Heat may slow the pace of writing a bit, but it won't reduce inspiration. The story goes on. I hope you ratboys and ratgirls are doing well, enjoying the summer, and will be in great shape for the start of the school year. Do not hesitate to give me your opinion on my writings, I will be happy to answer them.
Glory to the Horned Rat!
The sun had a hard time warming hearts. The sky was covered with grey clouds, and a wind much colder than usual for this time of year had suddenly swept over Steinerburg. The whistles that were echoing under the vault of the temple of Shallya breathed an abnormally heavy and disturbing atmosphere into the place. No one seemed reassured as Prior Romulus ascended the pulpit to close mass with a sermon. Because of his duties as a princely chaplain, this kind of opportunity was rare.
Romulus looked around the entire assembly. In the front row, of course, was the Steiner family. Gabriel seemed more or less recovered from his emotions, after the assault on the creature of Chaos the day before. Sister Judy Hoffnung had taken care of him, and had found only a few small scratches from the rosebush. His coat had protected him from the thorns of the bush, and his face had fortunately been spared. Once the night had passed, Bianka had accompanied him back to the Steiner estate, then everyone had returned together for mass.
Bianka remained stoic and motionless, except for a small gesture here and there to scratch herself. Isolde and Heike, side by side, both looked grim. The youngest of the family looked particularly sad. She usually loved this time of prayer and reflection around the parables of the Goddess of Compassion, but the fear and grief had become too much for her enthusiasm. Finally, the two boys, Gabriel and Kristofferson, were waiting for the sermon to begin. Gabriel, in particular, under a mask of concentration, was terrified. The events of the previous night made him fear the worst. For him, the Gods had planned his punishment which was just waiting for an opportunity to fall.
Behind the Steiners, the highest members of Steinerburg society waited silently. Walter Klingmann swallowed his saliva. Provost Tomas rubbed his chin, and felt a muscle in his face quiver nervously at the sound of a coughing fit from the master mage's eldest daughter.
The powerful voice that Prior Romulus reserved for his sermons crossed the temple from one end to the other.
"My very dear brothers, my very dear sisters, before leaving you, I would like to speak to you about a bond. The bond that is the starting point of Vereinbarung, this very special bond that unites us all. We are all here, in the nave of this temple restored and rehabilitated in record time thanks to this bond."
"It has been six years since the Rat Kingdom was officially established. Its borders were already defined, its bases were present, even if they were in a poor state due to abandonment. Today, the city of Steinerburg is resplendent. Of course, the work is far from done, but we are well on the way, and I have no doubt that one day our capital will become a jewel for all the rulers of the Renegade Crowns."
"We would never have succeeded in becoming this Kingdom without your courage, your abnegation, and your good will. You, Humans, have agreed to create or integrate a society whose rules differ from those to which we have been accustomed for more than twenty-five centuries. The main difference is the way we look at the one who is different. The children of the Under-Empire have become your children, our children, and they fully take their place in society. You, Skaven, have become true citizens in your own right, enjoying the same rights and duties. Some of you have even started a family."
"Despite the difference, there is a bond, as I told you. This bond is trust in the same Gods. This bond is the love for life itself, the love inspired by Shallya. This bond is the desire to have fair and equitable laws dictated by the wisdom of Verena. This bond is the strength to unite for a common victory and defend against adversity, as Sigmar did when he founded the Empire, a feat such that the Gods made him one of their own."
"For some times, you all know, foreign people, ill-intentioned conspirators, seek to undermine what we have built together; some are at the gates of Vereinbarung, and our Prince is planning their departure, by agreement or by combat. But others use much more vicious means."
"No need to hide it from you any longer, the rumours have reached you, and some are true: there has been real undermining in recent weeks. Children have been taken from their parents. People suddenly disappeared. The princely family was itself hit hard by the murder of the Master Mage, and more attempts followed."
The prior paused, long enough to let a few murmurs hover over the assembly. It had been impossible to completely quell the attack of the day before. At least he had confirmed the presence of a threat without naming it specifically. There were a few sympathetic looks, but Romulus was shocked to see false sympathy here and there. Proprieties were just a layer of varnish, for those who wanted to stay in the good graces of people in power. He felt sorrier for his friends in the front row, because for the Skaven, the difference was even more obvious: the smile displayed did not match the smell emitted by the body.
Luckily Sigmund isn't there, he probably wouldn't have appreciated it...
"This creeping menace has infiltrated even the highest circles of our society. No one is immune. But we must keep hope, and hold our heads high to brave this hurricane. Our Sovereign, the benevolent Prince Ludwig Steiner the First, reminded me of this earlier: as long as we remain vigilant, as long as we remain united, nothing can ever erode this bond woven by our Gods. Our enemies worship unholy and blasphemous deities, but the difference is that these deities care little for their followers the way Sigmar, Verena, or Shallya do. The Chaos Gods consider their minions as instruments or playthings to be thrown away when broken. Our Gods have shaped us, breathed a soul into us, they sincerely love us, and will protect us as long as we return that love to them."
"Remember, my brothers, my sisters, that in adversity, Faith protects you more than a thousand shields, and lights your way in the darkness with more power than a thousand torches."
When preparing his sermon, Romulus had thought of adding a paragraph alluding to the enemies hidden in the ranks, to be able to invective them, but he had quickly abandoned this idea. There was no need to cause panic.
"Keep trusting in the Gods, let them inspire you with courage in the face of these terrible trials, and together we will emerge victorious. Go in peace, and keep hope."
He gestured towards the doors, which a clerk hastened to open. The creaking of the hinges of the heavy wooden doors mingled with the scraping of the legs of the benches on the stone. Members of the public walked out without delay to return to everyday life.
Bianka had spent the entire mass thinking about her battle plan. The setting of the trap was scheduled for the afternoon, at two o'clock. Information taken, she knew where lodged her main suspect. She thought about the path she would take to get there. It needed a fast and discreet route at the same time. Her recent wanderings in the Mousetrap had made him aware of the importance of this kind of detail.
It was then that she saw a familiar face. Her heart sank. She turned to her kindred.
- Excuse me, I'll join you in a minute.
Without waiting for an answer, she pushed through the crowd that was gradually passing through the doors of the temple. She finally found herself within earshot of the figure she was following.
- Bernhardt!
The librarian, because it was him, jumped when he heard the voice of the blonde Skaven. He spun on his heels.
- Oh… Good morning, High Archivist.
The ratgirl felt the fragrance of panic ooze from the coat of the pot-bellied Skaven. She was only more embarrassed.
So, that's what I inspire in him?
Some people in positions of responsibility measure their success by the degree of fear they instil in the hearts of their subordinates. Thankfully, Bianka hadn't been brought up in that mentality, as her mother had reminded her of before their tea party with the Finstons, an eternity earlier.
- Listen, Bernhardt, I… I'm… sorry about the day before yesterday.
- For… oh, it's nothing.
- You are a serious, hard-working person, and you wanted to be considerate… I shouldn't have yelled at you.
- You don't have to be sorry, High Archivist. You have so many reasons to be overwhelmed right now...
- This is no reason to take it out on others, especially when they only want my best.
Bernhardt only replied with a small smile. Bianka didn't dare return it.
- Excuse me, I have to go.
And without giving him time to answer, she turned on her heels and joined her family.
- Are you all right, honey? Heike asked.
- Yes, oh… Just a small point to make.
Nobody added anything. But Kristofferson frowned thoughtfully. Unlike the others, he had seen who his sister had spoken to.
Brother Arcturus was the last one to cross the gates of the Steiner estate. Like the others, he had been searched by the guards, and had given them his hammer, despite his status as a priest of Sigmar, in order to play the game and reassure his guests.
As he was approaching the manor, he spotted three people: he recognized the two youngest children of the ratman couple adopted by the Prince, playing with the family's loyal servant, a buxom blonde woman.
Marianne, Margery… Can't I remember her name?
A little kindness and innocence were not unpleasant to watch, in these times increasingly troubled by fear and suspicion. These feelings could cause the most honest of men to see enemies ready to kill everywhere. The Prior of Sigmar had fled the Empire when he heard of Vereinbarung and his strange project, both pushed away by the "classic" methods of the Sigmarites which he considered extreme and drawn by curiosity. The desire to contribute to the construction of a new city had also seduced him.
The hardest part had been convincing his superiors to let him go to a place inhabited by "tamed Menbeasts". He had offered to report regularly on Prince Steiner's activities, so that he could warn Grand Theogonist Volkmar if the monarch's ambitions were too dangerous for the Empire.
Ludwig Steiner was well aware of this state of affairs. He had even suggested Arcturus send a friendly invitation to the Grand Theogonist and Emperor Karl Franz. The prior had not yet decided whether to take this proposal seriously or ironically.
As he approached the front door, a Human footman approached. Brother Arcturus raised his hand.
- Take me to the Council Chamber, would be kindly.
He knew the way, but preferred to respect the rules of hospitality. The servant led him to a large double door on the second floor. Sergeant Weller was posted in front, himself flanked by two guards. The servant knocked.
- Come in! the Prince's voice ordered through the wood.
The valet opened the door and announced:
- Brother Arcturus, Prior of Sigmar.
- Ah, it's about time. Let him come in!
Sigmar's representative obeyed. No sooner had he crossed the threshold of the War Council Chamber than he was already half suffocated by a heavy atmosphere.
- We were just waiting for you. Have a seat.
The Prince looked in a bad mood. He had apparently not digested the aggression of which his granddaughter had been the victim the day before. One of the windows on the Prince's side, at the far end of the table, was ajar, and yet some of those present were already sweating.
Brother Arcturus quickly scanned the assembly from left to right, mentally surveying the fifteen people seated around the long table in the Council Chamber.
Directly ahead of him, to the left of the end of the table near the door, which was assigned three seats, he recognized Nikita Griekov, the head of the Guild of Traders in Steinerburg. The tall, pale-complexioned, ash-blond-haired Human looked more austere than during the evening that had cost the master mage his life.
The first individual seated on the left side of the table was the prior of Morr, Brother Wenceslas, more sinister than ever. The tall, skinny man contrasted almost comically with his neighbour to the left.
Indeed, Brother Septimo was not lacking in the usual attributes of the priests of Taal, in his robe of green fabric with multiple golden embroidery. But Septimo didn't seem inclined to laugh and joke either. He exchanged a few whispered words with Morgana, the appointed mother superior of Rhya's temple. When she saw Brother Arcturus, she stopped talking.
The small figure of Branka Isildursdöttir, the head of the local Guild of Craftsmen, almost surprised the Sigmarite, but he pulled himself together, reminding himself that his presence was needed as much as Griekov's. A war necessarily had repercussions on the economy of the kingdom. Furthermore, the Vereinbarung craftsmen were most likely going to be doubly put to work.
Provost Tomas, Verena's servant, sat next to the Dwarf. He wore the robe in keeping with his high office in the hierarchy, but kept his hair long and a light down on his chin, above his youthful features. He looked more like a troubadour with a long, vertical scar across his face.
Prior Romulus, the Prince's most trusted adviser, was next.
Ludwig Steiner was occupying the entire surface of the end opposite of the one in front of Arcturus.
Then, the first seated on the right side of the table before the prior of Sigmar was Vladimir Bäsenhau, the intendant.
To the latter's left was waiting High Priestess Desdemona Rebmann, in charge of the great temple of Verena of Steinerburg. As much as Tomas embodied the purely legal aspect, the tall woman represented the spiritual connection with the Goddess of Justice.
The people of the Dwarves had their representative with Branka Isildursdöttir, and that of the Elves was not left out; Brisingr Steadyhand, the mage of Bright College, was twiddling his thumbs. Arcturus wondered again how old could be a man with such a youthful face, but many unpleasant experiences lived before.
The last four people were all women. The Sigmarite recognized the first, Soraya Tassadit, the head of the Guild of Artists. He was almost offended. What could the representative of the mountebanks, entertainers, and bear tamers be doing at this table and in this grave hour?
The next person sat to the left of the Arabian woman was Commander Giulietta Renata. Superb in her undecorated uniform, Prior Arcturus had no doubts about her rapid rise to come.
The second-to-last person seated was a small, dark-haired young woman. It was Anita Figueras, a priestess of Manann who had recently arrived in Steinerburg. Recommended by Eusebio Clarin, this person had moved into a small building which she had converted into a temple dedicated to the God of the Seas, while waiting to be able to be in charge of another official temple, the construction of which was not launched yet. Moreover, she served more or less unofficially as an ambassador to Prince Calderon. Was this affable-looking little young girl above suspicion anyway? the Prior of Sigmar thought.
Finally, the last seated on the right of the Sigmarite was Sister Judy Hoffnung. Admittedly, she was not the highest authority in the Shallya temple of the Rat Kingdom, but her closeness to the princely family dated back a long time, even before the founding of Vereinbarung.
There was only one empty seat left, between Sister Judy and Nikita Griekov, right in the middle of the end facing the front door. Brother Arcturus felt a little unease rising when he realized he was going to spend the whole session facing the Prince. He took his place willy-nilly, while Ludwig Steiner announced solemnly:
- Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for having responded to the call of this exceptional Council despite the lack of time. We shall have to address urgent and serious matters. I'll go straight to the point, none of which pleases me, but all must be resolved, if possible during this session which I now declare open!
Everyone answered with a small nod, a wink, or a slight cough. The Prince then presented a sheet of paper, a feather and an inkwell.
- In accordance with the Law, each participant must confirm his or her presence by putting his or her name, function and signature on a document bearing my seal. Pass it on, while Commander Renata reports on the progress of the Bretonnians!
A few yards down, in the backyard, Kristofferson heard his grandfather's powerful voice.
- Right, they're starting.
As agreed, he was accompanied by five people, all Skaven, to stand guard under the windows of the Council room. Besides his two most faithful friends, Walter Klingmann and Pol Demmler, Kristofferson was accompanied by three Black Skaven. He was discussing with them about a painful subject.
- And so, other neighbouring villages were hit in the same way?
- My word, Sir Steiner.
- Call me Kristofferson, I'm not your superior, Private Ickert.
- Very well, Sir Kristofferson.
Kristofferson had already been acquainted with the three members of the Black Guard recommended by Sigmund for a few dozen minutes. The brown Skaven had no trouble understanding why his brother had been so categorical: each of the three Black Skaven in front of him had, at first sight, the same character, the same mentality, and the same worries.
- We have more and more grievances, sir. Parents are devastated. Those who are lucky enough to live near a slightly larger city get together, but it is not always enough. Those Under-Empire filthy bastards are getting bolder and bolder! Some children have disappeared while living in a peaceful district. More and more citizens are coming to the barracks and begging us to do something. I don't know what to answer them.
- This story of kidnappings is one of the questions discussed during this meeting, replied the eldest of the Steiner children, pointing to the window with his thumb.
Private Ickert was doing his best not to let the Black Hunger speak. Kristofferson felt it, he had seen his own brother in the same state. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of Maximus Himmelstoss, the second Black Guard, who asked:
- Do you think Captain Sigmund will be released soon?
- Oh, he should be out soon.
- It's sad. We like the Captain. He's a fair and sincere man.
- Unfortunately, he's a few too passionate, Kristofferson replied. Well, he does what he can.
- We others, in any case, we know what we owe your father, continued Himmelstoss. Be sure that the Captain will have only one word to say so that the person responsible is tracked down to the confines of the Chaos wastelands, if necessary.
Kit shook his head.
- I don't think it's necessary to go that far.
He then saw his little sister out of the corner of his eye, further away. She was leading her horse Buell out of the stable, and had dressed modestly so as not to attract attention. Kristofferson already knew what she was about to do, but he didn't know where she was riding to.
May Verena surely guide you, Bianka!
He felt apprehension welling up inside him. He wanted to think of something else, and then addressed the third Black Guard.
- Say, Private van Habron?
- Yes, Sir?
- You have the same name than Baron Gerhardt van Habron's?
- Affirmative, Sir. Gerhart van Habron is my father.
- You're quite a Harvested, aren't you?
- Yes, I am.
- So how could you keep your father's name? Normally, the Harvested are baptized according to the name of the colony where they were taken from, to avoid inbreeding?
- That's correct, Sir Kristofferson. However, the fact is that my parents absolutely wanted to pass on their surname. Since they couldn't have a blood child, they adopted me. They paid the Temple of Verena to make my name theirs. Normally, I would have called myself by a word beginning with "N" like "Nyllovie", the burrow where I was born. And if I ever get married, it just has to be with a girl whose last name doesn't start with that letter. It's that simple.
- Very simple indeed. I didn't participate the Nyllovie Harvest. Considering your age, I guess it was a few years ago, probably one of my father's first.
- I allow myself to join my comrade Himmelstoss on this subject, Sir Kristofferson.
Kristofferson replied with a sad little smile.
This time, you're mine!
Bianka had to use all her resources to conceal her nervousness. She had spent three full hours investigating the apartments of the person she suspected of treason. The staff hadn't made the slightest protest at her warrant bearing the seal of the Temple of Verena, and hadn't bothered her once.
And above all, it was the most important, she had finally found.
After methodically had searched all the most obvious places, sifted through the books on the shelf one by one, read each letter in the desk drawers, nothing suspicious to report had come to hand. The high archivist had also checked in the bedroom. No stash under the bed or in the mattress, nothing in the decorative flowerpot by the window.
She had then taken a few minutes to breathe and think, while browsing the place again. And there, she was sure, Verena had given her a little nudge, in the form of a nervous twitch.
A nervous twitch had tickled her ear. The characteristic flapping caused by an unusual sound. The sound in question was the creaking of the floorboards under her bare toes, under the bedroom rug, in the farthest corner. She had found her loot under the two loose floorboards.
Finally, and this was decisive, she had gone to the temple of Verena to ask for a little confirmation from one of the priests.
Everything was ready to trap the skunk.
She handed Buell over to one of the estate's grooms, then went to her apartments, clutching a heavily stuffed leather satchel. She put the satchel near her desk, mentally reviewed the course of what was to follow, and started.
Five o'clock in the afternoon, the Council was still not over.
She went up to the main door of the room, still guarded by Weller and his two acolytes.
- I have to talk to my grandfather, she whispered shyly to the sergeant.
- Please, Madam.
The Human moved away.
Here we go!
She knocked unsteady blows.
- What's that? Come in!
The Prince spoke in a tone that allowed no contradiction. Bianka opened the door. She swallowed as she saw all the members of the Council more uncomfortable than the other. The whole room was immersed in a very uncomfortable heat, the features were drawn, the faces flushed. She herself coughed several times before she could speak.
- Opa, I…
- So what, what is it? I'll let you know we're busy! Speak!
- I... It's Master Clarin.
- What, Master Clarin?
- There is…
Bianka swallowed her saliva, and pretended to regain her usual confidence. The Prince had to be given good reason to fuel his already present anger.
- A messenger came a few minutes ago. He brought a missive from Master Clarin.
- Is it the reason for you come to interrupt us?
- According to the messenger, this is an emergency, Opa.
- Because you think we don't have much more urgent things to deal with here, maybe? Between Bretonnians, child abductions, murders? No, a letter from an ambassador who's miles away from our problems would be more urgent?
- The messenger was insistent, Opa. I'm just repeating his words.
The Prince gave a disgruntled growl.
- Well, go get this letter, since it is so urgent!
The ratgirl bowed, but the moment her delicate fingers touched the doorknob, the Prince held her back.
- No, wait! While you're at it, bring us some tea.
Bianka sighed in annoyance.
- Opa, that's what you pay servants for, don't you?
She saw High Priestess Rebmann rubbing her own ear. It was a discreet little sign that the priests of Verena used to do when they heard someone speaking who would have done better to remain silent. The Prince replied:
- I'd rather not have arsenic in my cup! With everything going on, all the staff is suspicious.
- I see.
She opened the door, but her grandfather reproached her again:
- Bianka, more and more people tell me about your unpleasant behaviour. And you give them reason, once more, at the moment. We really need to clarify things about your relationships with others.
- I don't think this kind of question interests your guests, Opa!
- Enough! Go get that letter and the tea. Hurry up!
The ratgirl quickly out. As she walked away from the door, her features relaxed.
Hope he was still pretending!
She had had several occasions to see Ludwig Steiner really angry, and it was not pleasant at all, even if this anger had not been directed at her.
It was important not to act too hastily or too softly. The most insignificant of small details could arouse suspicion. With a step she judged reasonably nervous, she returned to her office. There, she took from one of the drawers of her desk the envelope given by her grandfather, the one with the stamp of Prince Calderon. She stuffed it into her pocket and went down to the kitchen. She passed through a gallery with windows that looked out on the courtyard. She was able to see her big brother, Wally, Pol, and the three Black Skaven. She allowed herself to stare at them for a moment.
Hum... Handsome boys, for Black Skaven!
Apart from her twin, she did not personally know any Black Skaven. She couldn't help but feel a little something when she saw them. All three were very tall and strong, like her brother. But she also knew that Sigmund could be very gentle with the people he loved. Why not them?
Hey, wake up, silly girl!
This was no time for fooling around. She resumed her walk.
A little half a dozen minutes later, she knocked again at the door of the Council Chamber, with a small trolley on which the cook had placed the teapot, a jug of milk, three sugar bowls, and sixteen cups, saucers and spoons.
- Come in!
She pushed the sideboard to the end of the table where Steiner was seated. The roulettes creaked on the floor. Arrived near her grandfather, she placed in front of him a saucer, a cup and a spoon, as well as one of the three sugar bowls. Then she filled the cup with hot tea. She proposed some milk, he waved his hand away. Afterwards, she took the letter out of her pocket, and handed it to the tall Human. Steiner nearly snatched it from her fingers, opened it, and stared at it for a few moments. As he perceived the blonde Skaven waiting, he raised his nose, his eyes full of reproaches.
- Well, then serve the others! Would you mind neglecting my guests?
- Yes, Opa, immediately, Opa!
She swallowed her saliva, and returned to the entrance of the room.
The exercise she was about to perform was going to require a lot of patience and concentration. Bianka had to designate her prey without betraying herself. The slightest inappropriate movement could ruin everything.
She served Brother Arcturus first, and walked around the table clockwise. Nikita Griekov was next. As she filled the cup, she concentrated.
Above all, do not raise your voice, do not tremble, do not sneeze...
She put the second sugar bowl between Branka and Tomas. She watched her hands, and slowed the pace of her breathing to stop the tremors. Above all, she should not touch her collar until she was near the culprit. Sweat rose to her forehead.
- Please? Provost Tomas muttered.
The blonde Skaven felt her heart skip a beat. She turned her head towards the Human, who discreetly pointed to the jug of milk. She nodded silently, and poured some milk into the Verenean's cup.
Her throat was dry enough to have a week-long coughing fit. Luckily, given the overwhelming atmosphere hovering over the Council table, everyone was already sweating. Her delicate muzzle was suddenly seized with a furious itch.
Above all, don't do anything, don't lose control!
Once Romulus' cup was full, she went back behind the Prince, then she served Vladimir Bäsenhau. As she poured the tea into the cup, the Human sneezed. Surprised, the blonde ratgirl jumped, and a few drops of hot tea splashed on the intendant's fingers.
- Ouch!
- Oh, a thousand pardons, Master Bäsenhau!
- It's nothing, my child, answered the Human, a little too quickly to be sincere.
Steiner grumbled in annoyance. Bäsenhau took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hand. Bianka, more and more worried, resumed her steps.
Finally, she arrived in front of her target.
Don't panic, gal. Stay relaxed.
With infinite caution, she filled the cup. The blood pounded so hard in her temples that she barely heard her grandfather's voice asking the Sigmarite:
- So, Brother Arcturus, what does the Temple of Altdorf say about this?
Once the tea was served, Bianka stepped back. She slowly raised her hands, and tugged on the cord of her pendant for a few seconds to readjust it. Then she moved back behind the sideboard and continued.
Prince Steiner listened to the Priest of Sigmar. Without taking his eyes off him, he reached for the sugar bowl and opened it. Bianka gritted her teeth, waiting for the slightest gesture. She stayed back so as not to be seen or heard more than necessary. She saw her grandfather put a sugar in his cup, then a second… before putting the lid back on the sugar bowl.
Perfect! Now, I finish the service, and I clear off!
She placed the third sugar bowl and the milk pot near Sister Anita Figueras, served Sister Judy Hoffnung, who thanked her with a small nod. Then she pulled the little cart to the door, which she opened a little painfully. Her heart leapt again in her chest when Steiner's voice inveighed her.
- And I don't want to see you again by the end of this meeting, Bianka! Do you understand?
- I understand, Opa.
- Nor anyone else, for that matter! Pass the word to Weller!
- As you wish!
She hurried out of the Council Chamber, nearly slammed the door behind her, strode away, and when she was out of sight of the three soldiers, allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief.
Everything had worked perfectly, so far. The sequel promised to be much funnier!
Now go back to your office and wait for Magdalena!
Outside, the bells marked the fifth hour of the afternoon. The sun was beginning to sink toward the western horizon. Prince Steiner got up from his chair, stretched a little, and concluded the session.
- We'll meet again in two weeks to see how things are developing and then act accordingly. So spoke the Prince.
At these words, the summoned got up in their turn. All were more or less visibly harassed by the hours of debate, submission of problems, which had reminded everyone how worrying the situation of the Rat Kingdom was. Brother Arcturus already had his hand on the door handle, when he stopped at the sound of the Prince's voice.
- Wait! Don't leave just yet, I have a few particular details to settle with a few of you.
The council members waited silently.
- Bäsenhau, Commander Renata, Romulus, Steadyhand, Provost Tomas, Prior Arcturus, stay. The others dismiss. Thank you.
Without waiting for any answer, Steiner opened one of the windows, and called:
- Magdalena!
The servant, who was never far away, arrived quickly. The Prince ordered her upstairs with a wave of his arm.
- Come and clear the table!
- Immediately, Your Majesty! replied the buxom young woman.
Such was the signal agreed between the Prince, the servant and the high archivist.
Downstairs, Kristofferson quietly whispered to the others:
- Get ready!
The Prince looked at the six people one after the other, gravely.
- My Lady, gentlemen, you are the people of the Council in whom I have the most confidence, and that is why I will entrust myself to you without hesitation any longer. There are agents of Chaos operating in the Kingdom. My personal investigators have revealed to me that these heretics are part of the Purple Hand sect, a group of worshipers of Tzeentch, the God of Change. According to our knowledge on this subject, the methods of this sect are very insidious: their agents infiltrate all the layers of the society which they infect. This is what is happening to ours right now. There are most likely spies in the ranks of the military, among the followers of our Gods, within the most influential merchant guilds, and even in the highest echelons of Vereinbarung society. They organized the murder of my son, and other actions in the same vein are to be feared.
Commander Renata straightened a wavy lock of her jet black hair.
- Do you want me to organize in-depth investigations to find them?
- That's what I'll ask you later, Commander. For now, I've made you stay here to confuse one of these undercover agents. Indeed, and this is why I asked you to stay, I know from a reliable source that one of these worshipers of Tzeentch is very close to here. This person used my trust to get close to the most influential figures in Vereinbarung, and took advantage of that trust to poison the Master Mage during our last banquet. This person is among us right now.
This last statement provoked small surprised exclamations and astonished, then suspicious looks. Ludwig Steiner drove the point home even further.
- Yes, good people, one of you is a traitor to the Crown, whose identity will be unveiled now.
Brother Arcturus grunted:
- Too bad I don't have my hammer! I would have quickly found your culprit!
- What if it was you? Bäsenhau asked softly.
- What about you? retorted the Priest of Sigmar, suddenly scalded by the intendant.
- Gentlemen, please, behave yourselves in front of our Prince! Provost Tomas ordered.
The Magister Steadyhand chuckled in amusement.
- Whether or not he or she is in this room, your culprit seems very good at sowing discord. Divide to conquer better.
- This is a natural behaviour for criminals of your kind, Brisingr Steadyhand!
The Elf turned his head towards the front door. He saw the master mage's eldest daughter, a heavy leather satchel over her shoulder, her face stretched with an expression of hard-pressed anger.