Tower of Cold, Naggaroth
The room sat at the Tower`s apex. It used to have windows that allow a person to look far into the realm. Ever since notes started to mysteriously appear before them they were barred with stone, iron and wards. No mere candles were allowed to light the room, warpfires flickered in several places and provided illumination that the room's owner did not need.
The room's owner had discarded what parts of his armor he could easily shed and exposed flesh that should not be alive. Where his Asurian ancestors featured smooth skin of a pale complexion, his was mottled with various tones of gray, black and purple - none of it looking healthy or even viable. Where they sported slim limbs with defined musculature he had scars upon scars, forming lumps where they were not supposed to be and cavities in places that had no right to exist. What body parts were exposed to the air shone with unnatural health and vigor that should not be possible in a sane reality.
He sat before a table covered with various pieces of parchment, vellum and paper. His claw-like hand crumpled one such paper like an ugly spider.
On the other side of the table was his polar opposite. Where he was lumpy, ugly and seemingly unable to live a mundane life, the woman before him was all the things a true elven female was supposed to be.
Slender as a rapier with just the right amount of curves, she had skin as beautiful as any maiden. And while some might have called her features cruel and severe, none could deny her beauty. Whoever had even an inkling of the measures she took to preserve that beauty knew they were far uglier than her son's appearance.
Morathi was one of the Warhammer World's oldest beings, having extended her lifespan by sacrificing countless others. Her son had been disfigured by fires while trying to prove his worthiness to rule all Asur. Malekith had proven to be able to frighten them ever since.
"So, what missive dared to anger you, my son? Did the DawiZharr strike again or have the Chaos Armies renewed their offensive?"
"No such grand issue mother. It is just a petition from the manufacturers of the Lower Dagger's Valley Metal Shapers' association. They try to tell me that the tolerances asked for in my latest edicts have to be the result of bad advice offered by jealous competitors. They want the tolerances for measurements to at least double, and all requirements for alloys and hardness waived," Malekith said.
"What an exotic request. What will you tell them?" she asked with some interest.
"I will tell them that this is not to be if we want to have interchangeable parts in our gear, especially the weapons. I will hint that I am annoyed as this is the second request of this kind in less than three months. A couple of inquisitors will make my annoyance clear, at least to the survivors. They can very well stay there and make sure of production quotas," Malekith said with some irritation.
"Tolerances, production quotas, alloys. A mere decade ago we did not need to know about such things and we thrived," Morathi complained.
"Yes, and as other now know of such things we have to do too, or we will be no more," her son replied tersely.
"Will our people still be fit to be called true elves in future?" Morathi asked.
"True elves swear their allegiance to me, mother. That is their defining characteristic. We can swear and cry about the Germans and the new world they shape. We cannot ignore them except to our peril," Malekith said firmly.
"So, what is your vision of the true elves then? What is our future?" his mother asked.
"Industrialists. We are to become a nation of makers. If our Germans are right, then all the raw materials we need are within my realm. We have the workforce others lack, in our slaves. And we have the lore, our Germans have laid it at our feet. We cannot build all what we know is possible, we currently lack the tools," Malekith said with conviction. "Some Druchii, even more than today, will have to work as overseers and makers, directing an army of slaves. Others will breed the slaves, and there will be an army we can hardly imagine today. But we will be able to remain a power if we get past this cursed war and in fifty or a hundred years, we will be safe again."
"We will be safe again?" Morathi was startled. "Is this about what is eating at you ever since this Claus, son of Tolles, took your coin?"
"You are the only one who can read me like this mother, and that is a good thing if there ever was. Yes, this is about this...matter," the Dark Elf King said somewhat uncomfortably.
"What lore can upset the Witch King that much? We two have seen beyond the veil, nothing on this side of the Empyrean should worry us," Morathi asked, for she saw nothing in her scrying that hint of any threat.
"And this is how we Elves put ourselves into the spot where we have to learn from mere humans. That is why we have to emulate their ways as if we were barbarians bereft of civilization and lore," Malekith said. "The Empyrean holds many secrets and much knowledge. But so does the mundane world, and the Germans have unlocked many of these secrets. One of them is the power of the sun."
"What about it? Do you mean their solar panels?" the Witch Queen asked, slightly perplexed.
Malekith got up and paced around the room.
"No, nothing so puny. The sun is so far away and yet its light warms us all. How much power must our star possess? Now imagine if one were to harness whatever powers that star. How much destruction could one wield if one could unleash even a tiny bit of that power in a time and place of one's choosing? That would be a frightening power to have, would it not?"
"Yes, it would. Do you believe the Germans have this power?" asked Morathi.
"Yes indeed, I know that this is so. They have already used this power once, to kill the Horned Rat," Malekith confirmed.
"Did your pet Germans not claim that they blew up the Screaming Bell?" Morathi said.
"So they did, but they used one of their Sun Bombs to do so. They have more of these bombs, and they have shown that they could drop one on Naggarond at a time of their choosing," Malekith said quietly. "And that is what Claus, son of Tolles revealed to me: That the Germans hold a dagger at my throat and that the only thing that keeps them from cutting is their restraint. They are too timid to slay their mortal enemies, unwilling to kill without provocation and Khaine forbids, kill some slaves in the process. They are simply too soft to kill us when they can, and what will happen if this world hardens them as it must? By now, they have even acquired other weapons of equal might but different. And that makes me uneasy indeed."
Morathi looked at her son in surprise. He was worried though he tried to hide it. "That is worrying. So what are you doing about this?"
"Give our pet Germans everything they need to build a technological civilization of our own. Build our own Sun Bombs or something equally destructive. While we can not defend us against such weapons, we can threaten revenge. Then we will be safe again, not before. To reach that goal we must win this war, and that means I have to concern myself with tolerances, alloys and quotas," Malekith said as sat down and picked up another parchment. It was a request for materials from the son of Torres.
"I am sure you will do as you must to keep us safe in these new times. If we are so threatened, we must indeed change," Morathi carefully broached the subject. "What if I told you that there is a way to stop the Chaos Crusade that binds our best army? While you have to deal with the mundane world, I have much time to look beyond the veil. And there are powers other than Khaine that would welcome us. They seek attention, worship and sacrifices as all such powers do. In return, we would at least eliminate one threat."
"What if you never speak of this again mother? Then I do not have to kill you," Malekith said as he gave his mother a flinty look
Site Alpha, Kislev
Habbakuk was huge, a mass of ice that dwarfed everything around. A pale sun glittered from the ice and revealed every detail of the wooden construction around its huge deck. A tower on its side combined both (combined both what?) and was the size of a nice hotel.
In another place, it would have been a miracle by itself. Here, it was an adornment on something much bigger. A huge shadow crept along its deck, swallowing ship and crew. Most looked up in awe, some tried to bring order to the chaos. Foreman Oleg could be seen gesturing with flailing arms, shouting things better unheard while Jacub tried to talk to a bulldozer operator with his hated wireless.
They were nearly ready when the shadow dropped the ropes. Most were heavy enough to make Oleg's men curse, one dwarfed even these. It was hitched to the bulldozer and before the voice in Jacub's wireless was really annoyed, everybody started to move. Getting started turned out to be less of a problem, stopping in the right place was more so. After more swearing and heaving, the shadow stopped in the right place and produced new sounds.
It took the airship a few more moments to settle on its landing pads, and Von Schiller's captain dispatched crew members to oversee the zeppelin's mooring.
Neustadt, Naggaroth
Tevil Magestalker had stepped into hell, or at least into a very good facsimile thereof. There were no demons to torture and maim, no cries of pain and anguish. Instead, this hell laid a black shroud over everything, leeching the color from all things and leaving them in shades of gray and black. It assaulted his ears with a cacophony of noises, the roar of furnaces, the hammer of drop forges and the shrill cry of metal being chipped into the shapes desired. Whether the denizens of this hell cried in anguish or not was no matter, as the sounds of the great forge they served overwhelmed them easily.
Like small ants in a huge cathedral, thousands of slaves toiled ceaselessly, performing arcane tasks that Tevil could not identify or feeding processes the Druchii did not know. Very few of them were in pain, they were neither frightened nor in anguish. They were simply too busy, too tired and too exhausted to be any of that. He had spotted workers who started to sleep standing up more than once, in one case while the humans tried to eat. While the food dropping from his mouth, he fell asleep. It might be amusing but it was more than obvious that these slaves could not be frightened into working harder.
And then was the cry that made it through the din, touched everyone and moved. The wail of the steam whistle was ugly, penetrated everything else and caused Neustadt's tight alleys to choke even more.
Shift change.
How in the name of the Nine Hells was he going to press more blood from this stone? He did not understand a tenth of what went on in this place. He did understand slaves though and these were working as hard as possible was without question. The question was why they did so without chains and whips.
All of which did not bode well for him. Malus Darkblade had sent him here, asking him to see that his army received more of everything. So if Tevil could not find a way to increase production he had to increase Malus' share at the expense of other armies. That would earn him the enmity of other Dread Lords or even Malekith himself. Not achieving that would make Malus Darkblade unhappy, which also did not bear thinking about.
Maybe the meeting with this Thorsten Breitkop would give him some clues.
Site Alpha, Kislev
"56 muscles more than a baseline human."
The thought rose as unbidden as spontaneously in Jacub General's head when he watched the Druchii officer make her way from the airship's gangway to him. He had seen Dark Elves on TV before of course, but that could not convey the utter elegance and efficiency of their movements. Compared to them he felt he moved with all the grace of a jumping jack.
Her pale skin was nice enough to look at, as was probably the figure under the somewhat bulky tunics. Yet what lay underneath that was a woman very different from what Jacub was used to. Probably quite a bit older and more experienced than him. She had seen things he could only dream about and in all likelihood, had a plan to kill everybody she met.
Elegant or clumsy, the Druchii before him saluted smartly before she presented a document to the engineer.
"I am Brigade Leader Areta Bane of the Wild Geese. I lead the advance party of the Cathayan Expeditionary Force. In four weeks the first regiments with 4,000 soldiers will arrive here, will this ship be ready to receive them?"
