Ally's and Court politics.

It's been two days since the battle of Altdorf, and already the Empire is on the verge of civil war.

Middenheim grumbles, and in Reikland, a secessionist rebellion is in full flow. Led by a rogue noble by the name of Ottocan. Forcing his father, the emperor, to tread more carefully, he warned him that a wrong move could split the empire asunder before his rule truly began.

A further green skin threat has emerged to the south, in the old, ruined province of Solland. To stop this ork, waagh! Karl Franz chose Balthasar Gelt and the Golden Order to protect the southern border from Ork incursions. The supreme patriarch begrudgingly accepted the duty. Not out of a sense of selfless duty but to show the golden order's superiority over its peers; while Franz strengthens his positions in court, Gelt plans to stabilize the empire through might and magic.

To add to the list of many threats, reports from across the great sea were just as grim.

The Empire's Lustrian settlements have recently fallen victim to a series of savage raids from an elusive attacker. The men of the colonies have long known about the strange, upright-walking reptiles that dominate the continent, but the monstrous "spirit" they claim is now tormenting them and threatens to bring about an end to Imperial expansion in the New World. Fortunately, the emperor has a Huntmarshal who specializes in tracking the untrackable. So his father calls upon his captain of scouts, Markus Wulfhart, to defend the Empire's holdings and reaffirm their foothold on the beast-infested continent.

And like a candle on a cake, the conflict between the cults of Sigmar and Ulric is coming to a breaking point. Since his uncle helped his father become emperor during the election. He agitated relations between the cult of Sigmar and Middenland, especially with Ar-Ulric, the religious leader of Ulric's cult.

So a conflict is inevitable.

Presently, the imperial loyalists are on the offensive. Their first victory against the secessionists has been destroying their army in the grasslands a few miles from Altdorf. Thanks to superior numbers and his father's tactical mind, they received almost no losses. But that still leaves much ground to cover, with much of the region still in secessionist hands. To cover ground more quickly, he split his forces into two groups: seven thousand men led by Karl Franz would march on Grunburg and Ubersreik, while three thousand men under Rudolf would march on Eihart and Helmgart.

When his army first arrived in the town of Eihart, the merchant families surrendered without a fight and welcomed the prince with open arms. It is when they received news from a messenger that Helmgart is still loyal to the Emperor, but the fortress town was under siege by another secessionist army.

Not wanting to deal with a siege on such a heavily fortified position. He sent Geourg Rudolfer to secure Helmgart, where Ottocar struggled to keep his rule by force. Duke of a minor estate and a very experienced cavalry knight. He is one of the most respected commanders in Rudolf's army.

Their feet marched in perfect sync and formation, leaving no gaps. Years of constant warfare had hardened these men into grizzled veterans led by an even greater man of strength, valor, and heroic leadership. And those men of greater strength are being led by him. An untested prince, a prince who only led a single regiment, not an entire army. And this...this scares him. But to maintain the morale of the troops, he hid it behind a mask of strength.

"Are you sure that the road to Bogenhafen is clear?"

"I'm sure, my Herr, The pistolier's or the outriders haven't encountered any sort or form of resistance from the secessionists," Wolfgang said, but the second son of Karl Franz remains unconvinced.

"Yet. Wolfgang, the scouts haven't encountered resistance yet."

"Guessing by the expression on your face, it's not a good thing, is it?"

"It's been three days since we liberated Eihart without a fight, and already we haven't faced any resistance from the secessionists, and what's worse, we have received no word from Captain Rudolfer and the one thousand men I sent with him to relieve Helmgart."

Wolfgang could understand his friend's worry as he put a single hand on one of his armored shoulders and said, "Margrave Geourg Rudolfer is tough as an ox and cunning as a goblin. He is a former greatsword after all. That man who will succeed in securing Helmgart will be Rudolfer, I assure you, my friend. "

"I sure hope so Wolf, because if we lost the most important fortress in the Grey Mountains, then the Bretonnians would have their chance to take all of Axe Bite Pass."

"You really think that the Duke of Montfort would do such a thing?"

"Knowing Folcard D'Montfort's attitude, it's highly unlikely. However... years of fighting between the citizens of Helmgart and the peasants of Montfort have been long and bloody. So if the secessionists succeed, then the Duke would have his troops march upon the town—or worse. They might call the knights of bretonnians for aid if their cause is just enough. And the secessionists might give Helmgart in exchange for aiding them with the siege, and with it—

"Axe Bite Pass," Wolfgang finished.

"Exactly, so I would rather not tempt the winds of fate." That is the reason why I sent Rudolfer to relive Helmgart; he is a capable commander and has had a very good relationship with Duke Folcard himself in the past," Rudolf said.

Oh, right, I forgot. The Duke and the Margrave are distant relatives since he married one of Folcard's legitimate daughters. " Wolf emphasizes the word "legitimate" since the Duke's daughter came from one of Folcard's many lovers. "I understand that some imperial nobles have many mistresses, but the dukes of Bretonnia practice such outdated laws. Have you seen their peasants? Yeuak! I kiss a goblin than those hideous creatures they call humans."

Rudolf could pick up the disgust in his chamberlain's voice, and he didn't blame him. The conditions of the Bretonnian peasantry are notoriously oppressive, stricter, and harsher than those of other Old World nations. This dark stain of Bretonnian culture is placed unashamedly out in the open where all nobles and nobility are set high above the peasantry ways. It is said that Bretonnian peasants often live in far worse conditions than those in the Empire, Tilea, Estalia, and perhaps even more brutal conditions than Kislev in some respects.

"Bretonnia may be a bit...outdated in the social hierarchy of its governance structure." He used his words slowly and carefully."And unlike the Empire's professional state troops, Bretonnia has no standing army. However, it is also a proud and honorable kingdom, known throughout the kingdoms of men for having the greatest knights in the entire old world. Even though I am ashamed to admit it, their knights surpassed those of the knightly Orders of the Empire, who are feared and respected throughout the known world. Also, they're our only closest allies besides the Tzardom Kislev, whom we fully trust. "

"Are you sure about that, my lord? Because what I remember from our history lessons is that the kingdoms of Bretonnia didn't send a single knight to aid Magnus the Pious, may Sigmar bless his name, in his march against Asavar Kul," Wolf replied, making the second prince of Reikland freeze for a second. Realizing that his second-in-command has a good point.

During the great war against chaos, the king of Bretonnia didn't send any aid to Magnus the Pious. No gallant knights charge down Hero's Hill, and no chivalrous knights charge side by side with the brave imperial knights and winged lancers. There were no men of honor in the thick of the bloody and gory snow. No heroic dukes or kings yelled out their lady's name. No core of brave or valiant grail knights could brave chaos's many horrors on those icy plains. Just an army of brave men who stood against the eternal darkness without their mighty armies.

Rudolf shook those thoughts out of his head as he looked at Wolfgang with a stern expression and spoke with a serious voice. " Wolfgang. I know for certain that King Louen Leoncoeur is not like the other kings of Bretonnia. By Sigmar,'s sacred hammer, I met the man himself Wolfgang he would never repeat something like that."

"I meant no offense, my lord," said Wolfgang, raising his hands as a sign of peace. Know how well his friend admired the Bretonnian king. "But how sure are you that the other Dukes will listen to him? They even might not listen to him even though Louen is their king."

"Then we'll have to cross swords with them after all," Rudolf answered.

Wolfgang seemed not to be satisfied with that answer, but he kept silent. But Wolfgang did bring up some good points that are up for discussion when it comes to the Bretonnians. Saying that the two human nations are the same is like saying air and smoke are the same things. The conflicts of the past can be re-lit at any time, like a small spark. It was only because of the ever-looming threat of the old night, which could consume them all at any time. And with the ever-increasing Norscan raids, it might become a reality. Adding to the fact that mortal threats are starting to come out of the darkness and into the light to wreak havoc.

The Empire is quickly becoming the largest and most powerful kingdom of men in the Old World. Founded over 2,500 years ago by Sigmar Heldenhammer, a legendary warrior who has become the patron deity of this powerful land, now the largest and most technologically advanced nation of men in the old world. Still, it is such a vast land that the law cannot reach all the hidden recesses of its dark forests and impenetrable mountain ranges. Orcs raid its borders, and, if the reports from Kislev are true, the menace of chaos is growing stronger in the far north. These and other enemies, internal and external, must be fought and defeated by the armies of his father to defend its borders from many would-be invaders: the forces of chaos from the north, the orcs and goblins from the east and west, and countless others who covet the empire's wealth and rich farmlands.

Bretonnia and Kislev weren't that much better either.

Known as the "Land of Chivalry". A proud and honorable kingdom, the armies of Bretonnia ride into battle with lance, horse, and sword, seeking glory and rooting out injustice wherever they go. The Knights of Bretonnia are trained to fight from childhood, and even the lowliest Knights Errant are considered superior to ordinary warriors. Their skills are further enhanced through constant training, battles, and tournaments. It is not only Bretonnia's knights who are famed, however, for the kingdom boasts the finest human sailors in the mortal world. However, while the loftiest ideals of personal bravery and strength can be found among many knights of the land, there is a much grimmer existence for its vast peasant population. And lastly, Kislev.

A powerful kingdom. Driven by the need to prepare for constant warfare that is known far and wide for having some of the greatest horsemen to ever roam the plains of the southern realms. Ruled by a mighty monarch known as a "tzar", Kislev is a nation born from the saddle, its people's ancestry is traced to the mighty horse warriors of the Eastern Steppes many millennia ago. The climate is harsh and unforgiving, and only the strongest, most determined people survive there.

The inhabitants of Kislev are these very same people, a race of wolf-tough and self-reliant warriors, valiant and determined in the defense of their homeland. But since its founding, Kislev has been, since its creation, under siege by the murderous hordes of chaos undivided. A kingdom sits forever on the brink of total annihilation. And with their Tzar dead. It might be a frightening reality.

This brought an uncomfortable amount of weight down on his shoulders. The empire, which he might rule one day, is still plagued with so many problems that need to be dealt with. It makes Rudolf a bit glad that his brother was born first and then him.

Sighing mentally, he rubbed his head with his gauntlet against his forehead. Although he could feel the cold metal of his black gauntlet, it didn't bother him at all. But it did leave a few scratches on his forehead, though they were barely visible to the naked eye. As Rudolf did so, he could see a single rider heading towards him in the distance. Raising his hand in a clenched fist, the entire army halted.

"It's one of our scouts," Wolfgang said as the pistolier stopped his horse in front of the prince and his personal chamberlin.

"My lords."

"Report."

"The path up ahead is clear, my lords; there are a couple of villages, but the villagers seemed relieved to see us." The pistolier informed.

"That's good to hear," Wolfgang said, glancing at Rudolf. I'd rather not burn down our own villages if we don't have to."

Rudolf nodded in agreement before turning back to the messenger and asking, "Anything else?"

"It's Bogenhafen, my lord." It would seem that the secessionists have started tightening their grip on the town as we speak. "

"How many are there?"

"About two hundred swordsmen, four hundred halberds, along with three hundred archers, make it nine hundred men in total."

"Do they have any artillery with them?"

The man shook his head. None that I could see, sir. But unlike Eihart, it would seem that the secessionists are more prepared for a fight this time. We saw them bringing food and supplies behind the safety of the walls of the town. Including burning houses or huts around the town to deny anyone shelter or protection against the elements. It would seem that they're preparing themselves for a siege."

"That's unfortunate; I was really starting to like how easy this campaign was going," said Wolfgang, a bit disappointed that their small amount of peace was about to be shattered but also with a hint of joy in his voice.

"How unfortunate indeed," Rudolf muttered, letting out a small but sad sigh before his eyes hardened. "Send out another messenger to tell Thomas and his outriders to continue ahead of us until we reach the outskirts of Bogenhafen, but not too far. We'll meet up with his forces there. In the meantime, I want him and his men to take extreme caution when scouting. The secessionist's main army may be defeated, but I doubt the stragglers would not set up some ambushes. I also want a thorough but detailed account of the terrain around the town. If it's going to be a siege, I want it to be a quick one before my father's army finishes sieging Ubersreik."

"Yes, sir," said the scout, riding back to his regiment, leaving Rudolf and Wolfgang at the head of the two-thousand-strong army alone.

"It would seem that our luck has finally run out, my friend."

"We always knew it would come to this sooner or later, Kalheim." Rudolf said to his friend solemnly," It was only a matter of when."

"I still hate shedding the blood of our own people; it brings me no satisfaction whatsoever," Wolfgang exclaimed.

"I do, too, old friend. I do too," the young man continued sadly, feeling the weight of reality fall on him like an anvil. "But it's either them splitting Reikland into two or killing them and ending this uprising once and for all. Then we can focus on other matters, like those damned goblins, or better yet, stopping those godless Norscan raiders from raiding Nordland."

"And the undead?" Wolfgang continued as they began to advance again. "The vampire counts of Sylvania will not wait for us to finish our problems either."

"The undead will feel our wrath, I promise you," replied Rudolf.

Unknown to both of them, a single figure is watching from afar. Hiding deep within the bushes of the forest, the figure quickly pulled out a small piece of paper and wrote on its surface with his pencil. With just a few letters, he carefully rolled it up and tied it to the pigeon's leg before he let it go free. Heading in the direction of Bogenhafen.

Mieszko resisted the urge to breathe a heavy sigh as he stood in the halls of Waldenhof's throne room. Already feeling a bit out of place in this courtroom as it is. Even though he really wanted to break one of these noblemen's jaws and shove its contents down the arrogant man's throat, Mieszko couldn't. Years in the ice court have taught him better than using brute force in politics, it is the quickest way to lose everything in a single moment if he's not careful enough. But he wasn't on the ice, Court. And he has fewer or no allies in these lands than he was used to. So he has to be smart. Use his wits and cunning to maneuver himself through this new territory.

There were even times he had to swallow his bent-up frustration whole like a sour fruit just to speak in a calm and courtly manner to the "free Sylvanian nobility" in the court. In the beginning, Mieszko and his men were in the lands of the border princes.

Finishing carving up a medium amount of territory for the Tilean merchant princes of Remas and their temporary ally, Pavona. Securing the important trade routes through the lands of the border princes and into the province of Wissenland. Once he got paid by the paymaster, he led his company straight into the southern territories of the Empire of Man, looking for more work. Seeing that the beastmen and orcs started raiding the towns and villages of the empire. It was at that moment that he met Charles the Bold.

The noble of Ostermark is determined in his attempt to drag Sylvania out of the darkness and into the light. At first, he thought the man was crazy—no, insane. Freeing all of Sylvania from the vampires counts. It was complete madness, utter madness, what he had heard. But there are times when a certain madness can make the impossible possible. So he signed up for his little venture. Expecting it to fail. The funny thing is, it didn't.

In the first week, they were able to retake a couple of castles and towns. In the second week, he made the city of Waldenhof their base of operations for launching raids. Gaining a sizable amount of territory before turning it into a major economic activity. Presently, however, they're a bit of a. . . complication.

It would seem that some of the vampire counts were much tougher and more numerous than they seemed. And their attacks were getting more frequent by the day. Forcing Charles to march forth and push them back into their dark castles. Six times they fought the undead. Six times they were victorious, but with each victory. Came heavy losses—losses that the vampires can replenish at their whim and call for while they couldn't.

Already he could see the subtle signs of war weariness setting in. He lost count of the number of battles he'd fought against the endless armies of zombies and restless spirits. Most were fought over the same barren hills and empty villages, day by day. He rose through the ranks, replacing men who'd fallen along the way.

He was brought out of his thoughts as the doors of the throne room opened, revealing a man of below average height, stout, with a clear, dark complexion and a dark beard and hair. He is only seven years older than him. Wearing the collar of the Order of the Everlasting Light, along with a satin jacket and a black velvet robe of expensive quality.

"May I present Duke Charles the bald Grand Duke of Waldenhoff!" The servant announced.

All the nobles, politicians, generals, guests, and envoys from different provinces of the empire knelt as the new Grand Duke of Sylvania walked past every single one of them. Not even giving them a single glance except for Mieszko. With expert grace, he bowed in the presence of the Duke, who nodded his head toward him as a sign of respect before he kept on walking past him. From the corner of his eyes, Mieszko could see many of the local nobility sending him both glares and scowls of jealousy.

Reaching the throne, which was made out of the finest wood imported from Stirland, the Duke sat down. Years of fighting the undead really took their toll on him. Wrinkles from the stress of maintaining control of the territory

Rising from his throne, Charles scanned the room for a moment, then spoke, "Rise!"

Following the order without hesitation, everyone in the throne room rose to their feet. Charles's stern gaze scanned all the occupants of the room in complete silence. All their attention is drawn in a single direction.

Mieszko could see Charles was much calmer when he lost his son. But since he got him back, the man had become much warier than those he kept close in his household. Which was fair. After losing his wife because of an illness and learning that he almost lost his only son to a group of cultists because one of his subjects got a little greedy for power. However, since his son was returned to him safely, the Duke is much less stressed than the last time he saw him.

"Gentlemen of the clergy, citizens of Waldenhoff, thank you for being here, with me." said Charles in a strong voice that echoed across the throne room as he continued, "Many of you heard of rumors of my son being kidnapped in the dead of night. By a beastmen warherd, a group of Sylvanians loyal to the vampire counts, or one of my political rivals." He paused, letting the news sink into the audience, then continued," But all of these are lies."

"It is true that my son was kidnapped. But it was a chaos cult made of strigany. Those who dedicated themselves to the Lord of Pleasure were to blame for the kidnapping. Not the good citizens of Sylvania. They would have sacrificed my son if not for the timely arrival of the brave warriors of the Gryphon Legion, then I would fear our young province may never recover." He said to the crowd, then slowly gestured to the only Kislevit in the crowd.

"Herr Mieszko Siemomysl of the Gryphon Legion. Step forward."

Mieszko stepped onto the red carpet. The hidden son of the Tzar and Tzarina ignored the various glares and dirty looks of remorse from the people around him. Studying each of their expressions as best as possible, Mieszko knew well that the new Sylvanian nobility still hated him and that a mercenary was getting the favor of the Duke himself. Including doing the task that their own subjects and troops couldn't achieve. He could hear them speak to one another in hushed tones, a few seeing him as a threat to political power. However, no one could touch him at the moment. Either from fear of him or the wrath of the Duke himself.

The nobility felt that wrath firsthand when they thought Charles was weak. But he was anything but weak during the first months of his reign, when he proclaimed himself Duke. Charles's first domestic policy was to assist the growth of his military establishment. To this end, he relinquished at least some of the extravagance that had characterized the court of Sylvania, if not a few ceremonial events.

From the beginning of his reign, he employed himself in reorganizing his army and the administration of his newly acquired territories. While retaining the principles of feudal recruiting, he endeavored to establish a system of rigidity among his troops that was strengthened by the employment of foreign mercenaries, particularly Averland and Tilea, and the augmentation of his artillery. But most important was the cavalry. That is where Mieszko and his men come in. He and his rota won Charles more skirmishes, and battles, than any other unit. Keeping the Duchy together through these difficult times becomes Charles's lucky charm of sorts.

That is why he is being rewarded again by the Grand Duke. Stopped in front of him at a respectable distance of five meters and knelt on one knee before the warrior Duke of Sylvania. " Sir."

With a simple hand gesture, one of the servants walked up to him and put down a simple case. Opening the case, he said, "Sir, Siemomysl, for your valiant efforts in saving my son's life and destroying the despicable cult, I would like to present you with these wheellock pistols for your bravery in the face of danger."

Mieszko accepted the weapon without complaint. Noticing the master craftsmanship of the weapon along with the artistic engravings was almost life-changing, making Mieszko wonder if they were made in Nuln. "I am grateful for this gift, Duke, and I am glad to accept it."

Mieszko carefully closed the small case as Charles nodded to the young man before returning back to the throne to attend to other matters of the court, but before he could even sit down, he sensed there was something else the young man wanted to speak to him about.

"You have something else to say, Siemomysl?" Charles asked

"Yes, Herr Charles."

"Then speak up."

"It is about the ashen-haired woman."

"What about her?" he asked.

"I believe she can be of use to us."

The Duke raised an eyebrow and looked at Mieszko in confusion. "Use to us how?"

Mieszko was silent for a moment, thinking of a reason to use the strange woman in some capacity: "Even though we do not know where this woman came from or how she entered the misty woods," he explained, seeing the duke starting to get more interested. "She is a capable warrior who has dozens of cultists and ghouls at the same time. and by the look of the clothing on her body, she is a hunter. Leaving her in our dungeons to rot would be a grave mistake. For she didn't just fight off the cult but also gave me and my men enough time to save your son from being sacrificed."

Charles clasped both of his hands as he leaned forward in his chair. "What do you suggest? Sir Siemomysl."

"I suggest that we recruit her into your cause in freeing northern Sylvania, mein Herr."

"Madness!"

One of the nobles walked out of the crowd as he continued speaking," Mein Duke, I must protest this foreigner's course of action! He may be a great warrior, no doubt about it." The councilor from the But he has clearly been bewitched by the mutants beauty."

Mieszko scowled at the noble. How dare he even suggest such a thing as falling for a mutant? "If I were bewitched, herr Coppenhole, then the grand duke or my second in command would be the first to notice my change in behavior. And break it without hesitation," he said sourly, gritting his teeth. felt the urge to break the man's jaw once more but resisted. "And lastly, if she is a mutant, then this woman is more human than any other mutant I have seen in my entire lifetime."

"Explain." the noble demanded.

"I called the witch hunters, physicians, and even a wizard from the green order we have on hand who did a thorough search of her entire body," Mieszko explained as he continued. "They told me that there were no chaos mutations or corruption in her. Other than the ashen hair, I can tell you with certainty that the woman is neither a mutant nor a mutant in disguise but a regular, uncorrupted, human being."

"That's not good enough!" Coppenhle almost shouted out. "My duke, this woman may not be a mutant, but do you think she might be a spy? A spy from Stirland. Who is tasked with learning our secrets before skulking into the night to her master?"

Mieszko could still see the contempt in the noble's eyes. Not at him this time. But on the other side of the room, where the new aristocratic faction of Sylvania resides, are impoverished lesser houses, younger siblings, and basterds of the Stirland line. To the new aristocrats, their station was a little different from a life of exile. These nobles treated their new subjects with contempt, which brought to mind the reign of the Von Draks. It wasn't until Charles the Bald's arrival that he put a stop to it. For now.

"She is not from Stirland Herr Coppenhle." Mieszko refuted," The clothing she wore is foreign; her speech is not slow like the Stirlanders nor the depressing monologue of an Ostermaker's, and even her attitude doesn't match either of those two either."'

"Then what about Reikland, Ostland, Nordland, Wissenland, Averland, Talabecland, Middenland, or Hochland? Did you ever think of them? Outside forces are willing to bring us to heel once more. Like all the other times in the past, their armies passed through our lands. Each time doing more damage to vital villages and towns that could have supported our new province's fragile economy. "

"The days of imperial armies burning and pillaging are past us, Herr Coppenhle. If you hold grudges like the Dawi, then you or the good citizens of Sylvania will never regain the trust of the Empire."

"The empire of man's trust is nothing but a butchery of pig droppings." "How can we ever forget the time they slaughtered us?"

"You don't," Mieszko said. " But acting on superstitious nonsense means nothing but more distrust. The distrust that you Sylvanians have already gained over the millennia."

"Don't you dar-"

"Enough!" The Duke of Waldenoff shouted out, cutting the noble off, as Jon Coppenhole shut his mouth as his stern blue eyes bore into him like a predator into his prey. "All of you, wait outside. I want to be alone with Sir Siemomysl for a moment."

The nobles looked at each other for a moment before, one by one, they began to leave. Jan Coppenhole scowled in contempt at two foreigners before following the crowd outside. Once the doors were shut behind them, Charles turned back to the young commander of the Gryphon legion. His stoic mask slowly melted away into one of pure exhaustion. The years of ruling these haunted lands are finally taking their toll.

"The divide between the new and old nobility is still large, Siemomysl." Said Charles, sighing heavily as he put a single hand on his wrinkled forehead," I had hoped that you would have learned that by now."

"I do," Mieszko said.

Then he added, "I just don't trust the snakes you brought into your court, Grand Duke."

For a split second, Charles had a faint smile on his exhausted face and said, "Snakes they might be, but the Sylvanian nobility still has its advantages. They do their duties properly and competently enough that the newly established principality is still standing." He then silently, but cautiously, gestured to the throne room doors. "Although most of them will try to stab me in the back to overthrow me. In an attempt to return to the old ways."

"Margrave Guts or I wouldn't let that happen, my Herr."

"I know you or the general wouldn't, but defending this province from within is like trying to fight a serpent while blindfolded." Charles let out a heavy sigh, resting his hand back on the armrest of the throne. "The Sylvanian's fear and contempt for the empire of man might be too great for you two to handle." His expression then turned grimmer" To make matters worse, vampires have already started to march on our borders."

"What?" Mieszko said, shocked that the vampires would attack so quickly.

"Our spies within southern regions noticed large amounts of Grave guard and black knights gathering around the town of Swartzhafen. Near the Stirland-owned lands," Charles explained, referring to the northwest part of Sylvania.

When the principality was founded, the elector count of the grand county of Stirland demanded that his lands be returned back to him. Fortunately, Charles was able to convince him to a compromise. Stirland will keep the fortress of Obersyre and castle Templehof. While Eschen and Waldenhof will be given to the principality."

"So...will we head out immediately to face this incursion beside the Stirlanders?" Mieszko asked.

"No."

"No? Why?"

"Count Alberich Haupt-Anderssen may have shown concern for the well-being of the Sylvanians. But his generals do not," he grunted in frustration. "They still do not trust us. Even if they agreed, the recent raids on our forts have us spread thin at the moment. But I promise we will deal with them all in due time," he answered confidently, but the young man just narrowed his eyes as he continued. "But it requires patience and thorough preparations for us to call to arms once more."

"How much time?"

"Five weeks at most."

"That will be too long. The vampire counts would cross the border by then"

"I know but until we stop the raid there is nothing we can do. In the mean time I shall put our new guest into your care, Siemomysl," Charles said, leaving no room for argument.

"My Herr?"

"We are surrounded by a dark shadow, sir Siemomysly. A shadow that we must tread carefully if we don't want to be swallowed whole by its dark clutches. If what you said is true, then a hunter of her caliber might be of help to my lands and the people who live on them. In ways that we might never have expected."

"Then her tracking skills might be of use to us after all," he finished.

The Grand Duke slowly nodded as he continued, "Indeed. Only if she succeeds in proving herself will there be a chance. Consider this another task for you after saving my son in the misty woods. " Charles then changed the tone to a firmer one. " However if you are wrong and she is truly a threat, then she will be put down. And I would be forced to remove you from my employ. Permanently. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes, my Duke."

Charles smiled, knowing that the task was in capable hands. "Good, then your work starts immediately."

"It shall be done, my Duke," Mieszko replied without any hesitation.

Silently, he stood up and turned sharply to the door. He ignored the dozens of calculated looks and glares from within the crowd of new and old Sylvanian nobility. Who poured back into the throne room like water flooding into a lake.

Once he was out of the room, Mieszko went to the dungeons without delay. Unaware that a certain individual was watching them in the darkest corners of the throne room.

Okay, sorry for the long wait but I had what you said writer's block, the greatest pain any writer that had to deal with.

Anyway thanks for the comments, I also going to rename northern Sylvania to the principality of Sylvania because what I discovered is that it was inspired by real-world Transylvania, as well as Hungary.