Neustadt, Naggaroth

The humans in what was supposed to be a storage room were all different: Male and female, pale and sunburnt, slender to the point of being waifs or as big as Neustadt's rations could make them. They wore worker's garments, gambeson armor, or German clothes. Some were very young, others seemed old.
All shared the look of incredulity, of trying to deny the truth that was presented to them and could not. Some were shaking, others grabbed the table's edge till their knuckles were white. Some murmured things of no greater import, others silently prayed and most were deathly still as they listened to what was the end of their lives as they knew it.

It fell to Torsten Breitkopf to tell them about it and they could all see that he was aghast as they were. It was also more than obvious that he did his level best to cope and all suspected that was because he wanted to protect them to the best of his abilities. That he was not sure if he could do so was easily discerned by beings who had learned to read the most subtle of signs their masters displayed.

"Thanks to the sacrifice of a good girl, a mage who managed to hide her talent from the Spitzohren, we have ample warning. We do not know what they want here, but the very fact that they send the Darkhand and the Black Guards means it cannot be good. We have built ourselves something great here. Nobody has to fear the whip, no one is raped, we feed all and educate everybody who wants it. And for all of that, you have worked harder than anybody can rightly expect. Now that the bloody Witch-King thinks he can squeeze more blood from stone he wants to end all of that.

I have done my best to avoid that, did what I could to keep them from you. I have failed. Honestly, I do not know what I could have done differently and it is with a heavy heart that I come to you with this news. The question is what to do about it.
I say we cannot just accept getting the whip back on your backs, we cannot see your daughters raped and the old ones slain.
We will not accept this and we will fight. And while I know that you will fight with all your heart to protect your loved ones and what we have built here, it will not be enough. We need to throw ourselves at the mercy of someone, but the Druchii will not be it. I will enact Case Tubman, but I cannot do it alone. Are you with me or do I have to surrender to the Darkhand?"

All in the room were different. They did not answer immediately, but when Anja started they all cheered for their patron, their only hope, Torsten Breitkopf.

Leviathan, 800 kilometers from Kislevite coast

The human eye is drawn to movement. Things that do not move at all are often overlooked, even when in plain sight. That was the only explanation for his current circumstances that Shangxiao Lin Shung could come up with. Apart from that, his mind was filled with shock and fear.

He was in his own cabin, his exalted rank allowed him that much privacy. Up till about five seconds ago, he was sure the most threatening thing in the room was the sap on the walls. He was sitting behind his desk; no weapon was pointed in his direction and nobody made any threats. It was just that a killer sat before his desk and he had not seen him enter. Actually, he got the impression that Ivil Bloodcrest had been there for quite some time while he had his head in the paperwork that the Heavenly Dragon and the mercenaries had saddled the new model army with.

The Druchii had folded one leg above the other, his arms were casually crossed above his chest. Lin's duty revolver was at his hip and he shot well with it. He knew that pulling it from its holster would be suicide.

Ivil Bloodcrest's voice was neither loud nor threatening. Lin shivered still.

"Ni hao, Shangxiao, thank you for seeing me at such short notice."
Shung blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his head from the panic that made anything oh so hard. It seemed to be answer enough to the Night Shift's leader.
"I have come here as I am vexed by this silly question and I could think of none better qualified than you to answer it and lay my mind to rest. Would you mind helping me out?"
Lin managed to nod this time, he suspected that his voice was not yet under control.

"Splendid Shangxiao, I'll be in your debt. Now this question is about something I heard about the old Cathayan army in a way. There was this rumor that the Celestial Dragon gifted his subjects with plots of land and in exchange, they would serve the army. Their simple souls needed guidance of course, graciously provided by the same people who would be their officers in case anybody would be so mad as to challenge the Dragon's might.

Now this guidance was deemed to be so valuable that the officers could expect the farmer-soldiers to perform some tasks on their farms. Some officers gave such valuable advice that the farmers worked quite a lot for them. Actually, so much that their own plots suffered at times. The most unbelievable rumors have it that this work was so much that the army's drills suffered because the fields were so demanding or the farmers were so lazy. Other tales have it that the farmers' daughters were so overcome by the beauty and wisdom of the officers that they tried to seduce those trusty souls. Some even seemed to beat up themselves for this privilege, suffering bruises and other injuries for their bad judgement.

These are of course tales and rumors from the glorious days of old. Now that the world is changing so much the Celestial Dragon in his very wisdom has decreed that there has to be a new model army. An army we unworthies are honored to train. In his boundless generosity, the Center of the Real has even honored the Wild Geese in leading the Cathayan Expeditionary Corps.

Please excuse my verbosity, yet I felt it important to show you what vexes me so much. There is this totally unbelievable rumor that these fanciful stories are not just slander and flights of imagination. Instead, these rumors insist that such things are happening even in this new era and this glorious army. The story goes that instead of working at the officer's plots the soldiers donate from their pay to the warrant officers. Those are then supposed to keep a bit to themselves and give the bulk to their officers. Other rumors say that the female laborers that aid the Dragon's forces succumb to the officers in similar ways that the farmers' daughters in the tales of old. One officer who is the target of such mad love is said to be driven to such despair by such madness that he saw no way out, but to kill himself. How and why he managed to mutilate his genitals so horribly is beyond my understanding. And this very incident gives my mind no rest.

Surely the officers that have earned the Celestial Dragon's trust would not act so stupidly as dupes in tales to frighten the clueless. This army is going to fight one of the most dangerous enemies this world has to offer. The Expeditionary Corps is as far from Cathay as it can be, far from help. It is so important that the soldiers trust their officers, that know they are well led and not exploited. If those tales were to contain a shred of truth it would destroy morale. I know of course that all of this is a rumor, but some silly part of my mind cannot rest in the face of them. Now there is surely no better person than you to assure me that there is no such silliness in the Dragon's forces, isn't there.?

Shung's voice was too high, even in his own ears. Still,the conviction in it was unmistakable.
"Of course such things are not done by Cathayan officers, this would be dishonorable. Only a rumor, I assure you doubly in the face of where we are heading."
"I am so glad to hear that Shangxiao. Thank you for relieving this unworthy mind of his silly notions. It would be a very happy occasion if these horrible thoughts would never return wouldn't it?"
The answer was rushed and great relief shone through. Lin started to believe he would survive.
"Yes, certainly. I am sure there will be nothing to instill such rumors in the future."
"Xie xie nie Lin Shung. I will leave you to your work then."
"Bu..bu ke qi Ivil Bloodcrest."
"A good night then."

The Wild Geese's killer was nearly at the door when Lin's curiosity got the better of him.
"A question Duizang Bloodcrest, if I am allowed."
"Yes, of course."
"When did this unfortunate officer kill himself?"
"In about 30 minutes, I think. A good night then and sorry to disturb you."

Blend kitchen and bar, Berlin, Germany

The room was deceptively simple, with smooth white walls and unadorned wooden chairs and tables for furniture. That a set of chairs and table cost half a months' average salary could be seen, but better perceived by sitting and feeling their rock-like solidity.
The surroundings were just a background to very, very good cuisine. That it was not that expensive was just a topping and had brought the two women at the table to this place. Both were slender, at the end of their twenties and looked fit.
Two wine glasses met in the middle with a clink and two sets of eyes met silently before both sipped a bit.

"You were always the crazy one Andrea, but this crazy? Is this really you? How in god's name did you end up there of all places? Your thesis was well accepted if I remember correctly and didn't you have a number of offers?"
Andrea Hermanns sighed and shrugged her shoulders. She had been asked this quite a lot these days.
"Yes, yes I did and yes it was well enough received. It is just that I tried to network a bit. My father invited me to his local SPD chapter to give a talk on why we need to write out a few species from Germany."
"Write out as in eradicate?"

"Write out as in introducing a virus making them infertile. Yes, we do not need the Short-tailed Wyvern or the Armored Emperor Crab here. Not if we want to have fish and squirrels in the future."
"Whatever. So, what happened with the old SPD?"
"Old cuts it. I was not totally sure if I was at an old people's home or the local chapter of the Sozialdemokraten. No matter, they might not like what I have to say, but there is some novelty that shines into their dusty eyes. So, they ask me to come a bit more often. That more than a few deans have been members of that chapter does not hurt. And there are worse parties than the good old SPD, even if they need to update badly.
The by-election comes around and they need a female name on the list. Young, photogenic, female, having seen the world: I ticked enough boxes. Told me not to sweat it, I was just the standby and shake hands. Did that, got the bleeding T-Shirt. Then Schmidt gets elected, hard not to do in this part of Hamburg. He even got to take the oath and then the bleeder croaks. Sorry, that sounded worse than it was intended, but this really threw a spanner in my plans."
"You could have said no."

Andrea took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders even straighter.
"Monika, you were on Köln with me. What was the most important thing you learned there?"
"Always wear the safety vest or one hand for the ship and one for yourself?"
"Ha, that too, for sure. But really now: What is the most important thing to the Norscans?"
"Keeping your word, no matter what? Not become a Nithlingsverk?"
"Ex-bleeding-actly. When I said yes and when they put my name on that list, I gave my word to serve when needed. That nobody expected me to go through with it is another matter entirely. And it will be for one year or so, so who cares."

"But the committee on budgets? That is quite the senior post or so I hear."
"Schmidt would have been there and by party proportion, the SPD gets one post in there. Since it is for just this year, I got it. And the old geezers are happy that I am there. They finally moved from paper to Excel and have no idea how to work with it. So, I introduced pivotal tables to their planning tools and it will be my lasting contribution I'd say."
"Ha, Andrea Hermanns, Member of the Bundestag, who would have thought it."
"Not me, that is for sure."

Neustadt, Naggaroth

Guarding Neustadt was a dream posting for Druchii who liked to take it easy and valued their lives. They were far from the front lines, which improved their life expectancy considerably these days. It might curb the chances at promotion, but given the losses at Hag Graef, the Darklight Tower, or elsewhere there would be enough openings. Doubly so for those who availed themselves of the many opportunities the tame Germans offered for learning about the new realities that they had brought into this world. There was also a bonus paid to each and every true elf paid by the Neustadt factories.

The actual job could not be easier. The Germans policed the slaves by a network of trustees and had very few discipline issues. The need to catch any slave was simply nonexistent and so far, Neustadt had no need for defense. Well, the latter was not really true, Flugscheiben had attacked the factories several times. It was highly unlikely that the same flying disks had attacked more than once. The Neustadt Arsenal was producing every anti-air piece of artillery the Druchii had. They had not skimped on their own defense and the slow-and-low flying disks had been test targets Neustadt's newest innovations. Standing watch for long hours, measuring range, and performing arcane calculations were beneath a true elven warrior. Not to mention hauling copious amounts of ammo and shoving it in a breech. The slaves themselves manned the weapons that could only shoot at the uncaring sky.
There was a downside, the Druchii guards were not to avail themselves of Neustadt's slaves. One never knew when the good-looking wench was actually a mill operator and using her up in a gang-bang would bring the Witch-King's ire upon one. If one needed slaves for entertainment one was to bring them oneself.

That was certainly balanced by the food and the quarters themselves. There were cantinas that served only the true elven warriors and the food was varied and good. The quarters were spacious, well protected from the elements, and heated well. Only someone who had survived Naggaroth's winters could really appreciate the importance of warmth. The denizens of Neustadt had outdone themselves and installed a heating system equal to the one in Malekith's palace. The floor one walked on was solid enough, but there were small slots between the flagstones. There was a small space between this floor and the load-bearing one below it. Hot air was funneled into this space, providing an even temperature in the rooms as well as a warm floor. And all of that without the hassle of an oven in the room, without the need to feed it wood or coal and without the ashes. Truly Malekith's warriors lived like kings.

The small party that went through the alley that led to these quarters was looking forward to their rest. They went to the small guardhouse at the barrack's entrance to report in when they found no guard. One of them looked into the small office and spotted some nasty stains on the floor when he heard something striking flesh and a gurgling sound. He turned with commendable speed, bringing his rifle up when something unseen left a burning trail on his arm. His sight waned quickly, but he still managed to spot the crossbow bolts that stuck from his comrades. He had time to wonder about who had the gall to attack Malekith's warriors, but his cramping limbs made sure he could not do anything about it.

If the warriors would have arrived 30 minutes before they might have arrived at their quarters alive. Then they would now either breathe the poison that wafted from the under-slab heating or eat things that would kill them at least as fast.
When the pale winter sun rose upon Neustadt there were no Druchii alive and the former slaves erected a steel tower in its midst.