All members of the band obeyed and harnessed themselves to the task.
Nedland Barnrooster walked off into the forest to collect some wood. While walking, he thought about the reasons which had pushed him to get into this business.
Halflings were not deemed to be great adventurers. The majority had gathered in the province of Mootland, and the few people that leaved their homeland were considered eccentric, mad or enlightened. Generally, these exceptions preferred city life of large, built by Humans towns. Even fewer were those who deliberately refused any sedentary lifestyle to live a life on the highways.
Nedland had not experienced some family tragedy that justified his attraction to the world outside Mootland. Only his curiosity had prompted his departure, as a young man. A few years in the slums of big cities like Moussillon or Sartosa had made him an experienced rogue, able to hold his own in any game containing anything illegal, shameful, or in all case secret.
His life took a new turn when he met Hallbjörn Ludviksson. As he had just needed to get away from cities, following a "small dispute" with the leader of a bandit guild, he had joined the Norscan mercenaries company as a scout. He thus accomplished several trips through the Empire, and to the South Lands. It was during this trip that the Halfling made the acquaintance of Ludwig Steiner. Ludviksson had worked for the merchant in the past, and had agreed to mount a trading post in the mysterious land of oliphants.
The second trip Nedland made on behalf of Steiner definitively tied his fate to ratmen. Indeed, the little man had met Psody, and had participated in the expedition to Lustria. After their return and the Battle of Gottliebschloss the company of mercenaries had accompanied the survivors to the location where was founded Steinerburg, the capital of the Rat Kingdom. As mercenaries, he had helped to build the foundations of the Kingdom. Unlike Ludviksson and his men, he had chosen to stay. The Norscan captain had gone to war to creatures of Chaos implanted in his home country, a task the Halfling had deemed too dangerous and not sufficiently profitable.
What had primarily decided him was the challenge of such an opportunity: to build a kingdom and occupy a prominent place. He couldn't resist the call of the enterprise. To establish a society in which Humans and Skaven live together seemed crazy, and that's what he liked the most: to make evolve something as crazy and wonderful at once.
So he had bid farewell to his adventurous life and had settled in Vereinbarung. The prince had named him Grand Cartographer. He had spent all the reconstruction year to draw the map of the kingdom, to organize communication networks between villages, to identify the roads and topography. When the "Harvests" had begun, he was the first volunteer. His experience, resourcefulness and nerve had proved to be valuable assets. He became master in the fight against the Feral Skaven, because with time, he had become familiar with their strengths and weaknesses.
Back at camp, some dry branches under his arm, he wasn't long to start a fire. A little oil on wood arranged in the middle of a circle of stones and his lighter sufficed. He put a big pot on the makeshift hearth. Two Skaven, Hans and Michael poured into the container the contents of several metal cylinders. It was a thick milk, almost pasty, not very appetizing, but at least nourishing. Marjan and Gunther, a former farmer, prepared a curious device.
It was a kind of huge gourd, made from the udder of a cow stretched on an iron tank. The skin was treated in order to prevent decomposition. The flesh had hardened and cracked, but held firmly. The contour of the breasts was lined with fur, authentic Skaven fur. An opening on the opposite side to the teats allowed filling the tank with hot milk.
They had to wait until the milk to be at the right temperature. While stirring the mixture with a ladle, Nedland turned to the space the others were up the tents. Jochen gave directives, more out by habit than necessity. There were a total of four tents: a long one where Jochen and Humans could sleep, a smaller one for Marjan and the two other women of the expedition, Kerstin and Ingrid, the third for himself and the three Steiner, and the last sheltered the Skaven. It was not by segregation, but a concern for privacy and respect. Even if they did everything to live in a common society, there were still some limits, and the two kinds had still difficulties to accept such promiscuity, promiscuity that bothered no way the veteran Halfling, used to sleep in any condition.
He looked down, and saw the creamy liquid was seething.
- Hans! Michael! It's ready!
The ratmen, came, loaded with milk two big fake udders, and brought them to the two Steiner brothers.
Kristofferson and Sigmund took care of the most delicate part of the operation. Young Skaven were not really cute, they stank and hollered, and were surly to the point of biting anything that came within reach of their baby teeth, but they represented the first generation of Vereinbarung, and were very valuable. It was therefore necessary to treat them with the utmost caution. Every little pup had to be fed separately, and two people were required for the manoeuvre. One of them held the infant in his arms, wrapped in a cloth, the other one slipped the artificial breast in its mouth and kept the gourd above. The small Skaven loudly and greedily sucked up to be sated. It was then put in another cart, where were settled the pups which had been fed, and were therefore calmer, and the two feeders repeated the same operation with the next baby.
Gradually, the babies were transferred from one basket to another. The two brothers were assisted by Kerstin and Ingrid, experts in this kind of task. So two pups at a time could be fed. All four put on reinforced leather gloves to avoid bites. They were careful not to mix them, and placed females in a small basket apart. These were always less numerous, even if the Harvesters made all efforts to have a number roughly equal between the sexes. During this expedition, they had found only six, the other was too old and ill-treated for a chance to live fully. Meanwhile, they had picked up thirty males.
False breasts were a true blessing. Fruit of the imagination and the creative genius of Gabriel Steiner, the youngest son of Psody and Heike, they were quickly proved much more effective and practical than serving milk with a spoon. This milk was also one of his inventions. It was a mixture of cow milk and other substances rich in calories, which allowed to quickly feed a small Skaven during the time of the travel up to Vereinbarung. Once a bottle was empty, Hans or Michael got it back and went to Nedland to refill it. They also made sure to put cold milk in the pot when it was almost empty. Marjan and Gunther, meanwhile, watched the comfort of small Skaven fed by arranging the basket, and disposed blankets to keep them warm.
While moving the dirty woollen fabric, the tall woman sighed deeply.
- I swear, Gunther, I cannot bear these little monsters no more.
- These are just new-born children, Captain. It is their instinct that speaks, and nothing else. They will seem much less repugnant in a few months.
- Besides, you know it, you've picked up all those who came with us, Jochen added mischievously. You appreciate their company, now, right?
- Yeah, for sure, bro.
But she still winced. Not only were they really not beautiful to look at, but again, seeing those in this constant fear undermined her spirits. Despite the repulsion she could not help but share their distress.
And I am not the only one in this case, she thought seeing the corner of his eye the big massive silhouette of Black Skaven.
Sigmund and Kristofferson finished to give its meal to the last pup of the basket. When the little thing ceased to suckle and spat the udder, Sigmund went empty the last gallons of remaining milk in the pot, then sat down and wiped the inside of the container with a cloth. Fire softly crackled, and its warmth comforted him a while. His brother sat beside him.
- Well! A great expedition with a nice conclusion, I say!
- It was really about time for it to end, Kit.
Kristofferson perceived embarrassment in the voice of his younger brother.
- Something wrong, Siggy?
The great Skaven Black turned to the brown one.
- In five years, more than a thousand babies have been torn from their mother's side. I know it's for a good cause, but…
The brown Skaven nodded and glanced to his left. Marjan was separating two pups who threatened to use their weak forces to fight each other. Kristofferson took his younger friend by the arm.
- Come on, it's over. You'll never have to endure all that anymore.
The Black Skaven didn't answer. It was not necessary to remind him of the torment that was the daily life of the daughters of the Horned Rat. Enclosed in a special incubator as soon as they came into the world, they were deprived of any identity. No name, no education, they served only to ensure the survival of the species. When a female came into age to give birth, the Feral Skaven bordered it in a cell, and intoxicated it with warpstone used as ointments, incense and seasonings in food. Within months, its organism was completely out of whack. It became obese, flabby, and could not move its huge carcass.
Warpstone always destroyed the brain first, letting the unfortunate female completely stupefied, unable to think. There was little more than bits of instinct which sometimes expressed. And when the balance of its mind wasn't lost in the warpstone mist, it was worse, because the poor creature felt only pain and terror. The pain was caused by the decay of its battered body, terror seized it when it remembered its condition.
Feral Skaven didn't treat their breeders by pure free cruelty: warpstone ointment applied on their belly increased fertility to produce offspring at a frantic pace. A female could give birth to a twenty little pup in a row, pups that were quickly snatched to it before being distributed among the Clans that constituted the burrow. The breeder was then again available to the most deserving male, who had earned the right to mate it. It thus served as a pleasure tool between the paws of Feral Skaven, until it was pregnant again. This terrible cycle was the life of a girl of the Underground Empire.
For Humans like Skaven that belonged the generation of "Liberated", such a life was definitively not enviable, in any way.
- You look really tired, Siggy, Jochen noticed.
- I'm hungry, especially.
- Excellent observation! Nedland said then. Guys, I need a hand for the grub. Would you help me?
Night had fallen completely. All pups were satiated and finally, a comforting silence settled over the camp. The great Skaven Black rose, imitated by his older brother. Kristofferson whistled and gestured to a small group of three Skaven.
Fifteen minutes later, all the members of the expedition had gathered around the fire. Nedland had added branches to make it bigger. Jochen brought the game hunted in the morning. The Harvesters were glad to return home after a risky expedition.
Psody could not help noticing absently.
- Kit?
- Yes, Father?
- Difficult for Sigmund to go unnoticed, even when he's not there! Where is he?
- He said he needed to empty his bladder, a little further.
The young brown Skaven noticed a crease of worry cross the front of his father.
- Is there a concern-problem with your brother? He didn't look like so valiant.
- You know him, Father: every Harvest seriously undermines his morale, even if he knows we are doing it for a good cause.
- He'll recover. The second part of the work will begin, now-now. We have enough children, in a few years, they will give us children in their turn!
- I still regret not being able to save more of them.
- It's very hard, I know, but it's so. There are hundreds of thousands of Skaven around the world, we won't be able to take care of all of them. Now, we even have enough pups. They will very quickly multiply, if there are more-more numerous, we risk fail to properly handle the second generation. So we have to focus on those.
Psody paused for a moment, then continued:
- We only have a few years before us to lay solid foundations, and to allow the existence of a kingdom where Skaven and Humans can live in harmony. I'm not eternal, Kit. I still have many years to live, but this kind of plan must be thought of in the long term, so that our descendants can continue the work alone.
Kristofferson nodded silently. The shadows projected by the flames emphasized a small detail on the White Skaven: three small notches carved in the pavilion of his left ear; a long, a short, a long. It was the mark of the colony where he was born, visible to all Feral Skaven who had passed their rite of passage into adulthood. These three small scars represented what all of them were fighting against. The young ratman always felt, seeing them, a slight bitterness tinged with admiration for his father, who had chosen to live with that trace that magic could have concealed, and the burden that went with it. He couldn't see it in the semi-darkness of the night, but Kristofferson knew that the other ear of the Master Mage was decorated with a tattoo representing a simple constellation, the mystical link between him and the Horned Rat, his tutelary deity.
Psody buttoned up his coat and got up in a rustle of leather.
- I'll fetch him. Start eating, we arrive-arrive.
It took the company three days more to finally arrive at the first guardhouse of Vereinbarung. This part of the world known as "Renegade Crowns" was actually composed of many kingdoms, each managed by a generally self-proclaimed prince. Before to re-join their own principality, the Harvesters had to pass through two other provinces. Patrol officers and other guards knew the nature of the subjects of Prince Ludwig the First, and even if they were not especially friendly, they closed their eyes. The "crossing taxes" collected at each passage were excellent blinders.
During the rest of the trip, the Skaven needed anymore to pretend being the Feral people of the Under-Empire. Some continued the journey on foot, others preferred to remain settled in the large cage or the small one. Psody was in the lead, sitting next to Nedland while his two sons were watching the truck that contained the little pups. As soon as the first hungry screeches sounded, the whole party stopped and paused.
Finally, the building announcing the entrance to the Rat Kingdom appeared, and with it a sense of security welcome after the long journey. The road passed by a stone fort. Humans and Skaven patrolled together on the walkway. The pavilion of the kingdom floated above the entrance gate. The blazon of the Rat Kingdom wore four symbols, each in a corner of its surface divided into four parts by a central cross. Verena's owl was in the upper left corner, the bleeding heart of Shallya beat in the top right corner. Under the owl appeared a rat's head, and a round sun, with the features of a face drawn in the style of Lustrian bas-reliefs, was embroidered on the last corner.
Nedland pulled out of his bag a horn, and blew in it three times. From the top of the wall, one of the sentries answered the same way. The heavy harrow was slowly raised, and the three carriages could get inside the enclosure. One groom untied the horses and lead them in the barn, while other domestic hastened to recover the baskets to carry them carefully inside.
This large building, Hoffungshügel, was the first decisive step to new life of the small Skaven torn from Feral Skaven nurseries. Priestesses of Shallya, gathered on the occasion of each return shipping, took care of new-borns in the same way as for Human babies. They were gently washed and swaddled in clean swaddling clothes, and everyone ended up deposited in a cradle. The process was a clear symbolic of second birth.
Once all the little Skaven well cared for, adoptive parents entered in turn in the dormitory, chose the child with whom they felt most "related", then declared the first name to a sworn clerk of Verena, Goddess of Justice and Law. Finally, they walked away with the little adopted and started their family life. The Harvesters returned back home a few days later, time to rest, and once sure of not being followed.
Initially, the names were given by the priestesses and expedition leaders. But for the past two years, Human volunteers to adopt a young Skaven, emboldened by the success of the first surrogate parents, felt closer of the pups even before seeing them for the first time, and preferred to have this privilege. The Prince acceded to the request of his subjects, and it was decided that only the family name of the litter would be chosen by the leaders of the expedition, that precaution was necessary to distinguish the Skaven from the same litter, and avoid consanguinity.
Human parents never came uselessly. Nedland had devised a clever system of communication pigeons-based between the convoy, Hoffnungshügel, and the Steinerburg Main Temple of Shallya, to avoid bad accounts between the number of candidate parents for adoption and the number of collected children. Once they were far enough away from the burrow, they counted the "liberated" and classified them by sex, apparent age and any physical features. Over the years, Harvesters had recovered about a quarter of black Skaven, all males. However, they never found any White Skaven. The message was sent to the fort where the priestesses waited, and they relayed the message to Steinerburg. Prior Romulus then was in charge to gather the prospective adoptive parents and made them escort up to Hoffungshügel. Humans arrived a couple of days before the convoy and took advantage of that time to prepare themselves.
Up to this day, there had been too many problems: the case of a couple of Humans left without child, disappointment at heart, never arrived. Once, there were even brave enough parents to adopt not one, but two small Skaven obviously inseparable, probably from the same litter. But the number of volunteer parents became very limited. Prior Romulus had told the prince that was another reason not to organise any "Harvest" more: the surplus could be detrimental to the welfare and education.
Standing in front of all Skaven babies installed in the dormitory cradles, Mother Dorothy was finishing counting them. The mother superior was the main religious authority of the Order of Shallya, after Romulus. This old woman, whose long silver hair waved on her shoulders, wore the white dress adorned with an embroidered heart on which a teardrop was beaded. She had been freshly promoted by the hierarchy of the Grenzstadt Temple, a town on the edge of the Averland, which Romulus had quietly kept in touch with.
- Mother Dorothy?
She turned her head, and her blue eyes met the gaze of a young red-haired girl, who was also dressed with the sackcloth of Shalleans priestesses.
- Yes, sister Judy?
Sister Judy Hoffnung was a special case. This priestess, who was in her early thirties, was rather small, and her russet and abundant hair jarred with her white dress. She had a slightly reddened complexion, clear eyes, quick eyes, and for a reason known to very few people, had a rune that evoked a tear flowing down on her left cheekbone. It was undeniably a sign of the goddess Shallya. This rune glowed weakly when the young woman felt compassion for someone, so there was no doubt about its authenticity. Mother Dorothy didn't know the secret of this brand, but she knew that Judy was very ticklish on this issue, and still refused to answer. In a general way, her character was like her hair; she was passionate and quick to overreact... which didn't always please her sisters. Nevertheless, she showed a certain gift for treating wounds and healing illnesses, which earned her the blind trust of her patients.
- I... can I tell you about a concern?
- Please.
- I'm afraid the Skaven of this expedition are a little too numerous. Thirty-six is even too much. We only have a dozen of volunteer couples this time. What to do with all those who will not be adopted?
- The same as for Human orphans; we welcome them, and make initiated for our Order!
- You think the Prince and the Master Mage will agree?
- It's even their instructions. After all, the purpose of our kingdom is to unite Humans and Skaven, religion is part of this union.
It didn't seem to reassure the younger sister Judy.
- Are you sure that...
Sister Judy was about to continue, but a heavy hesitation held her back. The Mother Superior realized this.
- Speak without fear, my sister.
- The Skaven are the enemies of Humans all over the world. Aren't you afraid that there will be a backlash?
- Why? To allow lost souls to give meaning to their lives by transmitting to them the teachings our gods have given us? To form friendship bonds with a real people? Remember that Skaven are not demons or Beastmen. Meet and converse with anyone of them within the walls of Hoffungshügel, and you'll see that they have a soul and feelings like we have. Since we started this project, my sister, no one, no man, no god, has openly opposed it to the point that it becomes dangerous. Look at me: I would not be in this position if the priests of the temple of Shallya who ordained me Mother had considered me to be a heretic.
- So, we are acting well?
- Nothing has proved the opposite, so far, and especially not Shallya, who only condemns the creatures of the Fly Lord. I'm wondering where this worry comes from, given your past, Sister Judy?
Mother Dorothy spoke ironically. She didn't know all the dark corners of Sister Judy's life, but she already knew what circumstances had brought her into the orders of the Goddess of Compassion. In her younger years, Judy Hoffnung had been the apprentice of an apothecary known to be a witch turned to heretical ways. She herself had aroused the jealousy of academic doctors, reluctant to let a woman who didn't frequent university be more efficient – and the gods knew how much young Judy had talent in the field. It was the direct intervention of Romulus which spared the pyre the girl. The prior had heard of her almost supernatural talents, and had been able to convince the Sigmarites to let her live, in exchange for Shallya's vow. He quickly understood that a talented initiate with such a contentious character could only be a valuable asset to Vereinbarung.
Sister Judy protested:
- Mother Dorothy, I have always acted according to my convictions, and I have had proof that powerful forces make the Empire turn. These forces are above our concerns, far more often than we accept to believe. I do not fear a judgment from Shallya. Skaven can be normal people, like you and me, and are as trustworthy as Humans. What worries me are the men themselves. They forced me to convert to Shallya, they risk forcing us to go to war! When the first adult Skaven will roam the Renegade Crowns, who knows what will happen?
- Time will tell, but precautions are taken. And if it is the Empire that you fear, for your personal safety, be quiet. Here, no one will come for you.
The priestesses of Shallya, as well as some members of the Order of Verena, were more tolerant than the Sigmarites or the Ulricans, and the idea of a kingdom where Skaven were friendly with the Humans, although really far-fetched, was conceivable to their eyes. Prince Ludwig the First was also part of the Verena Lorekeepers branch, who advocated the safeguarding of all knowledge, whether productive or harmful. To avoid any charge of collaboration and heresy, there was, however, no official contact, the Prince just used to send a coded missive once every six months.
Mother Dorothy thought about something else:
- You have been "forced"... do you want to leave? If you want to try your luck, you will have my blessing. A person with your talent could get rich quickly by opening her own shop. In the Renegade Crowns, you won't have too many difficulties to find a prince to sponsor you.
Sister Judy looked up, with a small defiant smile.
- You know I won't, Mother Dorothy. I got to know the Prince's family, and I became attached to his members. Here, I'm fine, except for my fear of the outside. And I ended up getting used to the shallean dress. Wherever I go, it guarantees respect.
- In this case, everything is fine.
The Mother Superior decided to conclude the interview.
- Come on, it's time to give these children the warmth and love of a home. Bring in the first couple, Sister Judy.
With a thousand precautions, the White Skaven slid into the wooden tub filled with hot water, inch by inch. The contact of the water was a real blessing, enjoyable and relaxing. When he was submerged up to his shoulders, he heaved a deep sigh of relief. He hadn't taken a bath for several weeks. He sipped with relish the sensation of the liquid seeping into his fur, waving his hair. He felt his spirit descending gradually into limbo, as if he was about to fall asleep. Eyes closed, he could hear nothing but the gentle lapping of the water on his body and his own breathing. Small muscle pain, cramps, stiff neck, a few scrapes, even impedes on his left big toe pierced by a thorn the day before, everything faded. There was nothing but the warmth of the water.
Finally, the last expedition was over. He saw the face of his wife and his three youngest children, and felt joy fill his heart. But then he imagined tighten them in his arms, other elements came to darken the picture.
The first Skaven brought here are adults now. What will happen in two or three generations?
Psody didn't fear the judgment of the gods. He was faithful to the Horned Rat, and was convinced to have his agreement – he had received no divine contestation, anyway. Humans continued to worship their own gods, adopted Skaven did the same. Some Skaven even began to take an interest in Human religion to the point of wanting to completely relate themselves to it. His own younger daughter had indeed the vocation of the priestesses of Shallya.
But if Vereinbarung citizens had the endorsement of the gods, he couldn't help to doubt they had the Emperor Karl Franz approval, nor the citizens of the Empire. Sometimes he was afraid to see in his homeland an army led by the White Wolves or the Panther Knights to eradicate everyone. Furthermore, the neighbouring princes could also pose a serious threat, and be tempted to attack as a preventive. The Rat Kingdom had a small army to defend itself, but it was probably not sufficient to withstand more than a tentative of invasion in a row. The commander of the army, Johannes Schmetterling, hoped to see more volunteers in the militia, especially in Skaven, who could be formidable fighters when they were well trained.
Each of the relatives of the prince had been appointed to an important post. He had become the appointed Master Mage, responsible for the study of issues related to magic. But he suspected that the prince might employ his capacities for other purposes. More negotiations? Diplomatic missions? Or recruiting people with abilities to handle the winds of the Warp to form them to magical mysteries? For now, he was the only magician officially recorded in the Rat Kingdom. What if a neighbouring prince hired magician mercenaries to sow chaos in his country?
That's too bad we won't live in a forever peace, but then again, who does? thought the White Skaven.
He thought back to other known countries of the Old World, and their own characteristic problems. Norsca risked more than other by the assaults of the Chaos brood. The Arabian lands were threatened by the undead, Tilea was infested by Feral Skaven, with Skavenblight, their capital city, at the border. Kislev was also subjected to regular attacks by the powers of Chaos, and the particularly harsh climate didn't tolerate the slightest weakness. Citizens of Vereinbarung least feared an attack from demons or Dark Elves pirates than other countries. Besides, Karl Franz had enough worries to manage without entering into open war with a country of the Renegade Crowns whose inhabitants had no ambition of conquest.
Being in the Renegade Crowns was an extra obstacle for the imperial contingents, and since he official creation of Vereinbarung, there was no crisis. A couple of times, a fanatical inquisitor or a small battalion led by a zealous templar had almost created problems, but these people hadn't at all the same official support outside the borders of the Empire. It was hardly went beyond a confrontation after which spoilsport were repulsed.
Psody was awakened from his meditation by another very characteristic sensation, his stomach gurgling. He came out of the tub, shook himself, vigorously rubbed his body with a towel and looked in the mirror hanging on the wall.
With his tattoo, Psody's exact age had been established. He was passing his eleventh year of existence, which represented thirty-three years if he was born as Human. The terrible Feral Skaven society forced the average age to stay low, and the majority of them hardly crossed this milestone. The White Skaven had the opportunity to meet some individuals of this maturity, but none had kept a good health. He felt in great shape, and the prospect of never again leave his family even more lightened his heart. Even if he had participated in several skirmishes, he had not received any serious injury. Even wading in the filthiest underground, not any disease damaged his constitution – although the protective mask system imagined by his younger son had probably a good share of utility in this process. He felt good, and ready to meet all the challenges implied in the management of a kingdom.
He smiled at his reflection, and considered himself well-preserved. His hair was soft and silky, his well-maintained horns gleamed in the light of candles. He thought back to Katel, the old hermit who had saved his life years earlier, and chuckled when he heard her voice that promised him that one day, he would enjoy a good bath. Every time he remembered that sentence, he smiled wistfully.
Sometimes he thought occasionally to the woman who had cared for him like a mother during his convalesce. He had retained her good advice, and had tried to pass on to his own children. He had never known, nor even tried to know, who that strange old woman really was, alone in her hut, retired away from the world, with the stuffed head troll who had killed her husband and children for only companion. This bonesetter had fixed him up using plasters and medicinal plants, then taught him to speak reikspiel, and finally had educated him the basics of Human customs, lessons soon completed by his dear Heike.
The White Skaven regretted not having news from the witch, nor giving her. During his travels in the Empire, he hadn't taken the time to make a detour through the swamp. And now he would no longer roam outside the Rat Kingdom. Was she only still alive? When they met, she was already old.
I will send her a letter-missive next time Nedland take news from Imperial Humans!
Once this resolution taken, Psody, who was dry, repassed a clean tunic, and joined the others in the dining hall, eager to supper.
After two days of resting, they went back on the roads. Now they didn't have to care for the new-borns, the caravan was traveling much faster. It became smaller and smaller all along the way, as and when the volunteers left the route of the main path and headed to their home village. Skaven couldn't wait to return home, and they pushed their rides in a hurry. Each departure was greeted warmly, and Nedland Barnrooster, the appointed treasurer, gave the agreed compensation agreed to those who left – the chest containing the payroll was prepared at Hoffnungshügel.
Only a small group remained when the three carts approached the capital, Steinerburg. The paths came together all at the edge of the walls that encircled the city. Psody, his two son, Marjan, Jochen, Nedland and the few Skaven remained at their sides savoured their homecoming. Since it was market day, the crowd was colourful. Skaven and Humans praised their goods, fresh produce or crafts. On their way, they greeted and applauded. The Harvesters were always sensitive to these signs of recognition and appreciated the ovations sincerely. The most enthusiastic cheers were launched by the Skaven and their adoptive parents.
The first rescued Skaven had all passed the adolescence. Most had started working for the proper functioning of the Kingdom. It became usual to see Humans and Skaven live together as if there were no racial barrier. They began even, in the biggest cities, to mix the two peoples on school benches. Of course, physiological differences couldn't completely been overshadowed, but all the authority figures, whether they are priests, lawmen or militaries, applied to maintain the principle of racial and gender equality.
The surrounding princes regarded with great suspicion these unusual neighbours. Prince Ludwig the First, aware that he couldn't long hide the nature of his people, had deployed treasures of diplomacy to convince his counterparts of the good nature of his extraordinary vassals. Some of the princes whose kingdom adjoined Vereinbarung had tolerated this, failing to fully accept it. A prince a little more eccentric than others had even expressed interest and said he wanted himself some welcome Skaven desirous to see new horizons. But the others didn't like the situation, and relations with them were strained.
This was hardly felt in this wonderful day. Kristofferson felt his heart overflowing with joy when the doors of the wall of Steinerburg appeared from behind a hill.
- Siggy, we're home!
The doors were wide open, allowing the passage of pedestrians and carts. The convoy crossed them, still circulated a good half hour on paved streets, then stopped in front of a large building. A worker slid the grid, and the three carts stationed inside. Everyone dismounted. Two grooms, a Human and a Skaven, took charge of the horses.
- Whew! My friends, the trip is over! I invite you all to the Beard of Taal, is my tour! the White Skaven announced.
The band expressed his joy, and all went to the hostel deemed as the most festive of the district. A couple of minutes later, they were gathered around a table while the waitress laid on the wooden tankards of beer one by one.
The Harvesters exchanged their impressions on their last mission, evoked the cold sweat, regrets, and all agreed on at least one fact: the satisfaction of having done something right, and above all, never to have to take risks.
A lull hovered above the large dining room. Someone took the opportunity to draw attention.
- Kristofferson!
The person stood up, and his eyes met those of a Skaven rather easy to notice: he was tall and strongly built, without being a Skaven Black – he had the clear coat covered with dark spots. A tuft of long black hair drew a goatee on his chin. He had two big green eyes with naturally raised eyebrows, giving him an inquisitive stare. He wore a breastplate of mail covered with a tabard the colours of the flag of Vereinbarung and strengthened with an iron hull on the right shoulder, and a handy-worked war hammer hung from his belt.
Kristofferson opened his arms, and gave the accolade to newcomer.
- Walter!
- How nice to see you, my friend!
- All the pleasure is for me!
Walter Klingmann was known as the first "Liberated", and so was both the oldest, the first to be adopted by the Human – a couple of wealthy merchants who had business with Prince Steiner in the past – and in addition, Kristofferson's first Skaven friend. Both had played together in the same corners, had been instructed by the same teacher, master Karl Seehecht, who had managed the teaching of a dozen young Skaven before opening a mixed school. So you could tell he was in the third place among the best friends of the brown Skaven, after the Gottlieb twins.
- So, Wally? What news?
Walter was the captain of the Steinerburg guard. He had received weapons training as rigorous as Kristofferson's, and had also been trained to command and urban strategy by a former captain in retirement. He had authority over all the militia of the capital, and disposed a network of scouts who provided the communication of important news from more distant cities.
- The Southeast citizens begin to feel nervous.
- "Nervous"? In which way?
- Well... it seems that disappearances multiply. A hunter, a wanderer used to be seen between several villages... You know the farmers, they are rather superstitious. They put it down to the invisible forces of Chaos, and other elusive entities. They quickly fear what they don't understand.
The smile of the brown Skaven faded.
- What would you accuse if these fears were well-founded?
- I don't know. For now, I haven't done anything yet, but it will be necessary to act, perhaps. One hour ago, I received a letter from Captain Müller, he's in charge of Klapperschlange barracks. A farmer from one of the small villages of the sector found one of his cows completely cut into pieces.
- I say! A wild beast?
- We don't know, the poor guy didn't see anything; no footsteps, not the smallest piece of broken fence, not a single clod of turned ground. According to Müller, the farmer thinks a flying Mutant fell down his cattle. He asked my opinion because he's not so sure what to do. Well, Müller is a novice, he was newly appointed to this position, and we never had a problem like that in this part of our kingdom.
Kristofferson rubbed his chin while Walter continued:
- It's probably an isolated incident, but I prefer to check it out.
- Do what you have to.
- Before that, I'd still like to have your opinion: do I confirm Müller to send at least a patrol to keep watch a couple of days?
- That sounds good to me. If ever they spot something wrong, I'll come myself with a battalion.
Kristofferson turned to his father, who had listened to the conversation.
- And you? What do you think about it?
- Walter is right. Today we have a solid foundation, we must consolidate-maintenance it. Our kingdom has not been aggressed yet, and for me, it is a miracle, given the particular character of its inhabitants.
- Now that we returned, we'll be able to work on it seriously, Sigmund said.
- Yes, and that's why we'll think about your new role, said Psody. You two, and all the Harvesters, you've already involved in outdoor-outdoor work. I'll have a council with the Prince, the Provost and the Chaplain to give each of you a new function that will be profitable to the Kingdom, while remaining consistent-agreement with your capabilities.
This sentence gladdened again the comrades. Jochen laughed when he heard Kristofferson whispering, "after all, home is not such a boring place".