Children of the Horned Rat,
I had to run a personal writing project over the past few weeks, resulting in a slight delay. And I took a few days of vacation.
I hope you won't hold it against me.
Have a good reading, and Glory to the Horned Rat!
His feverish eye hardly opened.
The first thing he distinguished was his hand, suspended in the air. His arm covered with grey fur trailed over the mattress up to his elbow.
Reality took precedence over the tumultuous dream he just had. Fleeting but very clear pictures, again. Ideas, projects, things he hadn't yet fully understood how they worked, but with a clear and precise purpose.
With his muzzle compressed on the mattress, he had difficult to breathe.
He turned around, and once on his back, stood up painfully, and coughed loudly several times. He looked at his naked, thin body – he had ripped off his nightgown around three o'clock, after having estimated the room was too warm – and let out a sad sigh.
Definitely, everything is wrong!
Gabriel scratched his head. He wasn't sure to know why, but the night had been even more hectic than usual.
Inventions had not circulated alone in his dreams, palpable anxieties had been around them all night long. Again and again those angry faces that came to torment him. And those voices, heavy with reproach, which passionately enumerated a growing number of victims. Lives broken, or worse interrupted, because of his inventions, either by accident or by use.
Weapons, more weapons, and weapons always! Opa is becoming hungry for conquests!
He had to get the last mists out of his mind. The young, light grey Skaven grabbed a patted towel from a corner of the bedroom, and dragged his feet to the bathroom.
Bianka was in a much better mood, and in great shape. She herself had finished her ablutions. She dried the last droplets of water trapped in her fleece. Once the operation was over, she put her towel on the back of a chair, and took a few moments to contemplate herself in the mirror attached to the door of her wardrobe.
She smiled at her own reflection.
She wasn't particularly tall, but she was in a good position to know she was in top physical condition. Her wheat-coloured fur shimmered with golden shining. Her blue eyes sparkled with life. More than anything, she had reached the age when her femininity had fully awakened, and displayed forms that were both discreet and yet very present. Better yet, after the terrible battle that nearly cost the life of her older brother, she had made the decision to follow Sigmund's advice. She applied herself to regularly maintaining her body through physical exercise sessions, and had even learned the basics of combat from the tall Black Skaven. Her parents had not been thrilled to learn it, but neither had they discouraged her. After Larn's intrusion and the double invasion of Orcs and Feral Skaven, could they blame their daughter for learning to defend herself?
Young Skaven girl's silhouette had slimmed down, and muscles curved sharply beneath her fur. And she liked it. She knew the life of a housewife, put under the authority of a man, like most noble women she used to see at her grandfather's court, was definitely not for her. Nothing was better than the freedom to be the way she was, because she wanted to.
Even though, deep down inside her, celibacy was still a heavy burden on her heart. This problem still bothered her, to this day, and she had not found a way to solve it yet. A few boys themselves adopted by wealthy couples had approached her regularly, but none had been sincere to her eyes. She had detected behind every smile, every glance, every word, something unpleasant. Everything sounded wrong to her ears, everything seemed interested to her heart.
And each time any of those suitors had a little too enterprising behaviour, he had quickly regretted it. None of them had subsequently dared to take the risk of suing her, for fear of having problems with the princely family. At least, that was a small advantage related to her position.
She opened the closet, pulled out a light tunic, put it on, then grabbed a broom that was laid in a corner of the room. She took position in front of the mirror, made sure to have enough room around her, then began a series of exercises.
Every morning, she practiced the staff proficiency for a few minutes. The first day Sigmund had trained her, she had tried wielding some of the most common weapons. Her older brother had quickly advised her to use the staff. Lightweight, simple, efficient, good reach, and unobtrusive – no one was suspicious of a young girl who moved with a walking staff. And yet, it was better not to be fooled by appearances.
Bianka started with a few simple, repetitive movements that awakened her muscles. Then, once warmed up, she repeated a basic sequence of blows, the first her brother had taught her. She watched every gesture, made sure to keep her hand firm and the gesture precise. The second sequence was more complex, more tiring, but also more deadly.
She arrived at the third sequence. It was the one she always stumbled upon. Every time, always at the same moment. Until then, she had never been able to measure the force with which to pass the end of the staff from one hand to the other so that it passed at that precise height. Either she was sending too much power, or on the contrary, her wrist movement was too soft. And, once again, she missed.
She didn't lose patience, however.
Come on, gal, you can do it! The day you face a Gutter Runner, you have no right to make mistakes!
She started over from the beginning, and tried again. And missed again at the same time. A third attempt, a fourth, a fifth… All unsuccessful.
No way!
This time, Bianka felt annoyed. She decided to leave it there. She could feel the frustration rising, which would decrease her chances of success as much as it increased. She put the broom away, took off her tunic, quickly mopped her body, then put on a more fancy dress.
She left her room as Gabriel walked past her door.
- Oh, hello, Gab!
Gabriel jumped as he heard Bianka's voice. He turned to the ratgirl. Her smile faded.
- Aw, you look terrible! Is there a problem?
- I… I don't know, Bianka.
- Seriously, you seem pretty worried! Did you sleep badly?
- Each morning, I get up and die a little.
Bianka made a face.
- Barely up, are you already talking about dying? You really had a bad night!
- It doesn't matter, Bianka. I had new ideas, I have to quickly put them down on paper.
He was about to resume his way to the door that led to the stairs, but the young girl held him back. She gently put her hand on his shoulder.
- Maybe you should get out of your workshop a bit? Take some fresh air, rest your mind, that sort of thing?
- Maybe you should mind your own business? Leave me alone, stop mothering me, that sort of thing? the young ratboy replied aggressively.
What did not fail to shock his big sister.
- Gab! Can you hear yourself talking?
- I can hear you too much! Gabriel retorted, pushing his hand away.
And without giving her time to answer, he ran up the stairs, which he hurried down. Alone in the hallway, Bianka sighed.
He's getting more and more unbearable! I should tell the parents about.
She decided not to let this clash ruin her day. She left the family home in turn to go to the Great Temple of Verena.
She rode her horse from the Steiner Estate to the Libra Quarter. The Great Temple of Verena was not particularly far from the princely property, but every opportunity was good for Bianka to ride Buell. She didn't nourish a bond as strong as the one between Sigmund and Okapia, but there was still a little complicity between the ratgirl and the stallion. Buell was in great shape today, as was she, and it was with a light, quick step he led her to her workplace.
This huge building was reminiscent of a fortress with stone walls rising to over forty feet. The Goddess of Justice had to present a neutral, impartial face, and therefore her abode conformed to her personality. The Great Temple also housed the Tribunal, as well as the main library of Steinerburg (and the whole Rat Kingdom), the archives service, and a few classrooms. There was no university at Vereinbarung yet, but it was planned, and these studies offered a satisfying substitute, failing to be optimal.
During Prince Calderon's visit, Bianka had officially been appointed High Archivist of the Temple of Verena, a function she was particularly proud to perform. There was good reason: contrary to rumours in the hallway, she had not obtained this position by nepotism, but rather for her intellectual qualities, which were recognized as being exceptional. She knew she was less intelligent than Gabriel, but enough to be able to perform the duties and assume the responsibilities of such a place.
In order to ensure the neutrality of this nomination, the High Priestess of Verena, Desdemona Rebmann, had asked the candidates to prepare a complete report on a historical subject of the History of the Empire of Karl Franz of their choice, then she had taken care to send the copies under seal, and anonymously, to Nuln University, where an emeritus professor she knew had carefully studied the work. He had singled out the most deserving job, and it had been Bianka Steiner's.
Bianka had never been so proud of herself on the day she was appointed. Shining in front of Master Clarin and Prince Calderon had boosted her self-esteem... and that wasn't entirely a good thing. Her pride regularly prompted her to treat people of lower status than hers with detachment, a detachment that could amount to coldness or contempt. And this new situation had not improved her openness. On the contrary, the personnel of the house or the temple were less and less visible to her eyes.
She came out of her small private cabinet, with the long robe of the archivists, a loose garment, made of cream-coloured canvas, with the symbol of the goddess embroidered on the chest: a vertical sword, the point turned down, with a tray hung at the end of each of the two ends of its pommel, and a shield in the background. The simple fact of putting on this cloth made her shiver with pleasure. It was a uniform, and therefore a function, like the robe of a magician or a magistrate.
As she strolled down the hall, she heard Brother Sander call out to her.
- High Archivist?
"High Archivist", one of the most prestigious titles in the entire cult of Verena... Her title. Again, she shuddered. She never got tired of it! She turned to the Human. Since Schmetterling's trial, he had been equal to himself, except that he had grown a beard.
- What's the matter, Brother Sander?
- High Priestess Rebmann is out on business, but she told me to ask you to take care of the classification of the Girotti literary collection.
- The fund from Tilea?
- That very one.
- So it arrived?
- Three days ago, High Archivist.
Bianka's delicate muzzle wrinkled. The High Priestess had told her about a donation effected by a professor at the University of Remas, one of the main cities of Tilea. Martino Girotti was an old friend of the High Priestess, and had decided to donate his entire collection of documents to the Great Temple of Steinerburg upon his death, in order to "enrich at least a little the heritage of this brand new country", he had specified in the letter received by Mother Rebmann.
- The High Priestess told me that the temple was waiting for this fund, but she did not specify its size?
- She put it in the Marston room. That will be his place until further notice.
- Ah. Right...
Bianka had worked in the Marston Hall before, and her apprehension was only greater. She knew the dimensions of this room so named in honour of one of the translators of Verena's texts.
- Thank you, Brother Sander.
She walked briskly towards the Marston Room. When she lowered the doorknob, she almost crashed onto the door.
Of course...
She took a thick bunch of keys from her pocket, identified the correct key after a minute, and unlocked the door.
I have to attach labels on... I'll do that later.
The door creaked and opened to a particularly depressing sight.
By Verena's scale...
The Marston Room was long, with three large tables arranged one after the other, and a few chairs scattered around. This windowless room was seldom used as anything other than a storage room. Bianka had only had the opportunity to visit these places once, it was enough to hate them. This large dark room, with its low ceiling, had seemed to her very empty then. Today, it was the opposite.
Dozens of wooden boxes were piled up at the foot of the wall along its entire length. And hundreds of scrolls and books were spread out on the tables. Some were particularly dusty, others weakened by humidity or vermin seemed ready to crumble at the slightest touch. And of course, there was absolutely no logic, no organization. Everything had been scattered in the greatest disorder. The servants who had assembled this collection at the late Martino Girotti had treated the material like the last of the bounders, and those from the temple of Verena in Steinerburg had hardly been more attentive.
Bianka sighed and ran her hand over her face. Alas, nothing changed, it was all real. No document to give the smallest indication. The young ratgirl thought for a few moments. Given the condition of the books and the sheets, between dusting, inventory, tidying up, repairs on what could be repaired, several weeks of intense work awaited. For a full team of four to six people. For a lone High Archivist with a busy schedule, the working time could easily be quadrupled.
Significant intellectual capacities weren't necessary for this work. It required a little skill for the care of documents in poor condition, rigour to reorganize the storage optimally. The Marston room itself needed to be tidied up before we could begin processing the fund itself.
How to proceed?
Of course, she wasn't going to do everything on her own, it was too much work for one person alone. And yet...
Who shall be able to do this as well as I would? Vassilia? Rutger? Bernhardt? Klara?
This was a particularly delicate decision to make; finding someone trustable among the staff at the Temple of Verena was really not easy. Was it even possible? Thinking about it better, Bianka couldn't determine who the person to whom she could assign this job without being afraid of seeing a bad result was. She growled in spite of herself.
- Oh, damn it!
She quickly left the room, locked the door, and almost ran to her office.
A few hours later, she was in the refectory of the temple where priests, clerics, and wealthy citizens who studied law in these places could eat. Unusually, she had accepted the company of a man, one of the very few Humans who had her consideration. It was Samuel Heifetz, his grandfather's former servant who had become Verena's clerk. She didn't mind talking to him with familiarity, which he gave her back.
- Please, understand, Samuel: the High Priestess has entrusted me with the responsibility of this task. It can be a prejudice on my reputation if this job is poorly done.
- I trust you, Bianka. You are the best in this domain. As long as you take the time it takes, everything will be fine.
- It's easy for you to say that! Have you seen the fund? I have no idea how long it will take me. I bet it will last months!
- Can't you get help?
- Who could? I don't know anyone in this temple. And I don't want to give this job to a lazy or an incompetent person – no offence.
The clerk shrugged his shoulders. He was used to the haughty manners of the young ratgirl.
- Oh, I feel like it's going to ruin my day, if it doesn't ruin me the whole week!
- I trust you, the belly Human repeated.
Samuel took off his glasses and wiped them on a fold in his robe.
- And… how is your brother?
- Which one?
- The three of them?
- Well, Kristofferson continues to play the model elder, Sigmund is wisely following his therapy and taking his medication to stop drinking too much.
- Good, that's encouraging!
- Isolde is more and more zealous to go and pray to Shallya. Probably under the influence of our mother's condition, I suppose?
Samuel nodded with a small smile. Bianka thought she could escape his question, but she was disillusioned when the Human asked:
- What about Gabriel?
- Hmm... It's tricky to explain.
- Oh, is there something wrong with him?
Bianka detected sincerity in Samuel's voice. That was one of the reasons she valued him: after years of serving his grandfather, he had always considered Psody, Heike and their children as close relatives to whom he could become attached. So when he worried about Gabriel, it wasn't just for appearances.
- I must confess I don't know, Samuel. He hasn't looked very good the last few days, but I can't get him to talk. And you know how much I hate not knowing the explanation for a problem!
- There is no shame in that, Bianka. This is so, no mortal in this world can know everything. Only the gods are capable of it. And, still, maybe not all of them.
- At this moment, it is becoming difficult to talk to him. He double-closes as soon as you start lining up more than three words to his attention!
- Um... It has never been easy to talk to him, from what I remember.
- It isn't, but I have the impression that things are getting worse in recent weeks. That's right, he's at the age when the sap rises and boils quickly.
- A bad time to pass, then. I hope he gets over it.
- Me too, Samuel. Me too.
She didn't dare add it out loud, but she thought:
Hope he doesn't make a big mistake by then!
The afternoon wasn't more pleasant for the young ratgirl. The moment she just installed at her desk, she heard someone knocking on the door, and a panicked voice calling her:
- Lady Bianka! Lady Bianka!
She sighed, recognizing the voice, and opened the door.
- What's going on, Bernhardt?
The pot-bellied Skaven was trembling all over, panic-stricken.
- Come see, come see! It's awful!
Bianka accompanied the librarian to one of the storage rooms on the top floor of the temple. An accident had happened the night before. A short, but violent storm had erupted, and a bird had crashed into a window and passed through. The rain had entered the storage room and flooded two full shelves.
The High Archivist groaned with weariness.
Needless to say, the restoration work ahead was going to be painful. What further annoyed the High Archivist was the significant risk of loss of valuable information to the development of the Rat Kingdom.
Without losing her temper, she asked:
- Bernhardt, can you give me an inventory of the damaged documents?
- Of course, High Archivist.
- Right. Good luck.
She was about to leave the small room, but the ratman's voice froze her.
- Now?
She spun around on her heels.
- Well, yes, now, not in eight months!
- But... it's not my job!
- So why did you agree to complete this inventory, if that's not your job?
- Well… I meant as a librarian, I have my own responsibilities, High Archivist! I can do this inventory without problem, but not right now! I need to get organised, I have other things to take care of on my end!
The ratgirl was surprised. For the first time since she had known him, he had answered her, with a valid argument, and without losing his composure. She didn't want to let her surprise show, however.
- When do you think you can take care of this inventory, then?
- Just leave me this day to arrange my own schedule, and I can start tomorrow morning. I can tell you how long it will take after I study the rhythm.
- Hmm...
She decided to take it easy.
- Very well, you tell me your estimation on how much time it will take tomorrow late afternoon.
- Thank you for your trust, High Archivist.
Even if it was always so thrilling to hear this title, Bianka decided not to linger. She left the librarian there and took refuge in the great reading room of the temple.
This space was particularly dear to the heart of the young ratgirl. The library was located in the centre of the temple, and its surface was larger than the one made up of all the audience halls put together. It was huge, and its arch rose to about thirty feet. Its four walls were covered with varnished wood shelves, shelves that stood twenty-five feet in height. And if all the shelves weren't jam-packed yet, there were enough books stacked on them to show off the wealth of the largest library in all of Vereinbarung.
Only Vereinbarung? No!
In truth, and Bianka was certain of it, this library was larger than all libraries of all the Renegade Crowns. Perhaps it could even compete in size and content with that of the Temple of Nuln? But… could she be sure one day? It was further frustration for the Skaven woman. Never in her life would she be able to visit the temples of the greatest cities of the Empire, where only the Feral Skaven were known. Unless, perhaps, his grandfather managed to convince Emperor Karl Franz of the merits of his kingdom's principles?
Well, this idea was more of a fantasy than reality. But, if that happened one day... she hoped to be in the front row!
To console himself, Bianka spent a few moments contemplating the reading room, its shelves, its writing desks, its work tables... A display highlighted three of the main books of the cult of Verena: the Canticum Verena and the Eulogium Verena, both written in classic Reikspiel, and the Book of Swords.
Suddenly she distinguished something out of the corner of her eye that immediately focused her attention.
In a corner of the room, she spotted a lanky figure, dressed in red and gold toned clothes, with a bushy red hair topped off his head. She frowned nervously as she recognized Magister Brisingr Steadyhand.
What is he doing in my library?
The Magister had his nose plunged into an enormous volume, isolated in a corner of the reading room. Bianka sat down at a desk, picked up a book randomly from a shelf, and pretended to study it, while continuing to watch discreetly the tall Elf. She couldn't see the title of the book from where she was, but she remarked something very significant: a heavy padlock attached to the cover, the key of which was lying near the Elf. This book came out of collections inaccessible to the public, and required special permission from the High Priestess herself to be consulted.
Not so surprising, as he himself is a Lorekeeper...
She hardly had a chance to think about it for long, however. A loud voice suddenly pulled her out of her concentration. She saw one of the clerics being reprimanded by a richly dressed man. She jumped up, and hurried to join them.
- Well, Brother Paulus, what's going on?
Brother Paulus was a Human in his fifties, with a well-trimmed beard, large piercing eyes, and a particularly gruff personality. The other Human was flushed and sweating with anger. Quickly, Bianka categorized him as a "well-to-do merchant", which was easy to determine: rich fabrics, numerous finger rings, and a penchant for good food revealed by a ruddy complexion and pronounced plumpness.
- Your stooge is showing unspeakable behaviour! he barked, pointing at Paulus with an angry finger.
- Who are you calling a stooge? the clerk snapped back, taking a step forward.
- Brother Paulus, please calm down!
The clerk grumbled, but stepped back, and remained silent. The High Archivist spoke to the merchant.
- What did Brother Paulus do to put you in such a state?
- He tramples on my rights, cheerfully and without any pity! He does not deserve his title of cleric, nor the robe he's wearing and defiling! But things won't go this way! I am Mülter Blaukopf!
Clerk Paulus was making a titanic effort to keep his calm, Bianka perceived it well. She looked the merchant straight in the eye, and whispered:
- First of all, please calm down, Sir Blaukopf. We are here in a reading room, and not on the public square.
The effect was immediate. The merchant, not used to this kind of resistance, immediately fell silent.
- Good. Now, explain to me how Cleric Paulus might have upset you, would be kindly? Calmly, and simply, please.
Blaukopf shook his head, he wanted to reassert some authority.
- I pay my taxes, I make regular donations to your temple, I produce goods that help people live better, I give work to unemployed commoners, and all that for what? So that this snobbish dares to forbid me to consult what I want to consult! It is a scandal! I shall refer it to High Priestess!
Bianka turned her head to Paulus.
- Is that the truth, Brother Paulus? Did you deny this gentleman access to this document?
- It is the truth, High Archivist, Paulus replied harshly.
- I guess you have a good reason for that?
- Indeed, High Archivist, I have a good reason.
- And this impudent one dares to answer! cried the merchant.
- Yes, and I can make something else more, if you want!
- Please! Stop screaming, and let Cleric Paulus explain himself!
Once again, Bianka's steadfastness subdued the merchant's anger.
- So, Brother Paulus?
- This gentleman, therefore, wishes to consult the registers deposited in our walls by the Vereinbarung Guild of Merchants. These are confidential documents, which can only be viewed by an individual with an authorization with the seal of one of the officers of the company to whom these records belong. However, as Master Blaukopf not having been able to show me such authorization, I refused to let him consult the register in question. He tried to offer me money to "close my eyes", I asked him to leave.
The ratgirl swivelled towards the merchant.
- Bribery?
- It's false! This wretch lies as he breathes!
- Don't take me for a fool, you proposed me thirty crowns, Brother Paulus quipped.
- Fifty! retorted the merchant.
Immediately, he put his hand in front of his mouth, appalled that he had betrayed himself. Bianka's gaze hardened further.
- We are churchmen and churchwomen, as we decided to dedicate ourselves to Verena, we all took an oath that public knowledge would be accessible to everyone. There are, however, some things that remain private, and our oath is to respect them. As long as you do not have permission from the company you are interested in to show us, we will not be able to let you see documents that they have entrusted to us. It would be betray to their trust, and an insult to Verena. Accept a bribe would be worse. Now, if you don't have another document accessible for everyone to look at, I will ask you to go.
Bianka hoped she had found the right words. In truth, she wanted to see the man go as soon as possible, for she felt that her own prey was about to slip away. But Blaukopf did not budge.
- I have many relationships, little lady! Expect your temple to get taxed more than usual. Maybe your underling should be looking for a new job, too?
- What if I started right away as a squarer or carpet beater?
- Brother Paulus, come on! You're better than that, aren't you? And you, Master Blaukopf, your relationships cannot rise higher than mine. In case you didn't know, my name is Bianka Steiner.
- If you only knew how much I... what? Steiner? Like the Prince?
- He's my grandfather, I know I haven't got so much from him physically, Bianka replied with a hint of amusement. On the other hand, at the relational level, everything is going very well between us. Also, he wouldn't appreciate the fact an obtuse, boorish, cocky merchant came and try to pick fly droppings out of pepper.
- Me? Boorish? Cocky?
The man seemed ready to explode. It was at this moment that High Priestess Rebmann, alerted by the screams, entered in turn the reading room. She hurried to take Blaukopf, Paulus and Bianka out, into the courtyard. Once again the merchant made his point, once again Paulus described the situation as he had experienced it, and finally Bianka precised what she had seen next. She had to make a rather violent effort to concentrate to keep her calm and avoid galloping back into the reading room.
It took little more than half a minute of thinking for the High Priestess to cite half a dozen articles that the merchant had violated, with the invitation to leave the place as soon as possible. Blaukopf did so and disappeared. As soon as the Human was out of sight, the ratgirl rushed inside the building. Once there, she stifled a yelp of rage.
Naturally, Brisingr Steadyhand was gone, as was the book.
Bianka suddenly had an idea.
The register!
Yes, the Elf had to enter his name in the special consultations register, with the title of the book. She walked decisively towards the counter, grabbed the volume, to the surprise of the priestess at the reception.
- Hey, what are you doing, High Archivist?
Bianka didn't answer. However, her eyes widened when she saw the last page.
- Sister Ulrike?
- Yes, High Archivist?
- May I know what this is?
Bianka put the register under the priestess's nose, and showed her "this" with an almost angry finger. Sister Ulrike blinked, and remained silent.
- Uh...
- Well, I have an explanation, and I'll pass it on to you. See the name written in the "Applicant name" column?
- Yes, High Archivist.
- Do you know whose name this is?
- I don't.
- Good. Then know that this is Brisingr Steadyhand, a Bright Mage from Altdorf. He has the annoying habit of being indiscreet, and very vague about his actions. So, I am not surprised to have seen him just now reading one of the works from the "special" books reserve. But you, when he returned the document with the key, weren't you surprised to see that he had managed to burn the paper of the page just enough to erase the title of the book he had just read?
- That is to say, I just took my shift, I didn't register this reader.
- So, you didn't see him go neither?
- I didn't, High Archivist.
- Who was there before you?
- I… I don't know.
- You don't know who was seated in the chair you're currently occupying? Are you sure you have your head on your shoulders right now?
- This is... I...
- Damn, Sister Ulrike, I must know what heretic book consulted this Elf!
- Is it so important, High Archivist? the voice of High Priestess Rebmann then asked.
The young blonde Skaven girl felt her face crumple in annoyance. There was no point arguing with the High Priestess when she adopted this tone.
- You told that merchant a few minutes ago, the High Priestess continued. We care about discretion. If this Mage needed to consult our book, we do not have to judge him. And we don't have to investigate abusively until he breaks the rules.
- Admit therefore he arranged so that we couldn't see what book he read, it is dubious!
- That's a point of view. We will keep an eye on him the next time he comes within our walls. Until then, there is no question of considering him as a suspect.
Her lips closed tightly, Bianka clenched her teeth in rage. But she knew it was best not to alienate the High Priestess, so she decided to retreat.
Finally, after a long and frustrating day, it was time for the young ratgirl to go to bed. Sitting in her chair, she remembered the most memorable moments, analysed them, in order to assimilate them as well as possible during the night.
No need to get many grey hairs by thinking about it all the week long!
Her ear swivelled when she heard the floor creak just outside her door. Three little taps echoed timidly on the wood.
- Come in.
The door opened for Gabriel, already in his nightgown. Bianka stood up.
- Oh, this is you, Gab? What do you want?
- I… I came to say good night to you.
- Well… good night!
She thought the little light grey Skaven was going to leave her, but he stood in the doorway. He looked at her weirdly.
- Something wrong, Gab?
- Uh... I'm fine.
Not sure, thought the young girl.
- Look, let's get rid of this morning, right? We don't need to argue over trifles. I care about you, I don't think you're doing very well, and that worries me. If you have a problem, we can talk about it. I can help you find a solution. Or at least advise you on the person who could help you better than me. At worst, if there is nothing to do, it may at least give you some relief.
- I'm fine, Gabriel repeated. And you, are you feeling bad, these days?
Bianka didn't hold back a light, surprised eyebrow rising.
- Well… of course not! Why do you ask me this?
Gabriel took a step into the bedroom.
- Because… I have the impression you have been having nightmares for some time.
- Nightmares? What the hell are you talking about?
The young rat boy stepped forward again.
- Regularly at night, I can... hear you screaming.
It took another three seconds for the girl to understand what her brother was referring to. Immediately she felt her cheeks ablaze with horrible embarrassment.
- Oh… Ah. Uh...
She decided to take it easy, without completely denying everything. The exercise was going to be perilous.
- Yes, you're right. But these aren't nightmares, Gab. In fact, I... it's a way for me to assert my... sadness.
- You're sad? worried Gabriel, who was now facing Bianka. Why are you sad?
Bianka sat down on her bed.
- Because I feel very lonely, Gab.
- You lonely? Not at all! What about me? And Father, and Mother? What about Siggy, and Kit, and Soso? And Opa Ludwig? And Romulus? And…
- Yes, of course, cut the young girl. It's true, we're a big family. Sometimes it's complicated, but I love this family. But there's one thing I don't have, Gab. It's... it's... a lover!
The little ratman had to think for a few seconds to integrate this information.
- A… a lover?
- Yes. A boy I would get along with. A man who would understand me, who would agree to spend time with me just to be with me.
- I can do all that, Bianka.
- Of course you can, but this boy must not be related to me by blood, Gabriel. If I want to have children with him someday...
Gabriel's eyes fluttered.
- How does this relate to what I hear at night?
- Well… right now, I can't find anyone like that, Gab. And so, well… that makes me sad. And I have to do exercises to forget about this sadness. Workout to think about something else, and to make myself stronger.
- Sometimes you work out in the morning and I can't hear you?
- It's… it's because it's not the same exercises. The evening ones are more tiring. It keeps me from being broke.
- Are you sad to be without a lover, then?
It took a long couple of seconds for the girl to whisper under her breath:
- Yes.
- You must not, because I like you. I can't be your lover, and I can't console you as well as Sigmund, who is large and strong. But I like you.
Bianka gave a small sigh.
- You're wrong, Gab. You can console me even better than Sigmund.
- How?
- Sit next to me.
Gabriel took place on the bed, obediently. Bianka hugged him and let a few touched tears fall. They stayed like that for a few moments, then the girl released him. With much effort, he managed to look her in the eye when he mumbled:
- I am sincere, Bianka.
- I know it. No one can be more sincere than you, Gab. Look, it's very kind from you worrying about me. Now, on this issue, I don't think you can help me, even though I know you absolutely want to.
- I don't know anything about lovers... But I don't like to see you sad.
- Do not worry. You know what? I'll talk about it with Mother. You're right, I can't stay like this. And I think she might give me some ideas on how to solve this problem.
- Yes. I think so too.
- I promise I'll find a moment to discuss this matter with her in the next few days. When she has some time to devote to me. You, meanwhile, keep working well, and don't worry about me. Right?
- Right. I like you, big sister.
- I love you, brother.
She gave him a last hug, and he went to bed, a little reassured.