sweet smell still rose from the remains tangled in the wire, but today really nobody cared.

A week ago the Earthers and the former serfs had dismantled the machine that had labored inside the bunker so long. Its parts were now back in the Rebel camp, some even in their original "Flowtech" containers. Ever since then they had handled drum after drum of stinking chemicals with the care usually taken on their newborn. Nobody smoked, everybody walked as if on eggs and all commands were given in a whisper only. The latter was probably unnecessary, but would hardly hurt. And slowly but surely the denizens of the bunker were starting to believe they might survive the experience. A few more drums and they would be done but for the wiring.

Before Castle Artois, next morning

The sun had risen two hours ago and rays of sunshine made themselves known wherever was a break in the clouds. Light and shadow chased over the field and illuminated a huge castle and the army that was to take it. No longer confined to their camp the Rebels had assembled rank upon rank in clear sight of the Royal defenders. Except for two attempts at magic the Royals could but look at the army readying before them. There would be a battle today, blood would flow and death dealt in numbers. But now now, now was not yet the time. There were necessities and formalities to be observed before the slaughter could begin. And these were about to be served now.

Andy Thrope made his way through his army. His horse was docile enough not to bolt even when going through ranks after rank of soldiers. Not too few of these regarded giving the horse a short pat a bringer of luck. Normally Andy would have stopped that, but not today. Given what was about to happen today his men were entitled to every bit of luck they could gather.

He made his way past rows of pikemen, many of which had to get used to shortened weapons. We nodded to the teams of medics who readied their tools of trade. He saluted the blocks of ordinary pikemen who were to block any last minute sally. And finally he got to those who would be the cutting edge, then tip of the spear. In older times they had different names like the vanguard, the point. The Germans had called them "Verlorener Haufen", the forlorn hope and Andy feared they had known what they were about.

These were the few knights this army had, dismounted. There were those soldiers who had received partial armor, sword and shield after the Battle of Gaspar Castle. Two years ago most of them had tilled the fields or shielded their betters as Men-at-Arms and told how much they sucked by their betters. Now they would have to fight their former lords where they lived. However today would go, it would be bloody. Well, maybe not. He had a faint hope the Baron might see reason now that Royal army was gone. And if that did not work he still had to make these walls go away with a trick not tried before. Maybe he would just have egg in the face instead of blood on his hands?
And then he was as close to the castle as he dared. Pulling up his megaphone he addressed the Royals assembled on the walls before him.

"Hallo Castle Artois. I am Andy Thrope and I command the army before you. I want to speak to the Baron de Artois."
"What do you want, Rebels scum?"
"Ask for your surrender Baron. The Royal army is gone and will not be back. Now it is time to end this and it is up to you how much suffering this day will see. Surrender now and you can leave with such possessions as you can transport. Do not wait till we breach your walls, you will find surrender very hard then."
"I trust these walls better than a Rebel`s worthless promise. I for one know my duty to the Lady and my King, those you have forsaken."
"Oh, I never took them, but that is beside the point. I take it you do not surrender then."
"You take this right scum."
"Very well Baron."

When he reached the Rebel lines again he just needed to nod to unleash hell. Commands were given and then Andy had to wait for nearly a minute. It was just enough to start wondering if he had made an ass of himself when a series of explosions erupted under the castle`s walls. Huge fountains of dirt, masonry and bodies rose briefly to the heavens before settling in heaps that could be scaled and that allowed passage through the breached ripped into Artois` defenses.

During the last weeks the Rebels had used an old Flowtech horizontal drill to drive several pipes under Castle Artois` walls. Pumps had supplied the hydraulic pressure to open the soil at the end points of the pipes. The same pumps had driven a mixture of nitromethane and ethylenediamine into the fissures, now the mix had exploded violently.

Andy Thrope could just watch as his troops advanced cheering.