Restaurant Ratatouille, Berlin

The mushrooms were huge, which normally meant that they would be close to tasteless. Interestingly enough, there was both more than a little texture and a rich, earthly taste. Their marinade had quite a bit of spice in it, something set off by the Cheddar that covered them.
Now this was an entrée that Andrea Hermanns could dig, even when she had to be careful with it. Sleeping had somehow dropped markedly in priority and exercising was something she dimly remembered as important. So far things remained within reason, but if things did not change she would have buy new clothes, and not for the right reasons. Still, she needed an out for an evening and her friend had dragged her here.

Andrea decided that Monika had picked the restaurant for its food, not as she was more "woke" than Andrea would ever be.
The beer that accompanied the entrée had a taste that she had never tried before and was not sure she liked. It left her with a pleasant buzz though and Andrea reminded herself not to overdo.
The next dish was fish. This one was served complete with its skin and head. The places that were not covered with sauce were so white that they bordered on translucent and there were no eyes to be seen. The plate it arrived on balanced delicately with two others on a furry arm and well-maintained claws.

"Was the entrée to your liking liking Madame?"
Andrea forced herself to look into the waiter's furry face.
"It was excellent, thank you. May I have some root beer for the next course?"
"Certainly certainly Madame. Would you like the regular regular one or the special offer offer?"
"Regular please. I know for a fact that your special one will be on the illegal narcotics list with the next Federal Gazette"

The waiter's whiskers moved with alarming frequency.
"Oh my my, this is so so unfortunate. We will have to make a special offer offer then."
"That would be good, your stock will not be grandfathered I am afraid."
"Merci Madame. Regular root beer then."
"Thanks"

Going for her fish knife Andrea Hermanns went for the fish, which turned out to have a ton of fishbone and great taste. The meal ended with a lovingly made chocolate mousse. She suspected that Skaven restaurants would never be as common as Halfling ones, but she would come back. The cooks in this restaurant tried their hardest to make good food with their traditional ingredients and their new possibilities.

Cellar, Karond Kar

The explosion shook the whole cellar and rattled those chains that were still fastened to the walls. The Petromax lamp fastened to a handy eyebolt in the ceiling swayed and illuminated the falling dust that the detonation had liberated from the masonry. The fine powder settled on the transparent plastic foil that covered the map below them. A pale, slender hand wiped it carefully away and managed to leave the markings made with a felt pen.
There were markings in black, blue and red on it, symbols that denoted the friendly and suspected enemy positions. A rating changed and added those according to the reports received by a small section of communication technicians who had barely stopped their work on account of the explosion. A little noise would neither faze her nor anybody else who had fought with the Wild Geese for any length of time.

"Comms, contact Klawitter's flyboys and tell them this was a bit too close for comfort. Ask them to put another flight into a holding orbit, Isilvar's people will rustle up business for them. Also, contact Shaxiao Wang, he should get his thumb out and block Chain Way, can't have the stumpies get away."
Areta Bane had fought with crossbow and spear, rifle and armoured Unimog. She had worked her way from markswoman and Squad Leader to Brigade Leader now. The days she actually used her rifle in anger or even saw the shooters were gone, unless something went horribly wrong.
Now she used the wireless set, maps, and situation reports. This might not be as satisfying as seeing her enemies bleed, but it allowed her to wield the artillery strike and order dive bomber attacks.

She had to adapt considerably, like all the Druchii who had joined the Wild Geese. And where others had failed, she had succeeded in mastering the new ways. Among them was how to motivate her troops. In the old days she would have thought about creative punishments to make soldiers fear her more than the enemy. She had learned other ways, the remarkable power of praise among them.

"Comms, contact Company Leader Reis and commend his people on laying those telephone lines that quickly."
The commo rating turned a crank on his Bakelite field telephone and used it to relay Areta's orders. He listened in and there might have been a supressed smile on his face when he turned back to the Brigade Leader.
"Brigade Leader, Company Leader Reis gives you his compliments and reminds you that field telephones are a valuable resource. I was ordered to tell you they are not that safe for playing with anyways. He wants all of them back, or their recognizable pieces."
Well, not everything had changed it seemed.

Turning back to the map which had been annotated with the data from the latest reports she tried to grasp the situation.
The beachhead was half a klick back from her current position. Some of the piers had survived everything this war could throw at them and allowed Leviathan's barges to unload quickly. A couple of German heavy equipment operators were earning obscene bonuses by using their excavators as makeshift cranes.

The mercenaries and the Cathayan Expedition Corps had pushed about a kilometre into Karond Kar before the defenders could organize themselves sufficiently to offer real resistance. Wolfgang Böhler knew the Stumpies far too well to overextend his troops. He had them dug in at their current positions. The DawiZharr knew if they wanted to keep Karond Kar they had to regain the docks or at least deny them to the mercenaries.

So they had assaulted the allied forces three times so far. Storming a prepared position with machine guns and breech-loading weapons behind them was hard and it became far, far worse when the other side had a decided artillery advantage. So far the campaign had very lopsided loss figures, favouring the allies markedly. Still one risk remained. Karond Kar had its share of tunnels to move people and merchandize protected from the ghastly weather and prying eyes. There were secret passages and cellars galore. The DawiZharr, dwarfs that they were, had taken to this underground terrain like fish to water and had adapted it to their liking. That meant that the little assholes could emerge in unexpected places with little to no warning. Going into these tunnels would give them more than a few advantages and Areta did not relish the prospect of any engagement down there at all.

She had hashed something out with Ivil Bloodcrest and both Druchii thought it worth a try. Only time would tell if this would be a bloody failure or saved troopers lives.

Hamburger Öffentliche Bücherhallen, Hühnerposten, Hamburg

Frauke Untiedt was lost for words for a moment, which was not like her. Doubly so as the object taking her ability to sensibly communicate away was a staircase.
The Hamburg public library executive needed two attempts before she finally managed to form her thoughts and project good manners.

"This is so …so beautiful. I knew you can grow incredible things, but this is just otherworldly. Thank you Dehahoine, you have fulfilled that contract well."
The Asrai bowed slightly before the German.
"Your praise brings honour to my clan. We do believe it fits this place, it is host to such marvels."
Untiedt's eyebrows rose minutely. Dehahoine smiled when she answered that.

"Oh, one of them is your books. We Asrai had little use for them. We have good memories and long lives. What we really needed to know, what poetry we want to enjoy we could learn from our elders. Even the places of great learning have a few hundred books at the very most. Each of them is a cherished work of art, hand written on costly vellum over a long time. But your arrival has brought new times to this world. And if the Asrai want to find their place in them we have to learn so much and so fast that books have their place now.
And here you have so many books that our language had no good words to express that amount. 500,000 books is simply incredible for us. Actually I am pretty sure that no Asrai has used the word 500,000 in all the millennia of our existence. We have one now, but that is made up and feels strange to our tongues.
Now I will not pretend that "50 Shades of Grey" or "Hanni and Nanni" are works of great wisdom, but still so many books here are. They allow an insights into worlds we did not even dream of. And that is not the only miracle here."

"What is it the other one then?"
"Look at your cafeteria. Even I recognize Germans from all walks of life, Imperials, Bretons, Tileans, Asur and a couple of dwarfs. And they all sit there in peace, enjoy your cakes and celebrate their love of books. If that does not count as a miracle, then I do not know what will."
Frauke Untiedt paused for a moment and smiled before answering.

"You know, some things are so huge you can only appreciate them from afar. Seems that I have been too close to our library to really see those things for the wonders they are. And so your people can partake in these wonders they are invited into this library whenever they want and we are open to the public."
"You have my thanks and those of my people Frau Untiedt. We will certainly make use of your invitation, we have so much to learn about these new times."
"As long as you eat our cakes quietly you are certainly welcome."

The staircase filled with human and Asrai laughter, as welcome as any noise in the library would ever be.

Another cellar, Karond Kar

The rock seemed to be too big for the car's wheels to overcome, especially when it had to drive so slowly as not to attract unwanted attention. Still, the tyres had remarkable grip and while the car tilted alarmingly it did not turn over. Instead it dropped into its suspension when it had cleared the obstacle and accelerated for the next spot of deep shadow. Manoeuvring back and forth a bit, it managed to push its camera into the corridor before it. To ordinary eyes the corridor was pitch-black, but the CCD in the camera could detect the infrared light provided by a few LED well enough. Depicted in low-res monochrome the barrier and the coal-scuttle helmets of the DawiZharr defenders were still recognizable.

Ivil Bloodcrest watched over the shoulder of a Night Shift warrant and marvelled at the technology that made this recon that easy. That the Germans thought the bits and pieces harmless enough to sell them freely showed clearly that they still had not fully adapted to this world. To think that the remote drone was sold as a toy truck and the camera originally meant to be the backup camera for an RV….
No matter the origins, Ivil was happy enough to have them. They allowed his Night Watch to map Karond Kar's underground with reasonable accuracy and without paying in blood for the intelligence won. His people would be done soon, and then the Wild Geese would use the data for all it was worth.

Former Kit Kat Club, Berlin

The lights in the room had been dimmed down so that the video would be clearer to see. It played before a rapt audience that watched it in silence. Shadows and lights crept over their faces as the short film progressed, mirrored in their faces which displayed their mood all too well.

They held their breath when a machine gun suffered a misfire inside a darkened bunker. The viewers flinched when something fast went through the vision slit and embedded itself in the wall behind the machine gunners. They became more cheerful when nimble fingers removed the stove-piped cartridge in mere seconds and the machine gun hammered salvo after salvo at unseen targets.

They supressed a laugh at the rough jokes exchanged between the former slaves after the assault and commiserated when they saw the shapeless food that filled the bowls a bit later. Everybody smiled a bit when Kuan Ti fed some scraps to a cat and called it a hero for keeping the bunker clean of rats.
There were a few supressed tears when the assistant gunner played a bit with her children when she got back to her quarters. Kuan Ti promptly went to sleep when both cuddled against her on the floor.

Andrea Hermann's voice was remarkably clear when the video ended.
"Is this what you asked for Heiko?"
"Oh fuck yes, it is. This is more than I hoped for and comes at the right time. Not too much to edit, I can do it tonight. And by tomorrow morning everybody with a smartphone or a computer can watch Kuan Ti do what she can. And then we will ask the viewers what they can do."

The being that watched them from the warp was old and had seen so very much. He still could not fathom the ways of the people he had encouraged for a while now. Which in turn meant he had next to no idea whether they would succeed or not. That had not stopped him before though and these ones seemed to have their heart in the right place, even when he did not understand them fully.

Bunker, under Tower of Pain, Karond Kar

Zhlatan the Lame no longer flinched when the ground under him shook or the lantern above his head swayed. Lord Mordred had warned General Gorth that the Dandelion Eaters would try to take Karond Kar and Gorth had assured Mordred that they could not take it in a thousand years.
The General would not have to answer for his plans and preparations as his bunker had been hit by one of these strange planes that dove for their targets like a bird of prey and howled like a Banshee.

Zhlatan was far less optimistic than Gorth had been. The DawiZharr in Karond Kar were stout dwarfs, they loved Lord Mordred as much as any other and would fight to their last breath for him. But they were those who could not partake in the great battles that were fought inside Naggaroth. Some of them, like himself, had received wounds that made them unable to march all day. Others had breathed the poisons that both sides used on the battlefield and were short of breath or no longer had the eyesight needed on the battlefield.
But by Hashut and Lord Mordred, they could still shoot, they could move the short distances inside Karond Kar. Zhlatan was sure that he had enraged the Druchii and their human allies enough so that they would enter his domain. And then the DawiZharr would teach the Dandelion Eaters why they should fear the dark underground. And when he had bled them enough he had a surprise stashed away that would allow him to throw every one of them back into the sea.

It would be glorious and he waited…

Zhlatan realised that his broad nostrils started to move and concentrated on what his body had detected before the mind had caught up with it. There was a strange smell, quite pervasive, but under it was something else. There were very few things a DawiZharr feared, but firedamp was very high up the list. It did not matter how good, how stout or how experienced you were. When enough flammable gas concentrated itself in the tunnels, caves, and mines that extracted the DawiZharr's lifeblood and found the slightest spark, then you died violently and quickly. Zhlatan had seen heavy machinery being ejected for dozens of meters from a mine shaft because a firedamp had exploded hundreds of meters below.

And now his experienced nose smelled things that a human never would and told him a story of such a firedamp in the making. In this blasted place the flammable gas could not have a natural origin, it had to be the treacherous Druchii. He now had the choice between dying in a fireball, or taking a few hated enemies of Lord Mordred with him. The choice was not difficult at all. He filled his lungs to bursting before shouting the last command he was about to give in this life.

"Firedamp, firedamp, firedamp. All make for the next sally point and charge the damn Dandelion Eaters and their lackeys. Charge my children and show them why they should fear the true dwarfs. Charge."
His order was relayed by messenger and by land line, it gained urgency by the first subdued explosions that wrecked distant tunnels. Taken up by DawiZharr who resented waiting for the enemy and hating those who would use their primal fear against them none hesitated. Hundreds of warriors opened whatever exit they could access and stormed into the cold bright light of the day.

Street, Karond Kar

The box was nothing special, having contained a kilogram of wood screws for most of its existence. Thousands of those had been shipped to Leviathan's dock and quite a few of those had been on the ship when it sailed. Now it was fastened on its side, the lid pointed towards the street and the buildings on the other side. The bottom was filled by a putty-like substance and a thick cord that connected it to other, similar boxes nearby. On top of that putty some of the screws and other small ironmongery rested inside the box. A few leaves and a thin board had been used to hide the box from casual observers.

Suddenly some of the rubble on the other side of the street was pushed to the side and the first DawiZharr emerged from a well-hidden opening into the underground. The first ones did not make an effort to look around or to take cover, they needed to clear the space for many more DawiZharr who emerged from the tunnel. When they filtered into the street they looked for the enemy, but none were to be seen. Like nearly all streets in Karond Kar this one was narrow and hemmed in by high buildings on all sides. Most were burned-out husks, empty windows watching them silently like a skull's eyeholes.

An officer emerged from the tunnel below and started to give orders, the first dwarfs formed up when something unseen ignited the detcord that connected the box with the others strewn around the tunnels exit. Its explosion assaulted the ears of everybody in the enclosed space, the sound masked the horrible whizz that accompanied the many fragments that raced through the open space. The improvised mines had been placed well and there were very few DawiZharr not hit by several fragments. Very few were shielded by their fellow soldiers or lucky enough to take the hits against the light armor they wore. The rest were horribly wounded by the uneven shrapnel, very few lucky enough to die quickly. The rest had to watch their lifeblood running through many wounds, unable to stem the flow of them all.

The windows and every other opening into the ruins that bordered the DawiZharr exit point birthed muzzles and soldiers who opened fire on the bloody chaos below. Some made the solid booms of rifles, others were the short salvos of something else.
Ivil Bloodcrest ripped the magazine out of the submachine gun's side and replaced it with a fresh one before reopening fire. He still marvelled that something as simple as this "Sterling" could wreck so much havoc and where it had been all of his life while he cut down two survivors with a short burst. Looking for more targets yielded a great lot of nothing, the ambush had worked as planned.

Too bad that Areta Bane was on a different path, she would have made a worthy addition to his Night Shift. She had been given the same safety lecture like all of them about the portable heaters and their gas bottles on-board Leviathan. Areta had been the only one to make something out of it, a tool to flush the Stumpies out of their hiding holes. He and his people had been responsible for mapping Karond Kar's underground and the likely sally ports. Ivil had relished setting the ambushes in advance, this was how you pleased the god of murder and avoided paying him with your own.

He was still rounding up his team members when a series of explosions ripped the air apart a few hundred meters from his position.

Cellar, Karond Kar

Areta Bane was not surprised that things turned to shit so quickly, she had expected that something would come up. She was a soldier and Druchii, Murphy was an old, murderous acquaintance of hers. She tried her hardest to project calm in a command centre that was on the verge of chaos when the enemy showed their hand. Giving clear orders in a firm voice helped, she could just hope her orders would make sense in the real world.

"Comms, Shaxiao Wang's request for a fire mission on his last position is approved, ask Leviathan and Brigade Leader Richter for all they have got. May Khaine receive him well, he will take enough of the Stumpies with them.
She looked at the map and hoped that the markings regarding cleared streets were correct.
"Comms, Mobile one is to assume a position at Whipping Square, they are to fire on the enemy from there. Mobile two…no Mobile three should use Loot Walk till they flank the enemy and wait till Mobile one has their attention and then flank them. If they can they should infiltrate their dismounted elements into the ruins along Chain Way and take it from there. And rustle up Ivil's misguided children, maybe they reinforce in time. Call Klawitter, I need that air support now…

And while Areta tried to stem the tide with what resources were at hand she still wondered how the allies could have overlooked the three battlemechs under that pile of rubble. She was pretty sure that the Stumpies had buried them for later use. She should probably be happy that they were forced to play their hand now and not at a time of their choosing. Still the Mechs were a terrible threat inside Karond Kar's confined spaces. She would lose good soldiers fighting them, the question was how many.

Abandoned House, Chain Way, Karond Kar

The shell raced by the window, close enough that it's passing whipped up a dust cloud inside the room. Ivil Bloodcrest kept himself well back from the opening, so he had no clue whether it hit its intended target or not. Whatever happened to the projectile, it roused a Golem to a murderous fury. Its scream was like a tea kettle and a grinder, mixed at the noise level of a starting plane. Something close crashed through masonry without really slowing down. The hammering of huge metal feet shook the ruin he was in and became louder with each passing second.
Another projectile came from the mercenaries' unseen Unimog and went by his post. This time he could be sure it hit something, the explosion was too loud to be masked by anything else. The scream was back, louder than ever before and the Mech resumed its assault, even when the hammer of its footsteps seemed uneven this time. One of his soldiers looked at him for a second and he nodded.

The soldier crept forward until he had cleared the part of the room still having walls. He rose to a crouch while his partner steadied his shoulder and turned backwards. The why of that became abundantly clear when the huge Mech had passed Isilvar's position. When the soldiers pulled the trigger on his weapon the flared end of the tube erupted with an explosion of flame and smoke. It blasted the debris from the floor and hurled it to impressive distances. Anybody who would have stood there would be dead and if the two had been stupid enough to shoot before a wall they would be quite toasty by now.

Their shot went into the Mech's back and detonated on impact. A lance of plasma pierced the thick hide and vented molten metal and cooper flame inside. The explosion made the Golem stumble forward and then fall on its face. Ivil felt tremors under him that suggested that the metal beast was still trying to get up after this. The loader of the recoilless rifle team ripped the breech of his partner's weapon open and pulled the cartridge's remains from them. Taking the time to align the grooves of the fresh shell with the rifling of the barrel he pushed a new round in and closed the breech again. Just as he finished, the head of the Mech became visible through the building's windows.

Ivil dropped and rolled into what he hoped was sufficient cover when both a machine gun salvo and a fierce blast assaulted his ears. He waited for a second for the ground to stop moving and then looked around the wall. The Golem was nowhere to be seen, a mighty crash indicated that it had fallen to the ground again. His recoilless gun team had been shredded by a machine gun at close range and their remains had been strewn through the room.

In the distance he could hear more shooting and at least one more crash, but the characteristic footsteps of Battlemechs had ceased of now.

Excerpt from the letter of Mailin Wu, Nurse of the Celestial Dragon's Expedition Corps to her parents, written two days later

We conspire against their right to die. They arrive right from the clearing stations, Druchii and men, old and young, nobles and commoners. They scream in pain or they are horribly still. Some ask for their mothers or call on their fierce gods for benediction of their kills.
Many bear bloody bandages, others seem unharmed. Some are not really here, their minds unable to bear the terrible reality, other tell us in quiet voices not to bother with them.

My hands tell me who will live and who will die. The cold sweat on their skin shows me their fate, their faltering pulse whispers of their impeding death. The shallow lift of their chests marks their ceasing breath, their fingers weakening grip testament of fleeting life.
My hands on their brow is the last thing they feel in this life and my voice the last sound they hear.
We do what they can to save them, and we save many. We cannot save them all and no matter how many die, there are always more.

No matter how long I am in this field hospital, I have yet to see a wounded DawiZharr and that worries me more than anything else I have seen so far. What kind of war are we waging in the Dragon's name?

Adidas Factory, Altdorf

Emma placed the clipboard, her unofficial badge of office, on the secretary's desk before she entered her new boss' office. She had counted her sins and found none, but being called in was rarely a good sign. Asking herself what the man who had taken over the job a few weeks ago wanted, she had no idea and feared for her job. Reminding herself that she had made it from worker to supervisor under her own power she straightened her back and entered the office.

"Herr Polito, you wanted to see me?"
The slender, young-seeming man smiled when she entered and vaguely indicated the chair before his desk. Emma sat down, unable to relax fully.
"Thanks for seeing me at such short notice Frau Fassberg. Please don`t worry about anything, I just want to poke your mind for a couple of things I do not understand."
Emma needed a second to understand and formulate some answer. This was not what she had expected. In the end she could not avoid stammering.

"Ah, me Herr Polito? I am just a supervisor and do not…"
"You are also an Imperial Frau Fassberg and started as a worker in this company. I dare to think you are still part of the grapevine and can shed a bit of light."
"Err, certainly. Even if I would not report anything about the lives of the workers outside the factory…."
Polito chuckled a bit.

"Oh, I am not interested in that, really now. No, it is something else. Now that the Imperials have more money on their hands we could sell shirts and shoes by the carload lot. Doubly so as this revolushunary committee has occupied some of Skarsnik's factories and several contracts are up in the air. So we try to hire enough workers for a night shift and there are very few takers. Do you have any idea why that might be?"
Emma wrung her hands trying to find an answer that would not anger her new boss.
"I am a grown man Emma, I can take it, really now."
The answer was a rush, like she wanted to get it over with.
"It's Gardena Herr Polito, at least that is most of it."
The German shook his head a couple of times and squinted.
"Sorry, I do not follow."

The answer was a bit steadier now.
"See, working on these sewing machines can be a bit dangerous if you are tired. And when the sun is not up the needle is hard to see. At Gardena you just put rubber rings around fittings and screw them together, no danger to your fingers there. The factory is newer, and they do not do stonewashing, so the air is better. They have a cantina and they pay ten marks more per week, at least that's what I hear. So when the workers came back from the Nachhexen holidays their tried their luck there. Sorry Herr Polito, that's the way it is."

Polito did not say anything for a second and reclined in his chair
"Ten marks per week more and for that they change?"
"For a worker on the floor that is that is a good 10% increase Herr Polito. And that is on top of the other things."
"Yes, yes. I see I need to adjust to the Empire a bit more. I saw quite a few Bretonnians in the late shift. Can we just hire a few more refugees?"
"A lot of them are going home now that the war is over and the Republic is getting organized. And those who do not are still going to Gardena or one of the other newer factories."

The German was getting somewhat exasperated.
"My predecessor promised me that there was a steady supply of former farmhands who are no longer needed who try their luck in Altdorf. How about them?"
"There are no longer as many as in the last few years. The baronies and states start their own industries, so people can stay closer to their homes. I am not saying that there are none, but there are fewer and they have choices now."
Polito sat there for a few moments, saying nothing. He took a deep breath before continuing.
"Thank you for being so frank with me Emma, I appreciate that. Since you seem rather knowledgeable, do you have any ideas what we can do to attract more workers?"
Emma's response was halting, but gained speed after the first sentences.
"Herr Polito, I am just a simple supervisor, so I am not sure how much my advice is worth. But to me it seems we cannot offer lower wages for a more dangerous job in an older factory. We might see some more workers, but they will not be the ones we are looking for and they might leave soon."

"So?"
"So I do believe we need to pay every worker a bit more, the ten marks per week like the others do. We also need better lights and the stonewash area needs to be closed off, so that the dust does not go everywhere. Yes, this will cost, but we will have fewer rejected goods and cleaning will be far easier. And I can guarantee you need to pay the guys in stonewashing an extra, working all day under these masks is hard going. If we do that, we could distribute leaflets in some villages and smaller towns, I might have some suggestions there."
"Uff, that is going to cost…."
"Herr Polito, I am just a simple supervisor, but even I know that a little profit of something is better than a huge profit from nothing. And as long as we mostly hire day labourers they could go for greener pastures whenever they get a better offer. If that happens when we have seasonal orders we are in deep …dodo."
There was some amusement in Polito's voice when he answered.
"Seems I asked the right person Emma the not-so-simple-supervisor. Thanks, you gave me lots of food for thought. Tell you something, you give me some recommendations where to distribute those leaflets and what to write, there will be an extra for that. I will talk to headquarters. They won't like it, but will probably have to take it. You do good work Emma, thanks."

Emma walked from the office, bowing deeply as she might have done before her liege quite some years ago. When she had passed the anteroom her back straightened and she jumped a bit. That had been hard to arrange, but it had totally been worth it.

Command Tent, three kilometer from Neustadt

Kouran Darkhand watched the map before him with well-concealed incomprehension. It was supposed to be a sketch of the defenses of Neustadt, but many of the symbols on it made little sense to him. That these scribblings represented the result of nearly two weeks of scouting incensed him. These were two weeks he had not been fulfilling Malekith's orders to bring the slaves to heel and punish those who had incited them to rebel.
Racca Daweneyes should better have something worth waiting so long for. Kouran would have killed her already if his own attempts at storming Neustadt had not been bloodily repulsed again and again.
The one-eyed Druchii in front of his command group gave no sign of being aware of Kouran's hate and had the gall to turn her back to him to show the features on the map.

"So, this is what we found in our recons and during the last attacks.
Two sides of Neustadt are bordered by steep slopes. There are next to no fixed defenses there, but we would have to use ropes to make the descent. We might as well show a "shoot me" sign, and the slopes are within range of Neustadt's AA fire. That is a pass.
The river on the far side is fast moving and deep. At this time of the year there are still ice floes in there. There are fortified positions at the pier and I spotted some craters on our side of the river. That means they have the range of that area with their arty and any assault there will fail.

The one accessible side is very well defended. The barbed wire is well connected to stakes, the belt has depth and as we had to learn the hard way, it is mined with both buried and directional mines. If we take this wire under artillery fire it might shift, but it will not break. There are a lot of bunkers behind the wire and two lines of trenches with firing positions. What we do not see are communication trenches, or at least not as many as we would expect. That indicates tunnels to move and resupply. The bunkers are armed with machine guns and rifle ports. I think I spotted directional mines around them. They are also positioned so that they can support each other and seem substantial enough that they can order artillery on their positions without killing themselves.

There is a second wire belt behind the first set of bunkers and it is of similar depth and probably mined as well. We never managed to get that far, but we spotted at least some directional mines. Both the weapons in the bunkers and whatever arty the slaves have in the back have zeroed the wire and the approaches to that in. We tried to attack at night and when that fog came up and still bled like crazy.

Despite all of that it is the only way in and we have to make it, one way or another. The slaves have some mages and they do not need to overpower ours. They just have to defend and point their artillery to the place where ours try our best. The results tend to be messy."
Kouran Darkhand's voice was toneless and quiet, something that made the warriors on his sides shift uncomfortably.
"You needed two weeks to tell me what I knew already Daweneyes. What makes me keep you around?"

Two years ago Racca would have cringed, now she had no fucks to give.
"That you have tried yourself several times and could not break even the first wire belt. Now you need help and I happen to be one of the very few Experten you can lay your hands on. I learned German just to read the few books on trench warfare Lord Silverhawk received and have used that knowledge in more battles than I dare to count. I still do not know how I survived, usually any officer in my position dies within two weeks from arriving at the front when the bloody stumpies are involved. Kill me if you want to waste the Black Guard on Neustadt's defenses, or listen to me. Then you might have a chance."

Darkhand did not speak for a few moments, being taken aback by such a blatant refusal to be intimidated.
"So far you have just stated that we cannot break the slave's defenses. So?"
"So here comes the part where we discuss which tactics might work. Interested?"

Kouran nodded while his hands shifted their grip on the halberd that was never far from him.
"One way of getting through this wire would be an intense bombardment lasting a few days, preferably with siege mortars. They have a chance to shift the wire at the very least. Even if they do not destroy the bunkers outright they will kill the morale of the slaves inside. This lovely German, Bruchmüller, wrote that the first humans will commit suicide after just two days as they cannot stand the bombardment. Sadly only two or three percent of them do. The bombardment would also leave a ton of craters we could use as cover to approach the wire. It would also destroy most of the mines, so all good."

Kouran's eyes lit up, now he was hearing things he liked.
"So?"
"So I do not think we will have the ammunition for such a bombardment any time soon. Actually the ones who could provide it are on the other side of that wire. But a short bombardment, with lots of smoke, would shake the defenders and make them keep their heads down."

"We have tried that, the bunkers protect the slaves so well that they are not distracted enough."
Racca Dawneye's lips were contorted in a smile, but there was no trace of that around her face.
"Yes, but for that other thing. I have this idea based on what the humans tried on their world and we have the resources for it."
Darkhand's voice mixed curiosity with annoyance.
"What resources does the Witch King in abundance what we might use on these slaves? Even I cannot requisition more modern troops than we have here now."

Racca's answer astonished him.
"Well, if we cannot have more modern soldiers we have to use those who would not or could not change their ways. Executioners, Brides of Khaine, Beastmasters. The Witch King might have one more use for them."
Kouran did not betray the unease about the casual dismissal of Malekith's troops he still respected.
"And what role could they play?"
"I have this idea….

Haus Sonnenhof, Children's Hospice, Berlin

Björn Stonehammer had brought two cars to a place where children go to die painlessly, and he was surrounded by excited cheers and laughter. He had not been sure how he would be received or whether he could stand it, and he found himself smiling at the excitement that his newest creations brought.

Any hot rod worthy of that name had to be low on the ground, but Björn's newest car certainly broke all records. It managed to pass below his beard without catching any of it, a feat that the current driver performed repeatedly while screaming with glee. The engine noises were deep and warbled with the righteous rhythm of a V-8. They were strangely muted though and so the spectators and the driver managed to drown it easily. The Dawi mechanic's beard split apart in a wide grin when he helped the kid from the car and placed another inside.

The girl might lack any hair and her skin was so white it was translucent. Her mouth and nose was hidden by a mask and her joy was still unmistakable when she gunned the kid-sized car down the park's lanes at a top speed of some 10 kph.
Stonehammer stepped back onto the lawn as to make way for a driver whose enthusiasm eclipsed his skills by far.
A 50-something woman made her way to where he stood and a smile lit up a face that knew too little of that.

"Thank you Herr Stonehammer, you and your crew have built something marvellous. I cannot remember when the kids were that happy."
"Least we could do when we learned of this place Doktor Heinitz, really now. And by the looks of it our moonlighting seems to pay off."
"Oh yes, it certainly does. Anything that takes these children to a happier place is to be praised, and this seems to work better than most. Again, thank you so much."

"Don't fash yourself lassie, it is a pleasure to see them like this. What I will never understand is how you can work in a place like this. Helping children in their last days is…bad."

The doctor sighed for a moment before her shoulders came up again.

"These days some of them make it, this is a world of miracles after all. The goddess helps me and most of the staff cope. And if we do not do it, who will?"
"Dr. Heinitz, Dawi rarely work for free for anybody, except family. But if anybody ever deserved our aid it is you. We will come back for maintenance every so often, please call if anything breaks."
"Oh we will. A question if I am allowed."
"Yes lass?"
"These have electric motors, right? So why does it make that sound, did you use a sound generator? Is that just for fun?"
"Yes we use a sound system for that. In part it is for fun. On the other hand, you said it yourself, some of the kids will make it. And somebody has to carry the V-8s into the future, best plant some seeds now."