When Jurgen Mannfred was a boy, he grew up in the north of Ostland in the wintry town of Polestar. A fishing village renowned for nothing, Jurgen was destined to do nothing but be a fisher's son. He had no great aspiration and no grand ideas. Jurgen helped his father as best he could and grew strong rowing their boat with all his brothers out into the deeper waters just before the Sea of Claws proper. He was the eldest and therefore had to be the strongest, when he wrestled his brothers, he always had to win, and when his brothers cried, he could not share in their weakness. So it was when his mother was taken by weeping pox as it swept through the north of the empire. Jurgen shed no tears as his father and brothers wept at her snow swallowed grave. A few years later Jurgen's father was killed defending their tiny village from a small band of raiding northmen who came across the sea. The sea that had once provided their livelihood now brought the village its swift death. Jurgen and his brothers fled to the south and kept fleeing until they reached the gray mountains that cradled Wissenland. There in the bustling city of Nuln Jurgen hoped to find some peace. Jurgen worked any job that would take him, trying to feed his brothers, but even still some couldn't make it through such hardship and faded from hunger, or sickness. It was years later when a guard saw Jurgen's strength as he worked as a daytaler moving shipments for the gunnery school that he was recruited into the Nuln guard regiment. His brothers that remained lived well now and had grown to start their own families, but he still wondered if he could've done better for those that didn't make it. Perhaps, he wondered, this is why he stopped to talk to that strange looking man who wandered the streets that day instead of locking him up straight away in some Shallayan sanitarium or handing him over to the Order. When he saw that terrible and shaking man he saw his brothers, shivering in the cold of Ostland as they ran from their burning village, their father dying behind them. It was a chance for him to save just one more brother.
The three men walked with a strange rhythm as one hobbled, one strode, and one almost slithered across the cobbled pavement. The three discussed matters of homeland and family as they wandered aimlessly through the streets of Nuln. Silus was not nearly as diabolical as Jurgen had once thought, and he concluded that it was simply the man's demeanor that made him seem untrustworthy. The shady figure giggled maniacally not just when making a deal, but also when discussing something as innocuous as breakfast, and it certainly didn't help that he obscured his face habitually. Though, Jurgen figured, who was he to judge somebody's mannerisms when he could see no reason to consider them a dastard, besides he had given Joheim a chance and some would consider his demeanor even worse. Silus, it seemed, had grown up in the wastes of the west and moved to Nuln to try and share an invention of sorts as well. He said he had been shunned from both the Altdorf College of Magic and the Hochland College as well, so he figured the next best place to go was Nuln, even if gunnery didn't pertain to his idea exactly. He was just about to make his presentation when the old professor had told him it had been suddenly rescheduled for a surprise appearance from an old student. The rest of that story they already knew. After a while of chatting and planning their coming journey, the men had finally settled on one topic.
"So, Silus, what exactly is your idea?" Joheim asked.
"Oh, I didn't mean to leave you in such suspense." Silus said merrily, "I believe your idea of warfare cannot work without proper communication. I mean surely you remember from your time in the field that regiments use drums and banners to coordinate their actions, but drums and banners would not go far enough to help your men and the speed of a horse is only so fast."
"You have made a way to carry sound perhaps?" Jurgen guessed passively.
"Not quite guardsman, behold this!" Silus flourished his robe as he produced a small palm sized orb from within its folds. The two other men ogled, now enthralled, at the glass sphere. The sphere was weighty, but not heavy, and inside its glass swirled clouds of gray with sparks crackling in between, like a storm contained inside a bottle. The hooded man produced a corked bottle with a similarly entrancing storm cloud contained within, before looking to the others.
"What… Does it do?" Joheim stammered as his eyes glazed over, hypnotized by the swirling clouds.
"Not here my friend! We should return to your manor before unveiling my creation, you never know where eyes might pry."
Jurgen stared coldly at the shady man now, his previous warmth gone.
"Sorcerer… I should have guessed."
"A problem mister guardsman?" Silus grinned eerily at Jurgen, as Joheim stared into the orb indifferently.
"My father always said to never trust a sorcerer. They only bring bad luck." Jurgen greeted Silus's grin with a stern frown.
"I can assure you I'm nothing like the mages you've heard of my magic is somewhat more… subdued." Silus's smile disappeared for a moment and a genuine sadness passed over what little of his face Jurgen could see. This it seemed would be the year of compromises, Jurgen thought to himself. The large man sighed and dropped his threatening posture. He knew if the man had meant them harm, he would've already hurt them as the streets were empty and dark.
"Alright fine. Let's go back to Burgenston's and you can show us your orb."
"I am so very glad to hear that, sir, I was worried for a second there." Silus giggled airily, his smile returning. As the men turned to walk to Joheim's manor the hooded man silently sent Jurgen a knowing look, before turning back to discuss his orb with Joheim, who remained oblivious to it all.
When they returned to Manor Burgenston, Joheim was terribly anxious to see his invention and his remaining leg was aching very fiercely. The three men cloistered in Joheim's study where books and papers still lain strewn about from his many nights of sleep deprived research and fugue scribbling. Jurgen half-heartedly commented about cleaning up the mess but knew the cannoneer wasn't listening. Silus waited like a showman holding the bottle before the two men as they settled into their armchairs. The cork came out and a thick cloud formed above the bottle, still buzzing with lightning. Joheim, who had been holding the orb suddenly gasped as the clouds parted to reveal an image of what could be seen through the cloud that slithered out of the bottle. The cloud that snaked eerily out of the bottle parted as well to reveal a view that appeared to be from the orb. Silus spoke like he was directing a crowd now.
"Joheim, take the sphere and walk around with it and you'll still be able to see through the bottle."
Joheim stared, his mouth agape, as he wandered around his empty rooms, displaying the view to Jurgen and Silus who still remained in the study. When he returned Joheim began peppering the magician with rapid fire questions, allowing the man no time to answer even one before the next began. All Jurgen could manage was a single breathy 'wow' before staring at the image displayed in the clouds that hovered from the mouth of the bottle. Jurgen Mannfred knew they had made the right decision to trust Silus Geisman.
Author's Note
Hello, I hope you have been enjoying the story so far. I really appreciate the reviews its very kind! A few things I wanted to say very quickly which I just want to clear up, because I don't really want to do author's notes regularly. Starting off I do have a plan for what I'm writing this is not me flying by the seat of my pants here, so no need to worry about me not having ideas and just giving up on the story. Second thing, sorry if the dialogue is weird, I don't have quite as much practice you know? It feels difficult to imagine people talking and acting like people, but I hope it will get better as the story goes on. Third thing if you notice something that's weird or mis-spelled let me know and I'll fix it! I want this to be very good for people to read so mistakes like that really bother me, plus it's nice to know what landed for people and what didn't. Last thing which I was debating even adding, but the realism. I want to not ever bring this one up again just because I feel it could be annoying if I kept getting comments about it so better to nip it in the bud now. Warhammer is sometimes analogous to history, but overall is fantastical and unrealistic. There are some things I will change or concede as story points such as Joheim taking longer to write his manuscript, but I won't change the premise of the story. Rats have nukes and miniguns powered by magic crack, humans have tanks and gryphon riders, and there are green mushroom football hooligans that spend all day fighting in the desert, it's not supposed to be a deep analysis of the history of warfare in the real world, it's a piece about a set of events in the fantasy world of Warhammer. I don't want to tell people how to read the story, but in this case, I think the focus should be more on the spectacle of the battles and the journey of the characters than how man invented modern bullets. Thats really it, thanks for reading this far and sorry for the long author's note, which will not be a regular thing!