Close to Naizon, Bretonia

The tent was huge and full of beds. They were separated from each other with curtains when needed, they were left open when not. Most of the beds were occupied by haggard men and women, who normally slept or chatted the time away as their condition allowed. Now they all tried to be invisible, some of them going to the point where they actually hid under the covers.
The reason for that was a small group of men that clustered around one bed. They were obviously healthy, dirty and rude, all of them had cudgels and whips on their belts.

„Come with us you laggard, time that you give the duke his due."
"I cannot, I am sick…"
"You are showing off, that is what you are. A few licks of the whip will cure you of all…"

"What are you doing in my ward"

Waltraud Derwalt had been a nurse long enough that her voice cut through the commotion easily. The tallest of the intruders faced her and opened a gap-toothed mouth.

"This laggard needs to get back to the fields, that's what going on. We have harvest time and we need him and the others working on the fields, not malingering in their beds like old men."
"As long as the doctor does not pronounce him and the others healthy they will not."
"The duke says we have to get them and that we will."
"The duke has no say in this ward. Go now and only come back when you have permission."
"These are the duke`s lands, his word is the law. Step aside wench if you do not want to feel the whip as well."
"I do not like to repeat myself, get out of my ward."

There was a moment of indecision, a moment where all the other wardens looked at their leader followed by the moment when that worthy realized he`d lose all standing if he allowed a mere woman to commend him. He still uncoiled the whip when a different voice could be heard.

"Three steps back and drop that whip. Now."

It were not the words that made the warden do it, it were the two assault rifles that were not pointed directly at him, at least by a few centimeters.

"Nurse Derwalt, if you would move from the aisle to the right, thank you. And you gentlemen will now leave the ward. Come back when you have permission, in writing, from Dr. Meins. If we find you here otherwise we will have to assume you are intruders."

The wardens found that their pride would not be worth dying and decided to leave.

The two men were clad like any other security personnel who could pick German equipment in this world. There was the black spidersilk armor complete with a number of rigid plates, the assault rifle and a helmet. The only thing that set them apart were the patches on their breasts, their shoulders and their back. They had a red shield with a white cross bearing eight tips. Both were also a bit older than one would expect of professionals in security and politer.

Five years ago, a number of retired professionals had seen a need for a new organization, one that would provide security for those who tried to provide aid to the sick, the old, the lame and the hungry. There were more than enough of those in need, too few willing and able to help them and far too many dangers. A neutral organization to protect these that would be acceptable even to those more or less hostile to the Reiksbund was direly needed. They found an island in the Sea of Claws that had been abandoned when its few wells ran dry. Establishing a desalination plant and re-purposing the old fortress on the Island was done with money from many sources, not the least from those who wanted to serve. Their little island was recognized as an own nation by the Reiksbund and others in short order, helped by the fact that the organization's members had enough friends in high places.

Ever since 2530 they offered their services to the Sisters of Shallya, the Red Cross and similar humanitarian movements. When the Red Cross agreed to manage the "fortified villages" in Bretonia one of their stipulations was to bring them as well. The Royals had few choice but to accept them, the organizations name and structure helped a bit.

The Order of Saint John had been founded a thousand years ago to aid and protect pilgrims in the Holy Land. They were back in business.

South Chaos Desert

The trench had been recently dug, that was obvious. It contained bodies, lot of them. They were all close to each other, as if trying to share as much surface as possible. A white mist hung above them like an airborne funeral cloth. One body lay apart from these, unmoving and still.

There was no sound, no change of light and yet the body`s eyes opened with the speed of a rat trap closing. Limbs that had been exposed to the freezing cold for hours on end moved without a hitch and propelled their owner from his resting place. He allowed his eyes three blinks to adjust before he started to make his round. The trench was as it should be and he prodded the body closest to him with his sword. It belonged to a Grail Knight, he could be counted upon to get up without further prodding and awake those who shared the trench for a bit of warmth.

Robert de Grail felt the cold like any of them. It cut through all the fur and clothes, it made his flesh contract and hurt. He could not ignore it any more than he could stop his heart. He simply performed his duties regardless, the Lady deserved no less. He made his round to the scouts he had placed before going to sleep. Five were just too glad to be able to get back for a bit of warmth and food, one would never move again at all. There was no visible injury and by the time Robert touched him he was frozen solid. This was bothersome, he might run out of wardens before he reached his goal.

He shared his meal with the others, they needed the illusion that their commander cared for them. While he munched on the food that had been under his clothes while he was asleep he tried to fathom how far their goal was. The mountain grew and shrank in apparent size with no rhyme nor reason. Only the feeling of being closer to the object the Lady desired had increased steadily. Realizing he had no yardstick by which to measure that against he gave up that exercise in futility and arranged for a new order of march. He had to detach two Knights to fill the gaps left by the dying scouts. Apart from that he could go with what had worked yesterday.

It was that decision together with the stone that proved fatal. The stone was like many others they had encountered so far. It emerged from the snow, its granite-like surface seemed to flow when one looked at it too long. This one alternated between wailing and weeping and it was that shift that caught the Knights attention for the wrong moment. The beastmen rose from the snow like vengeful ghosts. They white, snow-covered fur made them very hard to see, giving the illusion of several disembodied sets of red eyes, rotting teeth and black claws that attacked Robert`s party.

The Grail Knight was the veteran of many battles, of harsh training and being enhanced beyond mortal bound by drinking from the Grail. His head was still encased in the helmet when it flew past Robert at speed. Claws the size of daggers punched at the light armor of a scout and parted it as if was not there. Serrated tips pierced several organs, killing a scout before he knew he was under attack. His partner was directly before a Gor that looked twice his size and about to die when Robert`s soldier seemed to grow by himself. Claws pierced his gloves and fur rose in the few pieces of exposed skin. The scout`s short sword was indeed able to stop the claws that were about to take his face off.

Dame Louna was indeed deep into the Lore of the Beast and had enhanced his surviving wardens by putting one of her spells on them. It gave him a moment to get his bearing, a moment he used.

"Knights, on me. For the Lady, charge."

Robert was surrounded by what were arguably some of the finest warriors on the side of order. All clad in heavy plate and with abilities far above any normal mortal the Grail Knights should have charged the beastmen and made short work of them. They would have but for the snow. Their charge was an undignified stumble forward at the pace of an old man. Their war cry had managed to alert their enemy and allowed them to face the Breton`s on equal footing instead of being overwhelmed by momentum the beast`s ferocity met the Knight`s art.

Robert managed to step inside a sweeping arm that would have removed his head and hammered his sword`s hilt at the ugly face before him. Teeth, blood and cartilage flew everywhere and brought the Gor`s hands up in defense. It left a stomach open for attack and stinking entails laid steaming of the virgin snow. Robert ended the duel between a fellow Knight and another Gor by severing a spine from behind. He followed that up by a downward strike that severed tendons and muscles in a leg, dropping its owner to the ground. Robert`s shield went down, crushing a throat below it. And then he saw his mistake. Like a beginner he had focused on the immediate threat instead of doing his job. Another group of beastmen rose from what had been virgin snow a few seconds ago and made for the Damsels that were vitally important to this quest. If they had a few more seconds the Damsels would have been able to defend themselves, but these seconds they would not have.

The Ungors were not slowed by the terrain, they thrived in it. Like vengeful ghosts they flew at the Damsels and there was no way that Robert or the other Knights would be there in time. There were two bolts that went into the first beastman that made the Grail Knight think straight again. His sword had never been intended as a missile, still it flew straight and true. It did not kill its target, but that beastman stopped being a threat. His shield fared less well and then Robert de Grail was out of options. He saw the beastmen that got attacked by a glowing bolt, he saw those who were attacked by birds that appeared from thin air and he saw the lone Ungor that was about to commit a massacre. He nearly saw salvation too late, it was against anything he stood for. Dropping to the ground he gripped the crossbow a dead warden had dropped and his shot was as true as any taken by the former owner. It entered the Ungor`s chest a bit above center and whatever damage it did there, it did drop the beastman right there.

It had been the last to attack the Bretons and so everybody looked at Robert de Grail, the Knight who held the weapon he had sworn never to use. Breton Knights had a code of honor, with ironclad rules. One of the most ironclad was never to use weapon that inflicted damage at a distance, the Knight was to fight his foe honorably face to face. Using a crossbow was about as unthinkable to them as cursing the Lady. Nobody said anything and nothing needed to be said. Robert de Grail found that he still cared about the fellows` approval and he had lost a lot of that then and there.

Close to Portsall, Bretonia

The Rebel assault retreated in a fashion that was a hair`s breath away from full panic. The series of muzzle blasts coming from the Royal palisades before them showed why, especially when the back ranks were raked by a nasty combination of solid shot and case.
It was watched by a small group of men standing on a small hill overlooking the battlefield. Andy Thrope sat down his binoculars in disgust.

"No Quaker guns then."
"Nope"
"We would have looked stupid if we would not have checked."
"And lost a lot of time we do not have. Cost us a couple of dozen lads."
"Fuck."
"Fuck indeed. So give me the straight dope Walther."

Walther Theodoric St. Helier`s eyes mirrored Andy Thorpe`s and both held the horror at what they had just seen. Men had been killed on their orders, were maimed on the outside chance that the guns on the crude barricade before them were either wooden fakes or inoperable. They had bet on a pair of Twos and lost, others had to pay the price.

They had learned that excessive commiseration would make them even worse commanders as they currently believed themselves to be. Like so many others they faced the choice of becoming cynics, get religion or become crazy with multiple choices allowed. The worst part of it was they felt themselves harden to the death and misery they inflicted, something they knew their former selves would have abhorred. Just that their former selves would never been able to unmake the abomination the Breton Kings had allowed their country to become.

"Straight dope, lets see what I have old boy. The fishheads report that the Portsall squadron is paid off by the look of things and rides very high in the water. Guess where they brought the cannon from those galleons?"
"Not only those. Look at gunners, do they look like Men-at-Arms to you?"
"Now that you mention it, no. Think they made the swabbies part of the deal?"
"Who else would know how to operate guns anyway and not have a cow about it?"
"Makes sense. So why did they place them on that heap of sand over there and not on their town walls?"

"Because they have learned that we can tear them down in a bleeding hurry, that`s why. And if we start the usual digging for a gun position or drill they can either sally without exposing something important or skedaddle. And I bet that we will find similar defenses a few kilometers back and some more after that."
"I hate it when the other side gets a vote too."
"Don`t we all. So they change, so do we. Are your lads ready?"
"No they are not and will not be for six months or so. But I do not fancy camping here for so long, so they will have to do."
"They`d better be. The Royals have flooded the fields they could, all approaches to Portsall but this one are a bloody swamps."
"I`ll get them ready then, or as much as I can."
"Please."

Stockholm, Sweden, 2023

The meeting room was still the same it had been in all the years. That it had escaped the scrutiny of press and media so far was mostly due to the fact that it was hidden in plain sight. Somebody had to discuss what data to share with the Germans in another universe. Usually there were some well-publicized meeting of important people who issued important-sounding statements after holding high-profile meetings. The real work was done in this room, by the specialists and deputies who did the legwork. Here they could formulate concepts and have them shot down by their peers without losing face. Here they could voice their concerns without being accused of paranoia or give fuel to political enemies.

Some of the delegates had been replaced since the first meetings, the discussions still went around the two poles of chances and risks, about costs and benefits. Gerald Villiers and Mart Lindström, representing the UK and Sweden were old hands by now and were able to shape the trade much to their employer`s liking. There was a break for lunch and both had taken a desk together.

"Looks like we can close things up tomorrow Mart."
"Yes, it went rather smoothly, even if I say so myself. And I would wager our German counterparts would say the same."
"Yes they would, they got what they asked for. Even if I think their requests are a bit interesting."
"Why is that Gerald?"
"The interesting things are not so much in what they asked for, but in what they did but ask for."
"Aha?"

"The Germans were never great IT guys. Not that they did not do anything, but they have no IT that might compare to, say, BMW or Daimler."
"Yes, so?"
"So they got themselves the sourcecode for Windows 8 and 10. They no longer asked for Windows 2020. They got the system in installable form, but no sourcecode."
"So they developed their own system, Windows D1 or is it D2 these days."
"It is D2, they sent us a copy. And from what our boffins tell me it is very, very good. Not so great on gimmicks, but very good at making low-powered hardware sing. Very clean code they tell me. But that is not all of it. They gave us their second-gen Carbon Nanotube Gigacaps with "alternate" instructions on how to make them. They also sent plans for nanomachines."
"Yes, Elon Musk is going to have a cow. He just finished that Gigafactory of his for making the first generation of Gigacaps. But that is probably not the problem you think about, right?

"Do I need to spell it out? Their primary way to make this is probably nanites. And there is no way in hell that they developed that on their own, at least that fast."
"So the little green men gave Nanites to the Germans?"
"More like the big green men. GW described the Slann as using remnant technology left by the Old Ones, right? So they likely received it from them."
"Possible, won`t say probable but possible. So?"
"So how do they get these Nanites to work?"
"No idea?"
"Me neither, but the eggheads tell me most likely an AI."
"Sounds reasonable. So?"
"I am not sure if the Germans have access to a highly developed AI or if said AI has access to the Germans."
"Even if that were so I fail to see the problem. We check every bit of software very carefully. And they are in a different universe after all."
"And it might be that we will be very grateful of that sooner or later."

Close to Portsall

It might be a summer night, but there was still a wet chill that went right through Pierre Troiseme`s gambeson armor. Dew seeped through the cloth and mud made his hands slippery. His eyes burned from the sweat that had made his way into them, carrying bits of the ash used to blacked in in there. He made his way forward on his hands and knees, finding sharp and pointy bits the hard way all the way. He looked up every so often, trying to get a bearing by the stars before lowering his sight to the ground. The moonless night was so dark that he saw next to nothing and only the small bits of white bandages that were tied to twigs rammed into the ground indicated that he had yet to lose his way.

Losing his way would be a shame, as a squad followed him as close as possible. His squad, the one he commanded. He liked the second promotion, he could use the money. He really would have preferred to get it any other way as Alfred had been a decent sergeant. That had not protected him from an arrow through the eye though and that had left Pierre in charge of the squad while they made their transition to the newest form of madness.
He took another hour to crawl a bit more than a hundred meters before he reached the small depression that was his target. Now he could only do what soldiers did when they first used sharpened sticks and formed a mob, wait for it.