Pourseille was in sight.
It was a small village at the foot of a hill on top of which stood a castle. The castle itself wasn't particularly large either, but it seemed solid. A wall fifteen feet high surrounded it, and it had no moat, nor even a ditch.
The army led by Sigmund halted on the outskirts of the village, a few yards from the first houses. The rider gone forward as a scout appeared in front of the Black Skaven. The Human dismounted and saluted the captain.
- At ease, scout. Reporting!
- Captain, there is no one in the village. All the inhabitants withdrew within the walls of the castle de Beyle. They also boarded the beasts, and I even noticed that there is not a single tool left in the forge.
- This is hardly surprising, Vaucanson was expecting our arrival.
Sigmund dismounted Okapia, then spotted a small, sturdy-looking shack. In a few seconds, he climbed on the roof, then he faced his army. He was quite satisfied. Several hundred people, both Humans and Skaven, constituted the strike force he was going to lead to show this insolent Bretonnian who was the master at Vereinbarung. The army had stopped a few times along the way, and several people had volunteered to swell the ranks along the way. No desertion or attempted "unfortunate accident" had been deplored. On the contrary, the soldiers as well as the civilians were determined to drive out the invaders and rescue the prisoners.
He took a breath, and spoke in a powerful voice.
- Citizens of Vereinbarung, thank you all for being here today. It is not only your Kingdom that you are preparing to defend, it is also your lands, your friends, and your family. I have consciousness of this, we shall fight people who have sworn allegiance to Prince Ludwig Steiner, like all of you. They should not be considered too quickly as traitors. They were no doubt forced to collaborate under the threat of the Bretonnians. That's why I'm counting on you to hold back your blows against commoners if they resist. In particular, I will ask career soldiers to have this attention. You have learned the profession of arms, you know how to win a fight without excessive violence. On the other hand, treat the Bretonnians as they are: foreigners who have come to plunder and conquer your lands under the orders of their lord. Horace de Vaucanson…
He hesitated to continue his sentence. His closest lieutenants knew the truth, but the whole garrison didn't.
- I'll be honest: you all probably know it, my father, Master Mage Prospero, was murdered a few weeks ago. It is very likely the man who's hiding in this castle at this hour is part of the conspiracy that organized this murder. I have a unique desire: to bring him back to Steinerburg in order to make him judged and punished as he deserves. Since that terrible day, and until our arrival here, I have repeatedly received support from many of you, especially the Skaven. I am very touched by so much compassion and sympathy, and I promise you we'll be able to do justice to the White Skaven who was as much my father as your benefactor.
He let a few seconds pass, the time for the words to reach the back rows. He had a little shiver. The wind howled wickedly in his ears. He decided not to be intimidated by the elements.
- We will establish our quarters here, but be careful! This village is part of the Principality of Vereinbarung, so we will respect these places. Let's use stables and barns, and anything that looks like a common room, but don't enter villagers' houses! And don't break anything, don't eat, drink or use anything that isn't ours! Understood?
He pointed to a nearby uncultivated field.
- Set up the bivouac! We will meet Vaucanson tomorrow at dawn. Until then, prepare your equipment, enjoy the evening without forgetting the discipline, and be sure to be on good terms with our Gods.
From the back of his cell, Romulus could hear what was going on outside through the little ventilator fitted with bars. Night had fallen, and only the light of the torches allowed him to distinguish anything, but he didn't need to see well to sense the concern among the men-at-arms. From time to time, he caught snippets of sentences like "there are a lot of them", "they have invaded the village", "they are going to attack tonight, their Skaven eyes see in the dark", "they are going to spring out from the well and dig tunnels". None of this rejoiced the prior, who only anticipated injuries and deaths on one side or the other.
The voice of Horace de Vaucanson sounded through the small opening in the door.
- Meyerhold!
The prior approached.
- The reinforcements you've been waiting for have arrived. They seem numerous, but we are well protected here. So don't rejoice too soon; they won't cross our walls. Don't hope any kind of help.
- The only thing I hope is that there are as few deaths as possible, Sir de Vaucanson.
- Don't worry, there won't be any on our side. Prepare your best compilation of prayers to Shallya, because it will be up to you to bury the aggressors who will die soon.
Romulus remained silent, which annoyed the Bretonnian.
- Don't forget they have come for you, Meyerhold. You can only blame yourself.
- They have come for the unfortunates whom you keep prisoners in these cellars, Sire de Vaucanson.
Vaucanson didn't answer, contented himself with a short, dry "Fi!". As he saw him walk away and then leave the building where the prisoners were parked, Romulus thought:
And if ever Sigmund is with them, he will have come for you, poor fool!
Horace de Vaucanson scanned the surroundings, leaning against the window sill of the throne room. He grumbled as he saw the twinkling lights around the village of Pourseille, down the hill.
For now, the troops of the Prince of Vereinbarung were at a standstill. They probably preferred to wait until the next day to go on the offensive. Their camp was quite large, and well organized: several men were planting torches around to prevent any infiltration attempt.
They know the inhabitants of Pourseille are here. They won't attack without warning or thought...unless they're led by barbarians!
Vaucanson was counting on a lack of discipline from the troops of the camp opposite. After all, Humans and ratmen definitely couldn't get along, according to his beliefs. They couldn't launch an effective assault. And then, the walls of the castle of Beyle were solid, his own troops motivated...
So many little things he kept repeating to himself to avoid thinking about anything else, and leaving a single crack in the armour he had forged around his mind. Deep down, he knew, without daring to admit it, the slightest second of hesitation could lead to deeper, and less to his advantage thinking.
He was trying to headcount despite the darkness. The torchlights occasionally revealed a silhouette here, a vague shape there, but it was not easy to make out things precisely at this distance. Even more disturbing was the silence. Normally, an army camp was bound to emit a hum interspersed with the sounds of tools, but apart from some nervous horse neighing, he heard nothing, as if the soldiers of Vereinbarung were trying to do the least possible noise.
They want to try my patience! I'm going to...
- You're going straight to your own condemnation.
Vaucanson jumped at these words. He spun angrily on his heels, and gritted his teeth, glaring.
On the stone throne he had already appropriated sat a young man. Instead of being seated properly, he was instead lying crosswise, his back leaning against one of the armrests, and his legs resting on the other. His face framed by long brown hair was youthful, beardless, with bright eyes. An ironic smile flashed above his protruding chin.
- Deep inside, you already know you've lost. No matter how much you rehash the same things over and over again so you don't see it, you won't prevent it from happening. Your crusade ends here, so you better get used to this idea.
Horace de Vaucanson drew himself up to his full height.
- You're very ungrateful, aren't you! I did all of this for you!
- Are you sure? You can't do anything for me for twenty years.
- I arrested your murderer! Once he witnesses the fall of Vereinbarung, I will execute him myself, as badly as he took you from life to death! The justice of our country will be applied in the Little Couronne, then spread throughout the country! This country will be dedicated to your memory!
Vaucanson was now in front of the throne, leaning towards the young Human. The latter had his smile faded.
- I don't care about this country. From where I am, it doesn't matter anymore. You, on the other hand, dragged the King's loyal subjects into your own fall. Prince Steiner's troops are at your doorstep. There are many more of them than you expected. Besides, they are determined to make you kneel down. Because you mistreated their inhabitants. Because they want to avenge their Master Mage.
- Only dirty rats! Monstrous rodents that act just by mimicry. These people are blasphemy, I am only fulfilling the Will of the Lady of the Lake by ridding the country of this aberrant brood!
- And yet, the Humans here consider them very differently. The Prior is right, these Skaven are their children, their friends. Although they put themselves under your protection, they certainly don't appreciate the way you treated their protégés. As for the Master Mage, don't forget every adult ratman owes him a life different from that of the disgusting creatures that haunt the underground. Prospero Steiner was their hero. Olafsson murdered the person these people would do absolutely anything for. They have strong suspicions about your involvement in this murder. In your opinion, what will be the degree of motivation of the soldiers gathered in Pourseille at this time? Will they fight just by obligation and run away after the first injury? No, they will make war fiercely. Your victory is not guaranteed.
The Bretonnian lord felt his face burning with anger. He barked:
- I will conquer this stronghold, then this country, even if I have to spend twenty more years for that, Meyerhold will witness the fall of the Rat Kingdom! You will be avenged!
- I don't give a damn for this revenge. Please stop lying to me. You won't do this for me, but only for you. I never mattered as a child to you. It is your self-esteem you want to safeguard.
Horace de Vaucanson was now scarlet, his eyes wide.
- How dare you say that? I raised you as best I could! I wanted to make you a man! Better, a noble servant of King Louen Leoncoeur! I gave you the same education my own father had given me! It was you who were a hedonist, who multiplied defections to your responsibilities, and who constantly took reckless risks! Despite your countless mistakes, I have done everything to keep you on the right track. You've hooked up once too much, with the wrong people, I could have let go of your memory, but I hung on! I wanted to show that no one, ever, should think of sullying the name of Vaucanson. It took me twenty years to find your murderer, I shall punish him a thousand times more painfully than your own end, and you dare tell me that you never mattered to me?
- You didn't need to get lost in all this madness. Innocent people have already died because of you, and more are sure to follow. That's not what I want.
Lord de Vaucanson threw himself on the throne, hands outstretched, with a terrible cry. When he wanted to close them on the young man's throat, his fingers caught nothing. He stumbled and bumped into the hewn stone seat. He yelped in pain, his arms and shin bruised by the shock.
Someone knocked on the door.
- My Liege, what's going on? asked the voice of the aide-de-camp through the wood.
- Nothing, de Villefort, replied Vaucanson painfully. I tripped.
- Are you sure everything to be fine?
- Yes, everything is fine, thank you. Return to your post!
- At your command, my Liege.
The Bretonnian lord trudged to the door behind the banner, climbed the stairs step by step, and found himself in his armoury. He remained standing, motionless, in the midst of his weapons, for a long minute, then he collapsed on his knees and wept silently for a long time.
The rays of the sun, filtered by a thick mist, illuminated the camp as best they could. The dawn was not comforting, on the contrary the sky was tinged with a red colour which presaged the violence to come. And the wind persisted, stinging the cheeks and biting the fingers, without dissipating this layer of fog.
Sigmund was busy grooming Okapia. He was trying to keep his spirits up despite the storm that awaited him. At least, the Bretonnians hadn't tried anything stupid during the night, the sentries hadn't noticed a single movement. The mare had spent the night in the stable, and seemed in good shape.
The Black Skaven brushed the animal's hair gently and diligently, taking his time. The brave beast let herself go, quiet, serene. Was she aware that in less than an hour perhaps she would be stabbed with a Bretonnian spear? Sigmund knew she was far too intelligent not to sense her master's apprehension. After all, hadn't he created and maintained for years an emotional bond with her, only surpassed by the one he shared with Bianka?
Did he know anyone who could boast of having such a connection with its mount? Among the proud people of Norsca, perhaps? Or the Wood Elves, closer to nature than anyone else? Great figures in Old World history were often accompanied by such an animal when they went into battle. What about the Bretonnians?
His grandfather had told him that in Bretonnia, knights usually had a squire under their charge. Sigmund had interpreted this information in a rather pragmatic way: according to his opinion, the hero in shining armour reaped all the honours, while the kid who accompanied him everywhere was condemned to carry out dirty work, and obtained for any payment only mockery and disdain from the crowd and storytellers.
Another worse idea had germinated in the mind of the young ratman: the knight did not have a very close relationship with his mount, if the squire took care of it in his place. Perhaps he considered his horse or his mare as a simple instrument of parade and war?
The Black Skaven shivered at this idea. He patted Okapia's neck gently.
- You are my best friend, my beauty. Certainly not a simple tool you throw away the day it breaks.
The mare then turned her head towards her master. He then detected in her dark eye a mixture of controversial feelings, but which all converged on the same emotion. He responded by stroking her cheek.
- I don't know if this Bretonnian killed Father yet. Opa is right when he says I have to keep calm in front of him. But several villages of ours have fallen under his control, and that's something I am sure. I have to stop him, Okapia. No, I mean, we have to stop him.
Okapia licked Sigmund's hand. He finished the operation, put away the tools, then he put her bridle on the mare and led her out of the building. He walked for a few minutes, and spotted a small wooden fence to which other horses were already tied. He took care to leave her slightly aside, and wrapped the reins around the log.
He was about to return to his men when he heard a characteristic and perfectly recognizable noise, that of a succession of soft shocks. An equally identifiable aroma irritated his nose. First he grimaced, then he realized that his own intestines reflected a similar urge. With a weak smile, he joked over his shoulder:
- Indeed, you're right to do this now rather than in the middle of the fight. I shall imitate you!
He moved quietly towards a patch of trees.
A few minutes later, Sigmund, sheltered under the large central tent that had been erected for him, was finishing his preparations. He put the end of the elastic bulb inside his left nostril, and squeezed it, sniffing hard. He repeated the gesture for the right nostril. He closed his eyes and sat down on his bunk. Blood pounded in his temples, a feeling of dizziness made him reel. Fortunately, he was used to the effects of the medication, which quickly wore off. One minute later, the Black Skaven was again in full possession of his faculties. He adjusted his gloves, then emerged from his tent, ready to fight.
He gave his lieutenants the instructions to beat the recall of the troops. When everyone was ready to listen, he climbed back onto the cottage, and spoke in a mighty voice.
- Soldiers, the time has come to show that we people of Vereinbarung cannot leave our lands, our cities and our people at the mercy of the first invader. As we are not Orcs, we will first give Horace de Vaucanson a chance to surrender. I go ahead with half a dozen of you and the white flag. If he rejects my offer, then we'll come back and attack. And if he ever has the bad idea to attack us during this surrender offer, then you will charge, and you will show no mercy!
He pointed to three Skaven and three Humans.
- Himmelstoss, Ickert, Van Habron, Kohl, Merkel, Stolz, come with me. Stolz, you'll hold the white flag.
- At your command, Captain!
- Everyone else, get ready, and be ready to fight from this minute!
The effervescence was growing into the Bretonnians' ranks, sheltered between the walls of the castle of Beyle. The soldiers were all ready for battle. The citizens of Pourseille were nervous, and the presence of the Prince's soldiers installed in their village since the day before increased even more their apprehension.
Sir Reginald de Villefort, the aide-de-camp, walked along the ramparts. The sun was now fully up. He felt his eyes narrow in concern as he saw the full strength of Vereinbarung's army. They were numerous, far more than he had estimated, with his liege. He leaned inside the wall, and spotted Sir Guillaume de Lombard.
- De Lombard, get ready!
- We all are, replied the standard-bearer.
- Horsemen! cried one of the sentries. Incoming horsemen!
Sire de Villefort quickly joined the soldier who had shouted.
- Are they charging?
- They're not, Monsignor, they are advancing at a trot.
- How many are they?
- Half a dozen, Monsignor. They're waving the white flag!
- Do they?
The knight stood next to the sentry. He counted four Skaven, all with black fur, and three Humans.
- Do not move, soldiers, and remain ready to act as soon as you receive the order
Then he sped towards the dungeon.
The seven horsemen were a few yards away from the heavy portcullis. Sigmund moved forward a few steps, and raised his muzzle. Several soldiers wearing the colours of Bretonnia were waiting behind the battlements.
- Whoa, you guys! I come to speak to your liege!
- Who are you? asked one of the sentries.
The Black Skaven, determined to remain in a position of strength, did not answer the question, but preferred to declare:
- I shall only speak to Lord Horace de Vaucanson. Go fetch him now.
- Why would we bother Lord de Vaucanson for you, Skaven?
- You settled here without the permission of Prince Ludwig Steiner, and you invaded the surrounding villages, subjugated the Human citizens and locked up the Skaven citizens. The Prince sends me to get you out of there, willingly or unwillingly!
A second sentinel in turn spoke insolently.
- You are not in the domain of Prince Steiner. Here you are on the lands of Lord Horace de Vaucanson.
- Don't play on words! Sigmund retorted. Until proven otherwise, Pourseille remains a village under the authority of Prince Ludwig Steiner. Now go get Horace de Vaucanson. I want to speak to him, right here, right now!
- Sir Horace de Vaucanson doesn't speak to the giant rats who don't deign to introduce themselves!
Van Habron grumbled:
- Captain, if these buffoons all reason like this, it looks bad.
Sigmund raised his hand.
- Let's all keep calm, guys. This kind of pathetic provocation must not reach us. I'll try one more time. If they refuse the dialogue, they will ease the work for us, because we will no longer have any reason to delay the assault.
Then, again to the sentries:
- This is my last warning, gentlemen: either you summon Sir Horace de Vaucanson on the spot, or I give the order to attack. I leave you ten seconds to decide!
This time there was no response. Captain Steiner inwardly counted to ten.
- Very well, since you take it…
- Wait! shouted a voice above the parapet. Here I am.
It was a clear, confident voice, the voice of a confident, experienced, unimpressionable man. It was very different from that of the standard-bearer who had provoked the Prince a few weeks earlier. For Sigmund, such assurance could only come from the master of the house.
At last, I'm going to see the face of this damned killer!
Two new figures appeared between the battlements, two knights whose maturity contrasted with the youth of the sentries. One of them stayed behind. This Human with a face darkened by a light well-trimmed beard looked a little worried. But the Black Skaven took no notice, too absorbed by the sight of the other. For him, no doubt to have, it was indeed Horace de Vaucanson. But something tormented him: since the visit of Sire de Lombard, Sigmund had given a thousand faces to the Bretonnian, yet he had not thought of facing a man obviously ravaged by years. In reality, Horace de Vaucanson appeared to be of a comparable age to that of his grandfather. Perhaps he had even lived a decade longer?
By Verena's scales, he's an old man!
The man in front sounded the imperious voice.
- It's me, Horace de Vaucanson, son of Godefroy de Vaucanson, grandson of Baron Prétextat de Vaucanson, and servant of Duke Folcard de Montfort.
The Black Skaven shook his head, and concentrated. He had been right; the time had come to confront the source of his anger. He wouldn't let himself be trapped like in front of the standard-bearer.
- Lord de Vaucanson, I am Sigmund Steiner, Captain of the Black Guard of Vereinbarung. I am the son of Master Mage Prospero Steiner, whom one of your accomplices cowardly murdered, and in the name of my grandfather, Prince Ludwig Steiner, I have come to bring justice!
Lord de Vaucanson smiled cruelly.
- So, is it you who took the liberty of threatening my representative? My compliments, my boy, you are even more beastly than I imagined!
Sigmund saw the insult coming. He only needed a couple of seconds to take it, and continue in the same tone:
- As the representative of His Majesty Prince Ludwig the First, I nevertheless give you a chance to avoid the worst outcome. Horace de Vaucanson, on the orders of the Prince, you will leave these places, free your prisoners, both Prior Romulus and the Skaven citizens, and submit to the justice of our country. Then, and only then, will your subjects be able to return to Bretonnia, under our escort, there will be no bloodshed. Any other response from you will result in our attack. Make your choice now!
The Black Skaven saw the Bretonnian make a small pout.
- You don't frighten me, Captain Steiner. We are motivated, guided by the Lady of the Lake, and we will free this realm from the evil influence of the putrid creatures of the Under-Empire that swarm here. You are not normal people, only monsters who try to resemble us, in vain. Vereinbarung needs a good sweep, and I'll be happy to give it. Besides, you three Humans, I can't understand how you can trust this vermin? For thousands of years, the Skaven have been proving endlessly that they are just good enough to be exterminated, so why fraternize with this filthy brood? This would be to reject the teachings of the Lady of the Lake. No, thank you, I'll slay all of you instead!
Sigmund still did not react. Unlike Ickert, who felt a brutal rush of blood. The Black Skaven raised his nose towards the ramparts, and barked:
- Hey! Open up so I can teach this old fart a lesson!
The Bretonnian guards grew menacing. Some of them were already brandishing their crossbows. Sigmund gestured towards his subordinate.
- Don't waste your breath, Private Ickert. It seems our undesirable interlocutor has made his decision. Very well, Lord of Vaucanson. You asked for it, we are going to dislodge you by arms!
He was going to wish the Gods to help him, but barely held back.
- Turn back!
The seven riders galloped towards Pourseille. Vaucanson chuckled.
- We have nothing to fear. Look, they didn't bring any war machines!
- They're much more numerous than we are indeed, my Liege, observed Villefort.
- Perhaps, but we are well sheltered here and we have enough food to last some time. Oh, I know what you're thinking of, de Villefort: one day or another, we'll end up starving? You'd be right if we were the only ones facing them, but remember Olafsson! This rascal will continue to sow trouble in their ranks, and soon it will become a civil war. The Rat Kingdom will collapse on itself. And if that's not sufficient, the creatures of the Under-Empire that are nibbling their foundations will slaughter the survivors. So many elements that will force this army to abandon its siege and defend what will potentially remain to be defended. It's only a matter of days. As long as these walls remain standing, we have nothing to fear.
The seven horsemen had returned to camp. Sigmund stopped Okapia in front of his soldiers. He bit his lip as the scent of worry rose in his nose.
- Alas, brave soldiers of Vereinbarung, Lord Horace de Vaucanson clearly refused our offer. We'll have to resort to violence. I don't like it any more than you do, but if we want to get our property back and save our folks, he leaves us no other choice. They seem determined, and have crossbows. But they are probably not ready for what we have. Himmelstoss?
Sigmund had noticed more pronounced command abilities in Maximus Himmelstoss. The Black Guard corps didn't officially have ranks like the regular army yet, but the captain had grown accustomed to considering Himmelstoss as his lieutenant. Ickert and Van Habron were his sergeants.
During their journey to Pourseille, Himmelstoss had listened to the plan of attack that the Prince had advised his grandson. The Black Skaven had brainstormed to develop this strategy, and Sigmund had approved. This was the reason why the captain now invited the young Black Skaven to speak.
- As you know it, we have two boom-boom moles with us. These machines were invented by Gabriel Steiner, the brother of our Captain, in order to drill a breach in a wall. We shall use them in two opposite places of the wall that surrounds the castle of Beyle. A quarter of our troops will come with me to place the first mole on the north side. I need a volunteer to lead the second quarter of our troops to the south side. I warn you right away: we'll have to raise the shields, Vaucanson's soldiers will do everything to prevent us with projectiles. The watchword of the troops who will be assigned to this task is to act quickly and thinking only of protecting themselves. Who is voluntary?
A tall, dark-haired woman took a step forward.
- Sergeant Mahaut Lescuyer, report!
- Hmm… Is that a Bretonnian name? asked Sigmund.
- I am from Bretonnia, as is my family, my Captain. But that doesn't mean I approve the actions of this lord, on the contrary! The adopted children of my cousins are his captives, and I will lay down my life if necessary to deliver them!
- Very well, Sergeant, you'll take the lead of the platoon. Himmelstoss, please continue.
- At your command, Captain. Sergeant Lescuyer, your role will be to drive the machine to the foot of the south wall, turn it on, steer it in the right direction, then when it has started to dig, you will remove the safety and run as fast and far as possible. This also applies to all those who will be with you and with me: once the device has overheated, you will have less than a minute to put yourself out of reach of the deflagration.
- When you are more or less sure of the stability of the ground once the explosion over, then you can attack, resumed Sigmund. Normally, the damage done should already shake them well. For my part, while you are north and south, I'll attack with the rest of our troops at the main gate, facing east. That should create enough of a diversion, maybe we'll even get through it? Either way, the fighters under Himmelstoss will have to find the prisoners and free them. We know there is a barracks within the walls of this castle, the cells are most likely inside. Lescuyer's fighters will have to climb onto the ramparts and raise the portcullis, if it is still standing. If it's already broken, fight your best, and focus on the dungeon. I remind you of the most important thing, citizens: do your best not to hurt too severely the inhabitants who are not armed and protected. As soon as you see people pretending to surrender, let them run away, or knock them out if it's a trick to trap you. Do not forget that these men and women are probably acting by fear to see their lands burned and the Skaven of their family executed. I know Verena and Shallya will help you make the right choices. Are there any questions?
No one flinched. Sigmund pointed to the two huge trolley-mounted crates tucked away in a corner.
- Himmelstoss, explain to Sergeant Lescuyer how to switch the boom-boom moles on, and feed them. It will take an hour for them to be ready to work. During this time, Van Habron and Ickert, take ten fighters each, go find a big tree, and craft a ram. Everyone else, check your gear, take a pee, and get ready!
Everyone went to work.
Himmelstoss and Lescuyer stayed near the boom-boom moles. Each of the two crates contained a device that was curious to look at, to say the least. It was an enormous barrel, eight feet long, five feet in diameter, copper-rimmed and mounted on wheels, with a small boiler embedded in one end, and a ten feet long conical drill bit to the other end. The boiler, the Black Skaven explained, was designed to heat water stored in a tank, the power of the steam from which would spin a turbine which, in turn, would cause the drill bit to rotate. Gabriel was inspired by Dwarf drills to develop it. Unlike the tools of the Dwarves, however, the boom-boom mole was not designed to dig long tunnels, let alone last more than ten minutes. But that didn't matter.
- When the machine starts to whistle, it means the pressure is strong enough to drive the drill bit. So you pull that lever hard, it'll launch the rotation. Then you push the mole forward, and arrange to make the tip of the drill bit fall at the foot of the wall, ideally under the stones. The mole will burrow into the ground. When it's started, pull out that pin. It will release an acidic liquid which will dissolve a small hook, and this hook holds a large, spring-loaded lighter flint. When unhooked, this lighter flint spins and sends out sparks that will ignite a supply of gunpowder, and the machine explodes. If it is deep enough in the ground, the explosion can cause a lot of damage to the structure.
During the trip, for safety, the powder had circulated in an armoured chest placed on a small cart apart. The Vereinbarung soldiers would wait until the last moment to charge the moles, and turn them into dangerously explosive devices. Sergeant Lescuyer pouted.
- Is that why you were talking about "one minute" earlier, Sir Himmelstoss?
- One minute is the time it takes for the acid to dissolve the hook that holds the flint stone. I hope you have practiced sprinting.
- And… has this weapon already been tested?
- It has been, Sergeant, answered Sigmund who was sharpening his sword, a few yards further. I participated in the exercise last month. It was an old tower in ruins, it didn't remain standing.
And the soldiers of Vereinbarung continued their preparations. Van Habron and Ickert soon returned with a huge oak tree. They tried to mount it on one of the equipment transport carts, before preparing themselves for the fight that was to come. During this time, Sigmund, Himmelstoss, Lescuyer and the others fuelled the two boilers with a great deal of charcoal which they had also brought along.
Finally, after an hour, a high-pitched and very loud hissing sound emerged from the first crate. The soldiers, men and women, Humans and Skaven, shouted with enthusiasm.
- It's working! The first mole is ready! Get ready, the other one should be singing soon!
And indeed, less than a minute later, the second boom-boom mole confirmed its proper functioning. Sigmund leapt on Okapia.
- Himmelstoss, Lescuyer, wait a full minute and go with your troops to your point of impact. May Verena and Myrmidia guide your arm! And for the others…
Sigmund pulled out Heart of Unicorn and waved it in the direction of Castle Beyle.
- Onward, to Vaucanson!
- To Vaucanson! replied all the members of the army in unison.