The Light of Defiance
He was very excited to finally be able to do his duty. After years of training in the temple, years of tests and preparations, Reinhardt Pauritsch was finally allowed to strike out on his own as a fully-fledged warrior priest of Sigmar. As much as he loved the disciplined life in the temple, the sermons, the drills, the prayers and just the complete order of everyday life that kept corruption at bay, he wanted to prove himself through service; both in the eyes of Sigmar and his fellow men. His journey has led him northwards to a small fort named Felsburg in Nordland. It was springtime and Reinhardt wanted to enjoy the time he spent traveling as the world around him teemed with life. The lush trees, the colourful flowers and other such wonders of Sigmar's beloved Empire filled his heart with love and inspiration. Reinhardt wanted to take as much of it as he possibly could for he knew that with spring came the thawing of the ice... and with the thawing, came the raids.
Reinhardt walked up the road that led to the fort leading his mule by the reins. He knew that the soldiers stationed at Felsburg would welcome the additional supplies. The area around the fort was flat and covered with grass and the edge forest was a few kilometres away from the fort's outer perimeter. The sight of Felsburg had, honestly, surprised him. He half expected to find a barely standing hovel made of dirt and wood. Nordland was not exactly a rich province and the only reason it still stood was that its people were so stubborn and resilient. Something they had in common with the Ostlanders. Perhaps Felsburg was meant to reflect those qualities. For it stood in stark contrast of the poverty induced by harsh living conditions and Norscan raids. It was built at the top of a steep cliff that overlooked the sea. The inner keep was made of stone with four towers incorporated into its corners. Their crenelations made them resemble like four crowns. The battlements atop the keep were outfitted with cannons that faced both sea and land while the walls on each floor were riddled with archer or rather gunner slits. The inner wall was also made out of stone and its battlements very much resembled the ones on the keep. Despite being built on the cliff, the wall also covered its edge so that it could present more cannons towards the sea. It also sported a crane. Probably for lifting provisions that came by ship. The outer wall was a palisade with rectangular wooden towers at its corners and a large guardhouse above its two gates. One was a portcullis and the other was a wooden gate that opened inwards. Since both were now open, Reinhardt could see the gates of the inner keep, which were also outfitted with a portcullis. There was also a third gate that, when opened, reached the palisade and was fixed in place with chains and wedges so it left no room to go anywhere except straight ahead. Flanked with two wooden rectangular towers it stood in line with the other gates in the centre of an earthen mound in front of which was a ditch filled with wooden stakes. The mound and the ditch surrounded the fortress and iron braziers were placed at regular intervals in front of the ditch.
After several minutes, the young priest stood in front of the outermost gate. "Greetings, valiant soldiers and may Sigmar's blessings be upon you! I am Reinhardt Pauritsch and I am looking for captain Heinrich." "Is that the priest?" a growling voice could be heard from one of the towers. Shortly after a head popped out over the palisade's edge. It was covered with a short grey beard and had an eyepatch over its left eye and a jagged scar across its cheek. "Ah, so it is you. Your temple told us you would come. I'll be right down." The captain quickly descended the tower via ladder. "As captain of this fortress, I bid you welcome to Felsburg", Heinrich said as he shook Reinhardt's hand. He also flashed a smile and revealed his chessboard grin. Somehow, the missing teeth did not make him off-putting but rather endearing. The priest understood it as a sign of confidence. "I see you did not come empty handed. What gifts does the temple send us?" "Three kegs of ale, three kegs of water, a sack of dried meat, a sack of lard and two sacks of flour." "Stop, stop..." the captain said laughing. "You had me at three kegs of ale." The priest's heart was overjoyed. Already he made veteran soldier of the Empire laugh. "If you don't mind me asking" Heinrich started after accepting the mule's reigns and as they started slowly walking towards the fort, "Reinhardt, why did you come here? I understand that warrior priests serve with the army but I thought you only involved yourselves with large engagements or ousting heretical cults." "Every priest has his calling. Some indeed hold their sermons in the midst of battle and others assist the witch hunters but there are also those that tend to the sick and the poor. The cults often target the hopeless with false promises of salvation. Those with no choice are the easiest to sway. I never saw myself as a part of some nobleman's retinue or serving at some court. I always felt my place was here, among the unsung heroes of the Empire." "I see. You want to contribute to the fight. Well, I believe me when I say you will find plenty of it here." "Yes, but it is more than just fighting. I believe you have more than enough capable men for that. I want to inspire hope. Hope that will linger in the hearts of these brave soldiers so they may pass it onto others when my path takes me elsewhere." "An admirable goal. Though I hope, you will not just stand in the back lines and preach. It would be a shame for such a well-crafted armour not to see some action." Reinhardt chuckled. His order was humble in everything except their wargear. His intricate and richly decorated plate armour reflected that well. "I assure you my equipment is not just for show. I have mastered everything from daggers to pikes and have participated in many beastmen hunts and several skirmishes with other foes. To bear this mantle, I had to prove I am a warrior in not just name." "From daggers to pikes you say... I thought your kind only fought with warhammers." The young priest smiled. "I see why you would think that." Reinhardt was indeed armed with a warhammer that was tall as he was with the top spike protruding slightly past his head. The hammerhead consisted of a back spike and a striking surface that had a small rhomboid spike in its centre. The bottom of the haft also sported a spike. When not in combat, it protected the wood when Reinhardt used it as a walking stick while on the road. On his right side an identical, albeit one handed, warhammer was tucked behind his belt and a heater shield covered with purity seals hung by its guige strap across his back. "It is true that the warhammer is a popular weapon of choice for obvious reasons but one never knows when he might find himself disarmed, or be a part of different formations that call for different weapons. Besides, even in the Life of Sigmar it is recorded that the Heldenhammer himself was forced to use a sword in the Battle of Black Fire pass when he was separated from Ghal Maraz. In addition, if you are a member of the Order of the Cleansing Flame your vocation often calls for subtlety. It would not do for someone tasked with destroying secret cults to give away his identity in such a manner." "I must admit I never thought of it like that. Still, I never understood why you priests do not wear helmets. At least put on an open-faced one or a sallet without a bevor so that everyone can still hear you preach." "Sigmar protects, my good captain!" he exclaimed and clutched a thick leather bound book that was suspended by chains and hung by his waist. "We are pillars of faith and must lead by example. We are only permitted to wear these steel headbands that symbolise different meanings depending on the type. A way for us to distinguish ourselves within the Order be it rank, accomplishments, or penance." "What does your mean?" Reinhardt's bald head was encircled by such a band from which sprouted small spiky protrusions. "That I am a novice that has yet to prove himself." Heinrich laughed. "I will see that you do, priest!"
They arrived at the second gate and passed beneath the guardhouse. The passage was surrounded by murder holes from above and from the sides. Reinhardt had to admit that the defences of this fort were strange. The outer perimeter seemed more like an obstacle than a defensive position and the rest of the outer defences seemed to funnel everything towards the gate. Upon exiting the passage, the priest saw that the third gate also sported a portcullis that was now lifted. The yard was bustling with soldiers and other men going about their business. "Captain, I would like to speak to the men." "Very well. Everyone, listen up!" the captain bellowed. "This is the warrior priest of Sigmar we were told would be coming. He has a few words he would like to say to you all." "Greetings, valiant soldiers of the Empire! May the blessings of Sigmar and all other gods of our great nation be upon you!" With one hand, he held the amulet of the Hammer that hung around his neck, and with the other, he made the sign of the Hammer in all directions around him. "My name is Reinhardt Pauritsch and it is my honour and a privilege to be serving alongside you in the battles to come. I pray we are successful in the defence of our land so that our families can keep living in peace as the Heldenhammer intended." He saw some of the soldiers make the sign of the hammer, others were merely looking at him either out of courtesy or because they were ordered to. Before silence could fully settle, captain Heinrich cleared his throat and added: "Also the priest brought ale." The entire yard erupted into cheers. Reinhardt clasped his hands as if in prayer. With a wide happy grin on his face, he thanked Sigmar that he blessed him by allowing him to see these men in such high spirits. "These are simple men. Give them time and they will accept you," Heinrich added after dismissing the men. "I look forward to earning their trust."
That night, a small celebration was held in honour of fort Felsburg's new guest. The ale Reinhardt brought was given to the men and was a subject of many conversations. Discussions about the taste, the aftertaste and brewing methods; the secrets of which Reinhardt could not fully disclose. When asked how come a priest is allowed to drink, he replied that who else will make sure that the ale the Temple brews is up to standard. It did not take long for competitions like arm wrestling to commence. Reinhardt was not a bulky man, but he was tough and his muscles were like roots of an old tree so he made a good showing of himself. When he was asked about his family, he replied that his mother was a tailor and that his father was everything from a mercenary and a state soldier to a town guard and even a bodyguard. A man he admired very much and the reason he took up this vocation, so that he can help people like him return to their homes. When two soldiers asked him to settle a debate about who is greater Sigmar or Ulric, he replied that in life Sigmar prayed to Ulric but it was Ulric who elevated him to godhood so that they may stand guard over the Empire and its people as equals. Both Sigmarites and Ulricans seemed satisfied by that answer. The whole night was indeed a merry ordeal. He even assisted the night guards tend to the braziers on the outer perimeter. Two groups were stationed, one in each tower. Two men would stay behind and stand watch while four others would make sure that the fire would burn brightly. The placement of the braziers would cast light the furthest and, due to the earthen mound, would not rob the sentries of their night vision. The celebration ended in the eleventh hour. Reinhardt made his way to the chapel devoted to Sigmar on the top floor within the inner keep. The fort had chapels devoted to every god of the Empire that was worshipped in the area. They were primarily meant for soldiers to come and pray or sit in peace with their thoughts, but each chapel had a small humble room in the back in case a priest visited and needed somewhere to stay. A bed, above which was a window, a table with half-melted candles with a creaking chair, tucked underneath it, and a wardrobe. Although this room also had a stand meant for Reinhardt's armour. Somehow he thought that it was a recent addition. Heinrich told him that the largest chapel, that was in fact a temple, was the one devoted to Shallya. The reason behind that was simple. It was the fort's infirmary. Reinhardt was also told that the soldiers had a very special relation to the Sisters of Shallya serving there. They regarded them as if they were their true sisters, older or younger. Reinhardt was able to see this for himself during the celebration. If one of the Sisters happened to pass by the noise would die down a bit and all bawdy jokes would immediately cease and give way to more polite conversations. As soon as they were gone, all would revert to the way it was. Reinhardt would normally sink into a deep meditative trance, which would reduce his need for sleep, but tonight he would allow himself to fully relax and let the dreams take him away. Today was indeed a good day.
On the following day, he tidied up the chapel and made it ready for service. During breakfast, Reinhardt announced that he will be holding a sermon in the chapel every day after supper and that he was always available if anyone was in need of guidance or a confession. When meals were being given out, he always made sure to be the last one in line so that he could say grace in silence while the men were eating. He was happy that some soldiers waited for him to finish praying, but he did not mind those that did not. They have earned their meal and had every right to dig in. He would spend the rest of the day helping the men in their duties. During his sermons, he read and preached about the peaceful parts from the Life of Sigmar. For now. "Longships, captain", said the lookout. "How many?" "Over a score. Six dragonships, twelve snakeships, and supply vessels." "That can be up to a thousand men... This is no mere raid." "What of our ships?" Reinhardt asked. "They patrol coastal settlements. Nordland does not have that many ships to spare so the forts have to rely on their fortifications alone." "Do we know where they will land?" "There is a cove not far from here. Easily defensible and well protected from the elements. We planned to fortify it for a long time but by the time we are able to, the raiding season beings. What of their colours?" The lookout again looked through the spyglass. "Vargs, sir!" "Bad news just became worse. Tell the men to tend to their gear and start covering the palisades with wet clay and I want this done daily!" The nearby soldier nodded and ran off. "How many men do we have?" Reinhardt asked. "Little more than 700, but this is not a raiding party. We have not seen a force this large in decades especially this early in spring. Normally, we would have outriders hunting for their warbands but this has all the makings of an invasion. Come with me! Help me write the notes for our messengers." They hastily wrote Heinrich's warnings and messengers were soon dispatched to other forts and settlements along with scouts to watch the roads for enemy movements. All they could do now was wait.
The amount of guards on each watch was doubled and arbalests were at the ready each time the braziers were being inspected. For two days, there were no signs of them. A few hours past noon on the third however, a distant echo of drums could be heard. "Looks like your chance to prove your self is nigh, priest" Heinrich commented as he was getting ready. "Have the cannon crews at the ready but they are not to fire unless they see trolls, giants or one of their bloody shamans! The handgunners are not to engage unless they send their damned knights at us!" Reinhardt's usual cheerful demeanour was replaced by a grim determination. "I will command the troops from the guardhouse, you will join the halberdiers." Reinhardt nodded and marched to the courtyard. He approached the unit and said: "The commander said I am to join you. I ask permission to stand in the first rank." "By all means, priest! Better you than me" said a man with a short beard as he moved to the back line. Reinhardt took his place at the rightmost corner. "Say, priest, if you die can I have your armour?" Some of the men laughed. "I'd rather one of you have it than those foul northmen." "Let's hope he fights better than he preaches" another round of laughs were drawn. "Oh, lay off lads! The priest brought us ale. He has already done more than the lot of you!" yelled a moustachioed veteran that was standing next to him. Reinhardt looked at him and said: "The reach of my weapon is shorter than yours. When we make contact, I will step out of line. Do not break ranks. I will stay within the reach of your halberds." "Worry not, priest. We have your back." Reinhardt smiled. "I could not ask for more. It is as if Sigmar himself protects me with you brave men by my side" he said while making the sign of the Hammer towards all that surrounded him. The drums were getting louder. "Here they come!" yelled Heinrich. "Perimeter guards! Fall back and bring the ladders with you! Halberdiers, move to the second gate!" They marched beneath the guardhouse and the third gate closed behind them once the perimeter guards passed them by. The light from the murder holes illuminated the darkness while through the bars of the portcullis they could see the enemy form ranks. Outside, drums and snarling roars of the northmen could be heard. They had yet to make their move. The pounding of the drums seemed to echo in the dim hall beneath the guardhouse. No one dared say a word. Everyone was either keenly listening for an order to be given, or were perhaps on the verge of losing their nerve. Reinhardt's grip tightened around his pole hammer. "Not one of us will die this day. This I swear!" he uttered. Loud enough to be heard, and quiet enough so his words not be mistaken for an order. This time, he would refrain from preaching. Better to save that after he has shown his prowess. As soon as the drums stopped, a loud battle cry erupted. The second gate rose and allowed the rushing horde in. "Charge!" Reinhardt shouted from the top of his lungs as soon as the gates were completely out of the way. The others were with him as soon as he moved. The first rank of the Norscans was impaled on the spikes of the Imperials. Reinhardt impaled his opponent in the throat, right above his left collarbone. Failing to push through, the Vargs attempted to form a line with their shields, but the halberds pulled them aside and made short work of any who tried to stand before them. Reinhardt bashed away at the Norscan flank. By swinging his hammer in a figure-of-eight motion he struck with both hammer and beak and a quick thrust with the spike stopped anyone foolish enough who tried to rush him. A feint golden light started to shimmer at the edges of his vision. The first gate hemmed the enemy in, preventing them from spilling to the sides, and forced them to face the halberds. While they were being hacked to bits from the front, crossbows thrummed from above and thinned their back line. Reinhardt started to push deeper into enemy ranks while still making sure he was within reach of the halberds. The only blows he had suffered so far were from the Norscan half-pikes. Most of them struck from the back lines but the priest's armour and skill kept him safe. Those that managed to reach the front lines could outreach the halberds but their axes and spikes would easily tangle them up and make them useless. Realising their hopelessness, the Vargs began to break. When they turned to run Reinhardt yelled: "After them!" Another Imperial charge. This time they did not stop until they reached the first gate. They knew not to pursue beyond that. The northmen could field many horrors that could outflank and surround them in an instant. The satisfied themselves by watching the crossbow bolts pick off the survivors that were still within range. A loud cheer erupted from fort Felsburg when the last Varg fled the field.
The entire fort was congratulating the arbalests and the halberdiers. A lot of the praise was directed at Reinhardt, which he accepted with humility and never failed to point out the skill and bravery of the rest of the unit. No one fell and no one was wounded. Just as he promised. Captain Heinrich rotated the units in the case of another attack, but Reinhardt insisted he be allowed to accompany this one as well. "Only after you have had some rest!" Heinrich demanded. "Very well. I will be in my chambers but I insist you send someone for me at once should those curs attack again." "You have my word. Now go." He left after a nod. When he arrived in his room, he bundled his covers, placed them on the floor and topped them off with his pillow. After kneeling on the small mound, he laid his head and sprawled his arms on the bed. Within moments, he sunk deep into his trance. After two hours he rose, fresh and rested. He rushed to the courtyard where he found the men at their posts. "Has anything transpired in my absence?" "Nothing at all. They were testing us. Either tomorrow or tonight, they will try again." "How many did they send against us today?" "About 300 men. We killed about more than a third that number. I had them counted while we were stacking them up before we burned them." "Well done, captain! It is best to burn their foul remains rather than risk spreading their corruption." "True, but I wanted them to see what will happen if they come back." "I do not think that will discourage them." "I know. I want to goad them. Let them lose what little sense they have when they see it. I assure you it will only get larger." "With Sigmar's blessings let it be so," he said as he made the sign of the Hammer.
The night passed by peacefully, but the dawn was greeted with the blaring of horns. From the top of the palisade, Reinhardt saw the force assembled in the field. Nothing more than black stains of filth that stood in contrast with the morning mist. They were not men. To Reinhardt they were slightly less twisted versions of beastmen but immensely more despicable. Beastmen and mutants were cursed creations that had no choice but to be what they are. Killing them was a mercy to both them and the world they inhabited. The Norscans choose to be abominations and that is why killing them is a sacred duty for every scion of the Empire. He took his place at the rightmost corner of the first rank of the unit. These were different men and this time no one cracked any jokes. They marched beneath the guardhouse and the third gate was shut behind them. Again, the ungodly noises made by the Norscans echoed within the murder hall. It seemed louder than last time. "And so it was in those days" Reinhardt rose his voice above the noise "that Sigmar did rally his armies and drove the wicked northmen back across the sea! As our ancestors have done in the past so shall we do now! We will be the anvil upon which they will break! Sigmar wills it so!" A roar of cheer erupted from the halberdiers. Just in time for the second gate to open. "Advance!" Reinhardt ordered for this time their shields were placed in their first line. They were more organized now and were not rushing in like maddened dogs. From behind the shields, half-pikes erupted forcing the halberdiers on the defence. If they tried to tangle the half-pikes, the shields would advance. It they tried to dismantle the shields, the half-pikes would strike at them. The arbalests were trying their best to thin out the attackers but there were just too many and more would arrive each minute. Reinhardt's shorter reach became an advantage. It forced him to step out of line past the heads of the half-pikes and start bashing away at the shields. He knew something had to be done and fast. After hooking a shield aside and quickly thrusting, he dispatched two Vargs in front of him. Before they fell, he thrust past them into the ones holding the half-pikes. Before two more shielded foes rushed him, he struck a third man on his left into his shoulder blade and crushed it forcing him to drop his shield and receive a halberd spike into his chest. No matter how many times the priest made a gap it would quickly be filled by the relentless Norscans. He could hear the screams of the falling halberdiers behind him. A silent prayer passed his lips. A bright golden light now framed the edges of his vision as he felt a surge of otherworldly power course through him. "Kneel, curs! Submit to the might of the Heldenhammer!" Reinhardt bellowed. His pole hammer left a golden trail behind him as he swung it wildly. Shields before him were torn to splinters and four men were sent flying. Another swing and two more were driven into the ground. Fuelled by his zeal he waded deep into the enemy ranks leaving only a trail of red mist and broken corpses in his wake. Seeing his unstoppable onslaught, the Norscans broke. The halberdiers gave chase but went only as far as the priest did. As soon as he reached the first gate, he halted. "Gather the wounded! Take them to the infirmary!" All obeyed without pause as crossbow bolts flew over them.
Reinhardt rushed in the infirmary with two men across his shoulders. The power was still coursing through him and everyone who saw him took a moment to take in the golden aura emanating from him. He demanded to be taken to the ones who have suffered the worst injuries. An axe to the collarbone and a half-pike to the gut were the only two that were still alive. The priest knelt beside them and placed his hands above their wounds. As he was muttering his prayers, his golden light seemed to fully retreat into him and flow from chest, down his hands and out his outstretched palms. By the time the light stopped pouring out of him, the wounds were fully healed and Reinhardt was visibly exhausted. The two men, strained by their ordeal, fell into a deep sleep. "Where might I be of service?" Reinhardt uttered, barely louder than a whisper. "Rest, brother... Shallya will continue the work you started." A face of a young woman smiled beneath a white hood. "I cannot rest while there is holy work to be done..." "And yet you must if you are to perform it as your god intended. Or do you wish to collapse and task us with another duty?" "Very well, sister... a short rest will do me good." She led him to an empty cot. He lied down and sunk deep into his trance. Two hours had passed before he awoke. By that time, all the wounded were tended to and were now resting. Reinhardt made his way to Heinrich's chambers. He found the captain at his desk holding a piece of parchment. "I would've hardly believed what you did if I hadn't saw it for myself." "Sigmar acted through me. Offer your thanks to him." "I did and so did most of the men who were fighting with you today." A weary smile flashed across his lips. "These northmen... they were like nothing I have ever seen. So organized and disciplined... like a dark reflection of our soldiers." "Indeed. Most unusual" mused Heinrich. "I could hardly believe what I saw, even before you turned the tide. Then again things like these aren't unheard of, correct?" "You are indeed." "Cormac Bloodaxe, was it?" "I see you know your history." "Every officer must study Sigmar's battles. Who better to learn from, am I right?" Reinhardt bowed his head and made the sign of the Hammer. "We must adapt in our approach. I will send some swordsmen down with you as well. Their shields will be of good use in the first rank. After you engage, you will slowly retreat and lure them in the murder hall. The gates behind you will be opened but the portcullis will be lowered. After you have drawn them in, you will kneel so that the arbalests can shoot unimpeded in case they brought javelin or axe throwers. Finally, we will pour boiling oil at them from the murder holes and from above the second gate. All you have to do is finish the rest and repeat until they retreat. I will explain this to the men so you don't have to worry." "Understood." "We do not know how long this will last, so I am going to use our resources sparingly. I advise you do the same. Trust me when I say, you are of no use dead." "If I believe I must act, then I will give my all. However, I will heed your counsel. You are the commander after all." "I can ask no more than that." "Are we any closer to finding out what is behind this?" "Sadly, no. I am still waiting on one of my scouts to return. I was thinking of sallying forth with our riders but have decided against it. Last thing I want is to be surrounded by packs of rabid chaos hounds or ambushed by their cavalry. All we can do is delay them and hope they abandon this siege." "What of our provisions?" "Worry not... We are well stocked. We can survive this raiding season and the next winter. After that... well... I guess we will just have to manage."
Reinhardt joined the men patrolling the palisade. When it became evident that there was not going to be another attack, he made sure not to neglect his duties as a priest. In the case an attack did come, Heinrich's plan worked like a charm. However, no matter how many they slay, the Norscans would not relent. From the watchtower, they could see more and more ships arriving every day. It was hard to believe that so many Norscans could survive in the frozen hellscape they call home. Weeks passed by. Though the defenders suffered minimal losses, exhaustion both mental and physical started to take its toll. The men became grim and short tempered and nothing that Reinhardt did seemed to lift their spirits. No act of valour, no sermon or speech could rouse them from their gloomy state. One night, a rider came to Felsburg. Reinhardt watched him closely. The newcomer dismounted and removed his hood. The priest sprang into action but a hand on his shoulder held him back. It was Heinrich. "Let me go! He bears the marks of the ruinous powers on his face!" "He is our spy, and they wash of after a good scrub. Knut, what news do you bring?" "Bad ones." "Your name is Norscan" said Reinhardt in a somewhat threatening tone. "As is my blood. I am a descendant of the Skaelings that centuries ago colonised this province. However, since then, my people have little ties with our kin across the sea. They raid us all the same. We still teach our young the old language, but that is where our similarities end." "I wonder what else you teach them..." "That's enough Reinhardt" Heinrich intervened. "Knut has been helping us for years and he has saved many of our people. Now, tell me what you know." "It appears a new king has risen in Norsca. He carved out a large portion of it as his kingdom. No one has seen him in a long time but his warriors still fight in his name. They have displaced many tribes and this is the result. What you faced so far is just the beginning. This is not a raiding party, or a warband. I thought only a clan or two would arrive... but it seems like an entire tribe is bearing down on you." "Another invasion, then." "It seems so and they aim to take this fortress and turn it into their foothold." Reinhardt has heard enough. He ran to the guardhouse turned towards the courtyard and rose his hands high above his head. "Defenders of Felsburg, harken to me!" he bellowed as loud as he could to make sure he got everyone's attention. "REJOICE! The enemy bears down on us in force. Numberless heathens are on the march with the single intent of putting us all to the sword. Rejoice! For the fools believe we are easy prey. Every day we stand, is a day your families are safe. Your loved ones are safe. Your homes are safe. Every day we resist the mound or ash and charred corpses will grow larger. A monument to Sigmar's divine wrath! Let the heretics come for they will never leave this place! We will break their blasphemous horde. For every one of our lives we will take a score of theirs! So stand fast, sons of Sigmar! Defenders of His Empire. Stand fast and rejoice!" A roar erupted from the crowd. Not one of cheering, but of a bloodlust-fuelled defiance. Reinhardt could see the glow of zeal in their eyes. He grinned for he knew the Norscans would regret the day they set foot on these shores. By the time he descended, Knut was astride his horse and on his way back. "Before I leave, priest, there is something you should know. You are a topic of many discussions among the Vargs. Some see you as a worthy challenge but most just want the glory that comes with your skull." "Then they are welcome to try and take it." Knut laughed. "The more you distinguish yourself in their eyes, the less likely they are to raid other areas. Who knows... if you keep this up you might just draw out their chieftain." "I look forward to breaking him beneath my hammer. Also... I owe you an apology. Despite your... unfortunate background, you appear to be a staunch defender of the Empire." Knut smirked. "And you seem to be quite reasonable. At least for a warrior-priest." "Go with Sigmar's blessing" Reinhardt retorted emotionlessly. "May Ulric and Manann keep you as well!" Knut then rode off into the night.
Another week passed by before the drums of war were heard again. "Chaos knight!" the guard alerted from his post. "How many?" Heinrich asked. "I see but the one." "How many men does he lead?" "More than any number we have faced so far." "Swordsmen to the palisade! I want every halberdier in the courtyard! Hadgunners take positions on the inner wall and cover us in case we retreat!" Reinhardt was beneath the guardhouse yet again. "...and lo, before Him marshalled the armies of darkness. At the head of the abominable host stood the mightiest mortal servant of Chaos, Morkar the first Everchosen aided by the powerful daemon called The Skulltaker. Despite all the powers of perdition at their beck and call it was Sigmar who cast them down and delivered them unto eternal damnation! Their greatest champions brought low and driven into the dust! Today the foe we face are naught but dregs. Show them what Imperial faith and steel can do!" A deafening battle cry followed just before the gate rose. They followed Heinrich's plan, but the Norscans held their ground and would not pursue them into the murder hall. "Boarding planks! They are climbing over the ditch!" Suddenly the Norscan lines parted and the towering knight came forth. He rose his humongous axe and pointed at Reinhardt. "Captain, focus on the walls! I will handle this!" Reinhardt shouted up as he stepped in front of his men and before the chaos knight. The lines parted to give them space. The chaos knight wasted no time and swung his huge axe with surprising speed. Reinhardt barely sidestepped. The attacks kept coming and the priest did all he could just to avoid the giant axe. No ordinary man could lift such a weapon and yet this fiend wielded it as if a regular person would a rapier. Backing away was not an option. It would endanger his comrades or himself should his back face the Norscans. Blocking was also out of the question. As the chaos knight was readying another swing, Reinhardt gripped the bottom of his weapon's haft with a single hand and thrust forward fully extending his arm and lunging into the strike. The northman backed away from the strike aimed at his face. The priest used the opportunity to pull his weapon back into a two handed grip, step forward and bring his hammer down onto his opponent's exposed elbow with all his might. The Norscan's arm dropped but he still threw a wild one-handed swing to keep his opponent at bay. Reinhardt evaded the strike but his effort to press the attack was foiled with a backhand swing of the axe and a kick that slammed him into the barrier made by the opened first gate. While the Sigmarite priest staggered to his feet, the chaos knight shook the pain away in his right arm. Reinhardt could not do this alone. He started muttering a prayer and divine strength coursed through him once more. His eyes, the amulet around his neck, and the tome hanging by his waist erupted with a gleam of golden light. "For thee, Sigmar!" The combatants charged at each other. Placing all their might into a single blow, Reinhardt's blazing hammer clashed with the northman's axe. The gigantic weapon was smashed to pieces but the force of the blow knocked the priest's weapon from his hands. He pulled his one-handed warhammer, dove beneath the hulking Varg's punch, and delivered a two-handed strike on the inside of his knee. Crushed, it buckled under the enormous weight placed upon it. Only now when he knelt were the two warriors at eye level. Reinhardt attempted to strike his head, but the northman caught his arm and attempted to retaliate with his other free hand but was blocked in turn. Even through the vambrace, the priest felt the enormous pressure threatening to crush his arm. With no other choice, Reinhardt put all his strength and weight into a head-butt. The steel band around his forehead smashed into the horned helmet of the chaos knight. The grip around his arm did not loosen. Without hesitation, he struck again and again and again relentlessly and with no remorse. Blood blinded him. His or his enemy's he did not know. When he felt the arms of his foe go slack under the repeating volley of his blow, Reinhardt reached in the general direction his shoulders and grabbed the first thing he got his hands on and pulled the brute into another strike. Screaming in zeal and pain, he delivered a few more blows before staggering away. However, he quickly resumed his grip to steady himself as his head started spinning. With his free hand, he wiped the blood from his eyes. The golden halo still framed his vision. First, he saw the wreck that remained of his foe's head. The helmet was deformed beyond recognition and anything that might have been beneath it was leaking out its slits or was splattered across Reinhardt's cuirass. The distant din of battle could be heard from the palisade but the silence that surrounded him was deafening. "Reinhardt! Reinhardt the Hammerhead!" someone shouted from the imperial lines. The imperials charged forward chanting: "Hammerhead! Hammerhead!" while at the same moment the Norscans turned and fled. This time, when they passed the fort's outer perimeter they were sent off not by a volley of crossbow bolts, but by a barrage of cannon fire. Most of those fighting on the walls were not aware of the development and those who fell behind were slaughtered to a man. Reinhardt was still trying to regain his balance when the returning halberdiers started congratulating him. They were all smiles and cheers and all he could do was grin sheepishly as he did his best to ignore the ringing in his ears. Hope once again shined in the eyes of the soldiers. "Bring out the blessed ale I brought!" Reinhardt demanded over the noise. "This victory deserves to be washed down with something holy!" "HUZZAH!"
The celebration waited until the wounded were gathered and tended to. That included Reinhardt. He hissed in pain as the young sister of Shallya removed the metal band from his forehead. It bit deep into the skin and almost scraped the flesh from his skull. She cleaned and disinfected the wound before wrapping it up. "Sister, please place the band back on my head," Reinhardt gently requested as she was moving a candle back and forth in front of his eyes. "I cannot. It will cause you pain and may reopen your wound..." "Please... the men must not see me weak. Not after today when they have regained some measure of hope." She put away the candle. "Very well" she relented reluctantly. "Seeing as you have only suffered lacerations I will allow it. However, please refrain from such actions in the future. I scarcely recognised you when you staggered in here." "I was not aware someone here remembered my face. After my last visit you made me agree to save my strength for fighting and leave the healing to you." "We each save people in our own way. You need not bear the weight of the world alone. After all, even Sigmar could not achieve all he could without aid from his friends and ancestors." "You speak true, sister..." Reinhardt agreed as he made the sign of the Hammer. "As for your face, well... The last time you were here I could hardly tell if you were dead or just asleep so I checked on you every time I could." "Apologies, sister... we are trained to sink into trances to reduce the time we spend asleep. It is not an easy skill to pick up." "It sounds very useful for the ever vigilant servants of Sigmar. Perhaps you could teach me someday." "If Sigmar wills it, I shall." Ale was distributed that night as was promised. It was enjoyed over a fresh pyre of norscan dead. The knight was hacked to pieces and impaled on tall spikes. Reinhardt performed rites of exorcism as he did every time new corpses were stacked on the mound. A measure of insurance in case a malefic force festered there. "A toast to you, my hammer-headed friend" said Heinrich as he rose his cup. "Congratulations on today's victory." "A most glorious triumph in Sigmar's name" Reinhardt exclaimed as he made the sign of the hammer "and made all the more evident by this" he outstretched his arms towards the mound of corpses. "A towering monument to Sigmar's glory!" "Indeed it is..." Heinrich let the silence settle. If I may ask for a favour, priest." "You have but to say it." "I am getting old. Today's fight at the palisade showed me that. I think I may fare better down with the halberdiers. I believe I will be more useful as a part of a unit rather than a lone fighter." "I accept on one condition." Reinhardt placed his pole hammer in front of him. "Blessed Sigmar I beseech you... bless this righteous tool of war so that it may continue to do holy work in the hands of your devout servant. Let it strengthen him as he pours his faith in it..." The hammer gleamed with a faint golden light as a faint hum of power thrummed about it. "Please bare my weapon into battle. It will be of little use to me on the walls." Heinrich accepted it. "Thank you, Reinhardt..." he said as he took a deep breath. "I... I can feel it... the blessing" he spoke with glee. "I feel the strength of my youth again." "Remember, as long as you keep the faith this weapon will not fail you."
After that, the attacks became relentless. Countless frothing savages would charge the gate and swarm over the ditch using their axes as hooks to climb the palisade. "All right, boys! Hammerhead will hold the walls but fear not! His blessed hammer is down here with us. Sigmar's light will keep us from harm!" Reinhardt's heart soared at the captain's words as he continued to preach from atop the guardhouse. "...thus the northmen did besiege Middenheim for almost a fortnight." His hammer cracked a berserker's skull. "For thirteen days the Fauschlag stood defiant" he drove the rim of his shield into the windpipe of an onrushing savage crushing it. "We have resisted these wretches for an entire spring and now summer is upon us!" He smacked a heretic in the head so hard with the face of his shield that he spun in place. With the back of his head presented, Reinhardt crushed it with his hammer. "Sigmar and Ulric are beaming with pride at your actions! Defenders of Their Empire! Saviours of Their people!" Just as a head peaked over the top of the palisade, Reinhardt jammed the top spike of his hammer into it, casting the raider to his death. "These faithless weaklings you face are hollow! Empty! Show them how real men fight!" The soldiers redoubled their efforts, inspired by his words. For days, he held his battle sermon. Like ants, they advanced and crawled over the palisade. Like gnats, they were crushed and cast into oblivion. When his voice so hoarse he could no longer speak, he offered unspoken prayers. He asked Sigmar to let the soldiers feel His presence through the humble vessel that could no longer utter words that glorified His deeds. Reinhardt shone like a beacon of righteousness and blazed even more brightly when night fell. The soldiers never tired and they never wavered.
When the summer was at its hottest the attacks ceased. In this brief moment of respite, Reinhardt was standing at the back wall enjoying the setting sun as it glistened across the surface of the sea. "You know" Heinrich spoke behind him "in moments like these we would lower a boat with that crane and go fishing. Most of the men grew up in fishing villages and each village has their own way of fishing. It was a lovely sight." Reinhardt tried to imagine the joy they would share. "How fares your voice?" "Much better. One of the sisters gave me some herbal tea that worked wonders for my throat." "I am very glad to hear it, my friend." After a brief pause, Reinhardt asked: "Did you grow up in one such village, captain?" "No, sadly... I was born somewhere in the Border Princes. A dreary place from what I remember. Joined up a mercenary group as a child just to get out of there. I am pretty sure it does not exist anymore. What of you? Where were you born?" "Bechafen in Ostermark. I lived there as a boy before I joined the Order." "Ostermark you say. They have a fair share of their own problems down there. Why not stay there and help?" "I... I could not. There is nothing for me there anymore." Sorrow etched itself across his face. "I guess I came out here to save myself through some form of service." "It is not my place to pry, but somehow it seems to me that a man, who wants to inspire hope, has none for himself." A weary smile flashed across his lips. "Don't tell me you came here to die?" the captain asked worryingly. "Not at all. I must live on. I must combat despair wherever I may find it even if it is just a projection of my own inner struggle." Heinrich placed a hand on Reinhardt's shoulder. "I know that you have certainly made a difference here. Either whatever burden you are carrying on your heart will become lighter with time or you will rid yourself of it eventually. You are still young, though if I may say you hardly look it anymore." Reinhardt turned to face him. The captain was right. In his reflection, he saw many wrinkles and he looked so weathered down it was as if he aged overnight. "Sigmar's favour takes a toll on both the body and the soul. Being a vessel for such a divine power is draining especially if it is invoked as often as I did. I should adjust to it more with time, if Sigmar wills I live that is."
The summer was mostly uneventful. However, no one inside Felsburg had any inkling what was going on in the rest of the province. For all they knew, they might have been the last remnant of humanity left. During one night, a few boats were lowered, each containing four easily wounded men who were fit enough to move and work but not fit enough to participate in pitched combat. Each man held a letter written by Heinrich. It was a desperate act but it was the least consequential thing they could do. They dared not send outriders. Entering the forest meant certain death even without a raiding norscan horde and all the roads were surely watched. However, everyone knew what this prolonged silence meant. A mustering was taking place. The days were becoming noticeably shorter. Autumn had come. "Two longships heading straight for us!" "Blow them out of the sea!" the captain retorted. "Sorce..." The guard was cut off by a deafening blast that shook the entire cliff. "Fireballs! They are trying to collapse the cliff!" The cannons returned fire. "The bastards are swerving our shots! We can't get a hit!" The earth shook once more. "Leave those foul witches to me!" Reinhardt shouted as he ran towards the back wall. He stood amongst the cannon crews and saw the two ships circling like hungry sharks. Reinhardt rose his hammer and flipped open his book. It opened on the exact chapter and verse he required. A golden light emanated from the pages and soon his eyes, amulet and weapon started to share the same glow. While he was muttering his prayer, a huge fireball in the form of a screeching leering skull flew towards them. It struck an ethereal barrier made from golden light. "...and you who have struck down Nagash the great necromancer, have proclaimed whilst we wield the shield of faith we must heed not the witch!" Thunder boomed and the sea started to roil. The shaman redoubled his efforts but it was futile. "Vile magicks will not triumph over divine righteousness!" Another boom but this was not a sign of heavenly wrath. The cannons facing the gates have opened fire and a ceaseless barrage had begun. Now was not the time to waver. The cannons beside him still could not get a clear hit and flaming skulls kept pounding at the divine barrier. The other shaman had to be dealt with. "Blessed Sigmar, heed my prayer! You who have triumphed over evil show these blasphemers what wretched fate awaits them! Deliver onto them your word of damnation!" The shaman's screams of despair could be heard all the way up to the fort. "Mighty Sigmar! Reveal your majesty to the unbeliever! Let your portent be the last thing they see! Rain your godly wrath down upon them!" The sky split open and a golden comet streaked across the heavens. It burst through the incoming fireball and smashed one of the ships to splinters. "Open fire!" Reinhardt commanded. Without the malefic interference, the other ship was sunk with a single volley.
Reinhardt rushed back along the wall. "Shoot the prisoners! Do not let them take any of our men alive!" A crossbow bolt or an ounce of lead were a mercy compared to what awaited those who were captured. He did not want to believe the situation was so bleak but when he reached the inner gate, he saw a vast horde pressing the attack. The outer field was ripped apart by cannon fire and was littered with the dismembered norscan dead. With each cannon shot, a dozen enemies fell but they still kept coming. The outer defences were all but overrun and the courtyard was covered with dead Imperials and Vargs alike. Valiant men cleaved lengthwise in two and dreaded knights from the northern wastes shot to pieces by handgunners. He saw squads of soldiers bring down armoured behemoths like a pack of well-trained hunting dogs would a boar, and those same men being slaughtered in turn in acts of brutal savagery. In the middle of it all, he saw one of the norscan armoured elite hold up Heinrich by the back of his cuirass. Even defeated, the captain still held on to the hammer Reinhardt gave him. "Come out, preacher of the pretender god!" the giant man challenged. The priest bellowed in rage. He swung his hammer and from its head flew a miniature golden comet that struck the foul champion and bore a hole through his chest. Reinhardt rose his voice above the din of the battle once more. "Cast these heathens out! In the name of Sigmar!" His voice reverberated through the battlefield inspiring dread in the hearts of the heretics and valour in the heart of Sigmar's sons. The tide of battle turned and the raiders were driven off. Reinhardt personally carried the captain to the infirmary and tended to his wounds himself. This time the sisters did not refuse him. They needed all the help they could get. He took care of the lightly wounded so that the Sisters could focus on more dire cases. It was not until nightfall before they were done. Heinrich soon came to. He suffered only minor injuries and was knocked unconscious. "Tell the men to abandon the outer defences and fortify the inner wall," he groaned. "It has already been done." "Damn those huskarls... they forced us to retreat. What I would have given for a contingent of knights." "Rest, captain. This siege is far from over." The inner gate was closed and barred. The priest knelt before it and began praying. "...you whose strength protects the realms of men bless this bastion and may it forevermore deny the heretic!" A golden light rippled throughout the gate and inner wall. When everyone was asleep, he blessed the gate of the keep and of the temple of Shallya in the same way. Exhausted, he made his way to his chamber and sunk deep into his trance.
Even with the bodies removed, the courtyard resembled a ruined graveyard with all the blood soaked churned earth. The first three gates were ruined and the portcullises were demolished. Even if they had the men, the outer defences could not be held. The Norscans resumed their probing attacks. They tried to overwhelm the inner wall with ladders. The berserkers would be shot down by crossbow bolts, while norscan knights would be bludgeoned to death with mauls when they attempted to scale the walls. For some reason, Reinhardt could not bring himself to hold his battle sermons any longer. Though his body fought on, his soul was exhausted. It seemed like; no matter what he did or how hard he fought... it would not be enough. If they could only hold on for a little longer. Autumn had set in. The raiding season would soon be over. Only... this was not a raid. These Vargs most likely fled the destruction of their homes. They will not leave these shores before winter comes. Like the imperial soldiers, they had nowhere else to go. One morning, during his inspection of the wall, Reinhardt noticed a swordsman without his shield. "You, soldier... Tell me your name and rank!" demanded Reinhardt, his voice not bereft of kindness. "Hans, sir. A sergeant." "Where is your shield, sergeant Hans?" "It got destroyed when they first broke through. We had spare ones in the armoury but I wanted my lads to be properly equipped and so I came up short." The corner of Reinhardt's lips drew into a smile. "Your men a fortunate to have such a selfless commander. Here" the priest said as he offered him his shield. "May this blessed shield serve you as well as it served me." The sergeant fell to one knee. "Thank you, sir!" he said as he accepted the defensive weapon. "But what about you?" Reinhardt clutched the book that hung from him tightly to his chest. "Sigmar protects, sergeant..." Reinhardt turned to leave but before he could, the sergeant spoke: "Umm, Reinhardt, sir..." "Yes sergeant" he answered as he turned to face him. "I-I just wanted to express my gratitude. I used to be scared of dying, just like every other man. But your sermons a-and stories of past struggles made showed me that even if I die, others will keep fighting and all will not be lost. You made me understand that I indeed am a part of something bigger and that is worth fighting for. So - umm... thank you... sir..." Reinhardt felt a relief of some sort. Like a great weight was lifted from his chest. "Your words bring me peace. I pray rather you all live through this... even if I do not." He made the sign of the Hammer and Hans responded likewise.
Another day dawned. After the morning mist cleared, the guard sounded the alarm. Soon, Reinhardt could see them from atop the ramparts. Another horde, just like the one he saw on the day they broke through. However, it was not what he saw that troubled him but rather what he felt. As if his very soul recoiled and rebelled against what was coming. An anathema to all things righteous and holy. The knights and huskarls provoked a similar feeling of unease but not as strong. The shamans he felt more strongly but in a different way. He scoffed and smiled. Their chieftain had arrived. They advanced in waves of groups in loose formation to minimize the damage caused by the cannons. As the artillery pounded the incoming enemy, Reinhardt turned to the surviving men. "My brothers in arms! Fellow sons of Sigmar! Hear me! The hour of reckoning is at hand. That chill you feel down your spine. The knots your guts twist in. You should feel privileged. The chieftain of the Vargs has decided to honour us with his presence but be not afraid. Even if death is to be your fate, I swear to you on Sigmar's name damnation will not! Do not mourn your fallen comrades. They are watching over you from Sigmar's halls urging you on and placing bets on how many you will kill!" Some laughs rose from the crowd. "And should you fall, they will welcome you with ale in hand and a song of your glory on their lips! Do not despair my brothers. An entire invasion force broke its back on the walls of Felsburg. No matter what happens this day, we have already won. So before the wretched curs reach us, I would like to make a toast!" He ordered the last keg of ale he brought and be shared among them. "Raise your tankards, sons of Sigmar! To victory!" The toast echoed across the field.
The enemy smashed into the wall like a tidal wave of filth. Handgunners and arbalests fired their last volleys before retreating to the keep to make room for more defenders on the wall and in case they needed to cover a retreat. A battering ram was brought and it soon started to pound away at the gate. Reinhardt hoped that his blessing would not fail. Heinrich commanded the reserve forces that were meant to hold the inner courtyard if the gate was breached and secure an orderly withdrawal from the walls. Ordinary warriors and chaos knights scaled the ladders only to be cut down but they paved the way for the last of the huskarls to arrive. Immediately they started butchering and throwing soldiers of the walls. None could stand before them. Save Reinhardt. He invoked the power of blessed soulfire and was surrounded by purifying flames that burned all except the valorous soldiers of the Empire. Four huskarls arrived. Two on each side of the wall. With hammer in hand, he threw himself between each pair. As the fire blinded them and burned both flesh and spirit, he would defeat one himself while the men that followed him would bring the other down. With triumphant shouts, the huskarls were cast down onto the rabble below. "Enough!" a furious roar erupted over the battlefield.
"I am sick and tired of this pathetic place! Everywhere I went all I found were burnt villages and cowardly ambushes. I have had enough! Send forth your champion! Let him and I settle this battle! If he prevails, my men will quit this field and go die somewhere else. If I win, you will leave this fortress and never return. I swear on my honour, no harm shall befall you. You hear that, Hammerhead! Face me if you dare or cower behind your walls until all save the two of us are slaughtered!" "I accept your challenge you sacrilegious wretch!" Reinhardt answered without hesitation. He descended down and stood before the gate. Hans and Heinrich rushed over to return his weapons to him. "Keep them. I will collect them upon my return. If that is not meant to be... may they serve you well. You may still need them before the end." The priest knelt before the gate and started praying. "...clad this humble servant in the armour of righteousness and bless the tool of war in my hand so that it may deliver your divine justice upon this faithless heretic that opposes your will." The golden light that has become such a familiar sight to the soldiers of Felsburg enveloped the priest and the hammer in his hand glowed like a ray of sun at its zenith. He commanded the gates to be opened. Vargs surrounded the gate but left enough empty space for the duel to take place. Each step towards the chieftain strengthened his resolve. The chaos knights were big, the huskarls were huge, but this thing that was posing as a man was gargantuan. The markings on his plate armour betrayed him as a follower of the blood god. His axe shared his stature. It was a simple weapon marked with the sigils of his patron god. "I commend you, preacher of the pretender god. It seems your skull is the only one worthy of collecting from this entire mewling bunch." "Speak no more, blasphemer! Now you fall!" Reinhardt rushed him. He dove under a swing but was pushed back with the axe's haft. Before he could charge again, he was forced to sidestep a blow followed with a backhand swing that kept him at bay. He could not circle around or outmanoeuvre the gargantuan warrior in any way. Just before he gets close enough for a strike he is pushed back with the haft or forced to back away in some other way. In the middle of a back step, the chieftain rushed him. Reinhardt regained his footing and swung his hammer in a counter blow. It was caught on the haft, redirected downwards and that motion wound up an overhead swing. It came crashing down on Reinhardt's left shoulder. The golden light that surrounded him shattered like stained glass of a cathedral. Shock of pain spiked through the entire length of his left arm as he fell to one knee. The chieftain's shadow loomed over the kneeling priest as the warrior approached him. "You are lucky. At least before death you have finally knelt before the true gods of this world." Zeal and righteous anger exploded from deep inside the core of the priest's very being. Otherworldly power coursed through him once more, as a golden halo framed his vision again. Before the Norscan could say or do anything else, Reinhardt drove the beak of his hammer into the groin that was exposed by the plate armour and pulled down. It tore through his flesh like a tusk of a charging boar. When he tried to back away, the priest tripped him with the beak and the gargantuan warrior came toppling down with a thunderous crash. "I... kneel... only... before Sigmar!" Reinhardt said between breaths as he staggered to his feet. The chieftain sat up. He placed his left hand on the ground to help himself up. The priest stomped on his fingers, crushing them. He swung and drove the beak beneath the armpit of his right arm and the huge axe fell to the ground. Clutching his shoulders so tightly that his divine strength started to dent the wicked steel of the armour, Reinhardt readied himself for a strike. He brought his head down onto the chieftain's helmet like a battering ram. The steel band sent sparks flying on impact. Each relentless blow struck harder than the one before. Despite the blood covering his eyes, the golden halo still shined. Despite the steel band digging into his skull, he did not stop. Despite the ringing in his ears, he did not give up. "SIGMAAAAAAAR!" his head came crashing down once more like a thunderclap. He felt his target obliterated. Soon he could hear a few bits of jagged steel and wet chunks fall from the sky as the chieftain slammed back onto the ground.
The ringing in his ears soon stopped. He wiped the blood from his eyes; however, the left one was swollen shut. He turned around, the golden halo no longer framed his vision. Everyone, Norscans and Imperials alike, were simply staring at him. They collected themselves after a few moments. The Norscans did not flee. They did not seek vengeance. They simply turned and left Felsburg in complete silence. Reinhardt limped after them. He had to see them of as he has so many times before. As he stood there in front of the first gate, he could hear the soldiers approaching him from behind. When he felt Heinrich's presence was close enough he rasped: "I must ask for you forgiveness, captain..." "What for?" "I have deceived you... The steel band around my head. It does not represent me as a novice." "What does it mean then?" "An ongoing penance." "Well, I think a barrel or two of that ale of your ought to make us even" he said through a chuckle. Reinhardt attempted one but the pain prevented him. "All hail Reinhardt the Hammerhead!" the captain exclaimed. Finally, it was over. "The Saviour of Fels..." The blaring of horns interrupted Heinrich before he could finish. Norscan horns. Reinhardt pointed his one good eye up and glared into the sky. "Thy will be done..." He walked toward the incoming enemy. The soldiers shouted after him but he waved them off.
At the head of the incoming host was a large bearded man. About the size of a huskarl. He wore a spectacle helmet and was covered in a fur cloak. He bore a two handed axe that was unusually small, at least for norscan standards, with a crescent head and a curved back spike. "Ha ha! Ahoy there, defenders of Felsburg!" He stopped his host at a respectable distance and stepped forward. "Are you the one they call Hammerhead?" he asked. "I am" Reinhardt responded trying to hide the pain and exhaustion in his voice. "They call me Hrothgar the Sea-Axe. I have heard a lot about you and I must admit, I am impressed. I take it you killed Hjalmar?" "If you mean the one who lead the assault on Felsburg, then yes. I just did." "And let me guess... you head-butted him to death." "Indeed." Hrothgar let out a throaty laugh. "By the wind and tide, you truly are mad!" "Why are you here, Sea-Axe?" "I wanted to test the rumours. See for myself." "And now that you have? Am I to fight you as well?" "To do so now would have no meaning. No glory in defeating a broken foe. One year from now however... What do you say?" "What can I say that would prevent you from spreading misery throughout this land a year or a month from now?" "I have no interest in raiding this province. I earn more from a single contract made with Marienburg than I would from spending a whole season looting this forsaken place. Tell you what, my men and I will keep these shores safe when the next season arrives. I swear not a single ship will reach Nordland without our permission." "If I were to make that deal then I would condemn these people to the wrath of the witch-hunters." "Fret not. My contact in Marienburg will broker a deal with the Elector-Count. In the meantime, I am sure there are some half-blood villages around here that could shelter us." Reinhardt paused. This made no sense to him. "Why such generosity, Norscan?" "Generosity? I am offering to make you uglier than you already are. I see nothing generous about that." "Why go through all this trouble then? I thought your people took what they want when they want." Hrothgar smiled. "It is a matter of honour. Also, you have done my allies a great service. Hjalmar was one of the few that escaped the wrath of Einar the Apostate, Harbinger of the iron will of Mortkin. In protecting your lands, you have saved our shores as well." The priest took a moment to think everything over. These northmen were different. The sense of unease the Vargs caused was almost not present among them. Not because they were less threatening for they looked just as if not more capable than his previous foes. It felt like the taint of corruption was not as present among them. Their souls were not beyond salvation. Reinhardt decided to trust whatever purity remained in them. "So what say you, priest? Will you meet me here after the next raiding season on the winter Solstice?" Hammerhead looked him straight in the eye. "I will!" "Ha ha! That's what I wanted to hear!" He pointed his axe at Reinhardt. "Grow strong, priest! I desire a good challenge!" "And you'd better not be slacking yourself, or I will not need my head to beat you." Hrothgar guffawed. "Farewell, Dunderhead! Until next we meet!" He turned around. "We sail for Marienburg!"
Reinhardt staggered back to Felsburg. "What happened?" Heinrich asked confused. "I secured us some allies," he answered emotionlessly. "What?" "Expect an envoy from Marienburg soon." He staggered past the captain. "Where are you going?" "To the infirmary. I need to get my head wrapped." When the young sister of Shallya saw him, she was fuming. She scolded him for a fool as she gave him something to bite down on. Reinhardt was only happy that she was alive to scold him. He knew she was not angry, but worried. Honestly, he thought she did a poor job of hiding it. It took his last ounces of strength not to scream as the band was being removed. This time he nearly scalped himself. The sister could rant about his foolishness no more and as she was wrapping his head, she started expressing her gratitude for all he did for them. Those were the last words he heard before he drifted into a deep sleep.