It was early the next morning and the city of Nuln had just begun the slow process of reawakening to start the day. The citizens walked the streets, ambling towards their work to provide the lifeblood upon which the empire survived. The peaceful calm of the morning was broken as the disheveled recluse, Joheim, clicked his way down the cobbled road at a feverish pace, his crutch tapping with the rhythm of a marching drum on the paved stone. The man left a stream of papers fluttering behind him as he stormed forward without hesitation, a mad look flaring behind his eyes. A concerned looking town guard trailed closely behind, picking up the papers as he went along. The odd duo came to the door of the Nuln Gunnery School, before which the madman stopped and rapped his cane upon the door.

The gunnery school was a place of great pride for Wissenlanders, much in the same way many other states were proud of their respective academies. The school prided itself in having the greatest black powder artillery west of the world's edge mountains and held countless hearings and classes to find the greatest practical use for such artillery. Its value to the empire was immeasurable and as such its defenses were near impenetrable to all but the greatest of armies. Joheim Burgenston was not such an army, as he quickly realized while batting hopelessly on the large wooden door to the main hall. The large guard who had been tailing Joheim quickly caught up to him and handed him his sheaf of lost papers, but not before taking a quick look over the arcane sketches and the hurried handwriting. The guard spoke calmly, but with an air of great authority, to the frantic looking man.

"Joheim, I thought we had discussed this matter already." Jurgen looked at Joheim's tattered artillery uniform that he had donned and continued his speech,

"We even purchased you some new apparel to wear. What happened my friend? Come to think of it, how long has it been since you've been to town?"

Jurgen was sure that he had made his point well yesterday after returning the veteran to his manor, but indeed still found him making fast time through the street early in the morning while wearing wholly unsociable clothes. After seeing the leakage of papers that followed like a plume of smoke behind the man, Jurgen had decided to follow. It was not the same kind of dazed confusion as yesterday, he thought, so there must have been a reason for the action. Joheim, snapping out of his stupor, finally realized Jurgen had followed him.

"Ah! I am sorry, yes, but I had the most magnificent idea. I simply had to take it here, and I supposed they wouldn't let me in without proof of my standing and experience!"

"I cannot even understand these writings, nor these diagrams, what is it that you have invented exactly?" The large man asked, still with concern lining his voice.

"I have invented a new form of warfare my friend! One that will change the empire forever." Joheim stated with great excitement.

Jurgen just continued staring into the cannoneer with only concern in his eyes.

"And you hope to present it, in that state?"

"Yes of course it must be now, as soon as possible, or else the empire will surely fall!"

"The empire will fall? Joheim, what are you talking about?" Jurgen moved to put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I have seen it, Mannfred, our tactics are crude. Think, if a warrior with the eye of a chaos god on him can be granted strength beyond any human, then surely one day there will be more warriors of chaos than the strength of man can fight and with the way our technology has been going we are surely doomed to fail to outpace our enemy and keep the tide at bay!"

"Joheim, you're scaring me. Speak comfort friend, pray, what is your method of solving this great quandary?" The man spoke with apprehension now and withdrew his comforting arm.

"I-"

The madman was cut off, as the main gate squeaked open and two armored guards stepped out.

"What is the meaning of the racket you two are creating? Do you know where you are?" The first guard asked his tone conveying his irritation.

Joheim perked up, "Ah! perfect timing I was hoping to be granted audience with-"

"Quiet you! You, guardsmen, does this loon speak for you?" The second guard interrupted angrily.

"No. I mean… I am with him, yes, but… Please, I am aware of his state, but allow him to explain." Jurgen had grown timid in the face of what was, to him, a greater figure of authority, but his resolve to his new friend in need held out.

"Fine, but make it quick. We don't take kindly to loiterers." The first guard stated.

Joheim launched into his explanation once more, "I must see someone of standing and make a presentation, I have invented something revolutionary! it will change the empire you see."

The guards looked at each other and laughed, "I'm certain you have, wastrel! Did you invent a new way to pick the pockets of every greenskin? Will our steam-tanks be powered by rats from the gutter, I'm sure you could provide some!" The two men roared with laughter. An angry looking old man with a long flowing beard appeared behind the guards who quickly turned when he cleared his throat, now silently sweating under his gaze.

"Did I not tell you two to solve the noise problem, not to add to it? Go! Begone! Must I handle everything myself?!" The old man rasped angrily. "Now then, who be you two? My sight is not as it used to be."

"I am Joheim Burgenston of the 7th Nuln Great Cannon Regiment. I request an audience to share a proposal of great importance."

"Joheim… I know that name… Ah yes! You were a boy here before you joined the army. How did the service go, my boy, I simply must know!" The old man now seemed happy, as he recounted days of long ago.

"I lost my leg, sir, and was sent back."

The old man deflated as his memories seemed to turn sour, "Hm. I am sorry to hear it. Which fiend got one in on you? Greenskin? Beasts? Did you slight some dwarf?"

"Greenskin catapult, sir. They crushed the whole crew while I kept on firing. We won the day after I passed out." Joheim did not seem proud of his accomplishment, despite the look of admiration that passed over the old man's face.

"Good work lad, you did the school proud then! You know it's not just those meatheaded sword-swingers who have all the brass, by thunder! We cannoneers stick it out just like them I say!" His wrinkled face filled with passion as he once again recalled some days of yore. "Alright lad, someone as brave as you is surely worthy to speak on the blessed powder, you've earned it. Come on in and we'll find you some men to hear you out."

Joheim and Jurgen stepped behind the man gingerly as the door shut behind them. The armored guards stood flanking the doors on either side, looks of amazement on their faces at Joheims tale. They whispered to each other as the trio passed them by,

"I can't believe that raggedy scarecrow's uniform is real! I thought he was just some tricky beggar."

"You block-head, don't you know the look when you see it?"

"The look?" The first guard asked quietly.

"Yeah. The look that guys who've seen the fight come back with. They say that Morr himself gives them a peek into his garden so that everyone will know they're the real deal." The second guard answered with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Wow. I never knew." The guards looked on at the disfigured man hobbling away from them.

The grand entrance of the gunnery school was a great vaulted hall lined with golden cannons facing inwards towards the middle of the room. Hanging from the walls was the banner of Wissenland and from the ceiling was a copper chandelier. The room was octagonal with great doors leading to various quadrants of the academy. Joheim recalled them fondly as he bustled about the halls in between lessons and chatted with his pals beside the golden cannons. The old man led them deftly through the corridors of the school towards a classroom that was currently out of session. The stacked seats stretched into the rafters with a massive chalkboard looming at the front of the class. Joheim felt miniscule, like he was a boy again, standing at the front of the imposing room that laid out before him. The old man instructed the men to wait while he gathered some professors to hear his proposal. Joheim inspected the stand at the front of the room and placed his papers half-hazardly in a disorganized stack. The ladder next to the chalkboard, Joheim thought, would surely remain unused for the duration of the presentation as he felt there was no way for him to safely ascend it. The men shuffled in, they were well dressed and meticulously groomed, and they all looked as if they had better places they wished to be. Joheim suddenly felt silly as he wobbled and shivered in front of their indifferent gazes. It was as if he was staring into a wall of ice. As the young cannoneer flustered in front of the esteemed men, he felt a firm hand be placed upon his shoulder. He looked and found the gaze of Jurgen and the bearded man nodded with sincere certainty. The guard may not have understood what spirit had possessed his friend, or the eldritch designs he had shown him, but he knew that Joheim was passionate and that was enough for him. Joheim nodded, then straightened his back, as if under that same spell of when they first met on that cobbled road. His hands fell still at his sides and his gaze locked forward onto the men. He straightened his papers and tapped them twice on the stand, before uncaging his mind upon the room. The men leaned forward towards the transformation they had just seen, and now buzzed with a previously lacking eagerness.

"Warfare…" Joheim began calmly, "Is not an art, it is a science."

And with those simple words, he unleashed the torrent of his mind.