Children of the Horned Rat,
As you know, Clan Pestilens decided to attempt an attack on France. Like a large majority of my compatriots, I am forced to remain confined to my home. But that doesn't stop me from cultivating a certain fever: creativity. If my homeland is idling, Vereinbarung continues to live at full speed.
I take this opportunity to thank all the people who are on the front line, despite the danger of Skaven infection: all the hospital staff, firefighters, traders and police, who have to work in much more difficult conditions without the less material recognition. Bravo everyone, be strong, we will be admiring.
Glory to the Horned Rat!
When Heike Steiner woke up, she saw that she was alone. She narrowed her eyes and let out a sad sigh. She got up, took her clothes under her arm, went to the bathroom, took off her nightgown, and made her morning toilet. During her ablutions, she was thinking about the situation.
For two days, her companion had been locked up in the library for hours with Brisingr Steadyhand. Certainly, she had a lot of respect for the Elf. His face was tied to the definitive change of her life. Her earliest memories were the burrows of a Feral Skaven colony whose name had remained unknown to her. Like all the unfortunate girls born in the Under-Empire, everything had been nothing but darkness, screams, violence and terror. Locked in a dark cell, she had only two other older females for companionship. Regularly, a fat ratman used to come to bring them an infamous food. One day, Heike's greatest comrade in misfortune was examined, fiddled in a very embarrassing wat by three Skaven, who carried her outside with cries of joy and impatient sneers. Poor Heike understood that it was not a release awaiting the breeder.
The little girl grew a little, felt her body change, and over time, an anguish that grew, grew... Finally, when she saw Skaven entering the dark room, she understood that a terrible fate was going to happen to her.
But the Clanrats hadn't locked her in the breeder cell. They had tied her upside down on a pole, then had had headed to the surface. Again, the memories were blurred. The clash of arms, the groans of agony, the blows... Later, she had learned what had happened: a band of mercenaries had come to clean up the area, this colony was rather small. The two Skaven who carried her had tried to run away on their side, and had hidden in a stable a little further. But the small group had been followed. Quickly, three things had rolled into the stable and eliminated her carriers. Three beings she hadn't known how to identify. She had not been taught to differentiate the races of the enemies of the Sons of the Horned Rat. She had not been taught to speak, moreover, she had not even been given a name.
The first one was the smallest, and yet it was far more massive than the ordinary Clanrats. Its hair was long, and unlike the other two, it had a hairy chin.
The second one was very thin, wore colourful clothes, and it was not possible to see its face because of a mask it wore constantly.
The third one was the most notable. Even taller and thinner than the masked one, its mane was particularly impressive, sparkling and wavy like flames.
These three characters then had detached her. She had tried to flee, but too exhausted, had not gone far. She had the surprise of her life when she saw that the three strange things did her no harm. They kept her in the barn for a few days, brought her something to eat, and tried to speak to her several times. She hadn't understood a word, but the intentions of their voices were comforting.
Later, they had to make her travel indefinable time in a crate. They had taken care to drug her soup. When she woke up, she had seen a new face, radiating benevolence. It called her "Heike". Over time, she learned to articulate a few words, then her language developed, so much so that she soon called this face "Father".
The three faces of her liberators were forever engraved in her memory. And over time, she knew how to put a name on each of them.
The Human was Hallbjörn Ludviksson, captain of a company of mercenaries from Norsca. He had worked several times for Ludwig Steiner, before leaving for his homeland with enough gold to establish and equip an entire army.
The Masked Elf was called Yavandir Palebough. Officially, he was an accomplished artist. Unofficially, he joined the Order of Lorekeepers, and got into the habit of working regularly for the representatives of Verena.
And finally, the other Elf was Brisingr Steadyhand. He who used to be distant and cynical was the one who tried to make contact first, and most assiduously. The first time, he hadn't hesitated to encourage her to eat her soup by getting on all fours and drinking from the bowl.
These memories had formed the foundations of Romulus and Steiner's studies of the Feral Skaven people. Years had passed since then. Heike had grown into a fulfilled young woman, and then meeting Psody had made her life perfectly happy.
Brisingr Steadyhand was her godfather. Whenever she saw him or heard about him, she was happy. The bad memories of the beginning of her existence were quickly supplanted by hope, renewal, her transformation from a common breeding machine to a pampered young girl. And if Ludwig Steiner was her father, the Magister remained her benefactor, and she never had the least negative feeling towards him.
However, his day, she couldn't help but feel a kind of jealousy.
It had been two days Brisingr Steadyhand was the centre of attraction for Psody. Two days that they worked from morning to night in the office of the White Skaven. Of course, an entire area had to be saved from the Feral Skaven corruption, but it seemed to grab the attention of her companion so much that she felt herself a little neglected.
Maybe she should tell him about her feelings?
We'll see, it's only temporary. For now, I'll let him focus on this work.
She finished arranging the fur on her face, then dried herself and put on her dress. Before leaving the bathroom, her gaze fell one last time on the mirror. She stood there for a few moments... and her heart warmed a few.
No one knew the exact age of the young woman. Her official birthday was the day Ludwig Steiner first saw her in his secret laboratory in Altdorf, but no way of knowing the day or the year she was born. Romulus and Brisingr had made some estimates based on what they knew about the mores of the inhabitants of the Under-Empire. Fortunately, she had not yet been treated with warpstone. Usually, the Feral Skaven began to apply their infamous decoctions to girls when they reached the age of two. In any case, the still healthy girls who had been Harvested never looked more than two years old.
Considering this fact, and the time spent in Altdorf since then, Heike had already lived almost twelve years. She was a little older than the White Skaven who she shared her life and had five children with. For a Human, it had been thirty-six years. Some of wives among her friends were grandmothers at that age. She wasn't.
Another question to deal with, now that the Harvests are over. Hum-hum… For Sigmund, I don't know, but his sister and Kit should do something in this way! she said to herself with a small smile on her lips.
She considered her reflect one last time, examined herself carefully. Twelve Skaven years including the first two very tough, five children, and yet...
Yes, I'm doing pretty well... I'm still desirable, I think. Besides, I know someone who didn't fail to remind me this last night!
Her smile grew longer as he thought of how the night before had ended. But as Psody's face came back to her, another much less cheerful memory stroke without warning.
That, on the other hand, cannot wait any longer. I have to know!
Determined, the ratwoman wrapped her scarf around her neck, exited the manor and left the family estate.
- Come in!
Romulus felt his face relax when he saw Heike enter his small study.
- Greetings, my child.
- Good morning, Prior.
- How are you today?
- I'm fine. I was wondering if my children would finally meet someone to share their life with?
- It's normal. What good mother is not worried about the future of her children? Whether it is success, fulfilment, or offspring?
- For Gab and Isolde, it's too early, of course, but the three older ones... None of them introduced me to someone likely to integrate our family.
- They're still young, Heike. You don't have to worry.
- My main concern is for the twins. I love them both so much, but... they are so characteristic!
- It is true that Sigmund's Black Hunger can be a problem for torque stability.
- It's not only Sigmund. Bianka too is a strong head. Very proud, even rather imbue of herself... I'm afraid her to put off everyone, all the time.
- Maybe you should tell her your concern?
- I'm not sure how.
The Human looked surprised.
- She's your daughter, you're the best person to speak to her frankly.
- Without a doubt. I should think about it with Psody. I would like to have his opinion, but I shall have to wait.
- Yes, he's very busy right now. You know him, he won't stop until he finishes his preparation.
- Fortunately, that doesn't affect the feelings I have for him. Right now, I see him less often, but I'm happy with him, and I love him the same way we had when we were in Altdorf.
- This is the essential thing, my child. And I'm sure he appreciates the support you and your children give him as much.
- It reminds me of his study of books on Lizardmen. He was already with Master Steadyhand.
- Yes, but this time, he won't leave you to a dangerous expedition. Fortunately, according to Clarin's last post, rot has not progressed at Nichetti Estate. The animals have not carried diseases too far away, so far confining the area has proven to be effective.
- Of course, but I noticed that even if it progresses, all this work is not such a good thing for him, in the end.
- What do you mean, my child?
- Well, when he came back, he was tired, but he looked happy. Me too, our children too, we were all happy to see the end of the Harvests. But this new concern seems to weigh him more.
- It's about his past, it can stir up bad memories...
- And yet I still feel him more upset than he should?
- My child, there was an attempted murder against him! Only a madman wouldn't feel upset.
Heike felt a touch of anger tickle her heart. She couldn't seem to steer the conversation as well as she wanted. Also, she decided to try another approach, more direct. She sported a determined expression, and asked:
- Prior, do I feel like you are hiding something from me?
And it had the desired effect. Even if Romulus seemed to remain impassive, he took a second too long to answer:
- What makes you say that?
- I know about Esmeralda's calming nectar. My mate puts it in his tea. That means he isn't sleeping well these days. I've noticed that at night, either he doesn't sleep at all, or he sleeps too much and he has trouble getting up. You are the one who provide him these decoctions. I am his wife. If he has a real problem, I have the right to know.
- Well, my child, he's the person you have to speak about to, I am not.
Heike then stared the Shallean priest straight in the eyes.
- Prior Romulus, is my husband suffering from something really serious?
The Human sighed, and resigned himself to explaining:
- The only thing that has really hurt him lately is the distance. The last Harvest lasted several months, he and his companions had to cross the Empire and take enormous risks, all while staying away from you and your young children. It's the kind of thing you recover painfully. Grant him a little more time, in a few weeks, he'll get better. For now, he needs smaller doses. Don't worry about it. Rather concern about Sigmund. I think he needs your affection more. Unlike Psody, he's still young, and is not yet mature enough to endure all that he has already sustained without sequelae.
He stretched and massaged his neck.
- I have to leave you now. Your father planned to execute the Feral Skaven Master Steadyhand captured. The news of his arrest has toured neighboring towns, the people are demanding justice.
- Are you sure the people demand justice when there is a public execution?
The Skaven woman had spoken in a heavy voice of reproach. Romulus pouted.
- I'm sure the opposite. I witnessed many such punishments when I was in Talabheim. Rather, this kind of gathering is a way for the people to let go of their fear and anger at a target that the authorities point to. I don't approve, just like you don't seem to approve. But the Prince decided to make an example. To reverse this decision would be an admission of weakness. Just like forgiving this individual who committed two things: attempted murder of your man, and evasion of our justice.
- Are you sure his escape is so blameworthy?
- He didn't trust Sigmund.
- We are his enemies and he does not understand our way of reasoning. I was in his shoes, Prior. When I was their prisoner in Gottliebschloss, if Chitik had taken me to another place in the countryside, with no one else, I would have not hesitated to escape him at the first opportunity!
- Even with the promise to be released without any harm once you arrive at your destination? You wouldn't have trusted him?
- I... oh, I can't say.
Indeed, Heike had often thought about it. Deep down, she knew that she had trusted the big Black Skaven throughout her captivity, even without knowing that he was his companion's blood brother. Romulus continued:
- Larn had a chance. As he reasoned like a Feral Skaven, he listened to his survival instinct. His fate is sealed. All I can do is comfort him a little.
- Couldn't you do it while he was still in his cell? He would have faced the scaffold calmly!
- No, alas, he was not in good condition. We had to drug him to prevent him from killing himself by smashing his head on the walls. He won't be untied until his execution time. Only then, I hope to be able to relieve his soul.
- Good for you, Prior. It is out of the question, as for me, to attend this exhibition! I'm going back to my children!
Without giving the Human time to respond, the ratmother left the office.
The Hammer Quarter was where the Steinerburg military barracks was located. It was also the place where the prison was built, on the other side of the large square, and the small building dedicated to Sigmar, too. There was no pillory, the Prince refused this kind of practice, believing that public deterrence was not effective enough. But some crimes had to end with death penalty. So, on occasion, workers would build a large wooden platform. In some cases, they set up a gallows, in others, they fixed a chopping block.
Prince Ludwig Steiner had come to personally attend the execution of the sentence. He was installed in a small space bounded by a barrier, under a large canvas stretched by long poles, and surrounded by guards. Two Humans were installed at his side: Prior Romulus and Commander Johannes Schmetterling. The latter had a stone face, completely impassive. Over the years, such a spectacle had become so familiar to him that it didn't cause him the slightest emotion.
Provost Tomas was also present. He was a tall, thin thirty years old man, with long blond hair tied in a ponytail, and a slight beard under a large, triangular nose. He used to scan the world with two little black eyes – one of them was actually a glass eye – and a long, clear scar running across his face from top to bottom.
Tomas had met Psody during the expedition that had taken him to Lustria six years earlier. Expert in matters of peoples, in particular Lizardmen, he was able to speak fluently a dozen languages, including Queekish and the language of the Slanns. Passionate about Ludwig Steiner's project, he had followed the procession to the Renegade Crowns, and had become the "chief agent" of liaison with the Order of the Lorekeepers, of which the Prince and Prior Romulus were a part. Once all the first volunteers were installed, the Prince had kept his word, and had him make a glass eye; the Master Mutator from Psody's former burrow had maimed him in the battle before they left.
Clerk Tomas had been appointed as judge by the Prince, and dispensed justice according to the model of the Imperial Code. He had a reputation for being relatively lenient towards sincere repentant ones, but he was ruthless against criminals that didn't feel any regret with their choices, and everyone knew that he was perfectly capable of make the difference between a liar and a frank person. He was the one who suggested the public execution of Larn to the Prince. No one had blamed him for a dry heart. It was necessary to mark the blow.
A huge man in ornate armour approached the tent and leaned over the barrier. It was Jochen Gottlieb.
- Your Highness, everything is ready. With your permission, we can start.
- Is your comrade in place?
- See for yourself.
And he pointed to the roof of one of the buildings adjacent to the barracks. Sat on the roof, under one of the beams, Nedland Barnrooster was waiting, his rifle in hands. The latter made a gesture to the Prince, who did the same back.
- I'm not sure I really like the presence of this Halfling, your Highness.
- I'm counting on him to calm things down, if necessary.
- By shooting in the crowd?
- Of course not, Schmetterling! He's able to send the bullet exactly where he wants. The first one who dares to overflow will see the impact right in front of him, it shall cool anyone.
- My men are trained to contain stampedes, your Majesty.
- Two precautions are better than one, Schmetterling.
The Prince waved.
- Go ahead, Brotzmann.
Luther Brotzmann, herald at the court, had been instructed to read the sentence aloud, so that it would make a deep impression. He was a tall, slender middle-aged Human with a long, well-trimmed moustache and a piercing gaze under thick eyebrows. He left his seat, bowed politely, and climbed onto the platform. He raised his hands, asking for silence. When calm returned to the square, Brotzmann took out a parchment from his leather case, and read in a powerful voice:
"Hear ye! Hear ye! Brave folks of Steinerburg, there have been rumours that we had been infiltrated by the Feral Skaven. His Majesty Prince Ludwig the First here present recognizes that these concerns are well-founded. To date, the threat has been contained, but his High Magnificence would like to remind to you, good people, that his best collaborators have not waited to react and take the necessary measures."
"A unique Feral Skaven broke into our land, killed a brave soldier who conscientiously did his work, wanted to threat the life of the Princely Family, then wanted to flee the justice of Vereinbarung, with damage. The Prince wants to prove to you that he will have no pity for any invader, be it Humans, Orcs, or Skaven of the Under-Empire."
"This is why, damsels, gentlemen, inhabitants of the Rat Kingdom, this murderer has been sentenced to death by beheading."
The crowd howled with joy and applauded before letting the herald finish his reading.
"Today we shall not just execute a killer. We'll show that the Under-Empire will never make us fail, us, men and women who constitute Vereinbarung. We are a united people, and no one can ever break the bonds that unite Humans and Skaven. Let this be an example for everyone!"
Brotzmann put the parchment away and climbed down from the platform. A small procession of soldiers then arrived from the side, opposite the space where the Prince and the officials were installed. The public redoubled their ferocity. In the midst of the soldiers, there was a Human and two Skaven: Marjan Gottlieb walked to the left of Larn, ready to protect the condemned ratman with his shield from any projectile. Psody walked cautiously to the right of the Feral Skaven.
Marjan remained focused, trying not to pay attention to all the hatred spewed out by the angry people. In her heart, she congratulated herself for having succeeded in convincing the Tenenbaum family not to attend this sinister ritual.
Larn was fearing to death. Tears in his eyes, he stammered:
- What will happen to me? What are you going to do-do to me?
Psody leaned forward, and murmured in Queekish:
- You tried to assassinate me, the Prince's son. We gave you a chance to leave, you rejected-refused it. You wanted to save yourself, you didn't succeed. My people must understand-realise that they have nothing to fear from the Skaven of the Under-Empire as long as the Steiner line is on the throne. And your people need to understand it is a very, very, very bad idea to go after us.
- And... so what?
- What do you think? You're about to die, right here-now!
Larn burst into tears. But nobody let themselves be pitied, or even embarrassed. On the contrary, the crowd was unleashed. The insults spurted among the rotten fruits. The ratwomen were the most passionate, and called the Feral Skaven "rapist", "torturer" and other "child killer". Finally, the procession arrived at the foot of the platform. Marjan pushed the Feral Skaven to the log. She forced him to kneel down, tied his feet with strong handcuffs, and waited.
Romulus leaned toward the Prince.
- Have you noticed, Ludwig? Skaven citizens seem to be twice as vindictive than Human ones.
- Yes, I saw, and I don't like it.
- It's like they wanted to prove to Humans that they weren't like Larn.
- For me, it's obvious!
- For you and me, it is... but for themselves?
The Prince didn't answer. The prior got up.
- Come on, it's my turn.
He climbed onto the platform and camped alongside Psody. Larn looked up, and in his gaze perplexity mingled with fear.
- I am Romulus, a priest responsible for softening and facilitating your end, explained the Human in the language of the Feral Skaven. I can't speak for the Horned Rat, but my goddess, Shallya, will agree to relieve your fear. Are you ready to meet your god?
The Gutter Runner yelped in despair.
- Let me go-live! I will disappear! Over-over, the Rat Kingdom! I'll go to Skavenblight or Sub-Delberz! Let me go-live!
- Sorry, but it is not possible-possible. You should have obeyed Sigmund. Now you have to take on the consequences-consequences.
The wheel was spinning, the sparks crackling around the edge of the axed. The scraping, the little clicks were sounds familiar to the ear that received them at that moment. Familiar, and rather pleasant. The Black Skaven holding the handle raised his hand, stopped pressing the pedal, and carefully examined the steel head. He blew on it to evacuate the impurities, and gave a satisfied little smile. He put his tool on the table, picked up the bottle from the wood, and took a few sips of wine.
Nikolaus Richter was one of the jailers of the Steinerburg prison. He also exercised the unwanted function of executioner. His black coat, impressive musculature, and unkind face were all advantages for this profession.
The Rat Kingdom was relatively stable, and Prince Ludwig the First preferred prison or forced labour to mutilation or death. However, the Old World remained cruel and expeditious, and life was already dangerous enough not to let an assassin or rapist take the risk of recidivism, even after years of dungeon. Not to mention the cultists. They weren't found yet at Vereinbarung, but the law was very clear: anyone caught worshiping the forbidden gods was immediately put in jail before execution.
Nikolaus had already shortened the lives of many criminals by rope or axe. The Prince was a man who was repelled by torture, and when a man or a woman, Human or Skaven, was found guilty of an abominable crime punishable by death penalty, which hardly happened more than once a month, the punishment should never be dragged out. Death was to come as quickly, and as cleanly as possible. No wheel torture, no pyre, no drowning. No, generally, hanging or beheading was quite sufficient.
Nikolaus was not particularly satisfied with this work, he took no sadistic pleasure in it. However, he was not ashamed of it, either. He saw himself as a neutral "executor", the person who had to do the dirty work and carry out the most extreme sentences because someone was needed to do it. Not a joyful job, but necessary for the maintenance of a balanced society. In his heyday, he even experienced a kind of satisfaction. He considered himself devoted and courageous in accepting to do what a large majority of respectable citizens would not have dared.
And then it brought him money. Even if this work was occasional, financial compensation was important, which facilitated his life as a couple.
He had met Serah Hisbald, a woman who was not very attentive to his profession, from the time he regularly covered her with gifts. The neighbourhood gossip, the cross eyes didn't count for Serah. This seamstress was probably the best dressed soldier's wife. Making her a happy woman was worth getting his hands a little dirty. And still, was "dirty" the right word? It was more like social cleansing.
Lately, he had done his accounts, and had realized with pleasure that with this additional remuneration, he had the means to place their first child at the lessons of Brother Karl Seehecht, the priest of Verena who used to teach the children of the Steinerburg elite. He had spoken about it to his wife, who had immediately approved the proposal. Once she would be old enough, their daughter would become much more educated than her parents. Nothing but benefit for everybody.
But for now, his victim of the day was waiting. Nikolaus was curious; he had never participated in a Harvest, and Larn was the first Feral Skaven he would ship to the other side. Out of curiosity, he came to visit him in its cell. He hadn't understood the gibberish of this strange and disgusting young ratman, but its behaviour was no different from that of a Vereinbarung sentenced one.
Anyway, he must have the same blood as the rest of us. A beautiful, dark red.
He got up, grabbed his axe firmly, turned it in his hands, and headed for the exit. He was about to walk through the door, when an unpleasant little tickling in his abdomen made him grumble. With a sigh, he went to the toilets. It is out of the question for a conscientious professional to work with a full bladder.
As he was doing what he had to do, the executioner heard the latrine door handle move behind him. He grumbled in an annoyed voice:
- Wait, I'm in.
Romulus sighed in disappointment. Larn couldn't articulate a single coherent word. He still wanted to reason with the Feral Skaven, but he couldn't even hear himself speak. The crowd was more and more excited. So much so that the Prince worried.
- Schmetterling, what is your man doing?
- He always takes his time, your Highness. I will tell him to lose this bad habit.
- People are generally excited by public executions, but not such as now! growled Tomas.
- It must be said that this is the first time... Ah, there he is!
Brotzmann gestured, and a young cadet rolled his drum. Everyone stopped making noise. Romulus, Psody and Marjan went down to join the Prince as the large hooded figure of the executioner appeared, his heavy axe resting on his shoulder. The great Black Skaven advanced quietly, and climbed the stairs without hurrying, before finding himself beside the criminal.
Still on his knees, his head on the block, Larn seemed ready to strangle himself with terror.
The executioner then put down his axe, leaned towards the Feral Skaven, grabbed his wrist, and forced him to put his two hands tied on the wooden base. Then he whispered in Queekish:
- I think you lost something.
Larn's terror diminished slightly, under the influence of puzzlement. But he didn't have any time to think. With a sharp movement of the tip of his tail, the Black Skaven planted firmly in the hand of the Feral Skaven the nail that had allowed his escape.
Larn screamed in pain. The executioner tore off his hood. The Feral Skaven squawked twice as loud when he saw Sigmund's furious face.
- I told you I would crush you in two, Larn! And I also told you I'm a man of his word!
And with a gesture, he grabbed Larn's head with both hands, and plunged it on the nail.
There were screams in the crowd, but they were hardly noticeable because of the strident screeches emitted by the Gutter Runner. With one hand, Sigmund pulled his head back. The poor condemned man no longer had a left eye, torn off by the nail. The young Steiner didn't lose an ounce of anger.
- Nobody fucks Sigmund Steiner, you little asshole!
Without letting go of his grip, he flung a violent series of punches to the Feral Skaven. People's stupor turned into panic. Some spectators felt bad, others scrambled to leave the place as quickly as possible. Nikolaus Richter, furious, a wet cloth on his neck, tried to get through the crowd by calling the impostor with all the worst names.
Psody jumped up and ran to the bottom of the platform, followed by Romulus and Schmetterling. The White Skaven exclaimed:
- Sigmund, that's enough!
But the Black Skaven wasn't listening. He continued to hammer the criminal with knuckle blows, tearing the fur, breaking the bones, crushing the muscles.
- Sigmund! Stop-stop immediately, this is an order!
- Your father urges you to stop! added the commander.
Sigmund suspended his gesture. Larn's face was just a bruise. He gurgled painfully, spat out a small bundle of flesh. It was his tongue. The Black Skaven raised his fist again. The Prince got up and made a big gesture.
- Nedland!
A single shot answered that call, and the skull of the assassin Eshin burst.
Sigmund remained standing, dazed, his fist still stretched towards the sky. Jochen took the opportunity to surround him with three guards. They came down from the stage, the tall Black Skaven obediently followed them, shocked by surprise and disappointment. Marjan intervened when Richter approached the group, and took him to discuss further the way for arrange the prejudice.
As the citizens of Steinerburg dispersed, Schmetterling turned to Psody, looking irritated.
- Master Mage, with your magic, couldn't you have done something to prevent this?
The White Skaven held the gaze of the tall red-haired man.
- Commander, our laws are very strict: no magic in a public place without it being carefully and scrupulously controlled, and no serious emergency.
- This was an emergency, don't you think? The Prince would have agreed to that, I suppose. Wouldn't you, your Majesty?
The commander spoke in a soft voice. Psody felt his whiskers flutter. Instinctively, he had the impression that Schmetterling deliberately wanted to put him and his father in an embarrassing situation. Fortunately, the latter had nothing of the shy little kinglet led in the background by a mind behind. Steiner replied in the same tone:
- I trust my son's word. If Prospero felt that using magic would have been more risky, then that was true. The only person who suffered was the condemned inmate. What just happened was lamentable, but without consequences... except for its author.
- Count on me to remind him! said Psody.
- Of course, but you know the Magic of Life, couldn't you have cast a harmless spell? Schmetterling insisted.
- There is no... well, I mean...
Psody realised he was starting down a slippery slope. He decided to stop the argument.
- I don't have to justify-apologize to you, Commander!
- Prospero, fetch my daughter and join us at the barracks.
He didn't have to repeat it. Without further ado, the White Skaven rushed to his home.
The Skaven couple were in Commander Schmetterling's office. By order of the Prince, the army chief had left Heike and Psody alone with their younger son, "in order to prepare him". The tall Human had obeyed orders, with a little reluctance on his heart, but without answering a word.
The White Skaven was walking in circles on the carpet. The wood of the floor creaked under his nervous steps.
- I don't believe it! My son who goes berserk and publicly massacres a condemned! What do I look like now?
Sat on a stool, Sigmund said nothing. But when he looked up, his face had an expression that displeased his father very strongly.
- And you have the nerve to challenge me! I don't really like the way you're looking at me!
The large Black Skaven remained silent.
- Come on! You do not understand where all that will lead you? First, you want to take revenge on Feral Skaven. Then, when I want to execute one of them properly to avoid problems, you blame me for lacking in compassion, you naively-foolishly trust him, he takes advantage to escape, and when we catch him back, instead of doing things in a civilized way, it turns into butchery because of you! And according to you, I am the Feral Skaven?
Sigmund finally agreed to whisper:
- It's Black Hunger.
- Oh, sure! It's so simple-easy! It's all because of Black Hunger! You can do whatever you want, there will always be Black Hunger to excuse everything! This time, with me, it won't work!
- It's a fever in my blood.
The White Skaven thought he heard in his son's voice the heaviness of reproach.
- Of course, it was this famous Black Hunger that made you disobey me! I had forbidden you to approach it!
- "Until his execution", I remind you.
- I really can't believe it! You're making fun of me, too!
His Skaven instinct tempted him to stir up his anger to forget the physical difference between him and his son and slap him, but something stopped him at the last moment: the voice of his wife.
- That's not all, Siggy! Black Hunger is the essence of the instinct that characterizes the Feral Skaven! You must suppress it, if you want to remain a worthy citizen! You're better than a Stormvermin!
- I can't do anything.
- Yes, you can! You can remain Human!
- You can't understand, Mother. None of you can understand.
The ratwoman had to think for a few seconds to find the words she thought were right, while her partner remained behind. She brought her stool closer to sit in front of Sigmund, and held his gaze as she told him:
- No, you're right. I am not affected by Black Hunger. I don't know how you can feel when it goes up, and it makes you go wild over what you don't like. I didn't want you to suffer, Siggy. Your father didn't put a curse on me when I carried you in my womb, and I'm sure if you could get rid of it forever, you would. But this Black Hunger is there. You're also right when you say you have it in your blood. Even if you don't worship him, the Horned Rat has installed it into your heart. What you need to do is learn to master it. It brings you closer to the Feral Skaven. But your heart is not that of a Mighty of the Horned Rat, I know it. You can resist it, I'm sure. And we can help you. The Shalleans could bring you means to control yourself.
- Are you thinking about... drugs? murmured Sigmund.
- No! I don't want you to throw yourself into this prison, Sigmund. You already have enough problems with drinking. We will find many other healthier ways. The most important thing is that you feel good about yourself without this kind of artifice.
The office door opened without warning on a Human who wore the uniform of the Vereinbarung army. It was Sergeant Marius Weller, a man in his twenties, who joined the military four years earlier. Medium in size, with clear eyes, he had a light down over his chin, his auburn hair contrasted with his pale skin. Weller was known to be an example of integrity and efficiency. All the men and women under his charge appreciated his professionalism.
Currently, he seemed rather sorry, but resolved. Behind him stood three guards.
- Master Mage, my Lady, sir, I salute you. I regret to tell you, Master Sigmund, you are under arrest.
Sigmund jumped up. He was indignant:
- What is this crap?
- A direct order from your Prince, replied a strong, imperious voice, which did not allow the slightest reply.
The Black Skaven shivered as he recognized the tall, imposing figure of Prince Ludwig Steiner who had just appeared behind the guards, alongside Schmetterling. The most disturbing was his face. The Human displayed a relentless expression. Sigmund had never seen him in such a state.
- I'm a patient person, and I can be lenient, but there are limits, and you've exceeded them. I want you to understand that no one is above the law. Especially not the Prince Family, who must behave in an exemplary manner. You have multiplied the nonsense, these last days: you offered a miserable exhibition of drunkenness to a guest of the Court, you challenged our laws by wanting to extract from it a Feral Skaven, you were careless to the point of letting it get run away, and when it's caught back, you commit an abominable carnage in front of an entire assembly! Well, that's enough. Since the words don't seem to work with you, we're going to try another method to get it in your head for good. A week in the dungeon should give you time to think. So spoke the Prince. Guards, do your duty.
The Black Skaven slowly held out his wrists to Sergeant Weller, who handcuffed him. The guards and the Master Mage's son left the office without another word.
- Let the commander take over his room, Steiner murmured.
And the two Skaven left the room, followed by their adoptive father.
When they had left the barracks, Heike threw himself on her father, and asked, in tears:
- Father, was it necessary?
- My child, I've founded this kingdom in order to be freer than in the Empire. But there are behaviours that remain unacceptable, including for the Prince's family. Especially for the Prince's family. Sigmund behaved like a rabid animal. Not only did he ridicule my family, but he also cast a shadow on the Skaven people. When the rumour spreads a Black Skaven has gone mad to the point of publicly killing a criminal, what do you think is going to happen? All Humans will fear Skaven to become like this. This is unacceptable.
And all hope of seeing any indulgence in the Prince shattered when the ratwoman recognized his gaze. It was the one he displayed when he faced a rival against whom he had no pity, the one who made it clear that nothing in the world would change his mind.
At the next supper, the atmosphere was especially deadly. The Prince, busy with Magister Steadyhand, didn't appear at the table. Neither Bianka, Gabriel, nor Isolde dared to ask about the absence of Sigmund. Their mother had told them, without further details, that he "had to be absent for a week". But the three children had sensed that this absence was something serious.
After the meal, Heike went to bed, followed by her eldest daughter. Psody accompanied Isolde to her room, Gabriel on his heels. The little ratgirl entered, while her father took Gabriel with him.
- I'm scared, Father!
- Don't worry, there is no reason-reason to be scared of!
- Sigmund is in trouble, isn't he?
- He'll be back in a week, we told you.
- Yes, I know…
- Is it for him you're afraid?
- No, he can face anything. The problem... is this Elf!
- There is no reason to be afraid of him neither, Gab.
- His presence... is not... normal. He gives me… goose bumps.
The White Skaven sighed.
- Gabriel, everyone gives you goose bumps, anyway. You'll really have to work on it.
- Y… yes.
- Well. Come on, go quickly to bed, I'll take care of your little sister. Good night!
- Good night, Father.
The Master Mage hugged his son and returned to Isolde's room. When he entered, she was finishing putting on her nightgown. She climbed into her bed and curled up under the sheets.
- It has been a hard day, darling. I hope you can sleep-sleep well.
- Is Siggy fine, at least?
- Yes, he is. He'll be back in a week, I promise-promise.
- Can you continue the story, Father?
- Of course!
The little girl couldn't read yet. The White Skaven had already planned to make arrangements with the clerk of Verena. In the meantime, he used to read a story to Isolde at least once a week, when it wasn't Heike or Prince Ludwig himself who was doing it. It was a small moment of sharing essential to his balance which he particularly appreciated before joining his partner.
As usual, he sat on the armchair near the bed, and read aloud a chapter of the storybook that rested on the dresser. He hadn't finished that the little girl was already sleeping deeply. Quietly, he put the book in its place. He was about to leave the bedroom, but he changed his mind. He sat back in the chair, and remained staring at the sleeping child.
He stayed there an indefinable time. After the last few days, he really needed to decompress, too. Seeing her beloved, innocent daughter was a great remedy for gloom. He adored her as much as his four other children, because she reminded him that Skaven could be really cute.
Suddenly, he started. Verena's Great Temple clock had just struck. Surprised, he looked around him with an odd impression. He got out of the chair, wolfed his way to the door, and left the room.
He went down to the living room where there was a large ornate clock. The hands indicated nine hours and a few minutes.
Bah... The day was really long-long... and it's not over!
Yes, he still had to work on the formula that would purify the Nichetti Estate. Fortunately, thanks to the support of Brisingr Steadyhand, he would soon find the right dosages, and the few ingredients that remained to be determined.
He left the mansion to return to his laboratory, his mind still a little cloudy. He entered, sat down at his desk, and resumed his notes.
He could only work for a few minutes. Soon, his mind was shaken again by the horrible sight Larn's killing had been. The Master Mage shook his head. Even a Feral Skaven didn't deserve to end so violently.
One thing, however, reassured the White Skaven a little: his son had not revelled in Larn's suffering. He hadn't laughed wildly, neither. On the contrary, this massacre had left him deeply bitter. Before Sergeant Weller arrived, the White Skaven had even detected a tear on his son's face.
But the damage was done.
He casually closed the drawer of his work desk, put his elbows on the table, and massaged his skin on his head.
Father is right, what a shame for the whole fam…
- There is no shame-shame, Psody. He is a worthy son of the Horned Rat. Like you were before you betrayed-betrayed me.
Psody felt the contents of his intestines solidify. This voice, so familiar, which had just echoed in his ear in his native language, could not, should not exist elsewhere than in his memory. And yet, when he looked up, Psody felt all of his hair stand on end.
In front of him, behind the desk, stood Vellux. The tall White Skaven, arms folded in his dirty Grey Seer robe, looked at him condescendingly, a wicked smile on his lips under his long pointed snout.
Without hesitation, the Master Mage drew his pistol from his belt, pointed it at his former master, and pulled the trigger. The detonation exploded in the room. The bullet sank into the wood of the front door of the cottage. The Grey Seer had completely disappeared.
Dazed, sweating and blowing, Psody hardly swallowed. He looked down. His hand was shaking so much that it threatened to drop the gun.
What if I hurt someone next time? A servant... or a friend? Or Isolde? Or Gab? Or Heike?
He didn't have the patience to wait any longer. He picked out of his pocket a small test tube containing a bright blue liquid. He uncorked it and drank its contents in a single sip. Esmeralda's calming nectar quickly worked. Once the tremors were over, he put on his coat, hurriedly walked to the barracks canteen, and entrusted the pistol to Nedland, with the firm intention of never asking back for it.