Seated on the throne, scarlet-faced, Horace de Vaucanson was furious. His fingers tapped the armrest of the seat. Nobody dared to say anything. Neither Sire Reginald de Villefort nor Sire Henri de Beyle, let alone the few guards that Vaucanson had kept close to him.
- You good-for-nothings…
Not one of the men present had the audacity to utter a word. Everyone was feeling the storm about to break.
Beyle jumped as furious banging rattled the door.
- My Liege, my Liege!
Vaucanson recognized the standard-bearer's voice. He ordered the two soldiers standing in front of the door.
- Open to him, and close quickly!
The guards obeyed. Sir Guillaume de Lombard hastily passed through the door, and stood before the throne.
- My Liege… The rats have entered!
- How the Hell did they do it?
- Their war machines broke through our defences.
- I saw it, you imbecile! But you were supposed to be able to fend them off! And you justly had good defences! So what, can't you fight anymore?
- I am… sorry, my Liege. We did everything we could.
Sir Henri de Beyle was as white as a sheet. He was shaking with terror, and his face was flooded with sweat.
- There is nothing more to do! We are doomed! They're about to slaughter us all!
He threw himself at the feet of the lord de Vaucanson.
- Save me! Tell them I had nothing to do with this! I just housed you and your men! I don't want to die!
Vaucanson jumped to his feet, seized the fat man by the scruff of his neck with an iron fist, and glared at him. Then, without letting go, he spun it around and yelped in his ear:
- Get lost, you miserable coward!
He punctuated his injunction with a solid butt kick. De Beyle sprawled on the floor, got up, and ran towards the door, weeping with terror. He moaned more when he lowered the handle, and the door stayed shut.
Vaucanson tapped his foot.
- Unlock this door, poor morons! And you, Beyle, go to Hell!
The guard quickly turned the key in the lock. Henri de Beyle crossed it as quickly as he could, and ran down the stairs without ceasing to groan. Images more humiliating and frightening one another jostled in his mind: a trial, an impeachment, a revolt of the villagers of Pourseille… No way to determine what would be the worst outcome. Suddenly, his blood froze in his veins, as he heard the bestial cries of the ratmen coming up the stairs. He spotted a small alcove off to the side. He slammed into a corner, against the wall, and stopped breathing. The group of invaders roared past...but not a single ratman spotted him. When he was alone again, he breathed a sigh of relief, but preferred to wait for a better moment before continuing. After all, there would probably be their accomplices in the yard...
In the throne room, no one dared to say a word. No doubt, the Skaven were right behind the door. Furious blows rattled the wood and the hinges.
Lombard turned to Vaucanson.
- It has been an honour to serve you, my Liege.
- You can still, Lombard. Repel those cockroaches.
The door creaked with another impact. Villefort pulled out one of the swords hanging on the wall and threw it at Lombard, who caught it in a firm grip.
- Protect our Liege!
- With joy, Villefort!
The guards raised their weapons. Villefort and Lombard stood side by side, ready to strike. Finally, the door gave way.
Three Skaven burst into the room, shouting. They pushed past the guards near the door and ran towards the throne. The two knights chained a few reels together, and silenced the attackers in seconds.
The Bretonnians could see Skaven and Humans in the doorway, weapons in hand, but hesitant. This show of force had dampened their enthusiasm somewhat. However, they seemed about to jump in their turn, as a loud voice ordered:
- Wait! Step back!
The Skaven turned around, and saw Captain Steiner arriving. The musk of anger scratched their nostrils. Sigmund split the group, entered the room. He took off his helm, handed it to Van Habron, and planted himself on both legs, hands on his hips.
- This Human is mine!
- I only belong to the Lady of the Lake, you fool!
Sigmund drew himself up to his full height, and declared in a loud, impetuous voice:
- If you are really the noble Bretonnian that you claim to be, Horace de Vaucanson, you will take up the challenge that I am throwing at you! Face me in a duel! You against me, o virtuous knight!
To support his gesture, he withdrew his left glove, and threw it. The glove landed at the Bretonnian's feet in a light rustle of leather.
A great silence fell over the throne room. Everyone waited with apprehension for the sequence of events. Only Sigmund and Vaucanson did not show the slightest sign of anxiety.
The Human nodded with a small pout.
- You call me "virtuous knight", but you don't know what you are talking about. You are not Bretonnian. You cannot imagine all the implications. Avoid talking about things you cannot fully understand. And besides, know that I have no more virtue. Your friend Dieter Meyerhold broke it.
- Who did?
- The one you use to call "Prior Romulus". Your dear Prior of Shallya owes me a blood debt.
- I know it. My grandfather told me he had hurt you a lot.
- Your grandfather has a sense of understatement. Did he accurately describe to you how your priest of Shallya friend tortured my son to death?
Sigmund took the statement with difficulty. During the trip, he had imagined many hypotheses about the nature of Romulus's crime, but had not dared to imagine acts of such gravity.
- He didn't.
- Well, I tell you: Dieter Meyerhold, the man you call "Prior Romulus", killed Ignace de Vaucanson, my only son, in a particularly nasty way.
- You're lying!
- Do I? Do you really think I would have gone to such lengths to find him all this time and then bring him here, if it wasn't the truth? Your grandfather should have been franker with you about the true nature of the individual you are about to fight for: an assassin, a murderer who only gets what he deserves! I will execute him once your pathetic kingdom is at my feet, so he has the opportunity to fully repent of his sins! Sins that the few people who will still know him in the coming months will reproach him for until his death, which I foresee as painful as possible, and well beyond!
Sigmund already felt the Black Hunger prompting him to break the old man's skeleton bone by bone, but he remained stoic.
- It doesn't matter if Romulus did what you claim. It's not up to me to judge something he did a very long time ago, outside our borders. I'm here to punish my father's killer. Master Mage Prospero Steiner was killed under your order, wasn't he?
- Until now, I didn't put you in the same basket as my enemies, but your intrusion forces me to do so.
Sigmund gritted his teeth.
- Do not evade my question, I beg you! I thought you were more courteous than your standard-bearer who showed himself as evasive as you're now in front of my grandfather the Prince. But this time, there is no one to hold my hand! So answer "yes" or "no", Vaucanson! Did you order my father's murder?
- I didn't come up with this idea.
- You're bypassing my words again, Sir Knight! I'm beginning to be fed up with it! Have you implemented this idea in one way or another? Have you bought the poison? Hired the assassin? Ordered an undercover agent to put Jabberwocky blood in his wine? Do you recognize being part of the plot that destroyed Prospero Steiner's life, from near or far, Lord Horace de Vaucanson? Answer without pretence and with sincerity, for once! Otherwise, you'll be no better than the scum of the shallows that plagues the Barony of the Damned!
- Some respect, dog! Villefort exclaimed, sincerely shocked.
The Black Skaven swivelled his head towards the aide.
- I am not a "dog"! I am the grandson of Prince Ludwig the First! My blood is as noble as yours. Can you claim to be affiliated with your King? You can't? Alright then, whether you like it or not, my rank is higher than yours, so don't speak!
- On this point, he is not wrong, Villefort, observed the Suzerain. You did not have to intervene with the grandson of a Prince. Still...it's a matter of interpretation. Can the blood of a noble Bretonnian descended from the line of Gilles le Breton or one of his faithful servants be said to have the same value as that of any individual who has bought a piece of land in a sad-reputed place and proclaimed himself Prince of it?
The Black Skaven did not lose his cool. He held the Bretonnian's gaze again, and articulated quietly:
- If you knew the genealogy of my family, you would know that the nobility of the Steiner von Kekesfalva bloodline goes back to the time of Magnus the Pious, when he knighted Harold Steiner Kekesfalva. Admittedly, the family lost its title, but my grandfather kept an unofficial link with the Court of the Emperor, notably through Count Elector Helmut Feuerbach, who became his cousin by marriage. And by settling here, he brought to light what he had carefully concealed for years. Since the establishment of Vereinbarung, the Steiners have been a noble blood family, in the most official way. Yet, someone bruised this family, and I want to know who. So I'm asking you the question for the last time, Lord of Vaucanson: are you involved in the murder of my father? If you have a shred of self-respect left, answer my question without detour, bluntly.
The lord looked around the room. He felt all the people who could see him, Humans or Skaven, men and women, were waiting with Sigmund for his answer. Everyone was hanging on his lips. The next words he would pronounce would determine what would happen in the next minute. So he chose his words carefully.
- You want frankness, young man? All right. After all, you came all this way to ask me a relevant question, the least polite thing is to answer it. Without detour, bluntly. So listen carefully: yes, I did order the assassination of the White Skaven adopted by Prince Steiner. As I was telling you earlier, it was not me who had this idea, it was suggested to me by the spy I sent to you. He told me this was the first step to disunite all the people of the Rat Kingdom, strong enough to shake the foundations of Vereinbarung. This spy told me that more and more raids from your brothers-in-race of the Under-Empire are further weakening the people, too. Faced with this manifest inability of your family to guarantee peace on your borders, the people will vent their anger. The Steiners will all fall under the revolt of the Humans who will take revenge for having been so naive. The Rat Kingdom is an offense in the eyes of the Lady of the Lake and the Human Gods, these Gods whom, in your confounding cretinism, you honour despite the repulsion they feel towards you. Indeed, Sigmar, Verena, and the others hate you. I can't understand why they haven't already blasted you and your kindred on the spot. Either way, it won't matter to you soon enough. Everything will collapse in a few weeks under the effect of a very small impulse: the hand of my agent who has just poured a few drops of a fatty liquid into a cup. Like what, the greatest historical changes are sometimes due to very little.
Sigmund somehow absorbed Vaucanson's words. The blood pounded so hard in his temples that he felt like he was facing a full battery of drums. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, several times. The voices of the people he cared about shouted in unison in his ears "Kill him! Kill him!" without stopping. He also smelt around him the Skaven who shared his fury. Everyone was just waiting for a word from him to pounce on Vaucanson and tear him to pieces.
However, he wanted to be stronger. He loosened his jaws and muttered:
- Where is he?
- Who?
- That spy who gave you that dastardly idea! Where is he?
- He vanished I don't know where a few days ago, you won't find him here. However, this is not your most pressing problem. In fact, when you asked me to speak frankly, you said a word I didn't like at all. The one too many. The one that prevents me from letting you go without giving you a well-deserved correction. The time for words is over, let's make way for acts.
Horace de Vaucanson put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Unfazed, Sigmund returned the Bretonnian's gaze of defiance.
- Here is finally one point on which we agree.
The Bretonnian rose slowly. His gaze became even more contemptuous.
- I have never faced a giant rat, but there is a beginning to everything. What luck! I'll ask my seamstress to craft me a new bedside rug.
- Save your crummy insults for your troops and fight like a lord!
Vaucanson made a sign to the other knights and the guards.
- Gentlemen, please let us. It's down to him and me. Since that hothead loves his father so much, I'll send him to join him.
- Get out, guys! said Captain Steiner in turn. We're going to do this according to the rules of a one-on-one duel! Wait for us in the yard, and don't fight!
- That goes for you too, loyal subjects, added Vaucanson. Nobody but the two of us will cross swords from now on. Villefort, go ahead, and see that no blow is given!
- Van Habron, Ickert, follow them, and watch our men.
The Skaven and Humans obeyed the orders. It was a little difficulty for them getting through the door and down the stairs without exchanging more than vengeful glances. Sir Guillaume de Lombard was the last to leave the room. Before leaving, Sigmund insulted him one last time:
- You, the walking towel rack, remember I still owe you a waltz!
Lombard's face twisted nervously, but he didn't add a word, and went down the stairs in turn.
When he considered more closely at the Lord of Vaucanson, he felt the bile rising in his mouth. In reality, Vaucanson was like his troops.
From the beginning, he overestimated himself. He was convinced that he could resist us, we have just crushed his troops, and now he is sure to defeat me, while he is a tired old man, when I am at my best. I have to let him a way out.
Sigmund whispered:
- Last chance, Vaucanson. Surrender, and all is over. Otherwise, I kill you.
The Black Skaven was not lacking in desire, but he was even more determined to keep his promise to the Prince and bring him back alive to Steinerburg. He had just tried to impress the Bretonnian.
Without success.
- Surrender is out of the question! You insulted me, it's too late. Either way, I'll kill you. The Lady of the Lake demands justice. The sword of her will is about to strike you!
- You've lost your mind!
- And you'll lose your head! I'm going to plant it on a stake and toss your carcass to the vultures!
Resigned to facing the Bretonnian, the Black Skaven slowly drew his sword from its sheath. He brandished it delicately, held it firmly above his head, and pronounced these few words in a clear voice:
- For your virtue, my Unicorn!
Startled by the short ritual, the Human Lord raised an eyebrow. He read aloud:
- "Heart of Unicorn"… I see. Giving a name to your weapon is childish and pathetic.
- No more than worshiping a mug! Sigmund retorted scathingly.
At these words, Vaucanson burst into flames. He drew his sword sharply, and shouted:
- How dare you insult the Holy Grail, you filthy vermin!
And with a great cry of rage, he threw himself forward. He swung his weapon up and down with both hands. Sigmund only had to jump to the side to avoid the blow.
- Lord de Vaucanson, be reasonable! You're not in condition to fight!
- You believe that?
The Human then chained half a dozen blows. Sigmund dodged the first two, then wanted to gauge his opponent's strength. He took pains to parry attacks by sliding the steel blade over the gromril blade. However, as the blows went on, he felt a sense of surprise rising. Indeed, for someone his age, Horace de Vaucanson was displaying an unusually strong vigour.
- You're tougher than I thought, Sire de Vaucanson.
- All the more reason to fight more frankly than you're doing, ratman!
And Vaucanson spun, and brushed against the shoulder of the Black Skaven.
Alright... Let's have fun!
Sigmund decided not to hold back any longer. He attacked in turn. A few first passes of arms, without however putting all his energy into it and running out of breath too quickly. Despite his corpulence, the Black Skaven could show agility. He dodged without too much difficulty, or deflected his opponent's weapon when it threatened to hurt him, but if he did not tire himself too much, he noticed that Lord de Vaucanson, although much older than him, did not seem to be exhausted. It was surprising.
The two warriors exchanged a few more blows without one hitting the other, then Sigmund stepped back.
Without lowering his guard, Lord Horace de Vaucanson wanted to enjoy the respite, and asked:
- I would like to know something, ratman: what do you know about the honour of Bretonnia? You allow yourself to teach me lessons on this subject… Do you at least know what you are talking about?
Sigmund did not release his attention to answer.
- I do, Lord of Vaucanson. My grandfather used to read us stories and legends of your country when we were children, my sister and I. The images in these books spoke for themselves: I saw tall, dignified and virtuous Humans, proudly displaying their colours on the tabard of their shining armour, who travelled the world on their magnificent steeds to dispense justice. I really wanted to meet one of these folk heroes capable of defeating the most dangerous monsters, and punishing felons like the Black Knight Mallobaude. And now, for the first time in my life, I see one. You're really not living up to the legends!
- Such is the lot of legends, Captain Steiner. They are designed to make you dream, and make you forget reality. Prepare to be hit by the real!
A great burst of laugh rang in the ears of the Bretonnian.
- Ah, yes, the real! You are so well placed to talk about reality!
Vaucanson turned his head, and saw on his left the young man, more sarcastic than ever. Furious, he barked:
- Leave me alone! This doesn't concern you!
- I say! I thought this whole crusade was done in my memory? You're contradicting yourself, you're losing your mind!
- No, never! I am lucid!
Sigmund had spotted the sudden change in his opponent's demeanour. At first he had thought that the Bretonnian lord had given orders to someone hidden behind the standard, then he quickly realized the obvious.
He's talking to himself, but he believes the opposite! He's seeing and hearing things that don't exist! By Verena's Scales... he's becoming completely insane!
Gradually, the anger gave way to discomfort. This fight took an unhealthy turn which displeased the Black Skaven.
- Vaucanson, you're having hallucinations!
Vaucanson came back to the captain. The young man had disappeared instantly. Relieved to have regained control of his senses, the Bretonnian announced solemnly:
- I shall avenge my son, restore my honour, and honour my country, for King Louen Leoncoeur!
And the Human redoubled his aggressiveness. He resumed his attacks with renewed vigour, chaining assaults, alternating simple blows and complex tricks, fortunately known to Sigmund, who somehow managed to counter them, even if he felt more and more annoyed.
How can he deploy so much energy at his age? I underestimated him!
Certainly, it was quite possible to maintain certain vigour despite the years, with daily training and a healthy diet. Lord Vaucanson was probably in excellent physical condition. But that couldn't be enough, there had to be something else.
Suddenly, the Black Skaven understood what the Bretonnian had more. It was his belief. Horace de Vaucanson seemed driven by a desire to win, not only to defeat an adversary, but also to make his ideas triumph. Sigmund inwardly cursed. Wasn't he also pushed forward? Avenging his father was a motivation, but he had others, especially towards the citizens of Vereinbarung.
At least, that's what he hoped. He tried to justify himself, to restart the engine that fuelled his combativeness, but he couldn't. He suddenly remembered another aspect of the legends of Bretonnia, that of the influence of the Lady. He had read that the Lady of the Lake granted strength and stamina to those who sincerely believed in her word. Some knights were even shrouded in an aura of majesty as they slew the vilest creatures.
He has no such aura, and I'm not a vile creature, so what?
So many questions swirling around in his brain… and diverting his attention for a second. There was enough time for Vaucanson to whistle his blade in his direction, and the amount of questions distracted him to the point of misjudging his distance when he backed away to avoid the blow.
Sigmund moaned in pain as he felt the steel point slashing his skin, all the way up to his left shoulder. Vaucanson had struck just an inch from the edge of his cuirass, right at the seam of his jacket sleeve. But the Black Skaven didn't have time to worry about it, because the Human, swept along by his momentum, pivoted on himself, and swung a second blow, just as furious, on his other flank. The shock was so violent that young Steiner gasped. He gritted his teeth when he felt something crack in his chest, then a sharp pain radiated near his lung.
The pain coupled with the lack of air made him fall to his knees. Vaucanson took the opportunity to strike a dreadful pommel blow on the temple of the Black Skaven. Sigmund was knocked to the floor, barely hearing the clank of his sword as it skidded a few feet away.
- There. I hope things are clear now.
His eyelids tensed, Sigmund felt tears of pain and rage burning his cheeks. He rolled painfully onto his stomach, and put both hands on the ground to try to get up.
- No need to be obstinate, you worthless Captain. You've lost.
The Black Skaven pushed with all the strength that remained in his arms, and shook his head.
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.
His temples drummed until a migraine. An unpleasant sizzle plugged his ears. He vaguely heard Lord Vaucanson continue to provoke him.
- Your progenitor was just the beginning. I will personally carve up all of your litter: males, females, and the thing that bred you all. And I'll find a way to make them useful at least once. Who knows? Maybe I will start a new rat fur cape fashion?
Sigmund paid little heed to the threat. Normally, this kind of invective didn't reach him, because he knew very well that it was only intended to destabilize the opponent, provided he let himself be carried away. But he was way too smart for that. The problem was different.
He saw his father collapse on the carpet, squirm, cough, and finally blow his terminal breath.
He divined the prisoners of Pourseille, victims of the ill-treatment of the invaders.
He imagined the Skaven children, kidnapped by the obnoxious lackeys of a Grey Seer cowardly hidden in the burrows of the Under-Empire. Elsie, Bassilus, and so many others he wouldn't be able to save.
He saw his brothers, his sisters and his mother, all devastated by the announcement of his failure.
And when he opened his eyes, the only thing he saw was the mocking face of Horace de Vaucanson.
All his misfortunes were attached to this person.
He was about to lose his life, and this Bretonnian would continue to do evil around him.
No... An old branch about to break should not be able to commit such felonies and brag about it!
And this feeling of injustice tore her insides. Something else fuelled his anger.
He is not an honourable knight! He's a madman, a completely crazy miserable piece of trash who takes pleasure to swim in his own shit!
Something exploded deep in his belly, as an abominable roar scorched his ears. It was his own voice, animalized by Black Hunger. He jumped up. His vision was covered with a veil of blood. He felt his pain vanish, his muscles swell, his fur stand on end. His breathing became hoarse, and streams of saliva frothed his lips. His eyes were burning, his heart was beating faster and faster.
Sigmund then detected the change of mood in Vaucanson. The Bretonnian's arrogance changed to bewilderment, then to concern, as the scent of his fear rose violently in his nostrils, which excited him even more. With a quick movement of his tail, he retrieved his sword lying not far from him, seized it with both hands, and bawled with all his might:
- SHUT UP, YOU OLD WRETCH!
The Black Skaven leaped forward, and slammed Unicorn Heart down at the Bretonnian. He rolled to the side. The gromril blade shattered a table tucked away in the corner of the throne room. The piece of furniture was cut in half.
Vaucanson took advantage of the opening to attempt a thrust towards the Black Skaven. The tip of his sword skidded over his thigh. A brown stain immediately appeared on the captain's pants. But Sigmund only felt a slight twinge. His anger was such that nothing else mattered. Nothing more, if not one thing: to take Vaucanson's life.
Sigmund spun, and swept the air with his gromril sword. Once again, Vaucanson turned the blade away, but this time the blow was so violent he felt a pain in his arms. The Black Skaven faced Vaucanson, and twirled his sword. He hit harder and harder, faster and faster, spinning like a windmill caught in a cyclone. Vaucanson parried, but each blow hurt him more. He saw the Black Skaven's eyes become incandescent, like two embers ready to consume him.
Sigmund struck right, then left, then right again… then suddenly he held back the spinning motion and struck right again. Surprised by the manoeuvre, the Bretonnian didn't find the best parry angle. He dropped his sword with a growl of frustration. He took a step back, then moved to pick it up. The tall Black Skaven spun on his heels, and his tail slammed into the lord's face with a snap. Vaucanson was catapulted over the wall. He squealed as he brought his hand to his cheek, the blow had bit his flesh as cruelly as a whip.
He didn't have time to insult the Black Skaven. Sigmund was already running towards him. He slipped behind the banner in front of the staircase that led to his small, personal armoury. Then he dashed up the stairs. Behind him, the captain was entangled in the heavy drapery of red and gold velvet. Vaucanson guessed the ratman's claws and fangs tearing the fabric to pieces.
Finally, he reached the armoury. He slammed the door behind him and hurriedly put the latch. He had to act quickly and well. He looked around, and jumped. A terrible blow ripped off one of the hinges of the door. The Human heard his opponent's voice behind.
- VAUCANSON!
He then spotted the crossbow resting on its base. He smiled cruelly when he remembered the moment he had charged it.
The Lady of the Lake is with me!
Quickly, he rushed to the small weapon, grabbed it, and aimed in the direction of the entrance to the armoury. He gritted his teeth, ready to savour the sight of the wild beast collapsing to the floor. A second blow catapulted the door of its frame, revealing the silhouette of the Black Skaven, the sword clenched in his fist. The captain rushed towards the Bretonnian without hesitation.
Lord Vaucanson squeezed the trigger, and the deadly projectile swirled towards Sigmund Steiner's head.