ATP: The first accomplice of bad politicians is the populace who would rather believe their lies than open their eyes. Usually waking up is rather unpleasant. This is happening again... again... and again throughout history.
The Marienburg thieves were much better prepared than ordinary citizens for a quick escape, Selar is fine. Don't worry, we'll see her again.
andree cloune: yes, once again...
magostera: Yes, Hakuno will recover. This is not the first time she has been defeated. And there is nothing worse than Hakuno after a defeat... she has an incredible ability to learn from her mistakes. No one ever managed to beat her three times!
Author's note: It's been three months since I published the most recent chapter of this Fanfiction... really sorry, but my life has been pretty... let's say... complicated... lately. In addition, at the end of the Shadow Mirror's Arc, I had to think about the synopsis of the next Arc and implement many changes.
1) Between Chapter 38 and Chapter 39, more than a year has passed.
2) Obviously, during this time a lot has happened including a new invasion of Bretonnia by the Norses on the north coast, a feudal war between Bordeleaux and the vampires of Moussillion laid by Mallobaude. And the Black Knight weld a chalice that would be - as he said- the real Grail! To add insult to injury, Morgianna the Fay Enchantress... the emissary of the Lady of the Lake has mysteriously disappeared. The Grail Damsels and the Knights of the Grail are without leaders and in complete disarray. From the south, hordes of Beastmem and Skavens storm the Dukedom of Carcassonne. In the center of the country, the Greenskins have left the Orcal Massif in a massive migration and threaten Artois and Parravon Dukedoms.
The very survival of the kingdom is hanging by a single thread, and the hours are dark.
Some details about l'Anguille.
If you only know this town for the Warhammer Total War trilogy... you don't know it at all. These PC games show it as a small fisherman village without walls... huh... it is a huge trade port in the Lore. The best-fortified city of Bretonnia, by the way, thanks to the ancient elvish's walls! With its many forts lined with cannons, L'Anguille is considered impregnable. Yes, you have read well ... cannons... and this deserves an explanation.
As you all know, the lords of Bretonnia live in their ideal little world of chivalry, honors... and archaism. "Crossbow? Aaah... outrageous! ...a weapon with which a peasant can kill a knight much better than him, it's forbidden, illegal, sacrilege!" Let's not even talk about the harquebus and the cannon.
However, these rules are only respected by the FEODALES armies of Bretonnia.
And these are not the only armies of Bretonnia!
L'Anguille has a militia bred by the city's merchant guilds... armed with harquebus and cannon imported from the Empire or product of the dwarf's manufacture.
All of this is perfectly canonical, check if you don't believe me.
Without further ado, this is the first chapter of your new Arc: Albion.
Urbs Fames
(The City of Hunger)
"They want to be more Marienburg than we are. I hear that some of the merchants even want to dam the Sannez so they can have their own swamp."
A Marienburger sailor speaking about l'Anguille.
Franc Lebœuf was a shoemaker. He had a wife, and three children. He paid the cens to Duke Taubert, the gabelle and the fouage to King Louen, and the dime to the chapel of the Grail. As one might guess, he did not have much money left to feed his family once he paid his taxes. That's why he agreed to join the militia in exchange for an exemption on local taxes. Indeed, even though he had to buy his armor (a simple cloth coat) and spend all his weekends training with the harquebus provided by the guilds, Franc considered it a minor inconvenience.
He just never thought that one day he really needed to fight.
The cold winter wind shook the flags and slammed the ropes on the flagpoles.
Frank shivered.
The walls of immaculate alabaster - built thousands of years earlier by the High Elves- were now stained with soot, hammered with catapult impacts. There were even traces of dried blood on the battlements and the walkway. Nevertheless, true to its reputation for invulnerability, the wall of l'Anguille had withstood all the assaults, except a wall was never worth more than those who defended it. After months of siege, food rations were reduced to a minimum, and hunger, loss of life and exhaustion had weakened the militia.
If things continued like this the fall of l'Anguille was only a matter of time.
Huddled together, wrapped in patched capes and blankets, militiamen took advantage of the current calm to rest a little.
Franc straightened up slightly, his iron-chapel helmet emerging between two merlons.
He looked at the ditches - filled with corpses and fascines... then further, discovering the battlefield where a siege tower and a ram on wheels were still burning. Everywhere, the militiaman could see dead bodies lying in the snow, mown by cannonballs, killed by bolts, arrows or bullets... Beyond the no-man-land, the Norse camps were sheltered behind fences. Franc could just hear a rumor made of wild screams and drum rolls coming from enemy lines.
The macabre song, an invocation dedicated to Khorne the Blood God, made Franc Lebœuf shudder.
"I wish they'd stop bellowing like that. I can't stand their incantations anymore."
"I wish they would continue as long as possible!"
Surprised, Franc turned to another militiaman. Jolain Martin had not looked up, completely focused on his task. He was a watchmaker. With his skillful hands he repaired Franc's harquebus, damaged during the previous assault.
"Why do you say that, Jolain? Their songs are... horrible... and barbaric! Look at my skin is covered with goose dumps."
"The priests encourage the warriors... as soon as they reach the state of bloody fury, they will attack. But as long as they sing, it means they don't attack."
Frank stopped for a moment and thought.
"Seen like this... yes... you are right Jolain, their songs are not so horrible in fact" he finally admits.
"Here I am done"
The watchmaker straightened up slightly to give him his weapon.
"Thank you."
"Be my guest... let's say it's well-understood interest." Jolain smiled. "Every Norse you kill increases my chances of not seeing my head adorned with an axe."
"That's how I understand it."
They laughed. It did well... It repelled the anguish that devoured them from within. They had survived until then, but perhaps the next assault... Frank shook his head refusing to think of death.
There was still hope of victory.
His eyes turned to an island in the middle of the harbor. It was there that the first dukes had built their seigniorial castle. The ancient fortress had recently received a surprising addition... a huge crystal cube floating above its towers.
The wind suddenly increased and the banners at the top of the towers unfolded. One could recognize, of course, l'Anguille standard (silver with a blue sea dragon) but the other two were rather unusual since they were heraldic of Artoria Pendragon (silver with a blue lion) and the coat of arm of... Marienburg... except Marienburg's mermaid wasn't holding a purse in her left hand, but the letters H and K interlaced. After the fall of Marienburg, the surviving splinters groups formed three factions. This flag belonged to the faction that recognized Hakuno Kishinami as their leader.
The great hall of the Château de l'Anguille was decorated with many banners hanging from the walls, as well as a variety of weapons. The stone ground was littered with dry straw.
Despite the huge chimney, fed by whole tree trunks, the temperature was freezing.
Duke Taubert never stayed in his capital... which he seemed to hate. Moreover, he had left the duchy long before the siege began to take part in the crusade against the vampires of Moussillon.
His throne was empty, except for a shield adorned with his personal coat of arms.
Artoria Pendragon, superb in her dress-armor, Hakuno Kishinami as well as several Grail Knights and Grail Damsels sat on the nearby armchairs. They were facing Taliesin. The Caster-class Servant had just summoned the Cauldron of Knowledge, his Noble Phantasm.
In trance, the Great Druid of Britain murmured incantations. In the green smoke that rose from Gréal, forms began to appear.
Several spectators from Marienburg clenched their fists when they recognized their hometown. Some of the houses were in ruins, the canals were no longer maintained and strange towers had been built. These black stone Gothic buildings adorned with sculptures and convulsed spires had a sinister appearance. In the streets, there were only Druchii in black armor and starving slaves working under the supervision of the Dark Elves.
Taliesin opened his eyes and spoke.
"In the Reikr estuary, the situation has not changed. Sithel still controls Marienburg. However, after the city was taken, most of her allies abandoned it. They took the fruit of their plunder, the slaves and left for their distant evil cities. The forces still under Sithel's control only allowed her to keep control Marienburg and plunder the west Vasteland, living off the looting of the surrounding countryside. (1)"
In the clouds of steam then appeared an army in the field. They were advancing in a devastated region, illuminated by burning villages. They were humans, a mixture of Lansquenets armed with long pikes and dressed in bright doublets and berets, arquebusiers smoking the pipe, or horsemen reiters dressed in black armor and with wheeled pistols on their belts. Above the column of marching men, banners were deployed. They represented a golden Warhammer surmounted by a skull and surrounded by two red griffins.
"Across the river, some of the survivors of Marienburg gathered around Clotilde Roelef. Though having a territorial base, towns and fortified castles, Lady Clotide has no army and is losing the war opposing Emperor Karl Franz. The latter claims to 'release' the Vastland in the name of the legitimate duchess." Taliesin bowed slightly to Hakuno. "Nevertheless... he refused any conciliation with Lady Roelef, despite repeated requests from my Master... It is obvious that all this is just a pretext for the Emperor. His real purpose is to annex the Vasteland."
The image dissolves in steam before being replaced by the sight of a dwarf city partially ruined. Houses typical of the Reikr region had been built between the damaged statues of bearded warriors and the collapsed walls.
Soldiers in blue and yellow uniforms patrol through poor tents filled with starving refugees.
"In Grung Zint, survivors of Patriarch Akkat Fooger's faction gathered. They still believe they are the legitimate masters of Marienburg and pretend to anyone who wants to listen to them that they will take back the city. Except that they are disunited, without a leader, and suffer from the desertion of their troops, having no more money to pay them."
The Marienbugers murmured in a bitter and angry tone.
Internal quarrels and unbridled ambitions had caused the end of the powerful Marienburg republic. Even after the fall of the city, the survivors were unable to work together. The Fooger supporters had an army, but no money. And the partisans of the House of Roelef still controlled a vast and very rich territory... but had no army to defend themselves.
The image changed once again to be replaced by a sinister vision, mountains carved with huge skulls whose orbits were filled with pale fire. At the foot of the peaks, a dark fir forest was veiled by a freezing mist. The only buildings were ancient mounds. Yet the area was inhabited... well, if you will... the population was not alive for a long time. Skeletons in ancient armor walked the paths; zombies stumbled at random, reaching out their arms before them, like blind people.
"The last faction that wants to conquer the Vasteland is the Legion of the Mound, a sinister conclave of necromancers. They are still too weak to attack the other factions head-on, but relentless conflicts favor them. Death reigns supreme in the whole region, ghosts wander along the roads, and the villages destroyed by the wars are filled with dead without burials. Every day, the Necromancers are gaining power and the Vasteland is slowly transforming into a corrupt land, populated by ghouls and restless dead."
"This is the situation in the east," concludes Taliesin.
He made a gesture with his hand and the green vapors dispersed before condensing again. The army that appeared was different. The standards were more complicated, and the armors of the knights were splendid.
Artoria recognized Lancelot and Gawain riding alongside Louen Leoncoeur.
"In the south, King Louen repelled the vampire attack on the Duchy of Lyonesse and pursued the retreating enemy army."
The image was troubled and transformed to show another army. They were elves dressed in green, some wearing half-masks hiding one side of their face. They were armed with elegant spears, swords, and shields; others used powerful longbows. They were accompanied by women riding unicorns. Animated trees and bushes marched with them.
"The fey-folk of Athel-Loren have entered south of Lyonesse and are expected to join King Louen's army within two or three days. The combined forces of the King of Bretonnia and the Wood Elves aim to force the Black Knight Mallobaude into battle. He will have little choice; he can no longer take refuge behind the walls of Moussillon."
The cloud of green smoke above the Cauldron of Knowledge darkens before showing a new vision.
This time it was a hideous city, gothic, with walls decorated with gargoyles and sculpted with skulls. But dozens of trebuchets pulled towards this rampart. At several points, already began to collapse. The balls thrown by the war machines had been blessed by the Lady and left in their wake particles of blue prana.
Pilgrims of the Grail singing hymns and peasants in rags, armed with scythes or forks, pushed rolling towers, rams, or carried ladders towards the walls. In the background, the magnificent knights waited for the cannon fodder to open a breach before rushing to the assault.
"Duke Alberic de Bordeleaux already besieges Moussillon."
Exhausted, Taliesin put a trembling hand on his forehead as the images disappeared.
"Sorry, I can't see anything else."
"This is already a lot. We thank you for your efforts, Taliesin, go and rest," replied Artoria.
The poet bowed slightly.
"Thank you, my king."
The knights loyal to Duke Taubert and the Marienburger officials who had followed Hakuno in his exile began to argue... and argue more.
"We can hope for a victory for King Louen against Mallobaude."
"King Louen will squash this despicable congregation of skeletons and zombies."
"I've heard that there are far more dangerous creatures..."
A knight interrupted the talking Marienruger.
"Something more dangerous than a Grail Knight doesn't exist. We are the paragons of chivalry."
But certainly, not the paragons of humility thought Hakuno.
Artoria coughed in her fist.
"Please, gentlemen, try to remain courteous and limit your discussions to... constructive exchanges."
Saber having been appointed to head the army that defended the duchy after the departure of King Louen, acted as a substitute for the duke of l'Anguille. So the disputes subsided... temporarily, anyway.
Bedivere rose before bowing to the female version of King Arthur.
"My King, it is indeed probable that the alliance of the Wood Elves and King Louen constitutes a force that the vampires of Moussillon cannot stop. Nevertheless, I doubt that the army of the king of Bretonnia can come to our rescue before three weeks... and only if His Majesty renounces the pacification of Moussillon County. We will have to wait until then."
As always, King Arthur's steward had perfectly identified the core of the problem.
Although Alderic de Bordeleaux always behaved like a perfect knight, respecting the Lady's creed and showing the greatest respect for the king... at least in words... he was extremely ambitious. Alderic continually sought to expand his territory and strengthen the autonomy of his duchy.
The reappearance of Moussillon's vampires had led to an alliance between Louen Leoncoeur and Duke Alberic... but there was no doubt that the lord of Bordeleaux would annex Mousillon if the king did not participate in the pacification.
The Knight of Loyalty hesitated for a brief moment.
"Your Majesty, we must also take into account the food's stocks. The food ration has fallen to 150g of bread per person and per meal. Malnutrition and scurvy have become as formidable enemies as the Norse."
Artoria nodded, her eyes had hardened.
"I fear we may hope to be resupplied soon. Do the best Sir Bedivere."
The one-handed knight saluted again.
Doing what he could... all the dogs had been killed and eaten a long time ago, and the children had spent the first months of the siege hunting rats, cats and everything else that could be eaten.
The situation was critical.
"As you say, Your Majesty."
Hakuno Kishinami shuddered when she saw appear a virtual window flashing red. She pressed an icon. The first window immediately disappeared, replaced by multiple other translucent windows. Some were filled with figures or rapidly scrolling texts, while others showed images, movies, and even graphs.
The advisers and knights had watched with concern this manifestation of the Moon Cell. They knew that the strange 'lunar Grail' warned Hakuno when she was in danger.
The Sovereign of the Moon frowned and then clenched her hands on her chest before nodding her head in a firm motion.
"Norses!"
That was exactly what they feared.
Now accustomed to the behavior of the teenager, the knights rose up calling their squires who hastened to help them to put on their armor.
Simultaneously, Hakuno focused on her mental link with one of her Servants.
[Berserker?]
Sir Kay laid a barrel filled with stones to complete the barricade closing the north door. Earlier, a ram had kicked the thick oak planks and smashed the harrows. Knights of the Grail's charge had repelled the assailants, unfortunately, the doors were irreparable.
Bedivere had installed some chevaux de frise outside the broken gates to prevent cavalry charges. Behind them, the defenders had piled up cobblestones torn from the streets, furniture, beams, and rubble from houses destroyed by the enemy's catapults.
Stronger than a human, Arthur's foster brother was in charge of the heavy lifting.
While dusting the dust on his armor, Kay 'heard' Hakuno's telepathic voice.
[Berserker?]
[Yeah, little mouse?]
[Norses!]
[They arrive] questioned Kay, although he suspects the answer.
[Yes!]
Sir Kay energetically rubbed his forehead with one hand on his hip and then turned to the militiamen who continued to reinforce the barricade.
"Incoming! Get your weapons ready, and pray for the defenses to resist the enemy."
As the Bretonians stopped to look at him wide-eyed from shock, Berserker began to insult them.
"You clumsy bunch, is this happening or that? Our prom partners have arrived, move your fat asses and get your guns ready, you triple morons!"
Despite a beginning of panic, the Bretonians rushed to their weapons. Some had halberds, others harquebus. But they were rather well armed... at least compared to the peasants driven from their villages by the Norse horde. These had only agricultural tools summarily transformed into weapons.
Arriving at the top of the tower, Sir Kay found himself under a conical roof; the battlements were only narrow windows alternating with shooting slots.
Jostling two defenders, Berserker slipped his head through the opening and then squished.
It snowed gently and the snowflakes swirled in the wind. He could just tell the whiteness of the battlefield covered in fresh snow and... Kay frowned on hearing a drum-like thumping... but it wasn't drumming. He recognized the sound; it was the mammoths' footsteps.
Several elephants 'cousins covered in dirty white fur emerged from the freezing fog. The gigantic creatures were covered with drawings (wheel of chaos, emblem of Khorne, or others disgusting symbols) that had been drawn with a brown 'paint'... dried blood actually.
Chains hung on their sides and between their huge tusks, some scalps, skulls, severed heads, and even whole bodies were hooked to them.
On their backs, each mammoth wore a palanquin overloaded with warriors armed with throwing axes and hollering horrible war songs.
The four-legged titans were like huge ships advancing on the surface of a raging sea. Even this 'sea' was formed by countless warriors running towards the walls of l'Anguille. Most Norses were only wearing a loincloth of tanned skin, leather boots, and wrist guards. They had fur capes and horned helmets. They were all armed with an axe and had a round shield on the other wrist.
Among the Norse warriors walked humanoid figures much larger than humans... trolls, but also some chaos' giants recognizable by their black skin and the horrible mutations that afflicted them.
It was an ocean of unnatural aberrations threatening to swallow up everything, a continent-wide tsunami solely motivated by the destruction and corruption of everything that existed.
"Hurry up, you little girls, faster, faster, the enemy won't wait for you to attack!"
Stimulated by the cries of their officers, the militiamen of l'Anguille climbed the steps on the double and distributed themselves on the walkway.
The sudden silence fell on the men. All that was heard was the vague rumor of a silent crowd.
From time to time, an officer would repeat the instructions:
"Wait for the order to fire."
In the forts that reinforced the walls, many guns appeared between the merlons, loaded and ready to fire.
An officer carried his spyglass to his eye, checking landmarks. The horde had just passed the lying tree... yes they reached the small mound which indicated the maximum range of the cannons.
He raised his sword to heaven.
"On my command... fire!"
A hurricane of violent explosions shook the fort as clouds of grey smoke formed around the battlements.
The enemies were so numerous, packed so tightly that it was not even useful to aim. Each cannonball would make a massacre.
Above the horde of Norses appeared... Frost Wyrms! They are a fearsome variety of Chaos Dragons (probably mutated Ice Dragons). They were horrible and beautiful creatures. They looked like monitor lizards covered with a thick scaly cuirass with four legs, and a pair of huge bat wings. They had bull horns on their heads. But their scales were white-blue and looked like crystals.
The monsters fell on the rampart walk protecting l'Anguille and began to spit out the icy vapors that rushed into the firing slots and the slightest opening.
The men howled in terror as they were swallowed up.
When the dragons moved away an entire section of the ramparts was covered with ice and frost... inside the fortification, the men were frozen in an ice case as they fled or took shelter.
Among the horde, there were more than just foot soldiers. Some Norses pushed catapults toward the walls. When they reached the right range, they blocked the wheels of the siege machines, loaded the balls covered with pitch into the spoon, and began to fire.
Ignited, the projectiles crossed the sky like comets before bouncing against the walls or crashing behind, fanning houses and projecting flaming flue dust in all directions.
Pushed by trolls, assault towers approached the ramparts while rams went towards the gates. Of course, arquebusiers, crossbowmen, and archers had begun to shoot killing many enemies. But every monster that was shot down was replaced by another.
The first rolling tower came against the walls and in a loud thump, the drawbridge fell on the battlements.
The horrible creatures who jumped in the way of the patrol spread terror by their appearance alone. Humanoid, they had large ears that lengthened on both sides of the head, a face with soft features, and a huge jaw with long fangs almost like wild boars' tusks. Naked apart from a loincloth, they had their shoulders covered with scales and a bulging belly. For any weapon, each troll held in one hand a club made of a large stone attached by ropes to a thick tree branch.
Unlike common trolls, these trolls were Nordic trolls, Ice Trolls with blue skin.
Like many trolls, they were able to spit out their digestive juices... but their frozen meals! They liked the human-flavored ice cream!
Hakuno enlarged a virtual screen and nodded as the trolls massacred the defenders.
She held out her hand.
"By my first Command Mark, Saber, joins the rampart walk."
There was a flash of red energy and a little woman with golden hair suddenly appeared in front of the trolls. She was dressed in a blue and white dress adorned with gold bands, under a pectoral, gauntlets, boots, and a strange articulated metal skirt.
Her eyes folded.
Artoria seem unarmed. But the first troll who wanted to seize her suddenly stopped to look stupidly at the stump of his arm and his hand cut on the ground.
The blood that had squirted revealed the blurred form of an invisible sword in Saber's hands.
She jumped up and cut the troll from one shoulder to the hip. As it collapsed into two parts, the King of Knights killed a second troll, then a third, then another... then another... another... and again...
As fast as lightning, she leaped from one opponent to another, slaughtering all the monsters without them being able to even touch her.
Hakuno watched Saber's fight, but that didn't stop him from watching the rest of the battlefield.
Seeing a green icon flashing at the edge of the map depicting Castel l'Anguille, the Victor of the Moon expands the virtual window to see the high seas.
Several hundred red icons depicted the Norses' Longships blocking the harbor, patrolling tirelessly to intercept vessels attempting to enter or exit the besieged harbor. However, a formation of ships - represented by green icons- had gathered in spearhead and was stinging towards l'Anguille.
The Sovereign requested a video file showing these ships.
The naves that appeared were magnificent, entirely in white wood. Most were light sailboats with a single triangular sail decorated as a polychrome painting, with eagles and celestial bodies (sun, moon, or stars) or elven runes or depictions of the sea. At the rear of each ship there was a kind of fairy tale castle (wooden) but with several circular towers with conical roofs.
A huge ship... a catamaran... twice as long as the other ships in the fleet was at the center of the formation. It must have been the Admiral's nave. At the stern, the two hulls merged together in beautiful castle with many banners. The catamaran also had two masts and its sails were decorated with paint depicting a sea dragon emerging from a foam sea.
Hakuno clicked on the ship icons to learn more.
The Admiral's ship was a Dragonship and the escorts were Eagleships, this was a High Elves war fleet and its home port was Lothern, Ulthuan.
As the Asur attacked the Norses, Hakuno made a Head Tilt.
Why did the Ulthuan's Elves come to their aid?
Author Note: Good question isn't it?
So what do you guys think?
Answer A: The High Elves are kind * coughs* generous, altruistic and love * coughs* humans and therefore cannot leave them without helping in such dire situation.
OR
Answer B: After the fall of Marienburg, l'Anguille is the largest port still trading with Ulthuan. If the city fell into the hands of the Norses, the Asur could no longer sell their handicrafts in the Old Word. And so it is in their best interests to come to the aid of the 'inferior' humans. Of course, they will disembark from their ships with surgical masks and disinfect their gloves after the handshake... But they are Asur, what did you expect?
Wait, don't make me say what I didn't say, I'm sure there are some nice Asur.
Besides, I even know one.
The High Mage Teclis.
He is renowned for his kindness to humans.
Another name?
Um...
...
Let me see...
... ...
Give me a minute, don't stress me, it's a difficult question!
... ... ...
Uh... there are probably other Asur that are nice guys... Okay, I could name hundreds of counterexamples... but there are probably about ten nice Asur among the whole population of worthless pompous egoistic narcissistic self-indulgent snobbish isolationist's consanguineous decadent backstabbing two-bit schemer assholes that live in Ulthuan... yes... but it's a good start, right?
Before I played Warhammer fantasy, I used to love Elves.
But, oddly enough, this feeling completely went away...
(1) You did well to vote for Sithel. If Mizhan had conquered Marienburg, he would have succeeded in sustainably federating the Dark Elves who had come to plunder the city and he would have already conquered all the Vasteland, threatening the nearby regions!
On the contrary, Sithel is too unstable for long-term leadership.