Author's note: Here's another Klaus chapter, finally. Please, keep those reviews rolling in. Thanks!

KLAUS III

Counting boxes, what bloody good fun

Klaus huffed angrily then, for counting boxes was not in fact his idea of good fun. He was now stopped in the gloom of the armory, counting stores and taking stock. It was hard work, monotonous and boring, and something he felt to be a waste of time better spent drinking. At least in that regard, it wasn't all that different from anything else he did in the Emperor's armies.

For the third time in an hour, Klaus wished they had brought a halfling with them on their expedition. Those bloody little creatures were made for taking inventory, counting foodstuffs was their idea of a good time, besides fucking and eating till they burst. Though that would also likely mean their stocks of food would be gone by now. As it was, they had enough for about a month, though he hoped that Master Klutzer and that prissy knight Heinrich might negotiate more food for them from this Lord Stark. Furthermore, the initial armory he had stumbled upon on their first arrival had turned out to be far more extensive than they assumed, with many barrels of all manner of military supply filling most of them, weapons and armor the rest. Naturally, Gorgi had immediately judged them to be inferior human craftsmanship, and had set about melting them down and crafting them anew. As with all dwarf smiths, his efforts were slowly and supremely meticulous, but without a doubt the implements he produced were of a phenomenal quality by the standards of men, both lighter and stronger than any man-forged steel. What's more, Gorgi had eyed his work with disapproval when he had finished the first batch, glimmering like a Arabyan treasure hoard, muttering that if he hadn't rushed he could've done a much finer job.

Klaus once more thanked Ulric and Sigmar for sending a dwarf unto them in this new world, and a Runesmith no less. He admittedly did not know what that meant, but by the reactions of the rest of their band he assumed that it was something spectacular indeed.

Likely had something to do with runes, hence the name.

As for the dwarf, he looked like any other stunty to Klaus, but then he was a hardly an expert on stunties, the most experience being when a dwarf back in Carroburg had to measure him up when he crafted the fine dwarfen steel that all Carroburg Greatswords were clad with and armed with. Another thing he was eternally grateful for. If he strained, he could hear the great bearded fellow even now.

*CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG*

Just as it had been for hours. Apparently time spent in the forge was just as much leisure for Gorgi as it was work, for he seemed not to tire. It had been rather miraculous, how they had put together such a fine little forge with merely a few bricks and some mortar, yet as always dwarfen craftsmanship had made something great out of little. To be honest, this entire tower was a little repository of wonders, like the rumors he had heard from gossiping State Troopers around the campfire about a great hoard of evil artifacts kept hidden secure in Altdorf. Like a good Imperial citizen, he always dismissed such thoughts out of hand. Anything else would be dangerously close to heresy.

Thought of that made his thoughts wander to the arcane device kept hidden in the armory, the same he had laid eyes upon when he had first fell into this godsforsaken pit of deadly objects. That great monstrosity of glittering copper and shining sapphires. What had the Celestial Mage called it? A Celestial Hurricanum, that was it. He had no idea what that was, either. But by the shocked expression on the witch hunter's face when he beheld it for the first time, it was nothing to laugh at. Not that there was much to laugh about, here. For once, he was thankful he had no lady friend waiting for him back home. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but he doubted whichever flowery sop who'd thought of that had their particular situation in mind when he had.

Finally, he finished his tally, and filled up the small ledger he had been carrying around with their current manifest, all nice and tidy for Klutzer's return, just the way he liked it. He made his way back up to the main portion of the building, ambling over to his own quarters in the dormitory section of the tower. It was a small thing, only a bed and a window currently, but it was home. As a whole, it was odd how relatively clean and bright the inside of the tower was, at least compared to its outside appearance. He attributed that to some sort of magical charm. You never knew with the damned wizards. Klaus chanced a look out the window, into the bright world beyond. There, sure enough, Gorgi stood, stretching and taking a long swig out of an ale horn after a day's labor at the forge. His arms and face were black with soot, the leather smith's apron similarly darkened. He looked contemplative, and stared into the forest beyond the small meadow where their humble abode was located.

Klutzer knew just what he was thinking of, though he was nowhere near him. He was wondering the same thing they had all wondered about this strange new world.

Why was it so damn safe?

There had been no deranged cultists (much to the disappointment of Klutzer, who likely longed for such a fine diversion as slaying the heretic), no Orcs, not even any Beastmen. He might be convinced they were merely watching and biding their time for an attack, had the Jade Mage Jakob not gone into the forest and searched the area around them with great haste.

Nothing. Not so much as a pathetic Gor to give him any trouble. He was still out there, having left immediately after reporting to them a day ago. He had not accepted any provisions, stating that Taal would provide all he needed. Gorgi and Klaus had shared a look then, but done nothing. With the witch hunter gone, they were hardly in a position to make a Wizard of the Orders Magical do anything.

He had mentioned Taal, the Old World God of the Trees, the Rivers, and all the Wild Places. Husband of Rhya, Goddess of the Spring Rains, Fertility, and Good Harvest. They were the gods of his ancestors, of himself, and his potential children after, him, Sigmar willing. They were the gods of all his folk, watching over them since time immemorial. He may be a stranger in a strange place, but the thought that his gods watched over him gave him a measure of comfort. Subconsciously he made the sign of the twin-tailed comet over his heart. In the end, Sigmar protects, as always.

As if agreeing with his sentiment, his stomach grumbled then, reminding him he had not eaten since breaking his fast with some hard boiled eggs and dried beef. He gathered his sword from where he laid it to rest by the door, and trotted down the stairs, towards the empty room he had assumed a kitchen and thus treated as such, for a small hearth blazed in the center of the room, with a few cabinets beside it full of vegetables and herbs. It seemed Jakob was a bit of a chef, according to his opulently appointed brother. Unfortunately, Klaus was not so skilled, and so had to make do with tossing some carrots into the bubbling cauldron of stew on the fire and stirring in some beef. He tasted the broth, and gave it a hum of approval. Strangely enough, in many ways his newfound lifestyle put him in mind some of his time spent at a boarding school in Altdorf.

He frowned at that memory. One thing he had always regretted was telling his mates in Carroburg that he had attained any sort of higher education than basic literacy. A good deal of them were orphans, or at least had lived rough on the streets for much of their lives. It was a part of why they had such a great killer's instinct. So to hear him say that his childhood was spent learning his maths and basic alchemy from a graduate of the Altdorf Academies was a subject of constant amusement from them, those rough men who had spent their childhoods stealing and fighting. They never really cared that he dropped out anyway, that he had felt a yearning to serve in the armies of Sigmar, rather than to receive a degree and live a quiet life as a scholar or a bureaucrat in some stuffy building somewhere. He was proud of his choice, and of how far he had risen, but he would be lying if he said that the disappointment in his father's eyes when he had informed him of his decision did not still haunt him somewhat. He laughed then, a dry and bitter thing that conveyed no humour at all.

He was startled out of his recollections by the rumbling dwarf voice to his right.

"Sorry to interrupt yer' deranged chuckles, umgi, but I thought to inform you that that green Wizard has returned. He's waitin' out by the forge."

Klaus nodded at him.

"Well, can't keep His Magicalness waiting, can we? Keep an eye on the soup for me, eh Okrisson?"

He slipped pass Gorgi's impressive bulk and out of the kitchens, towards the two thick cloth flaps they had hung to serve as a temporary door after Klaus had kicked in the last one. New hinges were unfortunately rather low on the list of things for Gorgi to fashion for them.

It was crisp and chilly out, though the sun shone brightly. His feet crackled through the thick grasses of the meadow as he made his away around the towering structure. Sure enough, there was Jakob, leaning against their little makeshift forge, looking surprisingly neat for having spent most of the last week in the wilds. Jakob turned to him, and stood up straight, waving him over.

"Ah, Mister Edelmann, how fare you?"

Klaus raised an eyebrow at that.

"Fine, sir. I'm not the one who's spent the entire week in the forest, after all."

Jakob laughed at that, leaned in close then.

"Tell me Klaus, do you keep to Taal?"

Jakob frowned at that.

"As much as any pious man of the Empire. But he's not my chosen god, that'd be either Sigmar or Ulric."

Some thought keeping both Sigmar and Ulric strange, but not Klaus. He had picked up the veneration of the God of Man in Altdorf, but never forgot his Middenlander roots.

Jakob nodded sagely, and pointed towards the forest.

"Then I suppose you should follow me. I've found something rather… extraordinary."

To be entirely honest, Klaus imagined what a wizard considered extraordinary was likely to be considered by the average Imperial to be merely extra heretical. All the same, he hesitantly accepted, following the Jade Wizard as he made a brisk pace into the forest. It was dull going at first, all the same dirt and wood and rocks that he had seen so much of coming to the tower. Albeit without the constant pervasive danger of the Drakwald forest, but still. Soon, however, he noticed a change in the scenery. Beams of sunlight piercing through the canopy above became less and less, dimmed by the thickening of the leaves above. Smaller and younger growth gave way to true giants, great elder trees that had clearly been here since time immemorial. Their trunks were twisted and gnarled like the wrinkles on the face of an old man. He felt the air grow thick and damp as though held down by the weight of the centuries, felt the ground under his feet grasp at his boots with long-settled mud, as though petulant that it was being disturbed by the scuttling of men. Rocks overgrown with moss, lichen and vines hanging low around him. This was Old Woods, the sort of place where his earliest ancestors held their ancient rituals to the gods during the dawn of time, when the world was yet untamed and untainted. His spine tingled, his throat scratched, yet he clamped down hard on the building cough. To break the silence of the Old Wood was akin to blasphemy against Ancient Taal, and he was no godless man. All the while Jakob walked, his head unbowed by the trees, like a guest who was truly more akin to a friend compelled to observe pleasantries demanded by long tradition. He was clearly in his element. Ever onward they strode, until just when Klaus was going to finally risk asking where they were, and then he saw it.

A great tree, with bark as white as bone and leaves red as blood. If the other trees were old, this one was primordial. It was situated on a hill, thrust up towards the sky like an offering to some celestial deity, all other trees keeping their distance, respecting the power of the elder among elders. Up and up it twisted, with red leaves on white limbs that grabbed at the blue of the heavens, like skeletal hands grasping at some long forgotten treasure. Klaus could do naught but gape, for at the center of the titan was a face, frowning and furious. It was so well carved, so life-like that Klaus more than half expected it to began shouting at them, raging at their intrusion into its thousand-year solitude. He was so astounded he nearly forget the customary Taalite salute, and upon doing so immediately slapped his leg, chest, and then arm in quick succession, that ancient sign of root, trunk and branch. He prayed that would be enough to appease the Green God, for now. Klaus looked towards Heinrich then, wordlessly asking for an explanation, his look of awe doing all the talking for him.

Jakob grinned, a look of barely hidden enthusiasm and wonder shining in his forest-green eyes.

"Truth be told, I'm not sure. What I do now, however, is that it is a veritable wellspring of Life Magic, as strong as the Sacred Grove inside the Jade College. I've spent an entire night here, scrying and trying to speak with Taal. He hears and responds, and yet it is not just him. I hear other beings, circling like animals in the dark."

His grin disappeared then, replaced with a look of deeply troubled reverie.

"They have no names nor faces, always keeping away. Yet I sense power in them, and I can sense how ancient they are. I suspect they may be the native gods of this land, for they seemed shocked and agitated when the light of Taal shined, as the power of the Green God drove these native gods from the trees. To them, we were strange newcomers, Taal and I both. I admit, it makes little sense, even to me. When they scattered, it was like the squalling of an angry raven flock. I was very glad indeed to have the protection of Taal, then."

Jakob shuddered in fear, which in turn made Klaus want to scream internally. It was well known that whatever made a wizard sweat in fear was likely to make other men soil themselves in terror.

A thousand questions raced through his mind then, but they were all quieted by the low growl that drifted into his ears from the encroaching timber around them. They both turned instantly, like their necks were spring-loaded, just in time to see a mountain of snarling and snapping fur slowly amble into the clearing, eyeing them with glowing orbs of amber. A wolf, and likely the largest wolf he had ever seen before in his life. A direwolf then, like those that prowled the farthest reaches of the forest, and in distant Norsca, that inhospitable and frigid land.

As he got a better look at the murderous creature, he thought to himself, she-wolf.

That he knew for certain, for this wolf was clearly and very visibly pregnant, breasts hanging low, full of milk for pups.

An entire litter of which growing in her enormous belly.

She sniffed at them then, her eyes shifting for an instant to look at something in the hill beside them. Klaus very slowly turned to look for himself, and cursed silently when he did. There in the side of the hill was a large hole, just big enough for an expectant wolf-mother. Her bloody den, in other words. He turned back just as slowly and gulped.

He whispered his prayers to Ulric, just as he had as a boy. Hopefully the Wolf-God watched over them here, too.