Ratwomen, ratmen,
I just realized something embarrassing.
I publish this story on half a dozen websites of fanfictions, in English and French languages. On the first page, I put the address of a DeviantArt page where I expose the images related to my fanfictions, with the nickname "ChildrenOfPsody". However, on some of these websites, the link to the page was purely and simply erased by the engine.
I corrected somehow things, but just to be sure, I remind you the address here. Save it by removing all the "underscore", the dash of the key 8 of your keyboard, which I had to add for the complete address is displayed.
https_:_/_/_childrenofpsody_._deviantart_._com/
Do not hesitate to consult this page, I will send your comments to the artists. I assure you, it's worth your look, the few works of illustrators online are worthy of appreciation, so much so that I adopted the design of the characters suggested by the artists as being "canonical" in my work. And if you want to add your own creations, tell me by PM, I will send you my email address to collect your work and publish it in your name.
Thank you for your understanding, and most importantly, I wish you to have a new year 2019 full of successes and extraordinary adventures.
Glory to the Horned Rat!
The convoy had crossed the border two hours earlier. The weather was fine, the clouds were spinning in the blue sky, driven by a strong wind. The grass of the plains, less irrigated than Vereinbarung's, was dry and yellowed, the road was rocky and the horses left a trail of dust in their path.
Eusebio Clarin was not comfortable. His carriage was quite large and comfortable, and designed to handle the jolts with efficiency. He was also used to the warmth that reminded some places of his native Estalia. Anyway, he had his gourd full of water in a small compartment at hand.
The true problem was the atmosphere that reigned in the small enclosed and mobile space. In front of him was sit Sigmund Steiner. His arms crossed, he stared at him with a look loaded with suspicion, as if he expected to see a trap about to trick him. This issue was necessary though: if Skaven could come and go as they wish in Vereinbarung, that was different outside its borders. To avoid the risk of frightening peasants and villagers on their way, the diplomat had asked the Black Skaven to stay inside the coach. The latter had immediately become angry, shouted, and threatened the Estalian. Fortunately, if the captain of the guard who accompanied the diplomat had promptly unsheathed his sword, Clarin had not lost an ounce of patience. He had to deploy treasures of diplomacy, and promise to watch over his mare to finally convince the young ratman to cooperate.
And so, the ambassador was supporting Sigmund's gaze for two whole hours. He was not irritated, just saddened. He ventured to speak:
- I took the time to think about your behaviour towards me. You do not seem to like me much, Sir Steiner.
The tall Black Skaven didn't pronounce the smallest word. The Human didn't take offense.
- I regret this posture might be uncomfortable to you, but we have to! Inhabitants of Sueño are not as open-minded as those of Vereinbarung.
The weight of reproaches in Sigmund's gaze increased. The Human felt a slight anxiety rising.
- Seriously, you are someone intelligent, well-educated. You're not going to scream at me or threaten me to shut up, are you?
Still no answer. Clarin didn't give up.
- Listen, I assure you that we have good intentions. If Prince Calderon really wanted to make you trouble, he would have sent a declaration of war! In the Renegade Crowns, things can go very fast. A principality may change prince three times in less than two years. Your grandfather trusts me, and I trust him. Just as I trust you by being in front of you, without weapons! You can make me anything you want, I won't have time to defend myself!
Sigmund remained silent. The diplomat tried another approach that he wanted empathetic.
- You know, Estalians are not always very well considered outside their home country. When I was a student at Nuln, ladies were interested in my exotic side, but men saw me as a stranger, someone who was always plotting for the benefit of his homeland. Some students even saw me as a spy. You know that the best universities of the Empire are in Nuln? I was often considered with coldness and suspicion, while I was as Human as the others. I cannot fully understand your feelings about Humans who have not chosen to live with you. But I hope I seem sincere when I'm telling you that I see you and your family as good people. Your sister Bianka welcomed me very well and guided me so. Your father showed me such wisdom that I never thought I would see in the soul of a Skaven. And you... I feel that you are someone I can trust. I wish I had someone like you by my side in Ubersreik. And I really hope that you will help us solve this problem. You are the best for that.
Finally, the facies of the Black Skaven began to cheer up.
- Bianka is my twin sister, Master Clarin.
Clarin could not suppress a raised eyebrow. Sigmund's mouth tightened in an ironic grin.
- Indeed, that's not something you could imagine at the first look. Well, it is. My coming to this world precedes hers by only a few minutes.
- I guess it reinforces your relationship with her.
- I'll do everything for her.
- I'm sure of it. She is a lovely young person.
- You think so? Yet, I admit, it is not always easy to talk to her.
- That's not the impression she left me. On the contrary, she never stopped questioning me, and answered my questions heartily.
- That's because you are an intelligent and cultivated Human, Master Clarin. She may seem cold-hearted to people she doesn't know and who do not share her education.
- Ah. Oh... you mean, she can be scornful?
- At the first look, this is an impression she inspires, but her heart is solid gold.
- Just like yours, young man. You love your sister, and your parents. It's obvious.
Sigmund's expression finally relaxed completely, and went from mistrust to interrogation.
- How can you be so sure of it, Master Clarin?
- It is my job. When you work in diplomacy, you must learn to decode the little signs that people emit without necessarily realizing it. You can use this science to destabilize a political opponent, or to reassure an interlocutor. Yesterday, you didn't hesitate to defend your father in front of me. You thought you were dealing with a pretentious stranger who had come to rave about people whom he considered "inferior" and who wanted to laugh of people you love. I swear this is not the case, Sir Steiner.
- Are you sure you're not a magician? You don't know how to read thoughts? Sigmund asked, really taken aback.
- I can't read thoughts. But I can read the small unconscious signs, and I can see in them a lot of things. For example, a true love of a son towards his father. Your voice, your eyes... you were too emotionally involved to do that just for the sake of appearance.
The Black Skaven looked down.
- I didn't know that these signs existed.
- That's normal, you're a very young man. Señorita Bianka accepted to reveal me her age, which is also yours, since you are her twin. And so, you don't yet have the experience to perceive these small subtleties. Don't worry, I'm sure you will.
The Human allowed himself a slight smile.
- Your grandfather can already teach you some basics. He too is a man who has all my respect. In truth, you are lucky to have this kind of family, Sir Steiner.
- Do you have a family, Master Clarin?
- A brother and two sisters. They stayed in my home country. The money of our parents allows them to live well, and they do not have the spirit as adventurous as me. But let them call me for an urgent matter, and I will leave everything to go back to Estalia and help them.
A horse galloped at the height of the coach. It was ridden by Felipe Antoninus, the captain of Clarin's escort. Antoninus tapped the glass. The ambassador opened the window.
- What's going on?
- We have a problem, Master Clarin. We must stop the convoy!
- Do it, my friend.
Moments later, the coach was stationary, surrounded by the mounted guards. Clarin went down, and invited Sigmund to do the same.
- What happened now? murmured the ratman.
They were at the entrance of a small village composed with about fifteen small houses. A river ran nearby, a few miles away, and there was more vegetation. There was even a pine forest.
But not a sound, not a movement, no sign of life welcomed the procession.
The buildings were pretty much intact, but someone had ravaged the vegetable gardens and slaughtered the cattle. There were, pell-mell in the mud, the bodies of some unfortunate peasants, partially devoured. The dead animals bore all the obvious traces of a savage chewing.
Clarin approached Sigmund noiselessly, and murmured to his attention:
- This is the village of Rabanera. A community without problem, Sir Steiner.
- Till today. It's very recent.
- Indeed, I went through that village on my way to Steinerburg, everything was right.
The young Black Skaven's face narrowed in apprehension. Clarin asked him:
- Could you do a field study, please?
- That's the reason I'm here. Let's begin right now.
- They were very fast.
Sigmund felt the eyes of the men who composed the patrol weigh on him. He growled.
- I know what you're thinking: it wouldn't have happened if we had come earlier.
- It was I who decided to stay longer than I planned, Sir Steiner. And then, if we had come earlier, we would have ended up like those poor people.
Sigmund took a few steps to the centre of the village, glanced around.
- Where are we, exactly, Master Clarin? I mean, "geographically"?
- We are in an area that is close to two borders: Vereinbarung, of course, but to the north-west lies another neighbouring kingdom, the Kingdom of Jahreszeiten, ruled by Prince Leopold Frühling.
- What relationship do you have with this Prince?
- Correct, so far. I think he comes from Stirland.
- Tell your men to search the place, there may be survivors. I shall tell you who did it, precisely.
- Ratmen did, what else? Antoninus grumbled.
- They could have, captain, but appearances can be deceptive.
On the orders of their superior, the soldiers dispersed, inspecting the houses one by one. Three of them stayed near the leaders. The Black Skaven closed his eyes, sniffed the air for a long time, wanted to soak up the tragedy that had shattered all those lives. He felt the rhythm of his heart waving as he guessed the squeaks of the Feral Skaven, the terrified groans of the Humans cut to pieces.
They are Feral Skaven. I want to face Feral Skaven.
He was interrupted in his thoughts by the sounds of boots sinking into the mud near him. He raised his eyelids and saw a soldier staring at him questioningly. He spat in a vexed tune:
- Stop looking at me like that, will you! If I wanted to betray you or attack you, I wouldn't do it in front of everyone at fifteen to one!
The soldier answered in Estalian, which annoyed the ratman more.
- What are you saying?
- He didn't understand you, Clarin said.
In a few words of his native tongue, the diplomat undertook to reassure the members of his escort. Then he turned to Sigmund.
- We follow you, Sir Steiner. Make your observations, I will translate as and when.
Clarin had found the right words and tone to appease the fiery spirit of the young ratman. Sigmund resumed his analysis. His eye, accustomed to the details that revealed the smallest disharmony, didn't disappoint him once more. He quickly detected a series of signals that taught him the latest events as clearly as a storyteller. He smiled in spite of himself.
Feral Skaven!
Fortunately, he was convinced that he was right. His judgment couldn't have been altered by a desire to fight with the Sons of the Horned Rat. He declared with satisfaction:
- No doubt, they were Feral Skaven. No Beastmen or disguised Humans. You were right, Captain Antoninus.
- Nice to hear it, but what makes you think that, Sir Steiner?
- Too many things that coincide.
He reached for a pile of freshly turned clay.
- That's one of their tunnels. They gushed from the ground for a quick attack.
He showed an old rusty dagger planted in a corpse.
- Second hand gear. It is a Dwarf dagger, its pommel is finely carved. Stolen on a Dwarf, don't forget that we are not very far from the mountains where they live. Beastmen generally hide in forests. They roughly cobble their weapons or steal them from the freshly killed Humans, and only rarely come into contact with the Dwarves. Whoever used this dagger couldn't be a Dwarf, because a Dwarf would never have left it so neglected. It was either a Goblin or a Skaven. And Goblins do not dig tunnels outside their mountains.
Then he pointed to a graffiti on a wall: three lines that crisscrossed to form a triangle.
- The symbol of the Horned Rat. You could answer me, someone else who knows the Under-Empire could have drawn it, but there are tunnels and weapons.
Sigmund raised his finger.
- Anyway, the smell remains.
- The smell? Antoninus repeated.
- The nose of Humans does not have the same sensitivity as Skaven's. I can distinguish a lot of things you cannot feel. Like... that!
He approached one of the houses.
- Come here, but stay away.
Captain Antoninus placed himself alongside the Black Skaven.
- Do you see this little hole in the wall?
- I do.
- It's the impact of a bullet. Now, look at the burn marks around the hole.
- Oh... it looks like it's diffusing a kind of green light?
- Warpstone powder. Just like the slug that is still stuck in the brick. You may not feel it, but I perceive it.
- Well, you too, you know how to decode signs that I can't distinguish! Clarin observed with a big smile.
- Is it really warpstone?
Sigmund turned his head towards the captain.
- Warpstone has a very characteristic odour. Feral Skaven live with since immemorial times. It has altered our blood, it is even part of it, so much so that even a Skaven who has never eaten warpstone, or lived in an environment with warpstone in the vicinity, can instinctively recognize its smell.
- Have you ever touched the warpstone, Sir Steiner? Clarin asked.
- Never. And I would like the things to stay that way as long as possible. Only the Feral Skaven manage to see any use in it. The truth, Master Clarin, if you allow me to say such an expression, warpstone is a Taal damn shit. Worse than the most bewitching drugs.
A voice rose from the other side of the central square of the village. A soldier called Captain Antoninus with great gestures.
- ¡Capitán! ¡Hay dos niños aquí!
- ¿En qué estado?
- ¡Vivo, pero en serio agitado!
- ¡Llegamos! Clarin answered.
Sigmund, who hadn't got a word of the exchange, became angry:
- What's going on?
Clarin spoke to him with a slightly worried look.
- I'm sorry, Sir Steiner, but I think you'd better go back in the carriage.
- Why? Tell me why, right now!
- We've found two children. If they see you, they could panic.
Without saying a word, the Black Skaven climbed into the carriage, closed the door, and pulled the curtain.
Clarin and Antoninus went together to the building guarded by the soldier. The latter added:
- Captain, they... they were holding back one of these monsters!
- What? You mean there is a Skaven living with them?
- Jorge is watching him, waiting for your orders.
The captain sighed and hurried, followed by the ambassador. Both entered the stable.
The first thing that hit Eusebio Clarin beyond the threshold was the stench, a stench of blood, rotten meat, sweat and excrement, strong enough to tear off anyone's nostrils. Then the furious buzz of thousands of flies rolled over his eardrums like a military drum. Finally, his eyes perceived a very sad spectacle.
The boxes where the few horses of the village were normally parked were flooded with blood and casings in shambles torn from the carcasses of the drudges. The tools scattered in all directions – a lumberjack axe was planted in the back of a dead Skaven on the ground. And at the bottom of the space where the villagers stored the hay, two children, a boy and a girl, probably no more than ten years old, trembled in all their limbs. The boy waved a fork, and the girl was firmly holding a shovel. Both were standing in front of a Feral Skaven. Clarin could not repress a shudder. Since his arrival in the Renegade Crowns, he didn't had to endure the sight of a Feral Skaven alive. The meeting with the inhabitants of Vereinbarung had given her a completely different image of the ratmen. This one was a brutal reminder of all the horror he had experienced in Ubersreik.
Indeed, the Feral Skaven inspired more pity. It was a wretched, sickly creature, barely four feet tall, with a piece of filthy cloth wrapped around its loins for every garment. Its short coat struggled to cover its pink flesh stained with dirt and bodily fluids, its remaining teeth seemed ready to fall from its gums, its yellow eyes were blinking at full speed.
Jorge, the soldier who was pointing his harquebus at the Feral Skaven, approached Antoninus without looking away from his target.
- Captain, this creature is curled up in this corner since I came in, but I guess they've just spent a long time watching each other.
- You did the best. I think now this horror will not dare move.
Antoninus took out his pistol in turn, and murmured to the children:
- Right, you can go out, we protect you.
The two little children immediately dropped their improvised weapons and ran awkwardly as fast as they could to the exit. Once outside, they sat on the ground, threw themselves into each other's arms, and burst into loud sobs.
In the closed coach, Sigmund felt his heart tighten. He saw his hand go down to the doorknob, but remembered that it would only aggravate the situation.
Clarin joined the two small victims and squatted in front of them.
- You were very brave. Real little heroes.
- They... they're gone, the boy said painfully.
- How long have you been there?
- I do not know sir!
- They kidnapped the others! burst the girl.
- What? You mean these monsters took the villagers?
- Yes sir!
- Where did they go?
The two children stopped crying in order to think, but their tears redoubled.
- Don't worry, we'll find them, Clarin sighed.
Antoninus joined the trio, and murmured:
- You shall take refuge in the temple of Shallya in Esperanza. The nuns will take care of you, and we will try to find you a place to live.
He gestured towards two of the soldiers who were outside.
- Hey, you! Take them immediately to Esperanza and join us as soon as possible.
- Yes, captain!
The two chosen soldiers hastened to mount their horses. Antoninus helped the two children to ride pillion the horses. A minute later, they had already disappeared.
Clarin and Antoninus returned to the stable. Jorge and two other men-at-arms were still pointing their weapons towards the Feral Skaven.
- What do we do now with this creature? Kill?
- Not yet! Maybe it could tell us where the survivors are.
- You would know how to make it speak?
- Not me, captain. Hold it, I'll come back.
The diplomat ran with little strides towards the carriage.
- Sir Steiner?
The window opened, letting the Black Skaven's head pass.
- What is it?
- The two children imprisoned a Feral Skaven.
- Ah. And?
- All the villagers are not dead. Some were taken prisoner by its kind. I have something to ask you: do you know how to speak their language?
- Of course, my father taught me.
- So, could you question him?
- Hum... Interesting idea, but maybe I have a better one. Is it well dressed?
- Oh no, it's just wearing a loincloth.
- So, no valuable equipment on it?
- Only a piece of cloth.
- Does it look strong?
- No. For two children, it's impressive, but any soldier could knock it out with a slap.
- So, it's a slave. No possession, malnourished, it can only be a slave. It probably does not know much... unlike its chief.
- What do you propose? To force it to tell us where to find this leader?
- Better than that, Master Clarin: it will lead us to its leader with confidence. Can I go out now?
- Yes, the two children are en route to a shelter.
Sigmund stepped out of the car, then approached a pile of bodies. He tore off two cloaks, a tunic and a coat, took the clothes under his arm and entered the barn of the village. Surprised, the Estalien hesitated a few seconds, then followed him discreetly. He spotted the tall figure of young Steiner from behind. The Black Skaven had put the clothes at his feet and was undoing the fastening of his pants. He felt Clarin's presence, turned his head, and grunted aggressively:
- You want to enjoy the show?
- What are you doing? asked the Estalian, hesitating whether he should understand or not what he was seeing.
- I'm perfecting my camouflage.
- By emptying your bladder on these duds?
Sigmund gave an annoyed sigh.
- Feral Skaven have a habit of urinating on their possessions, it marks them with their personal smell. It's not very appetizing, but I've already cheated several Feral Skaven this way. Now, please go out.
The ambassador was still surprised, but obeyed. A moment later, Sigmund appeared dressed in torn and soiled clothes. He rolled himself in the mud, stuck some handles on his back, his head and his arms, and turned his back on Clarin.
- Sir Steiner?
The tall Black Skaven turned on his heels with a movement and hit the ground with his foot. He bent forward, nervously returned his head between his shoulders, and yelped something that no one understood.
Clarin felt uncomfortable recognizing the feeling of fear and disgust he had felt before one of Ubersreik's brutes. Sigmund's soft voice helped him to return to the present moment.
- So, Master Clarin, is it convincing?
- You bet it is!
- Very well. So listen carefully and let me explain what to do.
Koursh was very scared. His comrades had left him in the hands of men-things. As he had taken a bad blow on his head, he had hidden himself in the barracks where men-things were putting up their animals. He had woken up because of strident screams. He then jumped up and found himself facing two young men-things. They had threatened him, they had the nerve to make him prisoner. He had remained in front of them without moving, waiting for the smallest opportunity. And then, those other men-things had arrived. Fear had seized him to the guts. Faced with all these men-things, he was lost. The two little men-things were out, the other men-things were still threatening him. They were not going to spare him. The chief had said so the day before: men-things never spare the Sons of the Horned Rat.
Suddenly, his ears stood up. He heard screeching in his native language. Three other men-things entered the stable, firmly holding a Stormvermin. The tall Black Skaven struggled, shouted, but the three men-things were too cowardly to face him on the same level. One of the men-things brandished a rope. All men-things forced the Mighty One to sit down. Under the threat of three harquebuses, they pushed Koursh so as to stick his back to the Stormvermin's. After that, the man-thing with the rope tied the two Skaven firmly back to back, after putting the rope through an iron ring attached to the wall. Finally, the men-things left the house with a sneer, and closed the heavy door.
Koursh, still dead with fear, cried silently.
- Shut up! firmly ordered the Stormvermin.
- Argh! I do not want to die-die!
- You won't die-die, silly! Calm down. Breathe slowly.
The slave was amazed. For the first time in a long time, a son of the Horned Rat had spoken to him without directly threatening him. He obeyed, and tried to slow his frantic breathing. And after a few moments, he felt better.
- What's your name?
- Koursh, O immense-gentle Mighty One of the Horned Rat.
- I'm Treb. Listen-listen to me, do what I tell you to do, and we can go.
- We... can... leave?
- Yes. But all my patrol has been decimated.
- Your patrol? Oh, you're a Clawleader!
- Yes I am, and I too am the only one to have resisted these men-things.
- I... I know where the Clanrats I serve hide.
- Perfect! I will accompany you.
- But... we are prisoners! How to do?
- Do not worry about that, Koursh. We have to wait for the night.
- Oh… right.
Koursh was completely lost, but he was still too afraid to challenge. The two Skaven remained back to back, without exchanging a word more.
A few hours later, the last rays of sun that passed through the small openings dissipated.
- Koursh?
- Yes, Treb?
- Let's go.
- How?
The Stormvermin writhed.
- These twerps forgot to search me completely.
Sigmund was almost ashamed to use such a simple procedure, but in front of a Feral Skaven slave, he didn't have to bother with realism. He used his long tail to pull a leather case from under his cloak, from which he pulled out a small knife. He had no trouble cutting the rope, and a few minutes later the two Skaven were free.
Koursh danced from one foot to the other.
- Thank you, thank you, oh wonderful-powerful Mighty One of the Horned Rat!
- Hush, fool! You're going to make us spot!
The slave slammed both hands over his mouth.
- Good. Now we have to get out of there.
- We kill-kill men-things!
- If we do that, they will all jump on us, you moron! No, we must remain discreet, like the Eshin.
This comparison plunged Koursh into a fascinated trance.
- Like... Gutter Runners?
- Yes, like Gutter Runners.
Koursh was as enchanted. He, a miserable slave, was going to use the same tricks as a formidable assassin of Clan Eshin, under the tutelage of this Clawleader! And if the Clawleader was satisfied by his behaviour, maybe he would take him to his service! And the slaves of the Clawleaders were often envied by others. What a beautiful prospect!
The reverie of the slave was interrupted by a creaking sound. The Black Skaven gently pushed the heavy wooden panel.
- They forgot to block the door! chuckled the Clawleader.
Once again, Sigmund gritted his teeth. You really had to deal with a conditioned slave incapable to think to use successfully such a shabby ruse!
- Now-now, you follow me and you do not make noise.
The slave applied his toes exactly where his saviour had walked. Outside, the night had fallen well. There were a few men-things here and there, but all were sleeping.
- We don't kill-kill? Sure?
- Sure-sure. Not now. But we will come back, and we will kill-loot!
- Yeah!
A few minutes of silent walking later, the two Skaven were at the exit of the village. The tall black Skaven tapped the slave's shoulder.
- You have to take me to your chieftain, right now!
- Come with poor Koursh, Treb!
Without hesitation, the small Feral Skaven sank into the forest, followed by Sigmund.