Daughters and Sons of the Horned Rat,
Here we are. The year is ending, but the Pestilens, more tenacious and vicious than ever, continue their vile plot, and more victims are to be mourned.
Fortunately, I have luck not to have any problem so far, and all my family and friends are going well too. I can only hope, however, that the same will be true for all of you.
Thank you for your loyalty and kindness, and I wish you to start a new year full of projects, successes, hopes and love. As much as possible, nurture your friendships, stay close to your family members, and enjoy your life mostly, it's worth.
Glory to the Horned Rat!
About once every three months, the Prince hosted a special meal where the main figures of the Rat Kingdom would come to exchange news informally, relax a bit with a little joke, and leave with new things to do. The whole family could join in on the rejoicings, but until now, Isolde had always been kept out. She was too young and too innocent to be able to take the slightest pleasure in it. She didn't mind sharing her supper with Magdalena in the kitchen, the two of them could have a good time together.
The most surprising was the presence of Gabriel. To better control his panic fear of grown-ups, he had offered to "test" himself by participating in the previous meal. Contrary to all expectations, everything had gone very well, he hadn't had a nervous breakdown, and was even able to politely answer a question or two. The Prince had quietly warned the guests about his grandson's emotional fragility. They had been kind, and hadn't upset him in any way. Also, the place of the last son Steiner was already scheduled for tonight's session.
Usually, Bianka enjoyed these "business" suppers, she could chat with the most important figures of Vereinbarung. This was all the more true as Lady Helga Schmidt was now a regular guest. She came alone while Miranda managed Grüneweiden in her absence. Before the marriage of Fritz and Martha, the three women had already had the opportunity to get to know each other, they held each other in high regard.
But this time, a fiery cloud overshadowed the pleasure: Brisingr Steadyhand was also on the guest list. Fortunately, according to the seating plan, he was positioned relatively far from her. Also, contrary to her fears, Mistress Pulcheria Brukenthal hadn't been invited. Heike had explained to her the Grey Mage was already on her way back to the College of Shadows headquarters in Altdorf.
Bianka was also counting on the number of guests – there were about thirty of them – to avoid any exchange of words with the Elf. There was no shortage of picturesque guests: priests and priestesses, particularly wealthy and therefore influential traders such as the Bäsenhau husband and wife, Master Barisson, the Dwarf architect responsible for the Wüstengrenze site... the topics of conversation would undoubtedly be as varied as pleasant!
The Prince's servants, cooks and other employees were busy twice as much as usual. Suppers like this had to be flawless. It was customary to requisition staff from the best inns in Steinerburg as reinforcements, in exchange for monetary compensation, of course.
And so, all the staff were bustling about, coming and going in a merry ballet. Sometimes there were small incidents, like two men crashing into each other, or a Skaven tail stuck in a door. Sometimes a servant tired of running around the whole estate would allow himself a short break on a chair. This expertly calculated commotion made for an extraordinary spectacle for one who was not used to it. It was difficult to dwell on an unusual detail, as every movement was quickly eclipsed by a dozen others.
Someone just wanted to take advantage of this state of affairs.
A small figure was progressing quietly down the hall. Its bare toes hugged the carpet, and the floor barely creaked under its light weight. The commotion prevailed especially on the floor below, which gave it free rein.
The blood was pounding in Gabriel's temples as hard as a regiment of drums.
No one had seen him until now. Only a few servants had crossed his path without slowing down, too absorbed in their own tasks. And none of his family, or one of the guests tonight, had spotted him.
Finally, he arrived in front of his objective: the door to his father's office.
Like his wife and children, the Master Mage had private apartments in the west wing of the mansion, on the fourth floor, but he also had an office in the central part of the mansion, with his personal library. It was usually in this office that he worked with the Prince or other people, when he didn't need all the equipment stored in the laboratory set up in a separate cabin.
Gabriel fumbled nervously in his pocket, and brought out a brass ring on which was hung a whole battery of small metal hooks of various shapes and sizes. This little tool proved formidable against all locks that weren't fortified by magic, and so far, no door, no padlock has stood up to this lock-pick.
The little light grey Skaven took a deep breath.
He was about to do something that no one would approve of, no doubt about it.
It was the most critical moment. Anyone could appear at any time. If he was spotted during the delicate manoeuver that followed, the consequences would undoubtedly be appalling.
He leaned over the keyhole, and inserted two of the hooks. He needed only a couple of short seconds to unlock the door. He opened it, rushed into the study, and closed behind him.
He was now in the study. There was no window in this room. The candlesticks were off, as was the small fireplace. Light from the hallway came through the interstices of the front door, which was sufficient for a Skaven eye. Gabriel immediately distinguished the small door at the back, next to the library. He walked slowly forward, on the lookout for the slightest crack of the varnished plank, then opened the door.
This door opened onto a small bedroom where Psody could rest between two work sessions, even with a closet where a few extra clothes were stored.
But one of the biggest secrets of the White Skaven was hidden behind this closet. Gabriel knew it. Only members of the Steiner family and Prior Romulus knew this secret.
He walked over to the clothes closet. The door gaped in a creak. The young ratboy gently pushed aside the clothes hanging from the clothes rail, and palpated the back wall. He felt the touch of a small button under his fingers, which he pressed.
A small clicking sound echoed between the wooden walls of the cupboard. The back wall separated from the structure. Gabriel gripped the wooden end with his fingertips, and pulled. He opened the hidden door completely.
His eyes widened.
He was in front of a long, narrow and very dark hallway.
Once again, anguish gripped his young heart.
What if a Feral Skaven was waiting for him in the shadows?
Don't be ridiculous! How could a Feral Skaven be here? This is the most inaccessible place in the whole mansion!
So what? If it wasn't a Feral Skaven that was scaring him, was it his own conscience?
Gabriel shook his head vigorously.
I shall not wimp out now!
He walked bravely down the dark hallway, and came to another small door. He pushed it.
The corridor led to the prayer room of the private chapel of the Master Mage. It was dimly lit by the dying daylight that came through the large stained glass window bearing the image of the Horned Rat.
Gabriel felt his heart thudding harder and harder in his chest.
He was in a forbidden place, he knew it. If his father popped up at this time, he would undoubtedly severely scold him! But the risks seemed to him of lesser value than the reason which had brought him there.
He knelt down in front of the altar, and looked up into the stained glass window. What he saw suddenly petrified him with fear.
This huge four-horned Skaven was the Horned Rat. He was not represented in a manner as frightening as in the in the scrolls collected from the burrows, and yet there was something truly ominous about this great deity, almighty in the sky, above Humans and Skaven. Looking closer, the young ratboy then noticed that both eyes of the coloured glass icon gleamed faintly with a strange green glow. Considering the orientation of the mansion, this could not be the effect of the rays of the setting sun.
These eyes… these eyes are emitting their own light!
A door slammed in the distance made him jump. He decided it was time to act. He spoke directly to the stained glass window.
- Hey, you, there! The Horned Rat!
No reaction. He took his breath, and stammered:
- You made a White Skaven be born in a family of peasants! It will bring bad luck! In fact, it already has! Because of Emil Finston, my father doesn't even look at me anymore! He wanted a son with your powers! He told me he loves me the way I am, but he lies! He can lie well, since he was born among the Feral Skaven! And now I'm the one being punished! As I don't have your powers, and Emil has, my father decided to love Emil more than me! And that is not fair! Psody is my father, my father, and not Emil's! Now when he talks to me, it's just to yell at me or ask me to craft weapons! And when I obey, I get hit by Jochen! I've had enough!
Gabriel then realized he was crying. All his frustration, his anger, suppressed for weeks, took on their meaning in his speech.
- We don't need another White Skaven here! Then you just have to keep it to yourself! Take it, take it away and do what you want with it! I've heard Feral Skaven are kidnapping children in the provinces. Well, you just have to take Emil Finston! He lives in Hemsbach, and his father is a peasant. My mother told me peasants often have difficulties to feed their families because they are poor. Go tell those Feral Skaven praying for you to take Emil Finston with them! He will be revered and adored by the Feral Skaven and will become a hero, his parents will be relieved, because they will no longer need to take care of him, and in addition they will be proud to have a hero in their family, and my father will be interested in me again! Everyone will be happy!
The little light grey Skaven was standing, his cheeks streaming with tears. Suddenly he jumped. He thought he saw a sparkle in the green eyes of the stained-glass window. As if the Horned Rat had winked at him.
Did... did he hear me? Will he… answer my prayer?
The thought made him shiver all the way to the end of his tail. What if it was true? Maybe he had done the right thing... or had he committed the biggest mistake of his life?
He didn't want to think further. Panicked, he scrambled out of the chapel, slammed the clothes closet door, then left the office. He took a few strides down the hall, but stopped dead.
The door!
Quickly, he rushed to the office door. He feverishly took out his lock-pick tool. His panic was such that he dropped the metal keychain on the carpet. He picked it up awkwardly, and tweaked the lock at full speed. He thought he heard footsteps on the stairs. With a devastated moan, he turned the hooks. A dry snap relieved his heart. He checked one last time to make sure the door was locked securely, then ran in the opposite direction.
- Ladies and gentlemen, it is a pleasure to see, once again, you have accepted my invitation. I always look forward to those special moments where I can enjoy your company in a less formal setting than when we usually meet.
All the guests were standing behind their seats. The long tables had been arranged to form a square. The Prince glanced over to his right. The fourth place was empty.
Gabriel is late... Too bad, he will catch up with us.
- I announce you we'll offer you a program full of strong emotions and surprises for the Hexenstag day. The best chefs will concoct menus appetizing enough to make an Ulthuan philosopher salivate, and renowned artists from the Empire will delight us with their incredible performances. But in the meantime, as a taste of things to come, I invite you to take a seat, and enjoy this bountiful supper that is waiting for you. Do it justice, our gastronomic architects will be all the more motivated to spoil us in three months. Bon appetite, everybody! So spoke the Prince!
Everyone settled down. Ludwig Steiner took the opportunity to identify the most notable guests, those with whom he was probably going to have the most verbal exchanges.
Beside him was Helga Schmidt, always beaming with self-confidence. She had come in a new dress sewn in the colours of Grüneweiden, and her woollen cape was attached by a brooch cut from a wooden disc, to the coat of arms of her village.
A little further away were settled Vladimir Bäsenhau and his wife Lorelei. Vladimir was a tall, thin man with piercing eyes. His little brown moustache traced a sharp line across his fair face. Anyone who didn't know him could be quickly confused by the smirk he constantly wore. This night, he was dressed in a dark, no-frills suit. He sat down without saying a word. His wife Lorelei, for her part, looked radiant. Her round face, topped with a thick chestnut hair tied in a bun, exuded the joy of life... slightly tinged with malignancy. Her naturally raised eyebrows made her look a little mischievous. Her athletic body was just as comfortable in her riding outfit as it was in the fancy blue-toned dress she was wearing.
These two traders were long-time partners and friends of Ludwig Steiner. They had ignored all of his secret studies of the Skaven, and were shocked by his disappearance from Altdorf. Also, when he wrote to them a few months after his installation in the country that would become Vereinbarung, they were relieved, and didn't hesitate to respond to his invitation to try their luck in this principality. They had thus given up their ancient life, and built a new one in Steinerburg. They had adopted Walter Klingmann, and imparted to him the values he set out to honour and uphold in his daily life as Captain of the Capital Guard. After the loss of Lady Franzseska Gottlieb, Master Bäsenhau had been promoted to steward, and so far he had performed his duties flawlessly.
Master Bäsenhau had already started a discussion with a tall Human, with features weighed down by five decades, a fair complexion still lightened by a light golden beard, and ash-blonde locks that caressed his cheeks. Kristofferson recognized Master Nikita Griekov. This Kislevite worked regularly with the treasurer Nedland, because of his position. Indeed, Griekov held the post of head of the Guild of Traders of the Kingdom. The most important transactions between Vereinbarung and the rest of the world went by his help.
Mother Morgana occupied the place between Sigmund and Romulus.
High Priestess Desdemona Rebmann, Brisingr Steadyhand and Brother Arcturus, of the Temple of Sigmar, shared impassioned words on issues mixing magic and religion.
Provost Tomas was also present. He was seated between two guests of the same profession: on his left, the head of the Vereinbarung Craftsmen Guild, Branka Isildursdöttir, and on his right Soraya Tassadit, the head of the Guild of Artists. Branka Isildursdöttir was one of the Dwarf people. They were very rare in the Rat Kingdom, but not entirely absent. Mistress Isildursdöttir was barely taller than a teenage Skaven, but she was almost as strong as a man. She was dark skinned, her face was framed in simple tattoos with red highlights, and gold rings encircled strands of her long, jet-black hair. Soraya Tassadit was born in Copher, a town on the Pirate Coast of Araby, far to the southwest. This tall woman was rather impressive: her dark complexion skilfully matched her long red mane, and she had an intense green, almost supernatural stare. She was dressed in colourful fabrics, and intricate patterns were drawn with henna on her wrists.
Master Aghnar Barisson was himself placed to the left of Branka Isildursdöttir.
The servants performed the first service. Guests could enjoy the almond milk squash soup, accompanied by a salad of roasted onions.
The atmosphere was warm, far from the usual frame in which the guests usually saw each other. Several compliments to the cooks passed over the table.
- Your Highness, you are spoiling us once again! noted High Priestess Desdemona.
- It is Master Bäsenhau who should be congratulated, my Mother. He is responsible for finances, for the proper functioning of the household, and therefore for this supper!
Master Bäsenhau just smiled a little. His wife, Lady Lorelei, motioned to Helga, and the two women struck up a conversation about the expansion of Grüneweiden, and the investments to be made there.
Heike, as a Prince's good daughter concerned about the well-being of the guests, tried to move around to make sure everything was right. But Bianka suggested to replace her quickly, in order to minimize her movements.
- You must take care of yourself, Mother, it would be better for the baby.
- Yes, my angel, you are right. I'm counting on you.
- You can!
Bianka walked around the room, looking for the smallest detail that needed to be corrected. She walked past the High Priestess.
- Is everything going well, High Priestess?
- It couldn't be better, High Archivist. You look great, too.
- The news has been good lately. I received the inventory of damaged documents after the rain that fell the other day. Fortunately, there is less damage than I thought. And then, I admit, Bernhardt was very efficient in this work.
- Did he? asked Mother Desdemona, half surprised, half amused.
- Bernhardt doesn't have an easy conversation, but for this kind of task, he does quite well. Now, I hope I can get serious about the Girotti fund.
- Maybe he could help you? suggested the High Priestess.
- Yes, maybe. But let's stop talking about work, let's relax.
- Great idea, Brisingr Steadyhand whispered in a mellow voice.
Bianka did not answer, she preferred to resume her tour of the dining room. She passed the valets who provided the second course, greeted with satisfaction by the guests: pie of leaves and potted pate of lamb leg.
Vladimir Bäsenhau and Nikita Griekov engaged in a real oratorical joust, to which each had a real pleasure. Griekov was the third fortune in the Rat Kingdom, but the two men's treasuries fluctuated, and it was difficult to pinpoint who was the wealthier of the two families. This state of affairs was the subject of a rivalry that was sometimes friendly, sometimes ruthless, depending on the circumstances. Although working for the same Prince, their personal affairs could turn into real conflicts of interest.
For this evening, Griekov had chosen a conciliatory approach.
- And so, instead of considering that one might be walking on the other's toes, there is a way to negotiate some common ground on this issue, don't you think?
Griekov spoke with a strong accent, much more pronounced than the one which used to slavish Lady Franzseska Gottlieb's voice. Bäsenhau didn't answer, suddenly distracted by something; he narrowed his eyes.
He had just seen Psody rubbing his neck, as if he had been bitten by an insect.
- Something wrong, my friend?
The steward shook his head.
- Oh, just a scratched eye. What were you talking about?
- The Black Fire Pass, Bäsenhau. We could share a trade route there, instead of competing for it.
- Hmm... No doubt. Have you a suggestion?
- Indeed, I wanted… Here, what is he doing here?
The tall blond man was looking at something behind Bäsenhau. The latter turned, and felt his eyebrows rise.
- Oh, that's the young Steiner son. You don't know him?
- Never seen in my life.
- No wonder, he never shows up in society. Yet he was there at the last banquet.
- I wasn't, I was traveling. He looks rather...
Griekov couldn't finish his sentence. The steward suggested:
- "Staggered"?
- Yes, something like that.
- He's not at all his advantage here, but according to his grandfather, he has a heart of solid gold.
- Um… He looks nice to me, but he seems scared to death, too.
- The Master Mage explained to me he tries to cure his shyness. Let's try not to shock him.
- If you say so...
Before his little detour, Gabriel had taken care to put on his most beautiful clothes. He had managed to contain his nervousness, and hadn't wrinkled them yet. But he found it very difficult to enter the dining room. He had to stand on the doorstep for a long minute, watching for the moment when he could reach his chair without risking crossing paths with a stranger. Yet, this tall, blond, bearded Human had stared at him in an embarrassing way, and the man with the thin moustache, the one who had replaced Lady Franzseska, had whispered a few words in his ear. What did he just told? Surely teasing towards him, after all, he deserved it! Where was he to settle? He scanned the guests nervously, and spotted his mother with relief. Ah, a free space just between her and her sister Bianka had been left!
Gabriel zigzagged between the servants and rushed to the chair. But his father turned to him with a reproachful look.
- Ah, there you finally are! You're late-late.
Sheepishly, Gabriel tried to stammer something, but spoke so quietly that his words were drowned in the surrounding hubbub. Psody pointed to the empty chair with a forceful finger and ordered in a tone that didn't allow for the slightest retort:
- Sit down and come eat.
This worried the little light grey Skaven more than it upset him. Heike reassured him with a smile, and raised her hand to one of the servants. Gabriel quickly forgot his worries when he saw the contents of the plate the servant placed in front of him!
Sometimes a guest had a topic to discuss with another in particular, but the seating arrangement didn't allow for a direct conversation. It was not surprising, nor especially frowned upon, to see a guest stand up from the table. Also, Brother Arcturus got up without hesitation to approach the Prince. Steiner took notice of it.
- Well, Brother Arcturus? Is everything fine?
- The evening is very pleasant, Your Highness, but I have information to transmit to you, which is much less so.
- Oh, do you? So, enlighten me, please.
The priest of Sigmar looked concerned.
- Your Majesty, I recently heard about a new Chaos Lord who would like to build a reputation.
- Ah, so you did too, Brother Arcturus? My grandson himself heard of such news.
- That's right, Kristofferson confirmed, a slight worry in his voice.
- Other villagers saw him. His name would be Lennart Fireblood.
- How poetic, Bianka commented ironically.
- From the description I read in a letter the temple received this morning, this firebrand may have taken an oath of loyalty to Khorne.
- Ha! With such a name, I didn't expect a tender bucolic dreamer! Sigmund exclaimed.
Bianka didn't smile.
- Khorne is the god of slaughter and destruction, Siggy. He's reputed to be the most formidable of the Chaos Gods. His champions are all wild, blood-thirsty and violent beasts.
- Oh yeah? Well, let him come and see me, and I will drown his bloodlust, replied the Black Skaven.
- You shouldn't take this so lightly, young man. A champion of Khorne is far more dangerous than an ordinary man.
- I've fought a lot of bad guys, Brother Arcturus. Some Skaven were already very formidable, and I don't mention their creatures.
- No doubt, but don't forget the followers of the god of slaughter are consumed by a murderous madness instilled by their master. In battle, they are plunged into a state of intoxication even Black Hunger is nothing but annoyance compared to.
- Hmm… I'll remember your wise words, Brother Arcturus.
- I understand your concern, Brother Arcturus, replied the Prince. We'll send patrols to the area tomorrow. There is no question of letting a champion of Khorne frolic on my land!
The priest of Sigmar nodded with a grateful little smile, and returned to his seat.
Stuck between his mother and his big sister, Gabriel wasn't feeling very well. Everyone spoke so fast, laughed so loudly, ate so noisily! And the heat! It was getting hotter and hotter. The young ratboy ran his hand over his forehead, and felt drops of sweat between the hairs of his light grey coat.
- Hey, Gab?
Gabriel swivelled towards Bianka.
- I… I… should… well, I'm going to get some fresh air.
- Go ahead.
Heike held him back by his sleeve.
- Don't go too far. With all these guests, the house is even better kept than usual, but you never know.
- Right, Mother.
The little light grey Skaven dropped from his chair, and slipped between the servants and the guests. After a long minute, he finally made it outside. He walked away from the house only to find himself a few steps away.
Far from this heat, from all this noise, he could finally cool his head. He sighed in relief. So far, everything was fine. He even allowed himself to smile. The few figures that roamed the park were those of the guards... except, perhaps, this one, in particular?
Gabriel narrowed his eyes, and felt his tail twitch nervously.
Say, what is he doing?
He recognized at once Brisingr Steadyhand, a few yards away from the house. Oh, the Flaming Mage probably needed some calm, too? So why was he gesturing while he was looking in the distance? Yes, the little ratman was puzzled. Did he want to stretch? To dance? Or something else? And always looking in the same direction, away from the property.
It's like... like he's gesturing to an accomplice!
And these gestures seemed more and more incongruous to him.
Maybe I'm getting some ideas? Maybe this is a prayer to his god?
It was then that the Elf froze. Then he turned around abruptly. His purple eyes sparkled above the glow of the garden lamps. The little light grey Skaven swallowed his saliva. Brisingr Steadyhand looked at him with unhealthy insistence. Gabriel couldn't make out the features of his face, in the penumbra. Only the amethyst sparkle was perfectly visible. Without realizing it, he was backing up to the open door to the dining room. He was about to cross it, but when he turned to enter the manor frankly, he hit Aghnar Barisson head-on. The Dwarf immediately protested:
- Well then, son! Must watch where you go when you walk!
Poor Gabriel was appalled. He needed a way to coax the Dwarf at once.
Speak to him in his language, that will make him happy!
He quickly searched for a compliment among the few Khazalid words he vaguely knew. Suddenly he found it.
- Forgive me… Master Wazzok.
At these words, Aghnar Barisson's eyes widened. He growled:
- What did you just say?
The little ratman realized with horror he probably had used the wrong word. Mute in dread, he was unable to move a toe.
- I've asked you a question, raki! What did you just tell me?
Several guests watched the scene, surprised and worried. But for the quick-to-guilt Gabriel's mind, everyone was laughing at him and getting indignant. He almost heard angry voices ordering his hanging. It was just a figment of his imagination, in truth, no one dared to speak up.
Suddenly the Prince's voice broke the silence.
- Well, Master Barisson, what's going on?
The Master Engineer swivelled towards Steiner.
- First, this little rat crashes into me, then he insults me!
- Did he insult you? Really?
- Your Highness, either I misunderstood, or he just called me "poor naive jerk"!
Without losing an ounce of calm, the Prince raised his hand.
- Wait, please, Master Barisson. Let's clear this up.
Then he spoke to his grandson.
- Gabriel, you didn't mean to insult our guest on purpose, did you?
- I thought… it was… a compliment?
- "Poor naive jerk", a compliment? I'm not sure I understand…
- In fact, your Majesty, he said "Wazzok", the Dwarf clarified.
The hapless light grey Skaven was about to die of shame. His mother stood up, and stood beside Gabriel.
- Master Barisson, I'm sure my son thought he was doing the right thing. He meant something nice while doing your people honour, but he must have got the wrong word. This is all just a terrible misunderstanding.
The Dwarf looked in turn at Heike, then Gabriel. Finally, his features relaxed inch by inch. He raised his index finger anyway.
- Yeah... Right. Be careful to be sure of the words you use, sonny. Wars started this way in my home country!
Gabriel swallowed hard. No, in fact, he had nothing more to swallow, he had sweated so much. The Prince then proposed:
- Come on, Master Barisson, don't let the atmosphere of this evening be spoiled by the little clumsiness of a child, will you. Let me give you a taste of the wine given to me by Prince Calderon from Estalia. You won't believe your tongue!
Immediately, the engineer's face relaxed completely.
- Grungni's beard, that's indeed a great idea!
This statement sounded like a signal to resume the festivities. Conversations flared up again. Gabriel jumped when he heard his mother's voice:
- Don't worry, darling. Let's go back to eat.
- I…
Heike talked to her son eye to eye.
- Look, you've been doing really well so far, I'm very proud of you. You didn't mean to say bad things to Master Barisson, did you?
- No, Mother.
- Right! It doesn't matter, in my opinion, after emptying a couple of bottles, he won't think about it again. We'll bring the cheeses soon. You don't want to miss Master Collodi's specialties, do you?
The ratmother winked. Immediately, her son's face lit up. "Collodi" was a magic word for him.
The prior of Shallya clicked his tongue.
- A real wonder, indeed!
- Master Clarin explained to me in his letter that the inhabitants of Sueño cultivate wine in the same way as in Estalia, clarified Bianka. It must be said that the climate resembles that of certain regions of their home country.
- It suits perfectly with cheese! observed Steiner.
The blonde Skaven kept an eye on her Black brother. Sigmund had only allowed himself a single goblet of wine for the whole evening, wine he drank one sip at a time.
- Just now, you had to tell us about Grey College, my friend? Romulus asked as he filled the glass the White Skaven was holding.
- Oh, yes! I met Mistress Brukenthal. Like Brisingr Steadyhand, she has a lightly different-different personality, but I think she will be good at drawing the plans and supervising the site.
- Do we already have an idea of how much money will need to be spent?
Psody drank a few sips of wine, rubbed his chin, and thought about it.
- Um, I don't know yet, but it shouldn't come too far from the cost of a College of Fire. We don't need all the tools of a Golden College neither...
- How funny, every time we talk about the cost of a College of Magic, "it won't be as expensive as a Golden College" can be heard, remarked the Prince. As if the Golden College will be a terrible money pit! Here, my son, could you tell me what would be the cost of a College for Grey Seers?
The Master Mage smiled nervously. Gabriel, suddenly interested in this question, looked up, and listened curiously to the answer.
- Oh, it's hard-complicated to estimate, Father. First, the ingredients used by Grey Seers are often of minimal value in the Under-Empire, while on the surface they are much more difficult to find, and therefore would cost much more. Warpstone is the best example. Next…
Psody cleared his throat, and coughed.
- Next, the Grey Seers use a lot of waste materials. If it were possible to reproduce a Grey Seer laboratory with the means of an Imperial College, that would doubtless be surprising. And…
Again, the White Skaven coughed, this time louder. He was suddenly seized with such a coughing fit he couldn't catch his breath.
- Psody, is something wrong? Heike worried.
Psody didn't answer. He was shaken with convulsions. His wide pink eyes rolled frantically, foam escaped from his lips. He rocked back and rolled onto the carpet. The guests shouted in surprise.
Psody gave a last start, curled up, and didn't move anymore.
Prior Romulus jumped up from his chair, knelt beside the White Skaven. He rested his ear on his chest, then gave a few light slaps on his fluffy cheeks. Slowly, he passed his hand under the Master Mage's head, examined his eyes intently, then he turned to the Prince, and stammered in a blank voice:
- May Shallya have mercy… he's dead!