Kristofferson was uncomfortable. It was a little past ten o'clock in the morning. Sweat made his shirt stick to his spine fur. He could feel the stare of the three persons facing him weighing on him: his grandfather, Prince Ludwig Steiner, sitting quietly at his desk, Commander Johannes Schmetterling on his right, and Lady Franzseska Gottlieb on his left.
The Prince finished the reading the report signed by Captain Rudy Müller. While holding the paper between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he turned with his left thumb the seal he had made craft around his ring finger. Kristofferson focused his attention on this seal, a simple jewel, fused in steel, with the coat of arms of the Rat Kingdom delicately carved on its surface. This allowed the young ratman to be able to avoid seeing the eyes of his interlocutors, while seeming to look in their direction. He also forced himself to focus his ears on the chirping of birds that could be heard through the windows, to escape the unhealthy silence that was smothering the office.
Steiner set the report on the varnished wood, looked up at his grandson, took his inspiration, and asked calmly:
- And so, they are all dead?
- There is no longer a single villager from Klapperschlänge alive, Opa.
Kristofferson lowered his head, resolved to face the fury of his grandfather.
- It's my fault. I didn't had the idea of putting them away in our walls for the night.
- Hum... what do you think about it, Schmetterling?
The tall man answered sternly:
- If a soldier under my command reported such an answer to me, I would have him immediately submitted to the judgment of a court martial, your Highness. Nevertheless, with all the sympathy he can arouse, and his significant qualities as a man of action, your grandson is still young, he's not officially a soldier, and I can understand that he may not necessarily think of all these instructions that should automatically follow any officer of any corps. I think the captain of the garrison should have taken this initiative.
The Prince nodded.
- Very good. And what about you, Lady Franzseska?
- I know Kristofferson since he was born, Highness. I admit that I have a little difficulties understanding how something so important has escaped him? He's not the type of person that neglects the smallest detail, usually. However, this is the first time that he has been given direct responsibility for a mission. During the Harvests, he has always been accompanied by your son, as well as myself or my children. And no one is infallible. I hope he will learn from his mistake.
- I hope so too, mumbled Steiner.
One again, a silence pressed the lungs of the young ratman. He started nearly as he heard the smooth voice of his grandfather ask:
- Have you something in particular to tell us, Kristofferson?
- How can I catch back my mistake? he spluttered.
This time, the Prince had a short satisfied smile.
- We'll see that later. Before, I'd like to talk about how you survived the Orcs. Can you confirm to Commander and Lady Franzseska the words of Captain Müller?
- Absolutely, Opa. Thanks to the intervention of Captain Hansel Kreutzer, from the Wüstengrenze garrison, the Greenskins were routed.
- Good. And about what happened after the battle? What is your version?
Kristofferson understood that he had an interest in being honest, but that he absolutely had to convince his grandfather that he had done well. He wanted to try to go for it. He spoke to the chief of the armies.
- Commander Schmetterling, are you the one who placed Captain Kreutzer at the head of the Wüstengrenze garrison?
- Indeed, my lord.
The features of the brown Skaven hardened.
- I invite you to pay attention to better choose the ones you will hire, henceforth.
- Why, my lord? replied the tall, red man, suddenly annoyed.
- Because we don't need to have at our borders captains who underestimate a clearly dangerous situation, leave other soldiers to bear the greatest losses, and despise both women and Skaven. Kreutzer had all these defects. As Müller reported, as the Prince's emissary, I removed him from office.
- Oh yes? asked Schmetterling. It was up to me to do it! Until proven otherwise, I am the Commander of the Army of Vereinbarung!
- But as emissary of the Prince, he was entitled to do so, intervened Steiner. And if I have more or less confidence in your judgment and your loyalty, Schmetterling, I trust my grandson much more.
Schmetterling didn't answer, but his angry glare told Kristofferson, with a limpid tone, that was just the beginning of a coming confrontation. The Prince noticed it, and murmured:
- You can dismiss, commander.
The commander bowed and left the room.
- Lady Franzseska, we'll have to make an estimate of the damage, the cost of the repairs, the compensation to the survivors for the moral damage, all these sorts of things, in short. It's your specialty, so you'll be in charge. We can do without your excellent services for some time, the situation in Wüstengrenze seems more urgent. I want you to leave in three days, time for you to prepare all your belongings, account books and calculating instruments, to charter an escort and to inform Captain Müller.
- It will be done according to your good will, your Greatness.
- Perfect. Thank you.
Lady Franzseska took leave of both Steiner. Once the two men alone, the Prince relaxed a little, and spoke again to his grandson.
- I trust you, my boy, but I wonder if the sad fate of Klapperschlänge doesn't affect your judgment? Was this Captain Kreutzer so ignoble?
- Opa, all the men in the company who were with me will confirm you that he had insulting remarks to us, Skaven, and the priestesses of Shallya have suffered from his contemptuous remarks about the fairer sex.
Ludwig Steiner sighed wearily. He got up, stretched himself, crossed his arms behind his back, and took a few steps in the office. His varnished shoes creaked the floor under the carpet.
- Yeah... I don't want to load everything on his shoulders, but maybe things would have been different if he had intervened earlier, indeed. But that doesn't diminish your responsibility in this case, Kristofferson. Neither yours, nor Müller's, nor your lieutenants. We shall have to repair the damage at best. To start, we need to find a replacement for Kreutzer.
- If I may, Opa, this replacement is already found. Captain Rudy Müller proved to me that he deserved better than a small barracks like Klapperschlänge.
- Really? Yet, this is not my feeling, after reading his report.
- He has the will, he has the courage! All he needs is self-confidence and someone who lets him prove what he's worth. You should have seen him fight against this wyvern, or fight the Orcs! Everything seemed lost, and yet he didn't give up! I can even tell you that he saved my life!
- I see.
Ludwig Steiner moved back to his office, rubbed his nose, and looked up at his grandson.
- This village doesn't exist anymore. The soldiers have nothing left to protect. I don't know if others will come to live there, but in the meantime, better the few remaining men settle in Wüstengrenze. I'll write an edict in this sense. As for you, to definitively settle this story of responsibility in relation to the victims, I announce to you that you'll place yourself under the authority of this Captain Müller for the next six months. You shall leave with Lady Franzseska. You'll be in a good position to thoroughly analyse Müller's qualities and faults, and you'll help him become capable of handling the entire garrison on his own. You will teach him what you have learned, as well as the soldiers under his responsibility. So everyone will benefit, and that will allow you to make amends in the eyes of Verena, and mine. So spoke the Prince.
The young brown Skaven bowed and took leave of his grandfather. He didn't immediately retire to his apartments, but went to the library. There, he found prior Romulus, to whom he gave a letter written by the hand of Mother Hannah. He left the room with the satisfied smile of someone who had done a necessary job.
The sun was high in the sky, and the warmth of its rays comforted Jochen a little. Even if he had done everything to remain stoic, the horrors of the Oropesa assault had shaken him. A little peace was not too much for his taste. He especially felt that his black furry friend needed to clear his head. So the two comrades had made a detour to Sondernach. It was a big village whose wealth was mainly in the wood sale. All the men of Sondernach were loggers or hunters. The nearby forest provided them with quality lumber, and a small trading post where customers used to buy their merchandise had been built. Many developing cities benefited from this lumber, including the large, far-flung border cities. Huge convoys with a strong escort left Sondernach regularly.
Jochen crossed one of these caravans. He casted a professional glance, and analysed in a few moments the composition of the caravan.
Coat of arms of Ostentür, twenty militiamen for five chariots... They are probably building a new construction.
Wood was actually used for buildings, but it was also used for furniture and some weapons. Certainly, carpenters were careful to use the most appropriate materials according to the uses, but the Sondernach wood had the distinction of being able to be used to satisfy varied as multiple needs.
While walking, the tall fellow spotted the house he was looking for. This was the counter from which the new convoy was leaving. A large log-shaped sign hung above the front door, and those who knew how to read could see a name painted on it: Baumann. The Baumann were a large family, each member of which was involved in running the business. The leaders, two Humans in the prime of life, had raised no less than a dozen children, the youngest of whom had just celebrated his thirteenth birthday. Although having fulfilled their duty of population for the Rat Kingdom, Isidor and Ortrun Baumann had wanted to try the experiment, and had volunteered to adopt a small Skaven. Thus, about eight months earlier, they had adopted one of the Freed Skaven brought back by Psody and his team.
All the family members had welcomed the event, in fact it was even the children who had suggested the idea to the couple. Confident, they had referred at the Shallya temple set in their village. The request went back to Romulus himself. He had seen the opportunity to observe how a young Skaven raised in a large Human family could evolve. The children of the Baumann had themselves children who were still young, this could give interesting results from a social point of view. And so, the Baumann had inherited a little boy whom they had named Gottfried.
Jochen walked out the door and greeted the mature man sitting at the counter.
- Well, the blacksmith has finished shoeing the horses, we'll leave you, we've bothered you enough.
Isidor Baumann held his business inherited from his father for more than two decades. Thanks to his business sense, coupled with enough luck to avoid the serious unforeseen mishaps, he had prospered well. He was grizzled, sporting a well-cut moustache, and always wore a vest with many pockets in which he used to store his small tools.
The Human replied happily:
- You do not bother us at all! It's always a pleasure to see you! Besides…
He pointed at the window.
- Look! Gottfried is so happy!
Jochen put his head through the opening, and grinned at a sight he thought to be entertaining and touching at the same time.
The window opened on a small courtyard where a large table was installed, usually used for large family meals. At the end of the table, there was a high chair made to allow a very young child to sit without falling. Sigmund, himself sitting on a chair, was feeding a tiny Skaven on the high chair. This pup was now a good little novena of months old. His coat had grown, and had several shades of brown colour. He especially had a big dark spot on his left eye. He noisily swallowed the soup prepared by his mother Ortrun, and babbled happily between each spoonful.
Jochen couldn't help to mock his comrade.
- Oh, look at that! How cute!
- Go shush yourself! responded the tall Black Skaven with a poor, annoyed smile.
- What an impressive capacity for forthright repartee! chuckled Jochen.
- He doesn't need to learn your obscenities, Jochen! replied Sigmund, laughing in his turn.
- Hurry up, the horses are ready, we still have some way to go.
- Coming, I'm almost done.
Jochen disappeared from his eyes. The young Steiner took the opportunity to turn his attention back to the little child he continued to feed.
- Eeyup... You deserve a better education than this roughneck's!
While continuing to serve him the soup, his look became distant, while tumultuous thoughts came to tickle his mind.
Am I better than this roughneck?
Sigmund sighed, and relived the circumstances that had made him meet this little rat.
The Sacherg colony was known to have a modest size. According to Nedland's observations, this small enclave of the Under-Empire, located on the other side of the border separating the Renegade Crowns from Tilea, was no longer very valiant. A recent assault by a militia, weary of seeing its resources regularly looted, had defeated the few regiments of Clanrats. The Humans had not had the courage to chase the Feral Skaven into the depths of their burrow, but the Halfling scout had done it. Sacherg was moribund. Gabriel's gas globes had quickly reduced to impotence the survivors who were wandering down the corridors. As all the colonies were designed on the same model, the nursery was located at the end of a long tunnel, and thus out of reach of the fumes of soporific volutes. Nedland, gone ahead, had no trouble finding it, followed by the company led by Psody.
This time, Psody was accompanied by Sigmund only, there was no other Skaven in the whole team. About fifteen Humans followed them, while Marjan closed the march. They joined Nedland who was waiting for them in front of a heavy, wide open door.
- Here we are! Two ratwives only, knock-out, both of them. But I'm afraid this Harvest not to be very fruitful. It's a little nursery, it only has one room.
- How many breeders? asked Marjan.
- Four.
Sigmund's nose frowned.
- Marjan, why did you say "breeders"?
- Because that's what they are, Siggy!
- They are women!
Marjan turned to the big Black Skaven. The determination of her gaze, visible through the lenses of her mask, made him uncomfortable.
- Sigmund, I am the first person to say that boys and girls must be treated in the same way. Not these creatures. If you give them an ounce of identity, you only increase the suffering. Especially yours.
- What suffering? What are you talking about?
- Of a reality it's time for you to face-assume, answered the White Skaven. We agreed with your mother and your grandfather, Sigmund.
- On what? asked the Black Skaven, suddenly frightened.
- You have to see by yourself who the Feral Skaven really are, and why-why it's important to fight them.
The Master Mage made a small head movement towards the big opening.
- Go ahead.
Sigmund hesitated a little, but resolved to obey. He went through the door. He found himself in a small corridor lit by globes of light installed by Skryre Warlock Engineers. He saw another door opened by Nedland a few yards away. Behind him, the others followed him, while remaining at a distance. As he advanced, he felt his heart beating louder and louder. It was then that he distinguished raucous and deep gasps. Several creatures, no doubt of great size, were lurking in the room at the end of the way. He stopped, turned to the others. His father, still a few steps from him, gestured to make him proceed forward with a movement of his fingers. Sigmund resumed his march, and finally arrived at the threshold of the nursery. He inhaled deeply, and entered.
- Shallya have mercy!
Several times, the young ratman had asked Psody, Romulus and Kristofferson what the female genitors of the Underground Empire looked like. The different descriptions overlapped on several points, but the horror they had aroused in him was a thousand times below what he was feeling at that moment.
He was in a small, dimly lit room, barely larger than the storeroom of the stables at the family home. The floor was covered with wet, darkened with various fluid stains straw. When he looked more closely around, his coat bristled more in front of a particularly puzzling vision.
A female Skaven was lying at each corner of the room. All four were naked, chained by their neck to rings encrusted in the stone walls. Usually, seeing four girls treated like this would have revolted above all the Black Skaven. But he couldn't feel anything but a sudden rise of compassion. Tears came to his eyes. Under the effect of ointments, fumigations and other warpstone medications, the four breeders were frightfully deformed. Huge, weighing no doubt several hundred pounds each, they were lying on their backs, motionless, arms and legs apart because of the cylinders of grease that encased their limbs.
This sad picture was not only pitiful, it was also aberration in the eyes of the young ratman. For him, the concept of Skaven girl was associated with his mother, or sisters, especially Bianka, the closest to him, who herself entered adulthood at the same time as him. He couldn't accept the slightest connection between them and these pathetic, shapeless creatures.
He felt his father stand beside him.
- Will you be alright-alright?
- What... I... I don't know what to say. I cannot believe it.
- Lucky for you, with your mask, you don't have to bear the smell.
- It is... monstrous! Abominable! These poor girls…
- "Breeders", Siggy. You have to get used to say "breeders".
- They are not animals, Father!
- The Feral Skaven turn them into reproduction machines. They have no other function.
- One of them gave you birth! And another did the same for Mother! You can't call my grandmothers "reproduction machines"!
- Yet, that's what they are. You're right, your mother and I were born by such creatures. I don't deny it. But I remind-remind you that one of the objectives of the Rat Kingdom is precisely to do everything so that what you see to be history. These poor things have no name, no rights, and are too befuddled-brain-damaged by drugs to experience anything but pain. Not any girl of the Skaven people should end up like this. And for that, we must found a new society. And you are facing the first step.
Sigmund remained silent, looking at the females, without saying a word. His father agreed to continue:
- It's hard to say, I know it, but you must not associate them with the girls of our Kingdom. This may make your task even more difficult-tricky.
- What task?
- What do you think?
Four of the Humans entered into the room approached one of the layers. Near it, on the ground, five new-born Skaven were piled on the litter. All were naked, about the size of a Human infant, and appeared to be in a semi-comatose state, barely moving.
- Only boys, Marjan grumbled.
At least she already gives them a Human identity, Sigmund thought.
- This nursery has no girls, Nedland commented.
- You sure?
- The Skaven put the girls in a separate nursery, where they feed them with warpstone milk. It gets them used to receiving it in larger quantities when they are old enough to give birth.
- Wait, Nedland... you mean that Mother has... been...
- She was. Nourished with warpstone milk, no doubt, replied the Halfling. Fortunately, not enough to affect her health. You are the proof.
- Stop talking and start acting! intimated Marjan. What do you think, Psody?
- They don't look too infected-sick. Let's hope that the surface air invigorates them. Take them all!
And the Humans delicately picked up the pups to deposit them gently in their stuffed baskets. One of them moaned softly, but was silent once on the cushion.
Marjan asked:
- Is it over?
- Not quite, replied the White Skaven.
He tiptoed towards another layer lying at the bottom of the cellar.
- Sigmund? Come here.
The Black Skaven obeyed, and re-joined his father.
- Look.
The young ratman had a gag. He felt his hatred for the people of the Under-Empire growing with his disgust. How could a people inflict such treatment on their female half? His reaction comforted him a little.
We have the same blood, but in my heart, I will never, ever, have anything to do with these animals! Besides... even animals do not inflict such treatment on females!
- I know-know, son.
- What?
- You just spoke, didn't you realize it?
- Uh... ah. Right. But... you're not like them, neither!
Psody tapped his son's arm gently.
- Don't worry, my child, I'm aware of it. Come on, let's get down to business. You shall now Harvest him.
- Who... oh!
Sigmund had not noticed right away, but there was something on the huge female. He saw a tiny rat, a baby boy probably born recently. Just one. It was clinging to one of the gigantic udders of the breeder, sucking its milk.
The Black Skaven approached a step. The little rat, like the others, was completely naked, and still covered with uterine fluids. It didn't seem to notice him. At the same time, was he aware of anything except its mother's presence?
It reminded him the first time he had seen his younger brother, Gabriel. He had been delighted, and had promised to protect him just as much as his sister Bianka. But what he saw didn't inspire him with the same joy.
Psody's voice pulled him hard from his thoughts.
- Take him.
- What?
- Take him!
- Uh...
- We are here for a Harvest, Sigmund. Today, it's up to you to accomplish the mission. Take this little one gently, and put him in a basket.
Sigmund wanted to obey. He reached out with both hands, slipped them under the small Skaven, and pulled gently. But scarcely had he raised it from the flank of the breeder than it uttered such a scream that the Black Skaven released it hastily to cover his ears.
- Careful! You almost let him fall to the ground! his father reprimanded.
- I... I did not think that...
- You've heard that kind of scream, though!
- Never! Every time I went down to a colony, I stood guard in front of the nursery! And when the Harvesters went out, the babies were sleeping because of the gas!
- Indeed, but at home-home? A younger brother and two little sisters make a terrible noise!
- It is not the same thing.
- Enough talk! Pick him up!
Psody became impatient. Sigmund clenched his teeth, but wanted to do well. He moved cautiously towards the female, without daring to look at her. He ran his fingers under the rat's paws, then raised his hands again. He lowered them quickly and took refuge in a corner of the room when the screeching of the new-born lacerated his eardrums again.
Psody sighed in annoyance, clenched his fists, but did not lose his composure. The cries had stopped, but the Black Skaven was still shaking to the end of the tail.
- I cannot believe you're the son who uses to slay Clanrats without weakening!
Sigmund looked up.
- Do I have to do it?
- That's part of the mission. Your brother has been in the same situation, but he has stood firm! If you want to be a Harvester in your own right, you must be able to harvest a Skaven!
The Black Skaven approached the huge female, planted himself in front of his flank, where the pup rat was clutching, and did not move.
- Come on, Siggy, come on!
- I cannot...
- Of course you can!
- Let's wait until he's finished his meal!
- No, the others will eventually wake up, if you drag-hesitates too much!
In front of the urgent look of his father, he decided to put his hands on the baby rat again. The latter had instinctively understood what the contact of these fingers meant, and screamed, screamed again, clinging to its mother's breast. The Black Skaven felt tears rising to his eyes under the lenses of his mask.
- I cannot! It's too hard!
Sigmund looked away, without letting go. Psody explained in a voice that he made soothing:
- Look, you can do it!
- I do not want to... deprive him of his mother!
- It's normal! You're right, Siggy! But think about what will happen! If you leave him there tomorrow, the day after tomorrow at the latest, he'll be snatched from this poor thing by a Skaven from a Clan! The little pups never stay more than three days in the nursery. This one could fall between the claws of the Clan Eshin assassins, or worse, that of the Pestilens Plague Monks! If he survives, he will become a war machine thirsting for blood-violence! You can offer him a better future!
Sigmund opened his eyes, and suddenly saw something that ended to chill his blood. He saw the flabby-cheek face of the female, and clearly distinguished tears that pearled at the corners of its eyes. Worse, it let out a deep roar, charged with all the sadness of the Under-Empire, as if the little consciousness that remained to it allowed it to understand what was going on.
It was too much for Sigmund.
- No!
The tall Black Skaven stepped back, waving his hands as if his fingers had caught fire. He walked some other clumsy steps, and turned his back firmly to the breeder.
He anticipated the worst when he heard his father's voice.
- Siggy... look at me.
- No!
- Siggy, I'm asking you, listen to me and trust me!
As the tall Black Skaven did not move, Psody sighed and stood in front of his son.
- Today, it will hurt, because you separate him from his mother. It's a done fact. Instinctively, they both hurt. But it's inevitable. Very soon, they will be separated, either by you or by the Feral Skaven. The difference is that if you do it now, you will offer him a life with brothers, sisters, then a wife, children... a real family!
- Can't... can't we really... take the mother?
- Look at it. It is an eternity that it is no longer a Skaven. Maybe it doesn't have any longer. In addition, she is so bloated-ballooned that we could not even get it through the door. Now you have a choice-choice to make for its child: let him become a Feral Skaven and face him in a few years, or offer him a better life in Vereinbarung. In both cases, this little one has no choice, it's true. But if he comes with you, then he will know love, and will be free to make choices. In the Under-Empire, nothing of all this will ever happen, Siggy. Give him what he really needs: a real home.
Sigmund turned, thought for a long time, and decided to stop thinking. He leaned toward the female. He gently passed his hands around the new-born baby, and whispered in its ear, his throat knotted with sobs:
- I am sorry.
Then he resolved to pull it off the bottom of the breeder, doing everything possible not to pay attention to its terrified squeaks. The breeder bellowed again. Sigmund hastened to join Nedland, who was tending an empty basket towards him. The Black Skaven put down the little rat inside, and ran out of the room. He barely heard Psody say to him:
- Well done, son!
The whole company followed the Black Skaven. As each time, when the Harvesters left the nursery to return to the exit, the small rats fell asleep under the effect of gas still floating in the air.
And yet, the cries ploughed Sigmund's eardrums to the exit.
A few hours had passed. The Harvesters were only a few hours walk from the Renegade Crowns. The Tilean forest was not as deep as that of the Empire, but it still remained a good place to hide for the night. Since it was a small mission, the company didn't need to use the trick of the convoy of prisoners. The next morning, they could cross the border of Tilea through the mountains to reach Hoffnungshügel, where the young Skaven would be cared for.
Humans celebrated this little victory with a few beers and songs. Nedland took the opportunity to start a little joke, as usual:
- Hey, do you know how to call a Dark Elf with a repeating crossbow?
In front of the interrogative looks, the Halfling declared:
- You call him "Mister"!
The whole group burst out laughing. Nedland searched for the one he wanted to comfort, but couldn't see him.
- Hey, where's the little black rat?
The laughter stopped immediately, to give way to a heavy embarrassment. The scout asked a young woman who seemed to hesitate to speak:
- Silke, did you see him leave?
- Uh... I think he went in that direction.
She gestured to a group of trees a little apart. Psody stood up.
- I'll talk to him.
It only took Psody a few minutes to spot the tall figure of his son. Sitting on a tree trunk, his head was stuck between his two strong but delicate hands, his fingers clutching the metal mask he had not yet removed. Hissing sounded irregularly through the filter spout. Approaching, the Master Mage felt his heart squeeze when he realized that these hisses were sobs.
He stopped right in front of the Black Skaven, and murmured:
- I'm very proud of you, Sigmund.
Sigmund didn't react. The White Skaven continued:
- You took the right decision. Never doubt it.
Sigmund looked up and tore off his mask, revealing streams of tears on his furious face. He yelled:
- We are child thieves! And you convinced me to participate! Now, I'm a monster!
- Calm down, my dear. This is not true-true.
The White Skaven spoke in a voice that was initially rather strong, but softened as he explained:
- If they were children with real loving parents, you'd be right. But they are Skaven, raised to satisfy the Horned Rat. There is no sense of love or compassion in them, Siggy. I remind you I spent the first four years of my life among them! They convert them into warriors, destined to ravage the world, or to die-die their mouths wide open trying! This little one would have become a Feral Skaven which kills all those it doesn't like, devours all it can, and rapes all the girls it's allowed to approach. You have broken an infernal cycle that has lasted for generations. At the time, it hurt him, and you, too. But it will pass! You probably saved the life of that child! And I can guarantee you that you did what was good for him! Remember that all your friends have been in the place of this little baby. Do you think they are unhappy?
- Are you sure I saved his life? By tearing him from his mother's arms?
- Oh, but you saw it yourself, son! He didn't have any mother anymore! Frankly, how could? Besides, it might be not have for a very long time to live!
- What makes you say that?
- There was only one baby on it. This means that everyone else in the litter was not viable, or that this one was the only one. In either case, the breeder can no longer spawn a flock of pups at once. It means that it has become useless. And you know what happens to useless mouths, among the Feral Skaven.
The Black Skaven shook his head awkwardly.
- Now, I'm going to show you the result of what we did today. Follow me.
Obediently, Sigmund followed his father to a large tent in front of which were two Humans. They moved aside to let in the Skaven. Inside, the Harvesters had arranged in a circle half a dozen baskets, each containing a Skaven. The babies were all sleeping soundly, in a snoring concert. They silently approached one of the baskets.
- Here, look at him! See how calm and serene he looks! He would never experience that in a burrow of the Under-Empire.
Sigmund went around the basket, and gazed intently at the little rat, which was moving gently under its blanket.
- He is… cute?
- Of course, he is. And maybe he'll be a handsome lady-killer, in a few years. With real parents and a real home, I assure you he will live very well. You'll tell him your meeting, and I am sure he'll be the first to thank you! Well... I should say "the third", his parents will before.
- You... do you think?
- I know it, trust me.
The tall black Skaven didn't answer, and focused on the baby.
I hope you are right.
Sigmund sighed. This memory had lost nothing of its drudgery. This day was the first time he picked up a small Skaven, and the last one. He never dared to go back to any nursery. The cries of the little rat had remained engraved in his memory, like the streaks of an iron gauntlet on the surface of a mirror. Subsequently, each time he had participated a Harvest, he had stayed behind, watching, while others filled the baskets.
Fortunately, his father was not mistaken. He had earned the thanks of the entire Baumann family, when Isidor and Ortrun, along with three of their blood children, came to pick up the newcomer a few days later. Subsequently, Sigmund used to come to Sondernach at least every six weeks. Each visit was a moment of happiness for him.
- Siggy!
Sigmund startled and turned around. He just saw Jochen's arm through the window, which indicated the exit with an energetic thumb.
- All right, all right, I'm coming.
The tall Black Skaven grumbled as he noticed the bowl of soup was completely empty. Fortunately, the child seemed satisfied, and no longer claimed.
- I have to leave, Gottfried.
The ratman put the wooden spoon on the table, and murmured:
- I hope that if you don't forgive him, you'll understand that big, idiot Siggy...
- Siggy? Siggy!
Sigmund's heart stopped dead. No mistake! The little Skaven had just spoken to him! Called him by his name! Surprised to the highest degree, he was almost frightened, and retreated to the door leading to the counter. Therefore, the owner was shaking hands with Captain Gottlieb.
- May you greet your little sister for us, Sir Jochen!
The tall young man's eyes widened, then he burst out laughing.
- "Little"? You consider she's little? For a woman, she's still damn huge!
- Well... yes, but... Aren't you her big brother?
- Absolutely not, Master Baumann! On the both of us, it is she who came out first of the belly of our holy mother! Hey, from the first moment, she showed that she has not a patient character, nor she's the kind of gal who leaves a man to pass in front of her!
The two men laughed together. Jochen met Sigmund's uncertain gaze.
- Ah, it's about time! Come on, hairy nanny, we go now!
- We're on. The little one has eaten everything, Master Baumann.
- Perfect! With you, there is no whim, it's so much easier!
The Black Skaven in turn shook Isidor's hand.
- Above all, do not hesitate to come back! It will really please Gottfried!
- I'm counting on that, Master Baumann.
And the two friends took leave. Ten minutes later, they were on the main street of Sondernach, and approaching the bridge that spanned the river that bounded its perimeter.
Sigmund threw a last gaze above his shoulder.
You're worth the best, Gottfried. The best.