Children of the Horned Rat,
Please accept my apologies for this delay. Indeed, my schedule for the past two months has turned out to be busier than expected, and I have had to take care of a lot of things outside of work. Besides, I had the idea of adapting another role-playing game played a few months ago into a fanfiction, and I couldn't help but write a few pages. Don't worry, The Rat Kingdom remains a priority. One day, you will discover the story of the Trans-Galaktic, a fanfiction in the Zero Universe.
Glory to the Horned Rat!
The first column led by Sigmund soon came within range of the crossbows. The Black Skaven ordered in a powerful voice:
- Shields!
The Vereinbarung soldiers obeyed. Barely a second later, bolts fell on the attackers. The wood and metal of the shields trembled under the violent shocks of the deadly steel heads which ricocheted loudly off them. Captain Steiner yelped in rage when he saw two of the riders fall from their mount. The first had received a mortal projectile in his throat, and died instantly in a geyser of blood. The second, hit in his side, rolled in the mud, and found himself crushed under the hooves of the horses.
But this didn't weaken the determination of the citizens of the principality. No one else slowed down. Sigmund encouraged:
- Come on! Let's keep going!
The cart on which the improvised ram rested was pushed by a dozen soldiers on foot, themselves protected by the shields of their comrades. In less than a minute, Sigmund and his troops had arrived at the foot of the wall.
- Infantry, break down this door! Cavaliers, raise your bows!
The Vereinbarung army had planned the coup. While the fighters on foot were busy ramming the portcullis, the horsemen stayed back to avoid the projectiles launched by the Bretonnian soldiers, and defended the infantry with arrows.
The Bretonnians were already throwing at the soldiers of the Rat Kingdom cobblestones, manure, and boiling water contained in cauldrons prepared for this purpose. There were cries of pain, long moans, then a loud thud; the harrow had just suffered a first water hammer.
The horsemen seized bow and arrow. The riposte whistled to the top of the ramparts. The Bretonnians took refuge behind the battlements, but the slowest were pierced through.
Sigmund had no bow. Instead, he pulled out of his satchel an object he had kept for the occasion: it was a brand new repeater handgun, the six-barrelled model mounted on an axle, manufactured in Nuln and imported at great expense by the Prince who had given it to his grandson as a gift, on the occasion of his appointment as Captain of the Black Guard. Sigmund didn't really like using this weapon, he had only used it for training, but a little intuition had suggested that he take it for this battle. Once again, he congratulated himself for having listened to this intuition.
He stretched his arm towards the sentries, and opened fire. The first bullet ricocheted off the stone of the battlement, and the other two hit their target, blow after blow. Of course, at this distance, and without the sharpshooting talent of Nedland Barnrooster, there was little more to be hoped for than the inability of who took one of those bullets, but for the Black Skaven, that was enough.
- Greetings from the "giant rat", bunch of rascals!
Left behind, Maximus Himmelstoss raised his hand.
- It's been a minute! Sergeant Lescuyer, head for the southern wall!
Sergeant Lescuyer in turn ordered the assault. Satisfied, Himmelstoss bellowed over his shoulder.
- All right, soldiers! Follow me!
The two battalions each charged from one side to take the castle in a pincer movement. In each of the two groups, the cart carrying Gabriel's machine was placed in the middle, pushed by the soldiers and drawn by two vigorous horses. The boom-boom moles were always stored in their wooden crate, which protected them from the Bretonnian bolts. During the travel time, two volunteers filled the tank as best they could with barrels of powder. More than once, the bumps created false movements.
The group led by Sergeant Mahaut Lescuyer was approaching the wall. Unfortunately, when there were only about ten yards to go, one of the wheels of the cart that contained the boom-boom mole got stuck in a hole. The vehicle stopped short, the operators were thrown forward in shock. One of them dropped his barrel of gunpowder, and spilled its contents into the cart.
The sergeant approached the chariot and knocked on the wooden wall of the crate.
- Everything right in there?
- We lost half a measure of powder, Sergeant!
- Forget it, it will still blow up. Continue to fill it up, we'll get you out of here. Go ahead, you guys!
And the soldiers cursed, gasped, and pushed. The raised shields unfortunately did not prevent the defenders' murderous shots from claiming a few lives in the process.
On the side of Himmelstoss, things went better. The soldiers pushed the cart without slowing down to the foot of the wall. The two operators filled the boom-boom mole with powder. In a few minutes, the crate arrived at the foot of the wall. Himmelstoss raised his shield above his head, and approached the crate.
- Have you finished?
- Yes, Sir!
- Perfect, leave this cart and get the hell out!
The two soldiers obeyed without argument. The tall Black Skaven dismounted, quickly wrapped the reins around a hook at the back of the cart, and jumped inside the large crate. He took a quick look at the machine. The smoke was hissing, the dial indicated maximum pressure. It was time to act.
Himmelstoss grabbed a horn attached to his belt, brought it to his mouth, and blew into it, twice in a row. All around the wagon he heard the soldiers of Vereinbarung shouting and scattering in all directions. Satisfied, he grabbed the starter lever of the wick, and pulled it. A metallic banging sound sounded as the motor started spinning the conical drill. Himmelstoss pushed the machine with all his might. The boom-boom mole shredded the wooden panel of the box, and found itself in the open air. The Black Skaven pushed, pushed again, and the device fell forward and hit the ground. Immediately, the head dug into the dirt, sending lumps of clay everywhere. Without heeding the Bretonnians who could now see him, he quickly grabbed the pin intended to release the spring of the lighter flint, and tore it out with a gesture. Finally, he jumped back, narrowly avoided three bolts which planted into the bottom of the cart, untied the reins that held his horse back, jumped onto the saddle, and galloped his mount as fast and as far as it could.
He was still heeling the animal when he heard the detonation, then a growl that grew louder and louder. Without turning around, he imagined the wall collapsing, the images coming all the more easily when the terrible crash of stone and broken wood reached his ears. He slowed his mount's pace, then looked behind him. A huge cloud of dust rose above the ramparts, but as it cleared, a huge hole, thirty feet wide, became more and more visible. Above the crater where the remains of the boom-boom mole lay, there was only a few debris left.
The standard-bearer of Lord Vaucanson, thrown to the ground by the collapse of the wall, got up painfully. His eyes bulging, his face become scarlet, he cast a thousand curses on the Skaven by thought. One of the crossbowmen, completely haggard, asked aloud:
- What… what was that?
Guillaume de Lombard felt his face flush with rage.
- I don't know, Soldier, but I know there's another one over there! Focus fire on it!
- Monsignor, if it can explode, it's because there's powder inside! Let's blow it up on the spot!
The Bretonnian knight felt a wicked smile tug at his lips.
- Excellent idea, Soldier! Hey, boys! Send everything you can that can burn on this crate! I will personally grant a knighthood whoever destroys this mechanical horror!
A loud crack then brought his attention back to the portcullis. The water hammer was shaking the whole structure, stronger and stronger.
- Keep fighting! For the Lady of the Lake!
Lombard was then knocked down by a violent shock to his helmet, right on top of his head. He rolled on the stones of the ramparts.
- Sir! shouted one of the crossbowmen.
- Stay at your post, Soldier! the standard-bearer ordered. It's just a flesh wound.
Guillaume de Lombard leaned against the wall of the crenel, slowly took off his helmet, and widened his eyes. The metal headgear was perforated with a small hole just above the forehead.
I've been brushed by Death from a couple of inches!
He clenched his teeth in rage, and spat at the attention of the crossbowman:
- Their leader has a gun! Take down that bastard!
- At your orders, my…
It was the crossbowman's turn to be catapulted to the ground, his throat pierced by a bullet. Lombard let his frustration run wild.
- YOU BUNCH OF USELESS FOOLS! PUSH THIS VERMIN AWAY! KILL THE GIANT RATS AND THESE INFIDELS!
He jumped to his feet, grabbed the crossbow the shot soldier had left, and aimed it over the parapet. He was determined to find the Black Skaven who was hiding behind a blasphemous technology based on gunpowder. A few glances at the mess at the foot of the wall, and he quickly spotted his target.
I'm going to send you back to your burrow, hairy monstrosity!
Lombard sneered to himself softly, the Black Skaven with his firearm hadn't spotted him. He aimed, concentrated, and pulled the trigger.
The bolt flew towards its target.
Like his lord, Guillaume de Lombard had just defied one of the prohibitions of Bretonnian Chivalry.
He didn't even think about it, too absorbed in his desire for victory.
Then by his frustration. The black rat had suddenly moved its head back to avoid a pike. The Bretonnian threw the crossbow down, and took his helmet back.
Vereinbarung's soldiers had finally succeeded in freeing the cart and driving it back towards Castle Beyle. Two Skaven and a Human still fell under the bolts. Sergeant Lescuyer cursed angrily.
- Shame on you, invaders! You put Bretonnia to disgrace!
A volley of metal projectiles answered her invective. She only had time to protect herself behind her shield. She turned her head towards the crate.
- So, how are the things, soldiers?
- We emptied everything in, Sergeant!
- Get out there, and help push!
There were only a few yards left to go. Finally, the cart reached its objective, at the foot of the wall. Sergeant Lescuyer leapt from her horse, entered the cart, and gave the signal to retreat with two blows of her horn.
- Come on! Back!
Then she grabbed the lever, and turned the machine on. The huge conical metal head pulverized the side of the crate. Lescuyer leaned against the drill and pushed so hard that she felt cramps straining her muscles, but she held on, and finally managed to tip the machine forward. As soon as the giant wick was planted in the ground, the boom-boom mole greedily attacked the earth. Lescuyer located the firing pin, jerked it out, and left the cart as quickly as she could. She leapt into her horse's saddle, and spurred it on.
She progressed this way for a good half-minute. She glanced briefly over her shoulder, and suddenly her heart leaped in her chest.
The boom-boom mole continued its undermining work relentlessly, but it was not completely abandoned: just a few feet away, a Skaven warrior was crawling desperately on the ground, his leg pierced by a flaming bolt. Even if he succeeded in smothering the flames that were already devouring his fur, he wouldn't have time to take cover from the explosion!
The unfortunate raised his muzzle, and his gaze met that of the sergeant. His eyes widened, he reached forward, and shouted something Lescuyer couldn't understand because of the din provoked by the boom-boom mole. She wanted to turn her mount and gallop to the rescue of the fallen soldier, but at the last moment something prevented her hand from pulling on the reins. A kind of survival instinct that screamed in his ears:
It's too late for him!
For a moment, Sergeant Lescuyer hoped to hear something like "I'm finished, save your skin, I'm dying for Vereinbarung!" or some other heroic last word. Alas, nothing came of it. She detected no determination to die in the eyes of the little Skaven, only an irresistible terror, mixed with a feeling of abandonment and anger. When she heard his desperate, angry moans again, she knew she would remember that scene as clearly the next night as all the others to come.
Finally, the boom-boom mole fully fulfilled its functions, and exploded. It was fatal, one of the debris took away half of the Skaven's skull. Then, the building collapsed in a thunderous roll.
The southern wall now had a gaping hole through which the rest of the sergeant's battalion could easily pass. Above all, the Bretonnians must not be given the slightest respite. Sergeant Lescuyer picked up her horn, blew it, then brandished her sword.
- Charge!
The regiment assembled behind the sergeant. Humans and Skaven raised arms and shields, and ran towards the breach with cries of defiance. Lescuyer heeled her horse, leaped over the crumbling wall, and aimed her blade at the stairs.
- The walls! Let's go up to the ramparts!
For his part, Himmelstoss was already inside the courtyard. Accompanied by his own band of men-at-arms, atop his horse, he struck down hand over fist the Human warriors who wore the colours of Bretonnia on their garments. As he expected, the inhabitants of Pourseille were there, but did not want to fight. Some, urged on by the Bretonnians, fought symbolically by half-heartedly waving their weapons, but they quickly threw them away as the warriors sent by Steinerburg approached.
He glanced up briefly at the opposite wall. Sergeant Lescuyer, down from her steed, was climbing the steps leading to the ramparts. Fortunately, the steps had not been swept away in the explosion. Thanks to the scouting work of Gilgalad Goldilock, the general staff had determined the ideal place to use the boom-boom moles.
The sergeant continued her ascent, her shield riddled with crossbow bolts. She relentlessly invoked Jeanne de Lyonesse, while clearing the way to the big winch. The assailants fell in her path, others were forced to retreat, surprised to see so much fighting spirit in a woman – Bretonnians were much less open-minded than the inhabitants of Vereinbarung concerning the relationship between the army and women. The soldiers following the sergeant, motivated, kept the shield high. Soon the crossbowmen found themselves overwhelmed.
And, regularly, the heavy portcullis creaked and trembled under the ram's repeated assaults.
Guillaume de Lombard felt his blood cool more and more unpleasantly. Little by little, the situation was slipping in his disadvantage. Soon he was just the last obstacle between the portcullis' opening winch and the invaders. However, he wanted to end the battle with panache. At the sight of Sergeant Lescuyer, he drew his weapon and brandished it.
- The Lady of the Lake animates my arm! Come and fight!
The sergeant stopped, and raised her sword vertically.
- Everyone stop! Leave that knight to me, and take care of the guards!
Humans and Skaven obeyed. The tall woman found herself alone facing the standard-bearer. The latter advanced, both hands clenched on the hilt of his long sword.
- I'm going to make you regret leaving your kitchen, woman!
- How gallant! Lescuyer quipped. Would you have said such words to Jeanne de Lyonesse?
- You are not Jeanne de Lyonesse! Lombard retorted.
The tall blond man jumped forward with a battle cry. The sword hissed, and ricocheted off the sergeant's shield. The brunette woman was surprised by her opponent's surge of savagery. Lombard was striking non-stop, while Lescuyer parried and dodged blows. She looked for an opening, but mostly tried to hold her breath.
Many attentive ears are amazed by tales of incredible fights where duellists gracefully spin like birds in an aerial parade, with death as their outcome. But these accounts do not emphasize the harsh reality of the weight of the equipment. Armour such as that worn by Bretonnian knights does not permit such ballets. There was no grace in either gesture.
Eventually, Lombard wanted to sweep Lescuyer's legs, but at the last moment he spun around as he raised his blade, and slammed it down with all his might from top to bottom. The sergeant barely had time to raise her shield. The shock was so violent that the young woman felt a sharp pain in her left arm. She had tears in her eyes when she imagined the bones fractured by the force of the blow. But she grimaced a smile, because her ruse had succeeded.
Lombard found himself panting, half galvanized by this half-victory, half out of breath. Maybe she had gained a second or two of respite. Enough for what she intended to do. She leapt forward, and crushed the hilt of her sword on Lombard's helmet. The Bretonnian yelped, his eardrums bruised by the sound of metal. Lescuyer followed that up with a second pommel strike, this time right to the exposed throat. Lombard gurgled, bumped into a crenel, and dropped his sword over it, gasping.
Mahaut Lescuyer was tempted to drive her blade into the Bretonnian's back, but she preferred to content herself with reducing her opponent to impotence. She grabbed Lombard by the shoulder, pulled him towards her, then buried her knee into his stomach, and pushed him aside. The standard-bearer rolled a few yards on the floor, and didn't move anymore.
She looked down, and tried to raise her arm. Alas, no way, her member was indeed mutilated. Furious, she unhooked her shield, and trotted to the winch. She stopped in front of the big, reinforced wooden steering wheel, leaned back on one of the arms, and pushed with all her weight.
Okapia whinnied worriedly. Even if the threat of the crossbowmen had practically been silenced thanks to the efforts of Sergeant Lescuyer and her retinue, the situation remained at a standstill on the side of the main door. Sigmund somehow reloaded his repeater handgun.
- Come on, darling, hold on! Courage, soldiers of Vereinbarung! You are almost there!
The combatants massed in front of the portcullis continued to ram it. It was then that the heavy, spiked gate shook, and slowly began to rise.
Shit! Our blows deformed the portcullis, I hope it won't get stuck!
He sighed in relief when he saw the heavy metal railing move slowly but surely, enough to let a horseman through. His ear twitched when he heard a soldier ask:
- Captain, shall we take the risk?
If the winch's safety hook was not in place, the portcullis could fall back, trapping the soldiers inside. Worse, it could crush someone. But on the other hand, Sigmund judged, they had wasted enough time, and the others inside doubtless needed their help.
- We take the risk, Soldier! Forward, charge!
In a jiffy, the Black Skaven put away his pistol, took out his sword Heart of Unicorn, and pushed Okapia towards the entrance. The Vereinbarung soldiers left the ram behind.
Himmelstoss was struggling fiercely. A whole group of Bretonnians threw themselves on him. He repelled the first with his spear, but another drove his halberd into his horse's head. The steed immediately collapsed. The Black Skaven had the reflex to make a huge leap on the man who didn't have time to tear his weapon from the body of the beast.
- Maximus!
The Black Skaven spotted a familiar face on his left: Pankraz Ickert. The latter ran in his direction. At the sight of his Black Guard comrade, Himmelstoss realized that Captain Steiner's battalion had breached the defences of Castle Beyle. He groaned with joy, pointed the end of his spear towards the barracks, and shouted behind him:
- Let's go!
The two brothers in arms rushed towards the building, followed by about twenty fighters from Vereinbarung. All of them shouted in defiance. Summons to Sigmar, Ulric, and Myrmidia rang out with the blows. Nothing diminished the ardour of Prince Steiner's soldiers, no obstacle slowed their progress to the barracks. The Bretonnians defended themselves fiercely, but were soon outnumbered.
The two Black Guards at the head of the battalion broke through the gates of the barracks and ventured inside. On the way, Himmelstoss saw through a door that led to a small windowless room several racks. Swords, hammers, maces, battle axes were gathered on the hooks. The Black Skaven kept this information in mind, as the group reached the stairs to the basement.
The Skaven of Pourseille were huddled together, silent, but trembling with fear. They couldn't see anything, but they could make out the furious sounds of the battle going on above them. The sight of the two Black Guards and their companions breathed life back into their hearts.
Himmelstoss ordered:
- Open those cages, lads!
The bars were strong enough to withstand escape attempts by those locked inside, but it was otherwise against the heavy weapons of the Vereinbarung soldiers. One lock after another gave way, and soon all the cages were open. The villagers of Pourseille hurried out. Himmelstoss raised his hand.
- Good people of Vereinbarung, you are free! Now, everyone with a husband, wife, or at least one child, gather around Private Ickert here. You all shall get out of the castle and take cover, no way to take risks! Carry the youngest children! Let your Human relatives follow you, they will flee with you when they see that the Bretonnians can no longer harm you. All singles capable of holding a weapon, stick with me, we'll clear the way for Ickert's group, then cover their escape! Come on, there's a small armoury in this building.
Ickert then heard someone call him. At the very end of the corridor, there was a reinforced door, with a small opening cut in its upper part. The Black Skaven beckoned to Himmelstoss.
- Take them all to the armoury, I'll see who it is, then I'll join you!
Soldiers and prisoners marched up the hallway to the stairs, while Ickert trotted in the opposite direction. The Black Skaven approached the reinforced door, and recognized through the opening the face of the chaplain of the princely family, whom he had already had the opportunity to see a couple of times.
- Hey, you're Prior Romulus, aren't you?
- Yes I am!
- I am Pankraz Ickert, of the Black Guard. We all came with Captain Steiner!
- So, Sigmund is with you?
- Affirmative, Prior! Wait, I'm going to open this door!
- Do you have the key?
- Nope, but I have my muscles. Step back!
The prior obeyed, and moved away from the door. Ickert gathered momentum, and threw himself against the reinforced wood. Unfortunately, the heavy door was even stronger than it already looked. He tried several times to push it, he only managed to bruise his shoulder.
- Come on, Soldier, this door is too solid. Don't waste your energy, and take care of the citizens, you will be more useful to them.
- But… Prior, I can't leave you in there!
- Don't worry about me and go back to helping others, my young friend! You'll get me out of here later!
- All right!
Sigmund and the others were slowly approaching their final objective: the dungeon door. The captain of the Black Guard didn't hold back his blows against the Bretonnians, as if he fixed on each of them a share of the responsibility for the murder of his father. The Human peasants of Pourseille attacked only very symbolically. Suddenly, one of them stopped and pointed at something. Without taking his eyes off him, Sigmund stepped back and turned his head. He then saw a sight that warmed his heart.
All the Skaven prisoners were surrounded by the soldiers led by Ickert and Himmelstoss. At the sight of them, the inhabitants of Pourseille quickly changed their attitude: they immediately dropped their pitchforks, sticks, hatchets and other improvised weapons, tears in their eyes, and rushed towards the captives to hug them. Those who had not adopted Skaven postponed their assaults on the Bretonnians, both to cover their folks and to take revenge on their jailers. The Vereinbarung fighters pushed back the Bretonnians and protected the peasants, Humans and Skaven. The compact mass moved towards the breach opened by the boom-boom mole. Sigmund raised his arms in triumph.
- Yeah! Go ahead, escape! We take care of the rest!
Guillaume de Lombard felt an excruciating pain radiating through his skull and pulsing to the rhythm of the blood in his veins. He opened his eyes, and quickly looked around. The noise of battle raged in his ears, but he was now alone, unarmed, among the corpses of his guards, and intruders. He scrambled to his feet, took off his bumpy helmet, and shook his head.
Below, he could see the prisoners fleeing among the peasants of Pourseille, who were no longer compelled to cooperate by means of pressure. The intruders were now cornering Vaucanson's troops at the foot of the keep, in front of the main gate.
- Goddamnit… Morbleu… Bloody Hell…
The standard-bearer spotted the small hidden door that led to the throne room by a side path. He had to mobilize the little strength he had left to put one foot in front of the other, to the door. He had to lean against the walls to reach the central spiral staircase. The ascent was a particularly painful ordeal for him, his apprehension growing as the distance between his liege and him diminished. How could he announce to Horace de Vaucanson that defeat was nigh?
Down in the courtyard, the last Bretonnians were driven by the energy of despair. Gathered in front of the large double doors of the dungeon, weapons raised, they waited nervously for a reaction. The Vereinbarung soldiers were around them, forming a semi-circle. They approached slowly, the semi-circle tightened. The stares became more and more menacing. Suddenly a loud voice ordered:
- Stop, all of you!
Everyone fell silent. The invaders retreated, and moved aside to let a Black Skaven, better equipped and more impressive than the others pass. Its coat was ruffled, its clothes had a few nicks, its cloak was in tatters, and its sine sword was red with blood. Its copper eyes sparkled under its helm. It raised his left hand, and articulated calmly:
- Soldiers, you are loyal to your lord, which I can understand. You want to obey orders and defend it to the death, that's honourable, I would do the same. But accept the obvious: there's many more of us than you. Those not with you are too wounded to fight alongside you, or dead. If you resist, we will exterminate you to the last. There still remains a way to avoid the worst for you; I give you a chance to surrender. Just one. Lay down your arms and let us pass, we won't harm you anymore. On the other hand, I'll kill anyone who shows even an iota of resistance.
The Bretonnians, mute with anguish, did not answer, but exchanged anxious glances. One of them lost his mind and threw himself on Sigmund. His halberd hissed through the air. Sigmund leapt forward, neatly intercepted the weapon, grasping it firmly with his left hand, and Heart of Unicorn ripped through the soldier's jacket and belly in a flash. The man cried out in pain as his guts splattered on the dirt. He collapsed in his blood and did not move.
Sigmund tore a fragment of his cloak, wiped the gromril blade of his sword with it, and looked up at the Bretonnians. He asked in a neutral tone:
- Does someone else want to try me?
Appalled, Vaucanson's soldiers all threw down their weapons as one man and moved aside. Satisfied, Captain Steiner sheathed his sword.
- Good. Himmelstoss, take a dozen volunteers, put these gentlemen in a corner and keep an eye on them. Others…
But some of the Skaven prisoners who remained with the Vereinbarung fighters, eager to do battle with the Bretonnian leaders, rushed through the doors and up the stairs with furious squeaks and hisses. Sigmund was surprised and outraged.
- Hey, ho! Stop, you idiots!
Growling a hundred curses, he rushed into the dungeon, followed by Ickert, Van Habron, and a bunch of warriors.