Site Alpha, Kislev

The meeting room was a simple thing, with a table showing more coffee stains than fake wood grain, chairs that should really be discarded when the project was done and lights that were as bright as they were efficient and cold.
The beings around the table were divided into several groups. One was easily discernible as all of its members wore Kislevite clothing. Several other groups were more difficult to discern. They all wore modern garb, and most had a weathered look and lines on their skins that result from being outdoors regardless of the conditions. There were other subgroups too, even if the distinctions were harder to make. Fur-lined vests had become ubiquitous with the German heavy equipment operators during Leviathan's built. The slightly oil-stained jumpsuits were the tug crews' hallmark.
There were two, however, which held themselves apart from these. A middle-sized man who took the head of the table and a Kislevite woman that kept a bit of distance from everybody else.

Jacob General looked at the sparse notes before him. They seemed scrawny even to him and hardly a guide for what he had to do. They managed to mirror his thoughts just fine.
"Thank you for coming to this meeting at such short notice. Our principal has contacted me a few hours ago and asked whether I and everybody else at Site Alpha will be willing to accept another job. He stated that we fulfilled our contract in an exemplary manner but unforeseen circumstances have accelerated his timing to the point where he can no longer rely on recruiting others. As I have hinted, the new job entails more risks than the current one, but the rewards will reflect that."
"I am a simple Kislevite Bojar, can you..." a Kislevite spoke out.
"Thanks, Oleg, I needed that. Time to stop pussyfooting and bring all of you to the same level.
We built Leviathan for a group for mercs called the Wild Geese, that much should be known by everybody. What some of you do not know is what it will be used for. This ship is to cross the Great Ocean and assume a station close to Naggaroth. There it will be used as an offshore base for the mercenaries so they do not have to rely on the Druchii for basing or anything else," General announced.
"Aren't the Wild Geese in Germany's employ?" a German heavy weapons operator interjected.
General nodded at the man.
"I cannot say either way. Officially, definitely not. But given the money and tech put into this endeavor, I'd say some parts of the government must be aware and is doing nothing to stop it. I have been told that nothing we do will result in persecution for those who return to Germany.
What I do know for a fact is that the mercenaries need to be in Naggaroth quite a bit sooner than anticipated. And that means that the crew that was to be recruited, and the training program for the Wild Geese, will not happen."

"Boyar, are you saying…?" Oleg asked.
General looked at the crowd, gauging their mood.
"Yes, Oleg. I am saying that I want to recruit everybody at this table and their people to form Leviathan's crew. I do not care for the bloody Spitzohren nor the Chaos Stumpies. I do care that Naggaroth is too important a place and that the Reiksbund should have a say who governs there, in principle. I do not care enough to do it for free, but when I go back to Germany after this, the question is not whether I can afford a Porsche but whether I want one or two of them.
"And that is the offer on the table - if we accept this job and put in a year crewing Leviathan, then we are made men and woman," he told everyone with a smile.

The German weapons operator was the first to find his voice again. "You want to take us into a war zone Herr General?"
"Not at all." General shook his head. "I want to bring us not more than 20 klicks or so before the war zone, surrounded by the toughest mercs on the planet, with probably the best equipment outside the Reiksbund. A risk certainly. But to me, an acceptable one given the payout. Frau Morosov and the trawler crews agreed to this even before the situation changed. Now it is up to us. We built this thing, we can keep it running."
"Boyar, none of us knew anything about the sea? What use would we be?" a Kislevite objected.
"Your people built every room and passage and laid every cable and pipe on this ship. There is nobody better qualified to keep things running and none better able to make the modifications that will surely be necessary," General emphasized.
"Still, we are not warriors, and Naggaroth is a bad place to go. They say no one comes back from there," Oleg said, still worried about the risk.
"The Wild Geese will bring warriors aplenty Oleg. But they don't have anyone who has any idea how to run the ventilation system or have an inkling on what to do when the bloody latrine packs in. They'd be in pretty deep shit in more ways than one if that would happen, wouldn't you say? As for coming back, we are not going there as captives to be sold. We go in the mightiest ship ever built outside of the Reiksbund."

Oleg's beard made it hard to read his face, but it was still easy to see his unease.
"Oleg, you won't do it for the Spitzohren or the German government. You won't even do it for me. You, however, will do it for your wife and children so that they can afford decent medicine and good teachers. You will do it for your farms so that they have tractors, reapers, and balers. Come to think about it, you will do it for your back too. Think about it Oleg, no more dreading if the next harvest is a bad one or how many children will survive the next winter? Can you serve for those reasons?"
Oleg frowned in thought. Certainly, there are risks but then again, life before the Germans appeared and the new changes brought about by the Tzarina's was also full of risks, from Chaos raiders, arrogant boyars, hobgoblins and more.
"I need to talk to the people Boyar, I have to. Can I tell them you will lead us again?"
"I'd be proud to," General told Oleg with a smile.
"Then I believe I can bring a polk together, no more."
"That will be enough Oleg, see to it."
The same German who had spoken up made himself known again. "So what is in for us Herr General?"
A small folder was pushed across the table and opened after a second. The operator's eyes squinted all of a sudden, and his jaw dropped.
"Are you serious?"
"Our principal is."
"Then count us in."

"Good to hear. One problem down, 200 to go. Captains Scheer and Topp, I trust you have good first mates who can take over on your trawlers?
"Mine is solid."
"Mine also."
"Captain Scheer, if my memory serves you did a stint in the Bundesmarine, is that so?" asked General.
"Yes, I did."
"Fine then. Since I haven't the first clue about commanding a ship, she is yours. In the name of our principal, will you, Raimund Scheer, take command of Leviathan?"
"Uff." Scheer grunted. "Yes, I will. If I may ask, what will you be doing?"
"I think the job title is chief engineer, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. Herr General, you know that this is not how things are done? That a crew needs to be trained, and a chain of command established? That going to sea with a prototype ship never tested and manned by landlubbers might be a recipe for disaster?"
"Yes, that was pretty much what I told myself when I decided to tackle the project after the senior staff was killed. And still, landlubbers and untrained Kislevites managed to build this ship. We just have to make do."

Neu-Papenburg, same time

"It's not fair daddy, you just came back," a young girl stared at her father with big watery eyes.
"You promised…" a boy said, his voice breaking into a half-sob.
Heinrich and Julia are twins, and normally a lot better than this. Even worse, Nathan Alpers understood them just too well. He had just come back from his last deployment and had promised them a holiday on that sailing ship. He had looked forward to it himself which simply didn't change anything.
"You are right, both of you. It is not fair, and I did promise," Nathan sighed. "But something came up. Something really important, and I need to take care of it."
"What is so important daddy?" Julia demanded.
"I am sorry honey, but I can't tell you."
"Something like those satellites you took down?"
"Sorry Julia, I really can't say. It is just that I wouldn't go if the matter was not really, really important," said Nathan as he hugged his little girl.
"Scheiße," Heinrich cursed.
"Don't let mother hear that Heinrich or she will wash your mouth with soap, but I can't agree more."
"How long will you be gone then, daddy?"
"I don't know for sure. If things go wrong, nine months or so."

That was when both started to cry. Nathan closed his eyes and held his two children close.

Sea of Malice, close to Hag Graef

The Sea of Malice was of the darkest green, and what foam formed on top of the waves just served as a contrast that deepened the darkness. Gray clouds raced across the sky and masked the palest of suns. A fleet of ungainly vessels made their way through the sea, forcing their blunt bows through the waves. The middle section was taken by stubby freighters carrying a multitude of landing craft fastened to their sides. The flanks and vanguard were taken by armored ships armed with all kinds of huge cannons.
The DawiZharr dreadnought was as ugly as a ship could be, looking top-heavy and misshapen. And that was when one looked at it through mundane eyes. To those with the ability to look at it from the empyrean, its physical shape was pure beauty compared to the wretched sight it showed in the warp. Something ugly resided deep in its belly, the avatar of a fell god, and it fed on the pain and suffering of sentients. In turn, it gave off heat in copious amounts, powering the dreadnought's twin screws via enormous triple-expansion engines.

The fleet was slowly making its way into the bay that led to the city of Hag Graef. The high spires stood proud above the mists that hid the rest of the city like a shroud. There would be high walls and more towers, adorned in spikes and bearing loopholes, catapults, and low-powered cannon. Hag Graef's fortifications had served the city well for millennia, now these proud defenses are next to useless.
The dreadnought's crew attentively watched the sea around them and the sky above. The Spitzohren had shown a couple of nasty surprises, and Mordred's chosen would not be caught unaware.
The ship's bow wave pushed the object away but not very far. The displacement just meant that it barely caught the dreadnought's side and merely brushed against it. This was still enough to bend one of the horns that protruded from it. Inside the horn, two chemicals that had been separated ever since it had been assembled mixed and reacted violently. This triggered a small charge that fired into the object, where it found a rather large amount of explosives.

The mine's detonation threw up a column of water that rose far above the ship's superstructure. The explosion pushed against the dreadnought's side and caving in the hull as if it was made from paper. When the fury of the explosion subsided, the seawater rushed back into the space it had been expelled from. Water gushed into the ship like a horizontal waterfall, flooding too many compartments at once.
Eventually, the water alone would sink the ship from sheer mass alone, but it never got that chance. When the cold water hit the reactor vessel in the ship's belly, it cracked the pressure vessel like it was made from glass.
The ensuing explosion left few survivors, fewer escaped the hypothermia that killed even the stout DawiZharr in mere minutes.

20 Kilometers from Hag Graef, Naggaroth

Ernutan Doomshackler's harsh mistress had developed a soft side, combining her welcoming embrace with treachery. If Ernutan would have dropped into the hard ground that was below the snow he would have abraded his knees, elbows and hands. Now it felt like childlike fun, but the depression he made in the snow would protect him less than a sand castle. At least it made him less visible, which was a blessed thing already. The reason for his rapid re-acquaintance with his mistress was barely visible from his vantage point and was screaming in pain. His wireless operator had walked behind him and still some never-sufficiently-damned dandelion eater had put a bullet into his crotch.
Ernutan would gladly feed the Germans who had given modern rifles to the Druchii into Hashut's fires. Their old-style troops used repeating crossbows, good for a hundred meters or so. They were plenty lethal when their poisoned bolts hit anything, but they were pretty useless past a hundred meters or so. Some of those who had received rifles had reached a nasty proficiency with them, combined with a near-magical talent for camouflage. There were rumors that some of these snipers were Assassins, but nobody had discovered the truth of that. No matter if that rumor was true or some pasty-faced elf had the perfect eye, by now nobody would try to rescue the victim. He was not dead for a reason, the sniper waited for any weak fool to come to the rescue so that he could kill them. He would be denied that satisfaction, the true Dwarfs were better than that.

These sniper ambushes had been frequent enough that an organized, quick response came without Ernutan needing to order it. A couple of smoke grenades dropped around the screaming wireless operator, hiding him from view. A team of Mordred's finest dashed into the cloud and emerged after less than 30 seconds. One carried the priceless wireless set, another carried a knife that dripped red into the snow. Doomshackler approved, the wireless was important, the soldier would have taken days to die while taking up resources.
Ernutan used his binoculars to scan the ground before him, identifying several likely spots. The new wireless operator relayed his suspicions and a couple of mortars dropped a dozen rounds each into the likely hiding spots. Doomshackler would never learn if they hit anything, but the point Dawi were not shot at when they carefully made their way ten minutes later.

Ever since the DawiZharr had landed at a bay far enough from Hag Graef to be free of mines Mordred's chosen had been harried by snipers and occasional mortar fire. The latter had stopped when the enemy could not retreat fast enough in the face of his light Battlemechs. The snipers were not so easily killed and more numerous. He would have to take the losses and continue, there was no other way. He had given his solemn promise to Lord Mordred himself and he would not be found wanting.
It was an hour later that the Vulture mech passed through one of the narrow passages between the shore and the foothills that marked the beginning of a mountain range. A platoon had already passed the obvious ambush spot, finding a whole lot of nothing. Now a muffled explosion threw up soil, snow and mech parts. The Battlemech teetered on one leg for a moment before falling flat on its scrawny chest. Another explosion threw its upper body upwards for a moment before it came to a rest. It would not rise again.
Ernutan discovered he still had the power to swear and ordered his sappers forward. Once they started digging in the snow the sharp report of another sniper rifle could be heard, dropping a DawiZharr where it stood. This had long day written all over it.

Berlin

Germany had been good to Lisriel of the House of Ethelorne, too good in some ways. She had taken an Erasmus grant and taken up studies in chemistry when her mad granduncle Aurelius had hinted that this might open doors for her in the future. It would further the true elven cause when she learned more about the mundane world, that was for sure. It also opened her mind to a surge of new ideas, something that was going to bring trouble and unrest to her people as well. By now she thought this was exactly what the Asur needed.
Germany had also offered her access to other things, things that did her nor the Asur any good and that she could no longer do without. She knew that they were bad for her, she could see the changes in the mirror easily enough and yet she was still unable to restrain herself. And in moderate doses things were not bad, actually healthy, were they not?

They were, but probably not in the amounts she indulged in. And this stuff was expensive, far too expensive for her meager means, still she could not bear being without them. She had to do something to earn that money and an opportunity had sprung up. This "modeling" thing had not sounded too bad until she saw what they entailed. She really had to hope that her family never found out about that, they would throw her out on her ear in a minute. On the other hand, the job turned out to be a guilty pleasure. That she could be enticing to anybody in her current stage was inconceivable to her, but the very fact that this was so raised her spirits. (Info: Still slender for human norm, definitely not for the elven one)
Still, it would have been far better that she had neither gotten to know neither Lind pralines nor Niederegger and Marzipan.