Children of the Horned Rat,
This is it, I left life in Paris, without the slightest regret. I returned to Bussy-Saint-Georges, a new town located a few kilometres from Disneyland Paris. This time, I will stay there for a long time. It's probably the best idea I've had in a few years, I feel alive again.
It took me a little while to settle in, and the writing pace suffered a bit, naturally, but luckily the inspiration didn't dry up; I just hope the sequel is worth it!
I would like to thank the few people who sent me messages, comments, they will recognize themselves. There are not many of them, but their value is all the more precious. Feel free to comment, ask questions, I will always take the time to answer them. And that goes for the drawings on DeviantArt, the artists who played the game deserve to be applauded.
Glory to the Horned Rat!
- Are you sure that all the accounts are there?
- Affirmative, High Archivist.
- Wouldn't be there some misplaced slip, or something like that?
- No, High Archivist, the pages are numbered, I invite you to check them.
The Merchants Guild attendant was an easy-faced Halfling. For now, he was looking rather contrite, annoyed that someone would question his word. Bianka's status, however, prevented him from protesting openly.
The ratgirl handed him back the heavy binder that contained all the lists of the town's imports and exports. Indeed, every day, the Guard made an inventory of all the goods that entered and left Steinerburg, every week, the Merchants Guild recorded this data. Bianka had just spent several hours carefully reviewing the readings for the past twenty days. Alas, no Jabberwocky blood.
Of course, before investigating at the Merchants Guild, she had gone through the inventory of Shallya's temple, and Verena's. She had taken advantage of her status at the temple of Verena to consult these registers without having to justify herself to her various interlocutors. However, she had been careful not to attract too much attention, her superiors and her grandfather were not to know yet.
In both cases, she had had the same answer: during this period, neither the Verenean apothecaries nor the Shallean doves had officially procured this rare and expensive ingredient.
It was important not to let the slightest frustration show through.
- Thank you for your cooperation, my dear.
- Please, High Archivist.
Bianka walked out of the Merchants Guild building, upset and disappointed. Perhaps her brother would have been more successful? She looked at the clock of Verena's temple which was only a few steps away. Soon it was tea time, the time she had made an appointment with Kristofferson.
A few minutes later, she was seated at one of the tables in a tea room, Lileath's Chant. This establishment belonged to Danilys and Sulaya Redmoon, two Elf sisters who had come to try their luck in the Rat Kingdom. Elves were extremely rare in Vereinbarung, perhaps a dozen of them, no more, could be counted. Their talents were all the more appreciated, and Bianka never missed an opportunity to taste the refined pastries of the Redmoon sisters. But if, usually, she was happy to exchange a few words with the owners, today, the High Archivist was nervous.
Bianka had not chosen to go to this tea room just to drink. Lileath's Chant had several alcoves where guests could converse with a greatly reduced risk of eavesdropping. Unofficial agreements and partnerships were settled in large numbers within these walls, and infidels could enjoy the company of their love hidden away from view. The High Archivist intended to take advantage of the safety of the place.
She was stirring with her silver spoon, more and more slowly. Her eyes sunk into the brownish tea, she gazed at the volutes of smoke and the swirls in the drink, the myriads of little bubbles that appeared and burst in the whirls. Finally, she felt someone approach, and take a seat in front of her. She raised her head. It was Kristofferson.
- Oh, there you are!
He was not alone. Bianka immediately recognized the spotted Skaven at his side.
- Oh, hello, Wally!
- Hi, Bianka.
The Captain of the Vereinbarung Guard sat down as well. The waitress approached, everyone ordered something to drink. Once the cups were placed on the table, the three Skaven were able to get to work.
- Boys, I haven't found anything. I went through all the accounts for the past three weeks, there was not a drop of Jabberwocky blood.
- Perhaps Jabberwocky blood can be stored for a long time? suggested Walter. What if it was into a vial that arrived three years ago?
- It's true, I could continue to search on that side, but given the quantity of registers to consult, it would take me months just for this year, if I find something. However, our time is running out.
- And even then, the poison would have to have arrived through legal channels, Walter reminded. However, and this is rather how it happened in my opinion, this poison could have been brought by the poisoner, who hid it on himself, on his horse or in his cart, before to walk through the doors.
- How could a vial of poison be hidden on a horse?
Walter chuckled nervously.
- If I told you how some bandits smuggle goods thanks to their mares...
The young ratgirl swallowed her saliva by associating this kind of method with Okapia, the faithful mount of her twin brother. Instinctively, she had a small pain in her guts. Kristofferson's voice brought her back to the conversation.
- We need to find another lead. Wally, do you have an idea?
- Hum… Maybe, I have.
Bianka's eyes twinkled.
- We're listening to you.
- It's simple: we are looking for a particularly rare, expensive, and prohibited commodity. Its sale, purchase and use are illegal. As I said, it is possible that the assassin himself brought this substance. But it is also possible that someone else delivered to him.
- An intermediary? Doesn't that increase the risk?
- Perhaps, but it remains a possibility. If it is, we are dealing with a gang? The first orders the assassination, the second provides the murder weapon and the third puts the poison into the glass. The killer could have ordered Jabberwocky blood and received it somewhere. However, this "somewhere" is not so difficult to define. It pains me to admit it, but with all the work, all the effort the Watch puts in, a town with the size of Steinerburg is bound to have at least one hidden counter for criminal activity. This is where we must look.
Bianka patted the surface of the table in displeasure.
- If only Nedland was here! He would already know where that counter is!
- Nedland is officially the Crown Treasurer, Bianka. It could put him in a compromising situation, whether at the official level or towards his shadow partners.
- You think that's the kind of thing that would make him back down, Wally? Kristofferson quipped. Especially to trap the scumbag that poisoned Psody?
- It doesn't change anything, he's not here. But that don't mean there's no place to look, pals. Do I have your attention?
The brother and sister seemed literally hanging on every word. Captain Klingmann looked right and left, squinted, cocked his head, and whispered:
"You probably know the Mousetrap, the less well-visited district of Steinerburg. The largest inn in this corner of the capital is the Proud Sigmarite. It is a huge establishment, with four floors, with two dormitories and several dozen individual rooms. It is not a slum, money circulates freely there, but it is well known that criminal activities are behind this prosperity. Regularly, the Guard tries to make them stop, but the managers are not amateurs, they know how to buy silence or impose it."
"The current official owner is a Human named Lorne, Herbert Lorne, he's nicknamed "Master Bert". He's a smart guy, we know he takes bribes to allow shady people to practice activities far less honourable than the honest management of an exemplary inn. However, he has good support, each time we tried to take action against him, he had the means to hire Clerics of Verena to get him out of trouble. I hope that one day, we'll finally catch him, but in the meantime, he's safe, and does not miss an opportunity to mock me."
"Anyway, the Proud Sigmarite serves as a hub for a lot of traffic. I happened to catch in the act a couple of them, but each time, Master Bert managed to slip through the cracks. Indeed, he perfectly knows the tricks of the trade, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was a Priest of Ranald, behind the scenes. In any case, he is linked to this cult, I have already seen him wear jewellery with the cross of Ranald. Of course, that wouldn't be enough to send him behind bars. That doesn't prevent me from being sure and certain there are suspicious merchandises passing through his inn. So, one way or another, it would be necessary to investigate discreetly on this side."
Captain Klingmann fell silent. He was waiting for an answer, but two things surprised him: its quickness, and its author.
- I'll go.
Kristofferson felt his whiskers quiver.
- That's not a good idea, sis!
- And why not, Kit?
- I agree with your brother, Bianka. If you enter this inn, you will be eaten alive.
- Why would I be?
- You are the daughter of the Master Mage.
- So what? Do you think anyone will recognize me? As much as Kit and Siggy have already been seen by everyone, as much as me, I'm not the type to show myself everywhere!
- It's up to me to do it, replied her big brother.
- Kit, our birds are just waiting to see you. They have been visited several times by Walter, if they were able to hide in time, it is because they are watching the Guard closely. They must already know the Captain's best friend: you. Besides, you have already done a few patrols with him, between two Harvests. I, on the other hand, wouldn't be suspected of going to take a look in this inn, even less if I disguised myself.
- That's not the point, Bianka. A young girl alone who goes for the first time in this kind of place is likely to never leave it.
- What am I risking? A hand on my buttocks? I can bear it, can't I?
Kristofferson felt a growing concern. His little sister seemed determined to launch an assault on the Proud Sigmarite.
- Bianka, they're not just two or three ruffians who would pull your skirt just for a good laugh! We're talking about bandits who are at the head of prostitution networks! Master Bert could make you one of his hookers!
The ratgirl nodded.
- Will you stay with me? I mean, at a good distance? That way, if things really go wrong, you can always cover me, can't you?
- Hmm… It would be better, but it remains dangerous anyway!
Bianka's eyes sparkled.
- Kit, you and Siggy have faced danger many times against Orcs and Feral Skaven. Now it's my turn. I want to take the risk. I want to know where the poison would pass and go back to the previous client. I want to act. You can help me. Anyway, do you have anything else to propose, Kit?
The brown Skaven had to admit things. He looked the ratgirl in the eyes.
- No, I don't. Alright, let's do this. But you shall promise me not to take any unnecessary risks in front of this dude. No way to brag or insult him, otherwise he will rip you to pieces.
- I promise, I know what is good for me.
- What is your plan, exactly? To meet Bert, you would need a good pretext. Are you going to pretend to be an apprentice cook?
- No, a future client. Why reduce me to the kitchen right away, Wally? I will pretend to work for an anonymous person who wishes to get rid of a rival in the same way as the Master Mage was. I offer money to meet him and do business with him.
- Hmm, I don't know. What interest? At best, he'll actually find you some Jabberwocky blood, but there's no telling us we'll be able to pinpoint where it's coming from. And anyway, it won't tell us who got the dose that killed your father!
- Oh, you're right. Mhh... Ah!
For half a second, Bianka wondered if the spark that had just shone in her mind was genius, madness, or stupidity.
- I shall pretend to be an accomplice of the killer. I'll say another dose is needed to liquidate the Prince this time.
Kristofferson almost jumped out of his chair.
- What? You're crazy!
- I'm daring!
- This is suicide!
- There's a nine out of ten chance of it failing, Bianka, added Walter. First, he does not know you yet, the fact of seeing a new interlocutor will trouble him. Then, there is probably a sign of recognition you don't know: a word, a gesture, something like that. Finally, the real murderer has probably already agreed on the rest of his plan with Bert, he may not even need to come back to see him! Either way, you'll get screwed!
The ratgirl spat in frustration.
- Oh, what can I do?
- You can always stick to your first idea: if you ask him for Jabberwocky blood and you manage to convince him to sell it to you, he'll call on his networks again. I'll ask my Guards to be more vigilant, we follow each of Bert's minions, and we get our hands on the supplier. He'll give us a good description of the client to whom he gave the previous dose.
- If it's the same supplier, observed Kristofferson. In addition, you can be sure that Bert will understand this to be trickery, and you'll be the first he'll suspect. Hey, Wally, could your Bert track my sister down to our house?
- He can, if he's angry enough for. Bianka, Kit is right, this innkeeper is a real villain.
Bianka closed her eyes, took a deep breath, raised her eyelids, and focused her gaze on the Captain.
- People who killed the Master Mage in the family manor during a reception where all the cream of Steinerburg was present are necessarily real villains, Wally. The only lead we have for now is this poison. It's lean, it will be hard to exploit, and there are risks. I can choose to take them. I can also choose to hide in my bedroom, and twiddle my thumbs until the next murder. Who will be the next target? The Prince? The Matriarch of Shallya? My mother… maybe me? Well, I refuse to sit around waiting for these "real villains" to continue their gruesome business.
Kristofferson recognized the glint in his sister's eyes as she was speaking. It was the burst of determination that ignited Sigmund's stare when he went into battle. He couldn't suppress a slight smile.
- I will stay at a distance, but I will never be very far. Will it be sufficient?
- Yeah.
Walter grimaced.
- You are from the princely family, I cannot prevent you from taking this initiative… but I disapprove.
- Disapprove if you want, Wally, but help us however you can.
The spotted Skaven chuckled.
- I recognize you well, Bianka. Like when we went on a crusade against Chaos!
- We were just children, Wally, Kristofferson tempered. Today, we don't play anymore.
- No, but we can remain confident. Bianka, you are very smart, and you, Kit, are the best swordsman in the country. I won't be able to go to the Mousetrap, but I'll try to help you as best I can. To begin with, I shall ask Sergeant Marius Weller to patrol this area for the next few days, without telling him anything more for the moment. He is a reliable, straight and loyal man, we can trust him, even without putting him completely in the confidence. Another thing: plan to settle in another hostel for a few days. Not necessarily at the Mousetrap, but not at the Libra Quarter either. You must not be seen by anyone on the way back to the Steiner Estate as long as you have to deal with the underworld. They have eyes and ears everywhere, and if Bert's henchmen see you leaving their territory to return to the rich district, they will understand who you really are. I know one or two inns, I will recommend them to you. And above all, if ever things go wrong with Bert, stop thinking and come find me. With the Martial Law, he won't be able to afford to make waves.
- A good extra reason, Wally! I should have thought of that sooner! This is precisely the right time, he is in a weak position!
- Or, on the contrary, he is more vigilant and better surrounded than ever. Keep that in mind!
The blonde ratgirl reached out her hand, and put it on the table.
- For the Virtue of our Unicorn!
Immediately, the other two understood the meaning of this gesture. Kristofferson put his hand on his sister's, and repeated with determination:
- For the Virtue of our Unicorn!
Finally, Walter played the game. As when they imagined they were about to face a particularly formidable test during their games, the spotted Skaven put his hand on Kristofferson's, and declared in turn:
- For the Virtue of our Unicorn!
The Mousetrap… The most populated district of the capital of the Rat Kingdom was also the one where it was the least good to live. This was the lot of any city of this size, unfortunately; even with the best will in the world, it was impossible to prevent banditry from making its bed there. And so the whole neighbourhood was infected inside and out.
By the time the settlers had moved in six years earlier, much of what made up the town of Steinerburg had already been built up, but it was just dusty ruins. The first citizens had worked hard to restore these tight, dirty and unstable buildings. Gotrek Gurnisson had spent a day analysing the land and giving directions to make it a healthy place. Then he devoted himself to major projects, in particular that of the aqueduct. The workers had done a good job, and less than a year later the whole neighbourhood looked like new. Alas, it was not more than fifteen months before the place fell into decay. Quickly, the streets were strewn with rubbish, the buildings soiled by traces of voluntary or accidental damage, and the inhabitants hardly bothered to maintain the residences.
More worryingly, the proportion of guards was gradually decreasing, year by year, and crime was increasing proportionally. The whole district was secretly run by criminal syndicates and other networks run by Ranald worshipers. More than one Sergeant of the Guard had tried to clean up a bit. Some had quickly quit, others had mysteriously disappeared. Captain Klingmann was so angry, but what could he do? Regularly, he spoke about it with Commander Renata. The latter always answered the same thing: defending the borders of the Rat Kingdom was her priority. And the recent report from the Black Guard suggested that things weren't going to get any better.
And so, aggressive looks, inappropriate gestures, suspicious acts constituted the daily life of the inhabitants of the Mousetrap.
The afternoon was coming to its end. The sun continued to shine its rays on the large Pot-bellied Lamb Square, a name that played ironically with the innocence of an animal, associated with a place that had no innocence. The Pot-bellied Lamb Square formed a huge square of clay, surrounded by tall, dark and narrow buildings. Mud quickly smeared people's feet when the rain fell. It wasn't the case at the moment, but that didn't prevent a shiver of disgust from running down Bianka's spine, when she saw her lens straight ahead.
The Proud Sigmarite inn perfectly fitted its name: huge, as wide as it was high, it stood on four floors adorned with numerous windows, and in each corner, an external staircase encased in a gallery allowed circulation between the levels from outside. The building was particularly lively; music was escaping from the ventilation window that opened onto the large performance hall in the basement, laughter, cries and exclamations rang out through the building, without interruption.
Bianka gulped, adjusted her hood, and pulled up her scarf, then she walked bravely to the front door.
Before taking action, she had thought long and hard about her presentation. Of course, there was no question of investigating at the leader of a criminal syndicate's base with a High Archivist outfit, or even in one of the precious robes she used to wear when she wasn't working at the temple. No, she had chosen simple clothes, with dull and banal colours, and therefore ideal to be able to drown in a crowd. In view of a possible confrontation, she had taken practical clothes: leather vest, light sleeveless tunic, and pants.
For a moment, she had considered pretending to be a young man, but she had quickly given up. Steinerburg's marginal society gladly accepted women dressed in male clothes, especially among mercenaries or cat burglars, so there was nothing shocking. Besides, she was in no danger of making a mistake.
On the other hand, and on this point, she was firmly convinced of it, there was no question of implying her true identity. With Kristofferson's help, she had come up with a little story to tell Master Bert.
The time had come for this story and her false identity to be put to the test.
The interior of the Proud Sigmarite corresponded exactly to the expectations of the young ratgirl. Dark, noisy, with a warm and moist atmosphere. The clientele was mostly made up of Humans. The men were dirty and their faces hard. The women were vulgar, and laughed heartily. The few Skaven looked miserable, especially the staff members, ruthlessly bullied by the drunks.
Bianka mentally recited a short prayer to Verena for the strength to go through with it, then she strode confidently to the counter. A fat, thick-lipped Human woman was wearing a headscarf over thick, yellow, oily hair. The waitress eventually spotted her presence, and shouted at her.
- What do you want, little shrew?
- I want to talk to your boss.
- No kidding! quipped the woman before bursting into a laugh as greasy as she was. I think the boss has other things to do.
- Master Bert would like to lose an opportunity to earn money?
- And who would bring him this money, little coypu? You would?
Without saying a word, Bianka put a purse on the counter. The fat woman loosened the cords, and peeked inside. The small leather bag was filled with golden crowns.
- You bet you would…
- It's for a conversation. There's more money to be made.
The waitress chuckled.
- Alright, Your Lordship. Who shall I introduce?
- Snoops.
- Nothing else?
- No, nothing else. And get moving, I have other things to do, too.
The fat woman's face scowled.
- Right away, Lady Snoops.
A long minute later, the fat waitress returned, and thumbed emphatically towards the door behind her.
- The boss agrees to see you. You better not mess with him.
- I don't intend to, answered Bianka without flinching.
The staircase led to a single door on the first floor. Bianka knocked. A voice growled:
- Come in!
The young ratgirl obeyed, and entered the office of the tenant.
Once again, Bianka had been right, and her interlocutor was in line with her expectations. Herbert Lorne was an average-sized, broad-shouldered Human. His baggy, flashy clothes painfully concealed a huge belly. His ruddy face was decked out with two small pig eyes over an alcoholic nose, and framed by hairs less yellowish than his prominent teeth. The top of his head was bald, his eyebrows bushy.
Bianka immediately spotted a ring with Ranald's cross engraved on one of his pudgy fingers. She decided to use the courteous way. She bowed.
- Good evening to you, Master Herbert Lorne.
Master Bert showed an unappetizing smile.
- Good evening, young lady, he said in a honeyed voice.
- Thank you for agreeing to receive me so quickly.
- I never lose the opportunity to do business, and when it happens to me, I don't waste time either. So what can I do for you, dear... Snoops, right?
- That's it. Well, I won't cut corners, Master Bert: I need someone to disappear.
The innkeeper widened his eyes and feigned indignation.
- How dare you? I'm just an honest trader! My clientele is honourable, my employees are obedient and dedicated people, but your speech suggests that there is a contract killer in the Proud Sigmarite? I feel insulted!
Bianka didn't let go.
- A few days ago, a tragic and terrible accident happened to the Master Mage. A man as well informed as you is necessarily in the know?
- Yes, my little lady, I am. Poor, poor White Skaven!
- I've learned that he had a… severe indigestion.
- It's possible, but I don't see the connection with me?
- I am coming to that, Master Bert. I know from a reliable source that there was a very particular seasoning on his plate.
- Ah, really? A "very particular seasoning"?
- Yes. Something rather difficult to digest when you don't have the stomach of a Chaos Troll.
- A kind of particularly strong spice?
- Rather a sauce. A sauce extracted from a hard-to-find animal.
Master Bert's mouth twisted into a cruel smile.
- Whoa, I see.
- My employer has heard another sample of this extra hot sauce may be available in the area. Of course, he's ready to pay the price.
- Hum… Are you sure, little shrew? Who is your employer?
He's becoming more familiar. He wants to trust me, or have the upper hand?
- I cannot tell you, Master Bert.
- You know who pays you to talk to me, don't you? This purse of gold that my cousin gave me, you didn't take it out of your pocket?
I did, you blob, bitterly thought the ratgirl.
- I didn't, she lied. But two reasons prevent me from answering your question, Master Bert.
- I'm listening.
- The first one is that I don't know his name. I don't even know what he looks like, he always communicated with me with a mask on his face, or by interposed messages. I can't even tell if it's a man or a woman, much less what kind of blood runs through his veins. The second, and I think you'll agree, is that if I knew, it would cost me to tell anyone.
As she was enumerating this second reason, Bianka patted her cheek with her index and middle fingers crossed. Although she wasn't part of Ranald's worshippers, she knew some of their little tricks to communicate more sincerely with each other. Nedland Barnrooster had accepted to reveal to her the most common gestures, such as crossing fingers discreetly in front of an interlocutor of the same coterie. The Human folded his right hand behind his left elbow, but let his two fingers protrude, also crossed. He seemed to relax a bit.
- Good. I don't have an ounce of that sauce in stock, sweetie. But, on the other hand, I can introduce you to someone who could possibly find some… provided that you give him a purse as full as the one you gave me.
- That someone will have such a purse.
- Perfect. In that case, come back in two hours.
- Will he have time to find the sauce in two hours?
- No, but you will place the order with him, after agreeing on a price. You will go down to the performance hall, it is the staircase at the bottom left of the entrance hall. There, I'll pick you up, I'll introduce you to the person you're looking for, and you can talk business.
Bianka gave a small nod. She took a step back, but Bert raised his hand.
- Careful, Snoops. I don't know you, I don't know who your target is, and as long as it doesn't get in the way of my own business, I don't care. But try to double-cross me or put me into a nasty story, and I'll empty my own purses in your ass! Got it?
- Yes, Master Bert, answered the young ratgirl without showing the slightest fear.
She left the room, went back down the stairs, and found herself outside. She sighed in relief.
Well done, my dear!
It was high time to meet Kristofferson at the agreed location to report on the situation. Even if she knew that he was not far away, their interview had to take place out of sight of the many accomplices of Master Bert.
As she was walking, she glanced around to make sure she wasn't being followed. She couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. On the other hand, she saw right in front of her the sad spectacle of two Humans in full brawl. Both looked drunk, and their mud-spattered clothes and the irritating smell that emanated from them suggested they hadn't had a bath in weeks.
The first pushed the second, which wobbled and rolled into the gutter, to the giggles of people passing by. The still-standing tramp burst out laughing, but his laughter was quickly blocked by something. Bianka stopped, both disgusted and fascinated by the scene. The beggar grabbed his throat with both hands, tried to catch his breath. The ratgirl hesitated, wondering whether to stay away or help him? The man fell to his knees, and violently vomited a greenish stream of matter.
Um… He looks sick, I should better get away.
She crossed the muddy street and quickened her pace.