Princes and Prisons
"What better place in the Empire is there, I ask you? The most fertile fields, the finest wine, the most beautiful palaces, and the fairest woman in the Empire. Should the rest of the Empire vanish, I would miss it."
-Reiklander Noble
Rudolf von Holswig-Schielstein, the second son of Emperor Karl Franz, surveyed the carnage from atop his horse. Already the carrion birds were feasting on the dead, paying no heed if the fallen were dressed in either the scarlet and white of his native Reikland or the barbaric scrape armor of the forest goblin warband.
He thanked Sigmar and Morr that the majority of the slain were of the latter, and not the former.
After four hours of bloodshed, the goblin army finally retreated back to their forests, no longer willing to throw their men into the meat grinder that was the Imperial State Troops. Rudolf had been in the thick of the fighting for most of the battle, and his formerly pristine black armour was dented and covered in the blood of both goblins and himself.
Rudolf was tall for a young man and athletic, though he had yet to fill out in certain places. He had inherited the strong jawline of his father's family, and the aquiline nose of his mother. A scar that ran above his left eye, earned in a duel against a jealous noble's son, made it seem as if he had lost an eye. He was dressed in pitch-black armor, decorated with symbols of both Sigmar and Morr. Many raised an eyebrow at his choice of patron deities, but he paid them no mind. Though it was in Sigmar's name that he fought for, he, like every other man, was destined for Morr's Garden.
As he continued to survey the field. His mind went back to the days before meeting the Lionhearted, King Louen Leoncour, where his father spoke to him within the king's personal tent, before the coronation of his father, before the forest goblins led by the demented Raknik Spiderclaw had invaded the lands of his ancestors. Burning and pillaging until laying siege to his home, before the newly crowned emperor returned from a tour of Reikland to find his capital, Altdorf, besieged by Spider-riding Greenskins. No sooner did they arrive at the imperial capital than the goblins attacked.
The Reikland army had the strength of arms, fortifications, and the might of the Reiksguard.
The goblins had numbers and deadly ferocity, though, and for every imperial soldier, the foe had ten more.
What followed was the greatest industrialized slaughter of nonhumans that Rudolf had ever seen. He was no stranger to war; when one was a Prince of Reikland, one had to fight beastmen, greenskins, the occasional undead, and all manner of mutants and monsters.
Still, though, the battlefield Rudolf was fighting on wasn't some village, town, or important strategic city; it was the capital of Reikland, Altdorf, and it seemed strange to Rudolf that the goblins would attack such a fortified city. However, they threatened his home, and for the defense of his ancestral homeland, he would kill as many of the greenskins as he could.
And he did. Following the orders of his superiors, he commanded a company of great swords, and with them, he fought on the walls, on the ground, and in the gatehouses, and when the situation called for it, he would sally out and charge the enemy ranks.
Finally, after three hours of battle, the goblins left, having been bloodied to the point of near destruction. It was thanks only to his uncle's timely arrival, the emperor's strategic brilliance, and the empire's control of the central lands, which allowed them to send fresh men and a stream of supplies to the capital, that victory was achieved.
Now, Rudolf was put in charge of overseeing the recovery of the Empire's dead from the field. He had spent the past two hours barely resting, constantly fighting, and it took all of his willpower to keep his body moving.
"My prince!"
Rudolf turned his head to the left and saw a knight of the order of the Reiksguard ride up to him.
"Yes, what is it?" Rudolf asked, curtly.
"The Emperor demands your presence in the palace, at once."
"Well, I would be a poor son to keep my father and emperor waiting," Rudolf said to the knight, before turning his gaze to his company.
"Captain Steiner!"
"Yes, mein Herr?" A grizzled soldier, with a beard and an eyepatch over his left eye, answered from a few yards away.
"The Emperor desires my presence in the palace. You will take over our job in my stead until my return."
"Understood, Mein Herr." Steiner nodded.
"Well then," Rudolf said, mounting his horse, turning around, and making for the direction of the fort," Let's see what my father wants."
Rudolf has always considered the capital his home, even as a child. He had wondered if, like any other, the city might appear to be less appealing now that he was a young man... It did not; the city of Altdorf rose high above the forest as though a god had lifted the towns from an entire province and stacked them all. A massive wall had been built around it, one atop the other, for defense.
But the buildings inside had long since risen above the height of the wall. Every scrap of land, no matter how unpromising, had been built upon, and when the land within the walls was exhausted, Aldorf had begun to build upon itself. They approached through the western gate, solidly fortified and flanked by two stone statues of watchful griffins bearing hammers.
The gate was jammed with wagons. Once again, some traders and some refugees were clamoring to get into the city, but one look at Rudolf's insignia and uniform was enough for the guards to wave them in. Once inside, Rudolf was plunged into a greater darkness than he had experienced in the forest. The sky disappeared amongst the towering buildings, the crowds, the noise, and the stench of the place, which were almost overpowering. There were so many people crammed together. The villages that were lucky enough had withered a famine two weeks prior to the attack. But others did not. When the crops failed last summer, men took their families from the starving countryside into the cities, to find what work they could.
Altdorf. The glorious capital of the great empire had become a meat barrel. Crammed with the desperate and the dying. Rudolf wasn't surprised, not even in the slightest. Since being the current seat of the Imperial Court, Altdorf has supported a flourishing economy that attracts all kinds of people.
It is a bustling city with a substantial community of merchants, adventurers, mercenaries, and fortune seekers from all across the old world. So when the goblins laid siege to the city, almost every person took up arms in the city's defense. Consequently, the wealth passing through Altdorf's gates and the political intrigues that unfold within its courts also support a rotten underbelly, a den of thieves, corrupt city officials, and assassins. The only place that might be safe enough would be the imperial palace.
Rudolf constantly soothed himself as they pushed their way through the hawkers, the laborers, the vendors, and the beggars. Rudolf's guards kept as close to him as possible as the commoners had started to part upon realizing who he was.
The imperial palace of Altdorf is a massive, highly elaborate structure standing near the middle of the imperial capital city. It is said that the first Unbergoen chieftain built the first palace, which laid the foundations for the Imperial Palace. One thousand years later, in an effort to gain an electoral vote for the Cult of Sigmar, the Grand Theogonist renovated the entire palace, expanding the kitchens, feast halls, and garderobes, and gifted it to Emperor Ludwig II.
Outside the great doors of the palace, Rudolf always took the time to admire the work put in by the artisans; Zigmund II put no expense into his ploy, which turned out to be so successful: Ludwig moved his court from Carroburg to Altdorf and made the cleric an elector.
"Herr Rudolf! There you are! Rudolf turned his head, and his eyes went wide as he saw the speaker walk up to him.
"Wolfgang!" he exclaimed, giving the young man a brotherly hug, and trying to keep his surprise in check," It's good to see that you're still alive, my friend."
Wolfgang Von Kalheim is the third son of the Von Kalheim family. As children, he and Rudolf became companions and close friends. Karl Franz soon appointed Kalheim to be his counselor and Chamberlin to Rudolf, and surprisingly, he remained in his service and continued to be his close and trusted friend.
His friend was dressed in sturdy harnesses of the dwarven forged steel plate and mail armour of the reiksguard, which were rare and very expensive, like his own. One would describe his armour as a work of art, but in reality, it was an heirloom given to him by his father when he became part of the order of the Reiksguard.
Wolfgang was one of several knights to take the fight to the goblins, and his charges and fearless offensives had pushed the spider-riding goblins back several times from Altdorf's thick walls. He was also one of the first to convince the garrison to sally out with a single regiment of halberdiers to hit the goblins on their vulnerable flank and during the battle, he had led several charges into the goblin warband before retreating to safety, killing champions in duels, and hitting the goblins where they're more vulnerable.
"It's good to see you alive and well, meine Herr; after all, I've been watching your back since we were squires under Kurt Helborg," Wolfgang said, much to the young prince's frustration and amusement.
"I can still feel the bruises that he would give us while sparring," he said, opening the doors, "and perhaps talk of some news that has not yet been heard."
"What sort of news?" the younger man asked hesitantly. You would never know what to expect in this day and age. There was always a chance that it could be important, but there was always the possibility that the news could be much worse, thus setting you on a different battlefield.
"Well, when the goblin warband had been defeated, Grunburg, Ubersreik, and lastly Helmgart rose up in full revolt. Some of the more aggressive electors saw this as a sign of weakness and started to prepare their own armies. The mutants in the forests and the green skins in the mountains won't wait for us to settle our own affairs after all."
"That is grave news indeed, Wolfgang," Rudolf replied as the two young men walked through the walls and passed the various nobles, knights, servants, and other palace staff. But the imperial capital and Reikland herself still need to be defended. We were outnumbered two to one in the last battle; should the other cities break away now, the southern pass will be left severely undermanned."
"Too true, too true, old friend." Wolfgang agreed but did not seem to share the same sense of worry that Rudolf did, saying, "That's why your father is calling this council; to decide what is to be done."
Several minutes later, they arrived at the grand chamber that Karl Franz had taken for his war council, and two knights of the Reiksguard opened the doors for them, allowing them inside. Inside the room was a massive table, carved from Drakwald oak. Seated at it were all the nobles and officers of Reikland, busy talking among themselves.
"Herr Helborg!" Wolfgang called out upon catching sight of Kurt Helborg, the famed Reiksmarshal, Grand Master of the Reiksguard Knights, and the man both Wolfgang and Rudolf had the honor of squiring several years ago.
"So glad to see that you're still alive old man!" Wolfgang said, "And I am even gladder to see that you still haven't lost your massive hairy caterpillar upon your lip yet! I daresay that none of us would have been able to recognize you otherwise!"
"Wolfgang." Was the only acknowledgment Wolfgang received, but the tightening of the Reiksmarshal's jaw was all the indication one needed to know that Helborg was annoyed.
Helborg was not the only great hero of the Empire to be present; Markus Wolfhart, Huntsmarshal, was seated at the table, his two sharp eyes scanning the room.
Wolfhart had once been a simple huntsman living in the town of Drakenburg, a small community deep within the province of middenland in the dense woods of the Drakwald Forest. But tragedy turned this simple monster hunter into the experienced monster hunter he is today. When the goblins invaded, Wolfhart and his scouts had come down from the new world like an icy wind and had torn the foe to pieces with their sharp shooting.
Luthor Huss, a warrior priest who had joined Helborg in battle and had personally slain several giant spiders brought with them by the forest goblins, stood next to Wolfhart. To Rudolf, the Prophet of Sigmar was a grim and determined being who was always accompanied by a pair of priests for his weapon and appeared to wear an improvised crown upon his brow.
Across from the two men sat Balthasar Gelt, Gold Wizard, and the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic. The most powerful magister of the age, Gelt was known for his great ambitions, tempered only by his apparent patriotism for the Empire, and his allegiance to the Emperor. As a master over the Lore of Metal, Gelt had used the Winds of Magic to rain down molten gold upon the foe outside of Ubersreik and had turned entire columns of the enemy into statues. What magic the goblins possessed paled in comparison to the overwhelming might of the Supreme Patriarch.
Next to Gelt was the Grand Theogonist, Volkmar the Grim, who was currently living up to his name by shooting glares at Gelt. When news of the invaders first reached his ears, Volkmar was among the first to respond, gathering the faithful together and riding out to meet the enemy. Atop his War Altar, Volkmar had brought down holy fire upon the green foe and put the fear of Sigmar into their hearts.
At the head of the table stood Ludwing Scharzhelm, Champion of the Emperor, wielder of the Sword of Justice, and bearer of the Emperor's standard. Ludwig had led the hunting parties into the Reikwald, where the goblins were fighting with the local beastmen warherds, and after waiting for both sides to bleed one another, he had struck and defeated both. During the siege, Scharzhelm held together the west wall, where the heaviest fighting took place, and had single-handedly slain one of the spider riders employed by the forest goblins.
Finally, sitting at the head of the table was the Emperor himself, Karl Franz Holswig Schliestein, Grand Prince of Reikland, Prince of Altdorf, Count of the West March, Blood of Emperors, and Defier of the Dark. He wore the gromril armor of Emperors, forged, in part, from the armor of Magnus the Pious. Laying on the table in front of him was Ghal Maraz, the legendary Warhammer of Sigmar Heldenhammer.
"Good," Karl Franz said evenly and calmly, but in a tone that commanded respect. " Now that Wolfgang and my son are here, we can begin."
"Since this crisis started, we have defeated two warbands: one in Reikland and another here, at the walls of the capital. Unfortunately, we cannot stay here much longer. The Beastmen, the green-skins, the Northmen, and the other forces of the old night will not wait for us to settle things before they attack us. We must reunite the empire and defend our lands from those who wish to destroy us. Still, until we can secure our own borders, and put down this rebellion before it could spread further and prevent them from creating a breakaway province, we would be fools to let this happen."
"That is the purpose of this meeting; to determine who will protect the different areas of the empire."
"Wake up, woman!" A heavy accented voice rumbled somewhere close to Ciri's ear. She tried to ignore it, hoping that it would go away and let her return to her slumber.
"Wake up, woman, or I swear I will come over there and slap you with these very chains." There was a threatening note to the voice now that convinced Ciri she'd better pay attention to it. She opened her eyes—and wished she hadn't.
Even the dim light of the single guttering torch illuminating her cell was too bright. Its feeble glow hurt Ciri's eyes. In a way, that was alright, because it made them match the rest of her body. Her heartbeat thumped in her temples as a gong was struck with a Warhammer. Her head felt like someone had used it for kickball practice. Her mouth was desert-dry, and her tongue felt like someone had sandpapered it. Slowly her senses were coming to her, feeling the cold, wet air across her skin and a rough, worn stone at her back. She'd quickly realize that her leather armour, light leather, and cloth shirt were gone. All she had covering herself was just a linen shirt, leather pants, and her boots.
"Ugh...what is...going on?" Ciri muttered, licking her lips; already a rush of adrenaline had started kicking in as a fury of situations filled her mind.
"What's going on is that you're in a ce-"
"A cell. I can see that. And you are?"
"A humble banker trying to make a living in this backwater of a city."
Ciri realized that she was standing up. Her hands were above her head, and there were heavy weights attached to her ankles. She tried to bend forward to see what they were but found that she could not move. Half-closed eyes looked up to see that she dangled from manacles. The chains were attached to a great loop of iron set in the wall above her. She confirmed this by peering across the cell and seeing that another man was held the same way.
The man dangled from his chains like a side of beef in a butcher's shop. His legs were not chained, though. His frame was too weak to move the chains either. Ciri could see that there were leg irons set in the wall at ankle height, but the man's legs dangled a bit while he was looking at her.
Ciri looked around. They were in a damp cell, paved with heavy flagstones. There were a dozen sets of chains and manacles set into the walls. An oddly distorted skeleton dangled from the farthest set. On the wall to the left was a huge bench covered in alembics, charcoal burners, and other tools of the alchemist's trade. A huge chalk pentagram surrounded by peculiar hieroglyphics was inscribed in the center of the room. At each junction of the pentacle was a mutant skull holding an extinguished candle made of white wax.
At the far right of the room, a flight of stone steps led up to a heavy door. There was a barred window in the door, through which a few shafts of light penetrated down into the gloom. Near the foot of the stairs, Ciri could see her sword and light armour. She felt a brief surge of hope plummet. Whoever had taken her weapons had been very thorough.
The air was thick and fetid. From the distance, Ciri thought she heard screams, chants, and bestial roars. It was like listening to a combination of a lunatic asylum and a zoo. Nothing about her situation reassured Ciri.
"Where am I?" She asked
"As I said before, you are in the dungeon belonging to Baron Charles the Bald. The liberator of Waldenhof and ruler of the newly proclaimed Duchy of the former county of Sylvania. "
"Why do you mean by former?"
"Have you had your head stuck under a rock? What I mean is that this damned eastern backwater is officially owned by the Grand County of Stirland after the end of the vampire wars."
"Well, you can say that I am not around here." If she could have, Ciri would have shrugged. "No matter, I wonder why I'm still alive."
A high-pitched tittering of the heavy wooden door answered that question. The heavy door creaked open, and five figures blocked out the light. There was a brief flare as lucifer was struck, then a lantern was lit, and Ciri could see the source of the voices.
"A good question, m'lady, and one my lord will be only too pleased to answer if you would answer a few questions of our own."
There was something very familiar about his voice, Ciri thought. It was a natural pitch and thick, but young. She had heard it before.
Ciri squinted across the chamber and made out the voice's owner. She was surprised at what she saw. A tall, imposing young man with fine features, he wore plate armor with a linen overcoat and a bear-fur cloak like the ones that the Jarls of the Skellige Isles wore. Around his neck hung an iron chain bearing a bear-like amulet. His hands are in fur gloves designed for the winter climate. His pale, sweaty face was average and filled with battle scars. Hardened from years of battles and untold horrors, and survived it.
Behind the man stood five men; who followed him was a different story. Each one of the guards is wearing what looks like thick crimson and black gambeson padding under mail armor. The soldier's skin was pale like the sunlight didn't touch it for long periods of time, while each one of them wielded a spear billhook that looked freshly forged.
"Misezko?" the man said. " Misezko Siemomysl, is that you!?"
"Shut your trap!" one of the imposing man's soldiers' voices approached an angry shout. "If you don't, then I'll rip out your tongue!"
"There is no need for such rash actions, I know this man," Mieszko said calmly.
This man is an old and good compatriot of my father's and a great asset to the grand duke himself, but why is he with this cell in the first place, soldier?" said Mieszko.
The guard gave the young man a glare for a second before answering in a spiteful tone, "This man is charged with usury."
"Usury?"
"Yes, my lord. He just entered the city about seven days ago as he was loaning money to over a dozen merchants in the rising cloth trade in the city. Threatening to bankrupt them if they didn't give him their rightfully hard-earned money"
"I was not threatening them. They were threatening me!"
"Threatening you over what, Fugger?" Mieszko quickly asked, cutting off the guard.
"My banking business," Fugger answered.
"A bunch of peasants decided to confront me. Those bloody thugs demanded to close down my business, saying that I was stealing their way of life. At first, I thought it was just a couple of superstitions. But after three days, they came back, but with a smaller mob this time. I tried to persuade them, but... "
"They didn't listen."
"Indeed," the banker said, "they began to be more aggressive to the point that I had to defend myself from those damned animals. They were wielding old knives and a couple of rusty blades. I killed several of those ruffians with my sword before the guards arrived. But they had the gall to say that I started it! " Fugger almost shouted out the last party toward one of the guards, whose face was red with rage. Mieszko was silent as he quietly listened to the banker before glancing at the guard.
"How long was he in this cell to begin with?"
"Three days, m'lord."
"Then it's good you haven't done any harm to him because if you did, then you would lose your hands."
"Sire?"
"Lending a man with a thriving business money is not a crime anymore. The Grand Duke himself overturned it when he took this city in the name of the reinstated Duchy of Sylvania. Most of all, Jakub Fugger is allowed to conduct business here by the order of the Grand Duke himself, in exchange for using his personal coffers for his armies. Are you Sylvanians so illiterate that you can't even rea...wait. You are illiterate, aren't you?"
The glaring guard shook his head, making the head of the Gryphon Legion shake his head while muttering something about 'more backward than a peasant from Stirland' places that Ciri never heard of. "Okay. After your shift, go ask Natasha; she'll help you with your reading problem. "As for Fugger, let him go."
"Yes, sir," the guard said grudgingly as he began to unshackle the banker.
Fugger rubbed his sour wrists as he scowled at the guard for a second, then turned to Mieszko. Giving him a thankful expression "It's good to see that some of your father is still in you, m'lord."
The young man gave the bold banker a nod of respect and said, "It's what my father wanted, but in exchange for this, I want you to lower your prices on gunpowder and also steel from the Karak Norn."
"You can't be serious?"
"I am Fugger, or are you willing to stay down here for a few more days?"
Jakub Fugger paused for a moment before succumbing to the warrior's demands, saying, "Fine! But your mercenaries better protect my business from any more attacks."
"I will Fugger." I swear it."
"It's good doing business with you, sir Fugger."
The banker silently swallowed his pride and shook the mercenary's hand with a firm grip. And just like that, Fugger walked out of the cell with one of the guards following closely behind.
"As for you, my ashen-haired beauty," Mieszko said as he turned to face Ciri.
Mieszko's ice-blue eyes looked at Ciri's green ones with such intensity that she felt a small shiver running down her spine. "I want to know why you are in the misty woods, in the middle of a cult dedicated to the lord of excess." He said, not caring that she was somewhat in a state of undress as he grabbed her chin roughly but firmly so he could look at her in the eyes. "If you were just another cultist, then I would gladly flay you alive before lowering you into a pot of boiled oil. But you aren't, and instead, you protected the duke's son long enough for me and the men to rescue him."
"Well, when I rescued it, I thought I would wake up in a warm, comfy bed, not a cold, damp cell," Ciri said
"A necessary procession. We did find you covered in blood and looking like some crazed berserker, surrounded by the corpses of your 100 victims, even though they are cultists. Does that sound like something to be cautious of? Would any sane person allow some unknown stranger like you to remain free? only if you are willing to gain someone's trust before backstabbing us later."
"You're afraid I might betray you later on?"
"Yes. But... I could see that you won't betray us if you have to, and that trust must be earned." Mieszko then let her face go, as Ciri continued to glare at the young man who had crossed both of his arms.
"So here is my first question. Who are you and why were you doing the Misty Forests?"
"Ciri." She answered.
"Ciri," Mieszko repeated, deep in his thoughts for a second. "A beautiful name. One is not common in these lands. So, Ciri, where are you from?"
"I am from... Cintra. You probably never heard of it." Ciri said carefully, trying not to seem suspicious. " And as to why I was in the "misty forest," as you would call it, "I was lost and looking for a way out."
"I visited many places. From the farthest edge of this continent to the jungles of Lustria across the great sea," Misezko said slowly," Could you be more specific about where this 'Cintra' is?"
What were you thinking, Ciri? She thought Come on, Ciri, think! Think!
It was then that the mysterious female voice from the forests returned once again.
Forest of Wissenland
What?
forests of Wissenland.
"It's an, uh, isolated village... in the forest of Wissenland," she said with a small glimmer of hope.
Mieszko stared at her for quite some time, in complete silence. His face resembles that of an agitated bear who is about to start tearing into her. She could see one of his hands was on the pommels of his sword. Ciri quickly calculated in her head how much time she needed to blink and grab her sword, only to realize that the chains were enchanted. But to her surprise, Mieszko smiled and hit his head like he suddenly remembered something.
"Wissenland! Of Course!" He stated, "You must be from those isolated settlements in the forests. I heard people are creating them in the hopes of reclaiming territory lost to the beastmen. You ventured far then if you landed in Sylvania of all places." He laughed.
"Commander, you never said you and your mercenaries went to Wissenland."
"Not in that part, unfortunately." He said to the guard, and then rose up from crouching so much," It is already getting late; I should go and give my report to Lord Guts."
"What should we do with the witch then, m'lord?" asked one of the guards.
"Leave her here for now," Mieszko said to the guard while reaching his hand toward the bar doors. "And she needs to sleep too. Until the grand duke orders us otherwise if she proves a friend or threat."
"Very well, but I want to hear that story about the Silk Road!" He nearly smiled on his face while Mieszko chuckled at the sight.
"I'll think about it." He complimented the guard while they walked out of the cell. "I will tell you the story when you Sylvanians gain my trust. And when you do, I'll tell you the story in detail, but you'll go to the training yard to train with the rest of the new regiments, okay?"
"Yes, sir!" the guard answered, trying eagerly to keep himself from walking faster.
Ciri again put her head against the stone wall. She thought about running away, but the vision of going from this warm and damp cell into this cold and dangerous land wasn't appealing at all. Furthermore, escaping would make her feel even more guilty. Something she didn't want at all.
"I wonder if Geralt had to deal with this before? ..." She whispered and tried to fall asleep.
Okay, sorry for the long wait, but my life occupied me for a couple of days, so I'm sorry. And as for the name, Mieszko is kinda in incognito for a god reason.