Daughters and Sons of the Horned Rat,
I'm finally fully settled in my little town near Disneyland. Alas, during a walk, I came across an ambush of Clan Pestilens. After escaping them for more than two years, it was fatal, I contracted Covid. And it happened Friday the 13th!
Don't worry for me, I am far from having been badly affected, I think I was only infected at the minimum level. Three days later I already got much better, and I think by the time you read this, this episode is history.
As you can see, the vicious beast is still on the prowl. Take care of yourself, stay close to your loved ones, and enjoy the things that really matter.
Glory to the Horned Rat!
The Steiners had to venture to the bottom of a dead end. The ambient light decreased as they approached, as the temperature did. On the other hand, the feeling of suffocation increased alongside the smell of carrion and garbage. Finally, arrived at the foot of the building, they stopped and looked up. Bianka pointed to one of the windows.
- There, on the top floor.
The wall of the building, already devastated by years without maintenance, was blackened. The two young Skaven were both irritated by the smell of wet ashes which assaulted their nostrils. Bianka frowned.
- I wonder if it's not a waste of time?
- Any lead is good to follow.
- Precisely, are you sure it's a lead? I just see a building that has caught fire. Nothing exciting!
- My instinct tells me otherwise.
- Right, so let's listen to your instinct. You said it, any lead is good to follow.
And the two young people walked through the front door.
The building was an old disused barracks. Clumsily built on unstable ground, part of it had collapsed decades earlier. The main dormitory, on the ground floor, had become a veritable dump, where detritus accumulated. When Bianka and Kristofferson walked past the double doors, dozens of rats fled as they approached. The young blonde Skaven squeaked.
- Let's not hang around, Kit!
- Look, the stairs are at the back, over there.
The Steiners approached the dusty steps. Kristofferson silently drew his rapier, and went upstairs first. The wood creaked under their feet in a very disturbing way. Against all the High Archivist's expectations, the building was still standing when they reached the top floor, the attic. The place where paperwork and barracks staff members who were not able to bear arms were used to be stacked. A single, long corridor stretched straight out of the staircase, and on each side, the doors, all torn from their frames, succeeded one another. Eight doors to the left, eight doors to the right, the light of day crossed the thresholds of the rooms which overlooked the street.
Kristofferson felt his hair stand on end. He felt no Human or Skaven presence, only rats and cockroaches. The lingering smell of damp burnt wood quickly led the two young people to the right door.
- It's here!
Kristofferson stuck his head through the opening. The atmosphere was stifling, the sun was beating down hard on the roof of the building. The slight draft of air gliding through the broken glass did not prevent dust and airborne ash particles from irritating their lungs.
- I hear flies, whispered Bianka.
- I do too. I have a feeling it's not going to be very funny.
He took a step back. His nose had spotted another scent under the fire. He felt the blonde ratgirl's hand on his arm.
- Kit, I smell blood.
- Me too, and it's not surprising!
Indeed, in a corner of the room, there was the corpse of a tramp. The body of the unfortunate had been torn in two. His guts were strewn across the floor. The scavenger insects were dancing all around in an odious ballet, to the rhythm of a mournful buzzing symphony. Bianka glanced in turn, and whispered:
- It seems your instinct was right.
- How horrible… What could have happened to this poor guy?
- The same as Master Bert. We are well on the right way.
- What way? What is the connection between this fire and the innkeeper's killer?
- There are not thirty-six ways to find out: let's search.
- I'm going to examine our victim, try to find something. Your expert eye should unearth a clue.
Nothing was less certain: everything that had not been devoured by the flames had been drowned by the water that the inhabitants of the neighbourhood had managed to bring up to the attic. Bianka examined the corner that seemed to be the starting point of the fire. She knelt down, and commented on what she saw aloud:
- This place must have been a reserve of old rags, or fabrics, or sheets. The kind of closet where you store fabrics. Oh, it looks like the remains of a mattress. Yes, someone set fire to this mattress. There are sheets of paper… I can't read what's written on them, they're already all ruined.
Indeed, the few pages lying on the ground were entirely black, and crumbled into dust on contact with the blond Skaven's fingers.
- Hey, sis', why this fire, in your opinion?
- To destroy the body, I suppose?
- I don't think so. If someone had really wanted to burn this guy, he would have been put in the middle of the rags before lighting the fire.
- Hmm, well seen. So you think the killer wanted us to find him out?
- Let me think… Did the Strigany merchant tell us about a murder?
- No, she alluded to the fire, nothing else.
- That's what I thought, too. So no one has found him yet. If he had already been there when the residents of the neighbourhood discovered the fire...
- The merchant would have known about it, completed Bianka.
- Besides, just look at him, he doesn't seem to have been touched by the flames. No, I think this corpse is fresh. This man walked into this room after the fire, and he saw something that left him like this.
- Your reasoning stands. If you're right, maybe you should consider being an investigator for my Order?
- Not enough action for my taste, answered the brown Skaven, who preferred adventure and battles.
Bianka continued to scan the surroundings. Suddenly, her eye focused on something. It was a sheet of paper, partially burnt, but a good half of its surface had been spared by the flames. The readable side of the sheet was wavy due to water, and the characters scribbled on it were difficult to decipher. The ink had smeared in shapeless blotches.
Nevertheless, a few words were still understandable. It was probably a list, written by a hand that knew how to hold a pen. The writing was elegant, fine, almost ethereal. The letters twirled from line to line with ease.
- I found a list of ingredients.
- What kind?
- "Three partridge eggs, four ounces of crushed lizard bones, two owl eyes"… Not sure I want to taste the result of such a recipe. On the other hand, it was written by a cultured person.
- How do you realize that?
- No spelling mistake, straight and harmonious handwriting, it is clear that the author is a literate person, and not a commoner.
- Few commoners can write, Bianka.
- That's true, but I feel all the more this list was written by a person really accustomed to writing.
The blonde ratgirl carefully slipped the letter into her satchel.
- And you, what about your corpse?
She didn't want to come closer. The brown Skaven was not offended, and agreed to explain:
- He was alive before he got cut in half. If I refer the expression that tenses his face, he experienced both the fear of his life and a pain like he had never felt. Given his clothes and his filthy condition, I guess he was definitely a guy who used to live in the area. Maybe he was staying here, even temporarily? In any case, this person saw who or what killed Master Bert.
- This can't be doubted, in any way!
- Good. So we have two persons killed in the same way, while we are following the same lead, in the same corner of the city, during a twenty-hour gap.
- Hey, I'm thinking about something.
Bianka avoided the inert mass of the tramp with her gaze, and smiled triumphantly.
- Look, just above him, on this beam!
The brown Skaven raised his muzzle, and frowned. He saw an imprint on the rough wood, that of a blood-coloured hand.
- I saw the same at the Proud Sigmarite!
- Verena! Note, he may have leaned on the beam before he died?
- Check his right hand.
Kristofferson gently grasped the corpse's arm, and gently rolled up its sleeve. He gave a nervous little laugh.
- No, can't be him.
- Isn't his hand stained with blood?
- What hand?
The body had no right hand. Its arm had been amputated above the wrist, the flesh of the stump had melted around the bone.
- It's an old wound that was cauterized years ago. This guy used to eat his soup with his left hand for a long time.
- Whoever his killer was, he did as with Master Bert.
- We are still on the right way!
- Yes, but it ended with that poor…
Suddenly, Kristofferson raised his hand. Bianka got silent. The brown Skaven had just experienced a very unpleasant sensation. His ear moved at the sound of the floorboards creaking under someone's timid footsteps. The young ratgirl remained mute, and gave a slight nod. She too heard. His rapier in hand, Kristofferson approached the door quietly, and poked his muzzle down the hallway. Then he saw, in the semi-darkness, a dark figure tiptoeing towards the exit.
- Hey, you!
Immediately, the form sprang forward with a frightened yelp, and rushed down the stairs. The two Skaven rushed after it.
They ran down the stairs at top speed. The silhouette was ahead, but didn't seem very accustomed to the race. Kristofferson kept his eyes on it, suddenly he heard a violent crack, followed by a cry of fright. He stopped short and turned around. Bianka had her leg stuck in a hole, the worm-eaten wood had broken under her weight.
- Bianka!
Luckily, the young ratgirl didn't threaten to topple through the plank. Kristofferson grabbed her by her arms, and pulled. She squealed in pain as she felt the wood grate her ankle. Fortunately, her fur protected her skin, she had been more scared than hurt.
The noise of the fugitive running brought the two young ratfolk back to the race.
- Come on, sis', he's about to lose us!
Kristofferson and Bianka resumed their run. They bumped into each other when they tried to step through the door simultaneously. The ratman finally passed first, and leapt forward. He saw the individual round the corner of the street. He had had time to distinguish their prey. He was a rather small Human floating around in his dirt-covered clothes. He was more likely a beggar than a spy.
- He's over there!
The ratgirl had to lift her dress to be able to run. She caught up with her brother, and they both started down the passage. They came to a dead end full of crates, barrels and other containers. But no one was visible.
- Verena! He still didn't fly away!
- Fly, I don't think so. On the other hand, he buried himself!
Kristofferson pointed to the misplaced manhole cover in the middle of the alley.
The characteristic scraping of steel on the cobblestone ricocheted off the walls, then the sound of bars vibrating under someone's weight descended, and sank into the bowels of Steinerburg.
After a few seconds of silence, the man emerged from under a pile of dirty rags. He was a rather short, thin Human, with a round hairless-forehead head and a thick brown moustache under a prominent nose. His small black eyes blinked. He looked at the manhole with a small sneer as he walked out of the dead-end. But he stopped short when he saw the ratgirl come out of the corner of the alley. She smiled.
- Nice race, and nice try, my good man! Alright, enough joking, I need to talk to you.
The man backed away, yelping in panic. He rushed without thinking towards the manhole. Immediately, the big brown Skaven sprang in a huge leap, arms stretched forward. Terrified, the beggar tried to turn around, he only managed to slip on the damp cobblestones. He got up, and wanted to run towards the blonde Skaven. It was a waste of time, the two arms of the ratman closed around him. In a second, he was immobilized.
He struggled, screamed in terror, writhed, but there was no way to escape the iron grip of the brown Skaven's muscles. Convinced that he was about to have his throat cut, he burst into tears.
- Help! Have mercy! Don't hurt me! I know nothing! Didn't do anything!
Kristofferson and Bianka were certain now; they were dealing with an unfortunate man who was fleeing from something unusually scary. The blonde Skaven took the lead. She planted herself in front of the destitute, and spoke in a voice that she wanted to be reassuring:
- No worries, my good sir, we come as friends! We just want to talk to you! We are not criminals! Look!
She took out her pendant from under her tunic.
- We work for the Order of Verena. We are not inquisitors! Only investigators! And if you help us, we can reward you!
At the sight of Verena's symbol, the bum calmed down a bit, and sniffled.
- You… you haven't come to kill me?
- Of course we haven't! Why this idea?
- I… I thought you were with…
The Human coughed loudly several times, and spat. Bianka wiped away a few drops of saliva from the fur of her chin with the back of her hand.
- What is your name?
- My name is Arnulf, your Lordship.
- Very well, Arnulf. We just want to understand what happened that night. If you tell us what you saw, we'll buy you a good meal, and we'll leave you alone. Right?
- R… right.
Bianka gestured to her brother.
- Let him go.
Kristofferson obeyed, and the beggar caught his breath.
- So, my poor friend, what happened? You've seen something, didn't you?
- Yes, Ma'am. I had come to see Otto. Otto is my pal. He lives in this building. When I learned that there had been a fire, I was afraid for him. So, I waited for the guys to put out the fire and the smoke was gone. I don't know how long I waited, but finally, I was able to enter. I didn't see Otto, I guessed he had gone I don't know where? And so, I walked into that house, that's where he cribs. Except he wasn't there. I wanted to wait for him, so I lay down in the room opposite the one where he usually sleeps. Didn't want to wait for him in his pad, it smelled too burnt for me.
- Otto used to sleep where the fire started?
- Yes, Ma'am! And so, I started to doze off, when I heard the sound of the stairs. The stairs creak loudly, you know? It woke me up. Except that I didn't want to get up right away, I was still tired. I wanted to be sure it was Otto. I remained in my corner without moving, but I saw a silhouette through the door. It was a lad I didn't know, Ma'am!
Bianka's heart raced with excitement.
- What did this "lad" look like, Arnulf?
- Well, cannot describe his face to you, he was wearing a coat with a hood. But he was very tall, and thin, too. He moved with a light step, like a dancer! I saw him enter Otto's room, then he disappeared from the doorway. I didn't know what to do, so I decided not to move. As I was in the dark, he didn't see me.
Kristofferson felt his stomach knot.
If my instinct is right, it saved your life!
- That's when the guy started talking. It happens to me from time to time to talk to myself, but I didn't understand when someone else answered him!
The young brown Skaven asked:
- You say you saw only one person enter the room, but there were two distinct voices?
- On the Hammer of Sigmar, I swear it to you, Sir! I was sure I saw a guy alone, and yet there were two people talking!
- Are you sure it wasn't someone waiting in Otto's room?
- No, no, sir! I swear, I hadn't seen anyone before the dancer arrived!
- Did you hear what they were talking about?
- No, ma'am. They were talking very softly, I didn't understand. I just heard that they both have… incredible voices.
- "Incredible" how? The voices were deep, hoarse, like those of Orcs?
- No, sir, not at all! On the contrary! They were very soft, very melodious voices. When I was a child, and I lived in Nuln, one day, I went to the opera with my old man. The voices of yesterday were as beautiful as at the opera!
The two Skaven felt perplexity slashing their foreheads.
- And then… there was… there was like a sound of flames. Like when you burn something. And it was full of lights of all colours! I thought they would start another fire. But I didn't dare move, I was too scared! Then Otto arrived. He had already drunk a lot, he was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other.
We're arriving at the crucial moment, the blonde Skaven thought. Above all, do not have a nervous breakdown, and keep talking!
- Otto entered his room. He immediately bellowed that he was at home, and that he didn't want to see strangers. Then one of the voices said something. And then, suddenly, Otto, he said nothing more. And I... I... I heard a dreadful noise! It was like… the roar of a beast! It rumbled so loudly I could hardly hear Otto howling like a donkey! It lasted a few seconds, and then the beast stopped roaring. And I heard a laugh. It was a melodious laughter like a song! It was the laughter of an Angel!
The poor man was at his wit's end. This story had forced him to relive these terrible events. He fell to his knees and burst into tears.
- Otto, my friend! I'm so sorry! I could have helped you! But I was scared, I didn't dare! I'm just a coward! Forgive me, Otto!
Bianka crouched beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder.
- Don't worry, Arnulf. You wanted to protect your life, that's normal. If you had entered Otto's room, this Beast would have done the same to you. You couldn't do anything for your friend.
Arnulf blew his nose on his arm and stammered:
- Are you sure, Ma'am?
- I am, just as I'm sure your story will help us a lot. We'll find that Angel and that Beast, and we'll make sure they can never do it again. I promise you.
The tramp cried less loudly. He scratched his skull, and painfully continued his story.
- I was so scared that I preferred not to move. I wanted to be sure the two were gone. The graceful figure walked through the door again, then down the stairs. I waited for the other voice to leave, but it never left Otto's room. And then I saw the sun begin to rise, and finally I saw you two coming.
- My poor friend… You mean you've spent all night long afraid to see this Beast arrive! I understand why you tried to flee!
- I should have warned you, but I was too scared!
- It wouldn't have made any difference, Kristofferson replied. Anyway, there was nobody but your buddy when we walked in.
- Master Arnulf, did you see anything else strange?
- Uh… No, Ma'am.
- Perfect.
Bianka reached into her pocket and pulled out a small purse. She took out a handful of gold coins and gave them to the beggar.
- Here, it will allow you to buy new clothes and go to the inn for a while. Just be careful not to show this to anyone.
- Oh, I... may Shallya bless you, Ma'am.
- Go and say a prayer for her at the temple, and try to get off the street. You are better than that, Master Arnulf.
- I… I promise you, Ma'am!
The homeless man turned on his heels and left the dead-end with brisk steps. The two Skaven looked at each other.
- What do you think about all this, Kit?
- Well, I don't know. I don't think he bullshitted us, or tried to lie to us. But it's not clear.
- Do you think he saw badly, or that he was dreaming?
- His buddy Otto's corpse is real.
- Yes, but for the rest, I really find it hard to believe! Two guys? When only one person went up and then down the stairs? Where did the other go? And where was the Beast?
- A Beast capable of such carnage, others could have seen it pass, indeed...
- What about the "laugh of the Angel"? If it was an Angel who did this, he has some rather twisted orientations! And how to explain the "multicolored flames"?
- Maybe…
Kristofferson felt his heart sink.
- Maybe we're dealing with a Mutant.
- Could a Mutant do that?
- If it's equipped for that, it can.
- I'm thinking of something else, Kit: a Mage could know a magic that would allow him to leave without making a sound or to teleport.
- Is that how he could have left the inn or this building without being seen?
- It is a possibility, indeed.
- What kind of Mage is capable of this kind of thing?
Bianka scratched her ear. Suddenly, her tail whipped the ground nervously. She had just remembered a very unpleasant moment.
- I've heard the Grey College Mages were able to use the Wind of Ulgu to shape shadows.
- It fits.
- The person who taught me that didn't leave me with a good memory, for sure!
- Let's wait for proof before accusing anyone.
- I'm not accusing anyone. I observe, and I gather: we are dealing with two individuals, with melodious voices. The person whose brooch was ripped off by Bert was most likely an Elf, who can speak well. Of these two people heard by Arnulf, one is able to make magical flames appear. He was probably the one who set the building on fire, and who came back to check the work to be finished. And if we're talking about illusion magic, someone who knows how to use the Wind of Ulgu could be involved. However, I see at least one citizen on whom all these criteria intersect.
The brown Skaven looked up. The morning was already well advanced, the hour of lunch was near.
- There is nothing else here. Nor in this district. We should go home, then tell Wally.
- I completely agree with you, Kit. His position should allow him to investigate the Proud Sigmarite further.
- And then, someone has to take good care of this poor man, he can't be let rot in this slaughterhouse.
The two Skaven didn't stay in the dead-end any longer. Kristofferson correctly replaced the manhole cover, then they left the Other Strygos.
Along the way, Kristofferson was surprised by Bianka's silence. He noticed her face sunk in deep thought.
- Is something bothering you even more?
- Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking about that poor lad. He will probably never know what he escaped. In any case, I don't wish it. But I wonder if I did well?
- Did what?
- I gave him enough money to provide him food for at least a month. I hope he won't drink it all, or get robbed.
The big brown Skaven didn't answer. Bianka continued:
- I was perfectly aware of that. If it is, everything has already been stolen from him, or he's gambling everything in a sordid gambling den.
- After the night he spent, it would be so surprising, in my opinion, he shall rather leave the city. But if you have this kind of fears, why did you give him alms?
- I don't know. Something prompted me to help him.
- You've been generous. You're right, maybe it won't do any good. But that was nice from you.
- I didn't do this for him, Kit, but above all for me. It was purely selfish.
- Giving money to help a beggar, I don't see how it's selfish? He will never return these crowns to you, you have made a selfless donation.
- No donation is selfless, Kit. I was the first to get something positive out of it; the simple well-being that you feel when you have done something that is considered right is already an advantage in itself. When you give something of your own free will, there is always at least that interest, no matter what the value of the gift you make.
Kristofferson gave a small wink.
- And besides, it will eventually be perceptible.
- What do you mean?
- This "well-being" is as contagious as a bad mood. People will appreciate your company even more if you apply yourself to being more open-minded.
It was Bianka's turn to remain silent.
They had prepared their trick.
Before leaving for the Mousetrap, the day before, Bianka had explained to her mother she would to have to stay at the Verena temple all night to continue the work on the Girotti fund. The ratmother hadn't observed anything unusual, the High Archivist had already slept in one of the temple's cells. Kristofferson, for his part, had warned that Walter had needed him for an urgent affair.
Bianka and Kristofferson had dinner with Captain Klingmann in a discreet little inn in the Hammer Quarter. There, Walter listened to them with concern. He promised to make the necessary arrangements to clean up the Other Strygos. Then he advised them to stay at the barracks, the time to check that no suspicious individual was waiting for them outside. One hour later, they both left the large military building, and went successively to the temple of Verena to thank the Goddess of Justice, then to the cemetery behind the temple of Morr. They prayed together in front of the tomb of the Master Mage. Bianka had tears in her eyes when she promised aloud to find and neutralize her father's killer, but her determination did not waver.
The ruse had succeeded. Once back at the family estate, at the end of the afternoon, no one asked them the slightest question. The supper took place in the same gloomy atmosphere that had been suffocating the Steiner Estate for several days.
At bedtime, Gabriel was tormented again. He tried in vain to sleep, but sleep stubbornly refused to come. His contrariety had to be heard, because when he got up and remained sat on his bed in the dark, Kristofferson's voice startled him.
- Well, Gab? What's wrong?
- Oh! I... I am...
The big brown Skaven got up, grumbling, and opened the shutters. Morrslieb's green light poured into the chamber like a bad omen. Kristofferson lit a candle. He saw his little brother, wrapped in his blanket, shivering to the end of his tail.
- What are you afraid of?
- I... I'm not afraid!
- You're shaking like a leaf.
- It's just... I'm cold!
- At this time of year?
Gabriel coughed in annoyance.
- Nothing escapes you!
- I'm sensing your worry, Gab.
- Sure I'm worried. Of course I'm worried! The assassins, the Bretonnians, what will be the next misfortune to befall us?
The tall brown Skaven shook his head.
- There is no reason to be afraid, Gab.
- It's easy for you to say that! You are big, you are strong, you are able to defend yourself! I'm not!
- That's what I was about to tell you, Gab: here, we are safe. I asked Walter to provide us with his best elements. They are trained to spot spies.
Gabriel pouted doubtfully.
- Have you done any research, you and Bianka?
- Yes.
- Did you find anything?
- Maybe.
- Was it scary?
- No, lied Kristofferson without hesitation. Hey, stop the questions, and sleep!
Kristofferson closed the shutters and laid the candle on the small table near his bed. The little ratboy didn't lie down. The brown Skaven felt his patience dangerously diminish when he distinguished muffled sobs in the penumbra.
- Gab! Stop it, you're ridiculous.
- I'm terrified, Kit! It is not incompatible!
- How many times will I have to tell you: here, we are safe from danger. The guard has been doubled, Wally left me good soldiers, and with Martial Law and the curfew, the bandits can move around much less easily. Anyway, it's no use worrying you, if someone manages to cross all our lines of defence to massacre us, it's because the Gods willed it. We do everything to make sure that doesn't happen. So, it's useless to be such a baby!
Gabriel didn't answer, he hiccupped between his tears. Exasperated, Kristofferson spat:
- Instead of lamenting your fate, you better act, Gab: if you're really worried, mobilize your intelligence to craft something that could spot intruders, ring the alarm, and scare them away.
- It already exists, Kit: it's called "dog".
This response stunned the ratman.
- A dog? Do you think having a dog could fix things?
- Why not? In any case, it could reassure me, and bring a little happiness to the house, we all need it!
The Steiner family did not have many pets. Apart from the horses that remained in the stable, there was only Isolde's little cat that roamed the halls and the garden of the property. Kristofferson thought for a few moments… and ended up finding the idea rather relevant.
- Yeah... that's not stupid. Should you tell Mother?
- Maybe she would take this request more seriously if it came from you?
- Maybe, yes. Well, I'll talk to her about this later, if it can help you sleep.
A little reassured, the little light grey Skaven stretched out on his mattress and closed his eyes. Kristofferson didn't have to wait very long before he heard his brother's soft snores. Satisfied, he blew out the candle, and left in turn for the land of dreams.