For the fourth time, Bianka Steiner re-read the birth records for the month. As each end of the month, it counted the number of new inhabitants of Vereinbarung, reported the results of individual cards in recapitulative tables. Size, weight, sex, place of birth, name and profession of father and mother, everything was there.
Well, well… a third of births of female babies for two thirds of male babies... Come on, gals, a little effort, and you'll manage to maintain a gender equality!
There was even a box "particular signs". Until now, Bianka had used it to specify "Black Skaven". Unlike regular Skaven that came into the world without fur, Black Skaven could be quickly recognized from their first moments, these ones were much larger than average, with a dark fluff. Yet, for the first time, she had to fill the box "particular signs" with the mention "horns and white coat".
Hmm... No other White Skaven beside the little peasant of Hemsbach, but it will come, no doubt? I wonder if Father will really take action?
Three knocks sounded on the wooden door. She raised her nose.
- Yes? Who is it?
- It is Eusebio Clarin, señorita!
Immediately, the ratgirl's heart started racing, and a smile instantly lit up her face.
- Come in, please!
The dashing diplomat walked through the door, still as smiling and elegant as in the memory of the Skaven girl. The latter realized that she wore the austere outfit of the archivists, and hardly repressed an annoyed grinding.
- How are you, madam?
- Wonderfully, Excellency! You will excuse me for not receiving you in forms, but I was at work.
- Oh, please, my lady! You are always elegant!
He made a movement, and like a prestidigitator, pulled out a bunch of flowers from under his cloak.
- And here is a pale reflection of your charm, my lady!
Bianka's smile twitched. She held out a nervous hand, grasped the bouquet, and inhaled its perfume. Clarin thought she was looking for their origin, and thought it right to precise:
- They grow in Estalia, Prince Calderon has imported seeds.
- Oh, I... they are very... pretty. Thank you.
The Human, without losing his smile, felt his forehead wrinkling.
- I hope I do not bother you, Lady Bianka?
- Oh, no, no! On the contrary, it's up to me to apologize. You're giving me a very beautiful gift, however... oh, it bothers me a lot!
- Don't worry, speak sincerely.
- Well... I don't really like bunches of flowers. This involves interrupting their life cycle by picking them up, just for coquetry. My mother likes to practice horticulture, I don't.
- Oh... I should have listened to your brother, he had warned me.
- It doesn't matter, your attention remains touching.
- So you don't like bunches of flower.
- I'm sorry for you, señor.
Bianka nevertheless consented to put the bouquet on a small pedestal table, waiting to do something else with. Clarin's gaze suddenly sparkled with a mischievous gleam.
- Maybe I will have more success with this?
He drew from his leather bag a big case which he handed to the girl. She put it on her desk, opened it, and immediately her eyes flashed.
- Oh! What a magnificent present!
Bianka had in his hands three thick volumes. She knew immediately that they were missals. One carried the decorations proper to Manann, god of the oceans, that the Estalian invoked regularly. The second was devoted to Myrmidia, the Tilean goddess of war. The third compiled the words of Taal and Rhya. She opened it, flipped through it, and saw:
- They are written in Estalian... but the texts are the same from one country to another, aren't they?
- With a few slight differences, nothing to notice them. So you can grasp the basics of my native language, and maybe learn to speak it?
- That would be wonderful! Thank you a thousand times, Master Clarin!
She did not hesitate to jump on his neck to hug him.
- I cannot let you go with empty hands! Listen, I'm going to ask Father if he would allow me to let you leave with some texts written in the language of the Under-Empire?
- You mean he owns books written in Feral Skaven tongue?
- Yes, during Harvests, he regularly confiscated some, and translated a few. I'm sure he will allow you to take one with its reikspiel version.
- That would be very kind from him.
- By the way, for your information, the language of the Feral Skaven is called "Queekish"!
- Ah? I didn't know. Thank you for telling me!
- At your service, Excellency.
- I must take leave now, I think your grandfather and your father are eager to hear the story of what we saw in Oropesa.
At these words, Bianka felt a twinge in her stomach.
- Have you had any casualties?
Clarin didn't smile anymore.
- Alas, some. This is the lot of those who choose to put their life at the service of their fellow citizens, my lady.
- What about my brother? How is he?
- Oh, he took a few blows, but nothing serious.
- He didn't come back with you?
- He preferred to stay with his friends, they are at the inn.
The narrowing of her heart widened to become a clear twist.
- Did he? I hope he won't come back too late?
- He recommended not to wait for him for supper.
Very promising! Bianka thought with annoyance.
- You, by cons, I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you at our table? Your father has asked me to transmit you the invitation.
- Oh, of course! Anyway, I'm done with my counts, if you do not mind, I'm just going to put away my cards and I'll join you.
The dinner went off without incident. Eusebio Clarin narrated what had happened in Rabanera and Oropesa. The members of the Steiner family listened with attention and concern – at least those who were sitting at the table, because two chairs remained empty.
Once again, Gabriel awoke with a start. He scratched his head, and thought. Did he just hear Bianka moaning again? Or was it his imagination? No way to find out.
His stomach gurgled, he grimaced. The little bit of soup he had quickly swallowed up in secret once the strange Estalien gone had not been enough to satisfy him. Maybe he should have been more daring and go get some cheese in the kitchen? He sat down sadly on his bed, and sniffed.
Damn ambassador! Damn hungry! Damn fear of people!
He wanted to think of something else. He went to the window, spread the curtains, opened the glass panel, and saw Mannslieb's light through the interstices of the wooden shutters. It was still dark. The little ratman scurried back to his bed, curled up under his blanket, and closed his eyes. Gradually, sleep dragged his mind into limbo, slowly, deliciously... when bursts of voice brought him back to reality.
I don't believe it! he said to himself, tapping his palm on his mattress.
He was about to bury his head under his pillow, when he recognized the voice that had snatched him from the restful repose, and had a frightened shiver. He leaped to his window, opened the shutters wide, and stood petrified before a sad spectacle.
The silhouette of a Skaven zigzagged along the path that led to the Steiner dwelling, stopped in front of a tree, and urinated copiously on it, without stopping to sing. The few words that reached the chaste ears of the light gray Skaven made him shudder with disgust.
Siggy?
It was the big black Skaven, completely drunk, who staggered awkwardly, bawling a bawdy song.
- And long live Prince Rodeo... Rodo... Raw Dinero Cold Iron!
Behind him, a Human was hurrying to catch up with him: Jochen Gottlieb, the son of his mother's best friend. Jochen wanted to support Sigmund, but he rejected him.
- I need nobody, pal! I'm the tallest, and the strongest of the Rat Kingdom!
Gabriel jumped to the ceiling when his grandfather's voice burst into one of the windows below.
- Sigmund! What are you playing?
The Black Skaven stopped short, tilted his head, and shouted to the Prince:
- It's not a game, Opa!
- And you're arguing me? How dare you?
- I dare, because I saw the true truth, Opa! We do not play anymore, we're at war!
The young engineer then perceived something in his older brother's voice that made him cry out: laughter gave way to sobs.
- The Feral Skaven have declared war on us! And I'm ready to demolish them all! I shall kill with my bare hands a hundred of these monsters for every little girl whose throat would have been cut by them! I am a Human, Opa! You raised me like that! I am a man, a real one! That's what Enrique said, my friend the Estalian I saved! We will live in peace, forever, when we have exterminated these crap, even if I had to take care of it by myself all alone! And all the Rat Kingdom will live in peace and harmo...
Sigmund could not finish his sentence, shook abruptly by spasms. He fell on his knees, put his palms on the pavement, and emptied all his guts for long seconds before collapsing into his own vomit. Kristofferson and Jochen took him each by one arm, and dragged him to the gates of the manor. Gabriel couldn't bear more. He leaped into bed, burrowed under the blanket, and spent long minutes moaning softly, before getting lost in tumultuous dreams.
- You tell Prince Calderon that we are already looking for a way to purify the Nichetti estate, would be kindly. Once he has found the solution to this problem, my son will come on the spot, under escort.
- You'll just have to send me a message when he leaves, so I'll welcome him at the border.
- By the way, I invite you to find him in the library before your departure, I think he has something for you. I wish you a harmless trip back Sueño.
A formal way for the Prince to give leave to the emissary. The Estalien bowed respectfully.
- Your Highness, it is a real pleasure to deal with the people of Vereinbarung.
- I hope to share this pleasure with your sovereign in the coming months.
The Prince gestured lightly to one of the servants, who accompanied Eusebio Clarin to the scriptorium. The White Skaven was plunged into a thick volume, placed on the worktop, in the middle of three other books of the same size.
- So, how are your research?
- It looks longer-harder than I thought! It will probably take me several days to write a purification formula!
- You mean that the College of Jade doesn't already have written such a formula?
- This is a warpstone contamination. The Druids never had the knowledge of the Grey Seers to better know-tame it. I have. It gives me an advantage. Even if I need several weeks, I'll do it.
The Master Mage supported Clarin's gaze, who could see his own reflection in the big pink eyes of the White Skaven.
- I promise-promise you that I'll save this domain myself, Master Clarin.
- I have not the slightest doubt on this question, Master Mage Steiner. In the meantime, I'll make sure no one gets in or out.
Psody relaxed a little, and asked blankly:
- Tell me, Master Clarin, you've spent a few days with my son Sigmund... what do you think about him?
Clarin pretended to be caught off guard. Inside, he gloated. In truth, he had been waiting for this question to be able to say what he had on the heart since their first meeting.
- Will you allow me to speak frankly, Master Mage?
- I'm praying you to do so.
Clarin thought, carefully chose the words he was going to use, and said:
- He's a few ordinary man. Really. He had a rather negative first impression about me, and yet he just went all-out against the Feral Skaven to help us save our people. He even mourned the loss of a small village girl. In Oropesa, he was in the front line. He is frank and keeps his promises. But I feel that he is animated by a kind of passion, not necessarily the most positive. There is a lot of anger and sadness in him, I'm afraid.
- And you're right-right, Master Clarin. Sigmund is a good son, but he bears a rather heavy burden: his legacy.
- Is it so hard to be a Black Skaven?
- Some of them are naturally... very temperamental. They have that in their blood. This is called "Black Hunger". My son has this peculiarity. And his personality is not turned towards optimism. It's a rather risky-explosive combination. You must have realized, Master Clarin?
- I didn't dare to tell him, but... sincerely, he scared me when he killed that chief in Rabanera. I cannot say that this scum didn't deserve to die, but your son didn't just fight him. He slaughtered him furiously, as he was possessed by a Demon of Khorne!
- That doesn't surprise me. Therefore, it's not anger that drives him the most, but sadness. In fact, he is naturally sad. He sees the darkest side of the world before seeing its qualities. We know-know that it's a pain for him, but he forbids himself to let this sadness speak, even without being aware of it. And so, he hides this sadness with excesses: he can spend hours laughing out loud with his friends, as he can get into impressive states of anger and fend off his enemies with a twist without slowing down. I wish I could soothe this pain-pain that mishandles him.
- I'd like to talk to him before I leave. Do you know where he is?
Psody gave a little angry sigh.
- In his bed, sleeping. He spent the night drinking at the tavern, he came back home at three in the morning. I hope, moreover, that he didn't awake-awake you?
- Oh, my... Don't worry about me, I'm sleepy. But did he need to party so late?
- It was supposedly to "celebrate the engagement of his friend Fritz", but I can't believe it. He wanted to drown his sorrows in alcohol.
- How sad. A young man like him, behaving like that...
- That's what I told-confided you, Master Clarin. It's a way for him to muffle his sadness. That explains his conduct, but it doesn't excuse-justify it, and I'll try to remind him when he's up.
The Human seemed sincerely touched.
- Please do not be too harsh. We have seen really awful things.
- He saw other awful things during the Harvests. And the grandson of a Prince-Prince must behave like the grandson of a Prince-Prince, not like a ruffian!
- If I can do anything to help him...
- That's very kind of you, answered Heike, who had heard the conversation as she entered the library. Unfortunately, we, his parents and siblings, don't really know what to do. Bianka is the only one who can reason with him when he warms up. She is the only person not to be afraid of his anger. No doubt thanks to their twinness.
Clarin nodded with a small embarrassed pout.
- It's time for me to go back to my prince, my Lady.
- You will always be welcome here, Master Clarin.
- Oh, I was about to forget! Psody realized.
The White Skaven picked up two books on a small pedestal table.
- My daughter asked me to give you this. I think she likes you, which is rather rare, especially for someone from far away.
- I admit that I appreciate her company, me too. I hope to be able to keep relations of simple friendship.
- That would be incredible, indeed.
The Human leafed through the first book, and frowned. The characters that evolved along the pages seemed incomprehensible to him.
- Is this Queekish?
- It is. You will find some notions about the geography of the Under-Empire and its inhabitants. The other book is the translation I made. I would have liked to give you a religious book, but the Feral Skaven do not have any.
- Please, it's already very generous of you. But... wait, you mean there is no sacred text about the Horned Rat?
- On the contrary, there are too many! Every Grey Seer has his own vision of things. There are many outlines like "men-things must die" and "obey those above you and kill-kill those below" handed down by oral tradition, but unlike Human priests, Grey Seers don't swear by a single-official book. And the Seer Lord is careful not to be clear in his sermons.
- It gives him a better control over his subjects, Heike said.
The Human considered the work with respect.
- I'll take the greatest care before you return it.
- You can keep it! I have lots of others like that. By cons... darling?
The White Skaven pointed to a leather roll against a writing desk near Heike. The latter slipped a sheet of paper into the furniture, and gave it to Clarin.
- Their alphabet is not ours. Here is a help to understand it.
- Our linguist will undoubtedly be delighted. But... Master Mage, do not you mind giving us the opportunity to understand them?
- Why would I bother-disturb? The more you know them, the better you will fight them! And I'm not afraid to see Humans understand-using their technology; as long as it works with warpstone, no Human will be able to enjoy it.
- And after seeing with my own eyes what warpstone can cause to us, I can assure you we're not close to do it!
With these words, Eusebio Clarin greeted the couple before leaving the mansion. When he went down the little path towards the entrance gate, he distinguished the two guards and the coachman in full discussion around his carriage.
- A problem, Sanchez?
- Just a slight incident, Excellency, said the first guard.
- We caught a little ratman prowling around the wagon while we were looking somewhere else.
- I've just checked, my lord, he has done nothing wrong, added the coachman. He just watched. As soon as we approached, he scooted away.
The young engineer, no doubt... How pity he's so scared of me.
- Should we refer to the Prince, Excellency?
Clarin shook his head.
- No. It's just a little curious, very timid child. A slight incident, you said it. Let's go home, we must not keep our Prince waiting.
- At your service, Excellency!
A porcine grunt sounded in the bedroom. The breathing stabilized, the eyelids rose very, very slowly, revealing eyes red with fatigue.
The first thing he saw was the daylight passing through the laths of the shutters. A sunbeam warmed his face.
Shit! I didn't draw the curtains. Urgh, my head!
An abominable pain had just irradiated his foggy brain. His throat was drier than a sandy well in the middle of the Khemri desert. He reached out to grab the small jug of water he kept on his bedside table, spilled its content on his head, and shook himself. Outside, the birds of the park were singing.
Sigmund extricated himself with a thousand efforts from the four-poster bed in which his brother and his friend had thrown him unceremoniously a few hours earlier. Despite the hangover that undermined his skull, he struggled to collect his memories of what had happened the night before.
Damn it... Clarin... the dinner... Father will be really mad!
He scratched furiously. It was never nice to spend a whole night dressed up. He opened his wardrobe, took a spare costume, and headed for the bathroom. He spent a long quarter of an hour refreshing himself, then he dried himself, put on his clean clothes, and hurried down the stairs to the common parts of the house.
He passed a clock in a hallway. He took the opportunity to check the time.
One hour in the afternoon... I hope it remains something to eat!
He stepped to the dining room with hesitation. When he opened the door, he swallowed. Three people were still at the table: his parents and his twin sister, all three having tea. At his sight, the White Skaven nervously twirled his spoon in his cup.
- What a joy to finally see you, after such a long-interminable waiting!
- Sorry, Father, the Black Skaven mumbled.
- "Sorry"? "Sorry"? It is I who am sorry! I should perhaps have forbidden you to drink alcohol as soon as you were old enough to! Or else getting you drunk up to the ethylic coma, to make you pass the desire to do it again! So, you wouldn't have presented such a lamentable-distressing spectacle to an ambassador who came to negotiate agreements with our country!
- Psody, Master Clarin told us he hadn't been disturbed, Heike interfered.
- He did, but it doesn't mean it was true! Maybe he saw everything, but he behaved polite-comprehensive enough to avoid an incident. An incident you could have caused, Sigmund!
- It's not as if I had insulted his Prince, Sigmund said softly.
Psody hit the table with the palm of his hand. He took a deep breath, then swallowed the contents of his cup, and lowered his eyelids. A few long seconds passed, seconds during which no one dared say anything. Then, little by little, the White Skaven breathed in long gulps. His face gradually untensed. Finally, he opened his eyes, and said more calmly:
- Well, I shall go back to work, I have to write-compose a ritual. It will allow me to think about something else.
He got up and left the dining room, leaving his son alone with his wife and daughter.
Heike looked more sorry than annoyed. She asked:
- Is it really necessary to smash your head and stomach that way?
- I'll hold on, Mother. I am a Black Skaven, I am more enduring than others.
- It's so obvious! his sister quipped.
- Bianka, please, leave us.
The girl got up without a word and left the room. Once out, the Black Skaven changed his attitude. He seemed much sadder. His deep voice was strangled by sobs when he murmured:
- I know I look shabby, but it's better like that.
- No, Siggy. Getting drunk is never "better". You don't have to play tough guy in front of me. Why do you feel obliged to drown yourself in wine?
- I am so tired, Mother. It hurts! At least, this way, I can't feel anything anymore.
- But why, by Shallya's pity, why does it hurt you so much? What is this problem that puts you in this state?
The ratwoman was beginning to lose patience.
- I see it well, we all see that you have a problem, Siggy, but if you don't say what it is, we cannot do anything to help you solve it! And it is not by molesting yourself like that you'll arrange things! So what?
The Black Skaven hit the table with his two fists clenched and shouted:
- I do not know!
The ratwoman became frightened. Sigmund was panting, his eyes bulging. For someone who wouldn't have given him to the world, he would have been scary to watch. He looked down at his hands bruised by the wood, slowly loosened his fingers, and then collapsed on the furniture. He couldn't speak anymore, only emit little sad whines. Heike went around the table, and stroke his back.
- Listen, I promise you that we will do all we can to help you, when you have told us precisely what is so painful to you.
The Black Skaven did not move, nor did he utter a single coherent syllable. His mother drew back, sighed, and lowered her head, distressed by her own impotence. She heard her son get up and leave the dining room. Alone in the big room with the crackling the flames in the fireplace for only company, she decided to take another cup of tea.
She moved to the tray where the cups and teapot were placed, reached for the little crafted container, but suspended her gesture. Her delicate Skaven sense of smell spotted an unusual odour, not unpleasant, but not part of the composition of the tea she had prepared herself.
Looks like a medicine? A poison?
Was it an attempted murder? Her heart beating, she lifted the lid of the teapot and sniffed more carefully. No, the smell did not come out of there. She realized that this fragrance was escaping from the cup in which her mate drank.
All right, calm down, my daughter. You made this tea, you served it, only Psody touched his cup. So, it was he who put this in without your knowledge. But what is it? It's ... strange, it reminds me of something.
She concentrated. That's when she remembered. Indeed, that smell had been part of her life for a while. While, at a very young age, she couldn't yet speak Reikspiel, nor she couldn't spend a night without reliving the horrors that the Feral Skaven had inflicted on her. Fortunately, Steiner had quickly noticed it. At his request, Romulus had given her each evening a bowl of hot milk, in which a few drops of a potion that lightened the mind were added, and this allowed her to sleep better.
How did he call that again? Ah, yes! Esmeralda's calming nectar!
It has become all too clear: Psody was taking drugs. Certainly, a concoction relatively harmless, but actually present.
I need to talk about this with Romulus!
- Then the captain, furious, goes down to the hold, and shouts with all his might on the rowers: "You bunch of rascals! Come on, row, and stronger than that!" One of the sailors moans: "But, Captain, we wanted to tell you..." "Nothing at all! Two fucking days you row, we didn't even leave the port!" The rower, exhausted, begs: "Captain, please, just two words!" "Right, two words, quickly!" "Cast off!"
The guards burst out laughing. Nedland filled his beer mug and swallowed the amber drink in a single gulp.
- Come on guys, we have to go back, said Jochen. It may not be war yet, but we must stay vigilant.
The men-at-arms left the inn, one by one, or in small groups. There remained only Nedland and Jochen. The Halfling raised his glass.
- Cheers, captain of my balls!
- Go fuck yourself, you dirty little thug! sneered the Human. You'll finish on the block, and by me, bet on it!
- Oh no! I'll die by poison.
- How can you be so sure?
- Because I will choose the precise moment of my death.
- Well, how would you do it?
- If ever I see my end arrive too slowly or too painfully for my taste, I just have to break the false tooth I have in the bottom of my mouth. It will release a very violent poison gas that kill me right away.
The tall man raised his eyebrows.
- You do have a dose of poison in your mouth?
- I have.
- And since when?
- About fifteen years. I'll say more, there is enough poison in to kill someone who would be within reach of my breath. I call it "Nedland's Last Trick".
- You're taking me for a ride, naughty midget. How could you have a hollow tooth and gobble food like a pig without breaking it, if you've had it for fifteen years?
- Because I have been training since then to always chew on the same side, big idiot. As I'm doing right now.
- And you've never been afraid to bite the bad tooth?
- I first spent a year with a false tooth that contained blueberry juice. I broke two, but when I ended up not touching it, I had it replaced by the one charged with poison.
- You're totally insane.
- If I had been given a gold coin each time I was told that, I would be at the head of all the Renegade Crowns!
- And that would be their end, then completed a voice.
Nedland and Jochen pivoted simultaneously, and discovered Kristofferson's silhouette in the doorway. The latter had an impassive expression.
- I came to say goodbye, my friends.
- Are you leaving us?
- I'm leaving for Wüstengrenze. It is time to assume the consequences of my actions. I'll be back in six months, time to reorganize the spot and make it a place worthy.
The two friends nodded. Jochen got up and shook hands with the brown Skaven.
- So, good luck, my brother! May Uric protect you!
Kristofferson looked down at Nedland, who asked in a hesitant tone:
- How is he?
- How do you think he is? answered the brown Skaven harshly.
- Maybe we shouldn't have let him raise his elbow at this point?
- It's nice from you to worry about it, Jochen, but Sigmund is mature enough to know how to temper. At least, that's what I thought until yesterday!
- Have fun, big boy, Nedland concluded.
- Do you understand why it's so important for me to go there?
- Eeyup, I do...
Kristofferson felt his patience diminish. It had been two whole minutes since he had the impression of wasting his own saliva. The atmosphere of his brother's bedroom was still saturated with the toxic fumes of alcohol, even with the windows wide open.
- And so... hey, Siggy?
The tall Black Skaven had just served himself a glass of wine for the third time. His hand was shaking. Kristofferson raised his voice.
- Did you hear what I told you, or not?
Sigmund jumped, pinched his lips, before uttering a powerful eructation.
- By Verena's balance, Siggy! I'm talking to you seriously, and you're drunk again? I remind you that you are noble blood! You must behave like the grandson of a Prince, not like a drunkard!
These words immediately inflamed the already heated nervous system of the young Black ratman. He jumped up and tapped his palm on the table.
- I don't need that, right? I already have Father, Mother, Bianka and Opa Ludwig behind me! So, the "big-benevolent-and-responsible-of-his-younger-brother", shut up!
- You're ruining your own health, Siggy!
Sigmund gritted his teeth.
- Damn you, Kit! You have no idea what I'm living! Every time I close my eyes, I see the face of this little girl who was cut-throated in front of me, and I was not able to do anything to avoid that! You didn't live such a situation!
Kristofferson's patience reached its limits. He answered in a voice whose tone went up as the words came:
- No, indeed. I saw an entire village slaughtered by the Orcs. They were far too numerous. The only thing that helped me out was the intervention of a racist, jerk captain! The worst part of it is that I could have avoided that, if I only had the idea to shelter the villagers for the night. I'll have to live with that on my heart for the rest of my life, and I accept it! I'm leaving for Wüstengrenze to make myself useful and make it a real garrison. So, excuse me for preferring to go forward instead of whining over the victims!
Surprised by such violence, the Black Skaven calmed down. He repeated:
- A... "racist, jerk captain"?
- Yeah. The captain who could have avoided this tragedy if he had taken the villagers seriously from the beginning doesn't like Skaven. And when I reported it to Schmetterling, I had the impression to disturb him!
Sigmund snorted like an old horse, but seemed to worry more frankly. The brown Skaven took the opportunity to restart the attack on the issue that concerned him:
- Listen, Siggy, all I want is your well-being.
- It's very nice from you to worry, but I'm fine, okay? I am a Black Skaven, I am more enduring than you, I hold on. And the day I'll need a shoulder to really "whine" on, it will not be yours! Now, get out of my room! Go and take care of your garrison, and leave me alone!
Kristofferson lowered his head, and dragged his way through the door. Before closing it, he murmured again:
- Maybe this is the last time we see each other, Siggy.
- Don't bullshit me!
- I'm serious. What if the Orcs come back more numerous? Do you want our last conversation to end in an argument?
The brown Skaven only had time to slam the door to avoid receiving on his snout the wooden goblet thrown at him by the Black Skaven. He breathed slowly to calm the rhythm of his heart, and just saw out loud:
- I guess it is a "yes".
Before going down the stairs and leave the family home.