There were only a few more yards to go down.
Sigmund had to walk a long time, several long minutes, to find a place on the cliff that was passable enough to descend without too much danger. Every second could be one too many. On the other hand, he should not rush and take unnecessary risks.
When he thought he had descended far enough, he let himself fall into the bottom of the chasm. Then he rushed in the direction where he had seen the two fighters tumble. His heart pounded loudly in his chest. He distinguished in the darkness and the clouds of dust the imposing silhouette of Blokfiste of Clan Moulder, who had his back turned to him. At his feet, Sigmund spotted Horace de Vaucanson. The Bretonnian was laying full length on the ground, his back pressed against the rock wall. The ochre Feral Skaven looked safe and sound, his claw had allowed him to go down without being seriously injured. He was leaning towards the Human, emitting mocking chuckles, and waving the extended metal claw fingers of his left hand.
Sigmund drew Heart of Unicorn. He handled its pommel tightly, thought of Bianka, and whispered:
- For your virtue, my Unicorn.
Then he brandished it towards the Feral Skaven war chief.
- Blokfiste! Leave him, and meet-face an opponent to your measure!
The ochre Feral Skaven spun around. He growled in defiance.
- Another pathetic-miserable traitor to the Horned Rat!
The insult didn't affect Sigmund, unlike the prospect of fighting against this enemy, which excited him more.
- Finally! You douchebag! It's down to you-me! No place to flee for you, this time!
- "This time"? Wait-wait…
Sigmund raised the visor of his helmet. Blokfiste's face alternately expressed deep reflection, then unpleasant surprise.
- I remind-remember you! You're the Stormvermin that interrupted Karhi's ritual!
Sigmund smiled cruelly. Now that Blokfiste knew who he was dealing with, his victory would only be more delicious.
- Yes, it's definitely me, and I dislocated-tore your arm off, too!
- Ha! My Clan made me stronger! Behold my spare arm! Much more formidable than the old one!
- I hope you enjoyed it well, Blokfiste, because today, I'm going to finish-achieve the job!
Sigmund closed his helm and approached, with evil in his eyes. He thought briefly about everything he had lived in the last hour: the repeated assaults, his comrades fallen one after the other, Joop van Habron in the lead, the strange Feral Skaven child with glowing eyes dead between his arms, the mutant flies, the commander massacred in an obscene manner by this war chief who had already ridiculed him at the Nichetti Estate... The bill looked particularly steep!
The Black Hunger was only waiting for a signal from him to be unleashed, he felt it twisting in his intestines. But he managed to keep control of his emotions and his body. Indeed, if Blokfiste represented everything that the young Black Skaven hated and rejected with all his strength in the ratmen, with the addition of a personal grudge, contrary to what he had felt against Vaucanson, it was not a mad rage against the murderer of a loved one who inspired him, but the determination to rid the country of a filthy scourge. Justice, not revenge.
- Prepare to perish under my blade, Blokfiste of Clan Moulder!
Blokfiste responded with a bestial roar, and threw himself forward. His cannonball churned the air noisily. The Black Skaven was no fool: even with a gromril blade, he couldn't hope to parry blows delivered with such a mace. No, the slightest shock would shatter all the bones in his arm. He dodged a first attack, then a second. The ochre Feral Skaven continued the attacks without seeming to tire too much. Now that he was at a good distance, Sigmund could see how far the master mutator who had operated on Blokfiste had made of him a war beast.
The Moulder's entire arm was crafted with forged metal, articulated by intricate mechanisms and cogs, and powered by a miniature warpstone boiler grafted into the shoulder. A large cylinder was embedded in his back, directly stuck to his skin – which had, moreover, grown back in places on the metal surface. This artificial appendage was to be used to store the chain of the cannonball when it was not deployed, as at the present moment. In order to carry all this mass, the war chief's muscles had been pumped up with warpstone, and his torso was streaked with prominent veins that emitted a faint greenish glow.
The claws on his left hand seemed just as formidable as when they first met; dirty and rusty, they undoubtedly carried their share of disease and infection. But thanks to the heroic intervention of Commander Renata, Sigmund would not have to worry about the tail blades. So he could concentrate on Moulder's legs.
Blokfiste wasn't striking in a dishevelled manner either. In order to keep his breath, each of his blows was clean and precise. Sigmund had anticipated that this Feral Skaven was of a different calibre than the timid chieftains who took refuge behind the ranks of Clanrats under their responsibility. He knew how to fight, and added a touch of cunning to the brute force of his attacks. More than once, the Black Skaven narrowly avoided the ball. And every time he seemed to relax his attention, the ochre Feral Skaven punished him with a blow of his left paw. Fortunately, Heart of Unicorn was still very effective. Once, the iron claws got stuck around the ornate gromril blade. Sigmund took the opportunity to knock Blokfiste over with a shoulder blow.
The Feral Skaven war chief rolled on the stones, but jumped up in the movement. A violent scent of anger irritated Sigmund's nostrils; his opponent was losing his temper.
Blokfiste wanted to smash the Black Skaven's head by bringing his ball up and down, at arm's length. Sigmund stepped aside just in time to avoid the mass of metal. The ground cracked. Captain Steiner then placed his left foot on the ball, took support on it, and jumped on Blokfiste, his right knee forward. He felt a rib crack under the impact. Without wasting a second, he stepped back quickly, and raised Heart of Unicorn in front of him. A clever move, the iron claws passed half an inch from his face.
Blokfiste yelped in pain, and nervously placed his left paw on his chest. His eyes became bloodshot. He got angrier when he saw the traitor to the Horned Rat Stormvermin inviting him to approach with a small gesture of his left hand. He stretched his right arm forward, and shook it once to release the spring. The cannonball was thrown towards its target.
Sigmund dove to the ground, and avoided the projectile. He got up quickly. Blokfiste grabbed the chain, and spun the ball faster and faster, with bestial groans. The Black Skaven tried not to get distracted. Immobile, ready for action, he had to surprise his enemy, and to do so exploit the smallest opportunity. Sweat burned his eyes. Blokfiste approached closer and closer, sweeping the air. Finally, the Feral Skaven war chief threw his cannonball horizontally. Sigmund leaned back. The ball grazed his chin, and slammed head-on into the rocky wall of the cliff. A thunderous crash ricocheted across the chasm.
The entire cavern was suddenly subjected to violent shaking. Once again, Blokfiste's cannonball had damaged the rock. Sigmund felt every hair on his body stand up when he heard the unmistakable roar of a landslide. The two fighters saw stones falling all around them, at first small, then increasingly larger and more numerous, as the noise grew louder. The cliff split in places, and blocks of rock broke away and fell in turn.
Sigmund jumped in all directions, nose up, to avoid the debris of the wall. For a split second, he looked down and saw the lord de Vaucanson. The Human, still lying on the ground, had not moved. He didn't get up either, and just tucked his head between his folded arms.
What the Hell are you doing? Get out of here, now!
Sigmund yelled in pain when a stone hit his head. He put his hand to his ear, and grimaced when he saw the blood on his glove. But he didn't have time to worry about it any further.
A cloud of dust rose up and gradually blocked his view. Quickly, he found himself blinded. A violent impact on his back threw him to the ground, despite the protection of his breastplate.
Finally, after a long minute, the rumbling ceased, the stones stopped falling, the dust still floated a little, but quickly dissipated, under the effect of a current of air.
Blokfiste of Clan Moulder chuckled in triumph when he saw that he was the only one still standing. No trace of the Stormvermin, buried under the rubble. Yes, the Horned Rat had spoken. The God of the Under-Empire had punished the pitiful traitor, and rewarded the faithful servant. He was blessed. Karhi would have to treat him like a champ as a result!
He turned to the man-thing. The landslide had almost spared him. He wouldn't.
- It made me hungry, declared Blokfiste in reikspiel. You will be my meal, man-thing!
Horace de Vaucanson responded with a simple grunt of contempt. Blokfiste shook his arm to retract the chain. Once the cannonball was back in place, he slowly approached the knight. He clashed the blades in his left hand to produce sparks. But when he was only a few steps away from his victim, he stopped short.
His ear had just swivelled behind him, disturbed by a slight noise.
He turned on his heels and looked around carefully.
Nothing but piles of gravel and a little more dust.
And yet, this annoying little friction continued. He could hear it over the clash of weapons that still echoed above him, as his Clanrats continued to fight.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small pile of stones moving, as if something was scratching inside. Suddenly, the Black Skaven's hand pushed back a pile of earth. In a few seconds, Sigmund extricated himself from the debris and got back on his feet.
Blokfiste had a strange feeling. He was sincerely impressed. Even as traitor to the Horned Rat, this Skaven was uncommonly obstinate.
- You're much tougher-tougher than I thought, indeed!
Sigmund didn't answer. His breathing was harsh, but it wasn't fatigue that was making his breathing heavy, but furious anger. He firmly grabbed Heart of Unicorn, and advanced towards Blokfiste, determined to put an end to it. No more holding back his blows or showing subtlety, he was going to let his rage explode.
As he approached, he expected to see the large ochre Skaven lunge at him, but the latter did nothing. On the contrary, his features relaxed.
- Why-why, O Mighty One of the Horned Rat?
The Black Skaven stopped, taken aback by this question.
- I beg your pardon?
- Why are you doing all this? Why are you against us? Why do you fight alongside the men-things? You could be an exceptional Clawleader! Why did you stand up against the Horned Rat, when he made you one of his Mighty Ones?
- I'm not a Mighty One of the Horned Rat, Blokfiste! I pray to Verena-Shallya. That's why!
The other insisted.
- Did they even give you a choice? Or did they take you away, like the pups we got-took back?
- No. I was born among them, I have always lived among them, but above all, I chose to be one of them! If I really wanted to be a Stormvermin, which kills everything it doesn't like, which gobbles up everything it can, and which rapes every girl who comes within reach, I would be. But I will remain a Human at heart, that's how I feel good.
- And I say you're wrong, Son of the Under-Empire!
- I am not a Son of the Under-Empire! We do not belong to the same world!
- Of course you do, Stormvermin! You don't belong to the world you think you do, but to the one you're fighting. You reject-reject what you are, whereas with Karhi, you could have everything!
- I have a loving family, Blokfiste. What better can the Under-Empire offer me? Your world has nothing that could interest me!
The ochre Feral Skaven changed his angle of speech.
- You are a liar-hypocrite! I accept what I am!
- Yes, you are a raving madrat I'm about to calm down once for all!
- I am the instrument of the Horned Rat! I feel good serving his will, and helping my people live on the surface as he wants!
- This is also what I do! I help the Skaven live happily!
- You don't! You say it, but you don't really mean it, Mighty One. You should not.
Sigmund then realized that Blokfiste had really changed his behaviour. His voice, his face, even his pheromones no longer emitted aggression, only a kind of bitterness.
- You're lying to yourself. I guess-guess... the men-things forced you to deny your instincts so that you could be their little doggie. You are much more than that, Stormvermin! I see it in your eyes. You are a Mighty One of the Horned Rat, and I even feel you are blessed by the Black Hunger!
- Black Hunger is not a blessing! It's a wound I fight every day!
- Precisely, you should stop fighting, and fully assume who-what you are.
- This is what I do. I'm a man, not a monster who smashes children to turn them into killing machines!
Sigmund already saw himself tearing Blokfiste's head off. But as he took another step forward, he stopped short. Looking down, he saw his hands trembling, his fingers slipping on Heart of Unicorn's hilt. Just as if he was losing control of his own body. He looked up and met the gaze of the evil Blokfiste. The latter was no longer afraid. On the contrary, he seemed almost friendly.
- Join us, Mighty One. Take back the place that is rightfully yours. You would cover the Horned Rat with glory-joy!
It was too much for the young Black Skaven. He raised his sword and screamed until his vocal cords tore:
- NEVER!
- SO, DIE-DIE!
Blokfiste swung his iron arm forward, and the cannonball went straight towards the Black Skaven. Sigmund had anticipated this attack, of course. He rolled to the side, and avoided the deadly projectile. He got up, but instead of continuing his course towards the Feral Skaven, he pivoted to the side, and brought Heart of Unicorn down, its point first, towards the chain. The sinusoidal blade slipped just into the gap between two links. He pushed it as far as he could into the ground. When Blokfiste raised his arm to bring the ball towards him, he felt resistance in the mechanism. He growled in anger. The chain was stuck by the sword!
The Black Skaven ran at full speed towards the ochre Feral Skaven. He raised his arm, leaped forward, and crushed his fist with all his might on the war chief's enormous muzzle. To his very unpleasant surprise, a violent pain erupted in his knuckles. His folded fingers were compressed on the surface of his target, which had absorbed the blow without flinching.
That was impossible! Aberrant! The nose was usually a particularly sensitive area, and a blow like that should have put Blokfiste out of action!
But this Moulder had forgotten to be stupid: as he was aware that a snout of this size was an easy and tempting target, he had ordered the master mutator who had grafted it to make it as solid as possible. Extra muscles and cartilage, stronger bones, the thick skin of an animal... in any case, it was effective.
Blokfiste sneered wickedly at the top of his lungs, before sending his left hand towards the young ratman. Sigmund had the reflex to grab his wrist, despite the pain. The iron blades stopped inches from his cheek. The two of them pushed with many grunts.
The Black Skaven saw the clawed paw gradually approaching his face. He redoubled his energy to push harder, and had the idea of kneeing the Feral Skaven in the stomach. Blokfiste gasped, and Sigmund took the opportunity to send the two longest fingers of his left hand towards his enemy's eyes. The war chief squealed in pain. He brought his left hand down on Sigmund's right arm, gripping it tightly, then pulling him towards him. The Black Skaven panicked when he understood the manoeuvre; Blokfiste craned his neck forward, and snapped his powerful jaws. His monstrous incisors, ready to tear out his throat with a single bite, gleamed under his enormous muzzle. The young captain's full-face helmet wouldn't withstand such powerful jaws.
Sigmund placed his right hand on Blokfiste's chest, and tried to push him away with the energy of despair. He wasn't going to die in such a nasty way, because of such a hateful creature! The Moulder's fetid breath made him gag. His right hand, still sore, was on the verge of giving way. The chattering teeth grew closer and closer...
With such a hooter, you must have suffered martyrdom in the middle of all these Pestilens!
For a split second, Sigmund almost got angry to himself for thinking such a preposterous thought. The next fraction, he thanked the Gods for having whispered into him what constituted his salvation.
His idea invigorated him, and the pain became less debilitating. Without ceasing to hold on with his right arm, he contorted himself so that he could reach into his vest pocket with his left hand. He felt the little leather cylinder between his fingers. He gritted his teeth at the difficulty of this task: while continuing to keep the Feral Skaven as far away from him as possible, he had to open the protective cylinder and take the small bulb bottle which contained Sister Judy's medicine. Above all, don't let it down. He only had a single try.
After long, painful seconds, he held the vial between his thumb and forefinger. He quickly took it out of his pocket and thrust it into Blokfiste's enormous nostril. The Moulder grunted in surprise. Sigmund didn't give him time to react, and squeezed the pear.
Immediately, the oil concocted by the priestess of Shallya had its effect, an effect increased tenfold by the size and effectiveness of the war chief's impressive muzzle. A torrent of tears welled up in Blokfiste's eyes, and he began to pant, then cough, harder and harder. He had the reflex to let go of the Black Skaven to hold his throat with his one hand.
Sigmund catapulted his foot into the ochre Skaven's stomach. Blokfiste was thrown backwards. Held by the chain, he fell on his bottom, dazed, his right arm stretched exaggeratedly forward. Captain Steiner noticed something protruding from the metal cylinder attached to the Feral Skaven's back: a small lever, perhaps an emergency ratchet? He threw himself at the war chief and pushed the ratchet firmly. He was right: the mechanism started, and the chain tightened, then wound up to re-enter the canister.
Blokfiste was dragged the entire distance to Sigmund's sword. His face, his chest, his stomach and his knees were bruised by the friction. The Black Skaven trotted alongside him. When the stump of the war chief's arm came into contact with Heart of Unicorn's gromril blade, the mechanism jammed.
The ochre Feral Skaven squealed and groaned in pain. He placed the palm of his left hand on the ground to get to his feet. Sigmund reacted in the moment. He yanked out his sword and brought it down on the war chief's hand.
Blokfiste screamed. He feverishly tried to get up, but the young Black Skaven's weapon kept him pinned to the rock. He was barely able to crouch, bent over. He raised his head. He then saw in Sigmund's eyes the same brazier that had terrified Qroshay just before his brutal death. A very unpleasant sensation, which he had not felt for a long time, compressed his lungs and twisted his guts: fear. Sweating and trembling, he asked painfully:
- Who are you?
The Black Skaven felt his ears twitch at this question. For him, that was the signal.
- My name is Sigmund Steiner.
Sigmund removed Heart of Unicorn from the flesh of the ochre Skaven with a single gesture, then used it to sweep the air from bottom to top. Blokfiste was carried away by the shock, but managed to stabilize and get back on his feet. When he saw his left arm rolling in the dust, he was finally able to let his terror express itself in a long cry. A cry that died in the back of his throat when he met the Black Skaven's gaze again. The latter spat:
- Son of Master Mage Prospero Steiner and Heike Steiner.
Sigmund sent his foot with full force towards the Feral Skaven's knee. The joint broke with a crack. Blokfiste shouted louder.
- Grandson of Prince Ludwig Steiner the First!
The Black Skaven threw a pommel blow towards Blokfiste's face, just under his disproportionate nose. Lips burst, two teeth popped, blood gushed, and the Feral Skaven fell flat.
Sigmund lifted the war chief by the scruff of his head and placed him on his knees. He slapped the ratchet on Blokfiste's right arm, giving slack to the heavy combat chain which slackened a few feet. The Black Skaven sheathed his sword, picked up the chain, wrapped it around the Feral Skaven's neck in one motion, and stood in front of him. He bent his head a breath away from that of the war chief, and growled in a voice hoarse with anger:
- And I am the worst nightmare of the whole Under-Empire!
Then he grabbed the iron links with both hands, went behind Blokfiste, placed his foot just above his buttocks, and he pulled on the chain as hard as he could, while pushing with his foot. The Feral Skaven desperately tried to wriggle free, to no avail. His tongue stuck out of his mouth, his eyes peeled frighteningly from their sockets. The young Steiner, furious, was foaming, and the blood was beating at his temples like dozens of hammers on so many anvils in a factory in Nuln. He barely heard his own voice when he roared:
- CAN YOU HEAR ME, BLOKFISTE? THE WORST!
When he felt the last strength that animated Blokfiste weaken, he pulled hard on the chain. A horrible crack sounded. Sigmund let go, and let the now lifeless body of his enemy fall, which collapsed, limp and disjointed.
Sigmund took a deep breath. The pressure eased. The rhythm of his heartbeat slowed, his vision cleared, and he could hear again. He lowered an accusing index finger towards the corpse drowned in his own blood, and murmured painfully, his voice broke with sobs:
- Never forget this, you Moulder freak!
Tossed between relief and indescribable anger, he sank onto a large stone, buried his face in his hands, and began to cry loudly. He stood so for a long couple of minutes, then relaxed a few. It was then that he heard a small noise, the characteristic click of slow, calm applause.
- Well done, young fellow. I didn't understand a word of your exchange, but the gestures were very eloquent. You know how to fight, however you tend to get too carried away. This can play tricks on you, believe me. All you lack is control over your emotions. The day you know how to confront someone without getting so angry, you will be invincible.
The young ratman dragged the Human with difficulty. As he saw his former enemy one foot in the grave, despite all the aversion he had for him, his heart sank.
- How do you feel?
- I've had worse. Although...
The Bretonnian painfully removed his helmet and placed it beside him. He looked tired, but didn't seem to be suffering. Looking closer, the Black Skaven saw that the Human had both legs broken at horribly irregular angles.
- Yes, young man... I don't think I will deceive Death for long. I was happy to help you. You and your friends are worth it.
Sigmund couldn't answer. Only one question obsessed him: how could Vaucanson endure such pain without losing his mind or passing out on the spot?
- I don't feel anything anymore, Vaucanson replied, as if reading his thoughts. I think... my back is broken too. I can still move my arms, but everything below my belt... it's like it's gone. Well, it is Destiny.
Faced with the haggard look of the ratman, the lord grimaced as he supported himself on his hands to stand up, looked the Black Skaven straight in the eyes, and murmured:
- Finish me off, Captain Steiner.
- What… you…?
- Yes, you heard well. I am doomed, I feel that life is slipping away from me little by little. Even if I managed to get out of this hole... I wouldn't have much longer. So, you might as well die with honour, executed by a brave warrior.
- Me, a brave...?
- Did you doubt it? Come on… take your sword and cut my head off. That's what you wanted, anyway.
Sigmund placed his fingers on the hilt of his sinusoidal sword, slowly began to draw it from its sheath... then paused his action. He shook his head.
- No.
- What? Come on, young man, you are not going to let me die here? Shorten my torture.
- No, Lord Horace de Vaucanson!
And with a firm hand, he put away his sword. Then he grabbed the Human by his armpits and pulled him up by force. He sat him down on a rock and thought for a few moments. Then he removed his torn cape, wrapping it around itself.
- What are you doing? the lord asked, more and more perplexed.
Without responding, the Black Skaven stood behind Vaucanson, and passed the wrapped cape around the Human's chest, slipping it under his arms. He leaned against Vaucanson, and thus attached him securely to his back. He got up with a determined pant.
- You… you're not serious?
- I promised to let you return to your country, and that's what you shall do!
- I'm too heavy for you.
- You underestimate the musculature of a true Mighty One!
Thus harnessed, Sigmund set off at a trot towards the point of the wall which he had descended, with the intention of returning by the same route.
When he was at the foot of the cliff, his confidence diminished. The ascent promised to be more difficult than the descent, so with a Bretonnian in full plate armour... But he didn't have the slightest desire to give up.
He found a first protruding stone on which to support, and began to climb.
- You are insane, commented Vaucanson with a little laugh.
Without answering, Sigmund fixed his gaze on the summit, and tried to ignore everything else: the fatigue, the pain, the weight, the thirst... The screams, the blows and the clanging of weapons had stopped. The battle was probably over.
They would be able to get back on the plateau without danger. All he had to do was keep climbing, slowly but surely.
He placed his right hand on a stone, but it dislodged from the wall under his weight. He only had time to cling to another section of rock just above. He gritted his teeth as he felt a cramp lacerate his arm.
- Let me fall, muttered Vaucanson.
- Stop talking!
- Leave me, you have a chance to escape by yourself. Release that cape and save your skin.
- Shut up! Shut up, shut up! Keep your lips sealed or I knock you out!
Vaucanson gave another sad little laugh.
- You are more narrow-minded than a herd of mules!
- The only person in this world more narrow-minded than me is my mare! Besides, each of us tries to do better than the other!
The minutes passed like so many eternities. Little by little, the top of the chasm was getting closer and closer. Only a few feet left before reaching it. Suddenly the wall shook again. Handful small cobbles fell, and dust blocked Sigmund's nose. He felt the rock less and less stable under his powerful hands. He accelerated, hurried up, but the stones he was leaning on were fleeing one after the other.
Two strong, iron-gloved fists simultaneously gripped the Black Skaven's forearms.
- Come on, Captain, keep going, you're almost there!
Without asking any questions, the Black Skaven mobilized all his strength in his legs to finish his climb, helped by Human hands. He fell to his knees on the tray, and painfully caught his breath.
- Well done, sir! Sir Reginald de Villefort congratulated.
- You can breathe, we won! Sir Guillaume de Lombard added. The last Feral Skaven are in disarray!
Sigmund got up and looked alternately at the two knights.
- Sirs Knights, I suspect you wanted to save your Liege above all else, but I thank you for the helping hand.
Lombard answered nothing; he remembered the last words that the Black Skaven had spoken to him, and did not want to take the risk of pushing him to carry out his threat. On the other hand, the aide-de-camp appeared devastated.
- By the Holy Grail! My Liege, you are seriously injured!
- Good observation, Villefort, answered the Bretonnian lord ironically. This young man is going to take me to his camp so that their priest can try something.
- Ah… Are you sure…?
- He gained my trust. As for you, Villefort, I entrust you with command of our people.
Sir Villefort punched his left shoulder with his right fist.
- I will be worthy of you, my Liege!
- I don't have the slightest doubt about it. Now go get your horses.
- Should we not seek a third for you, my Liege?
- No, Villefort, I won't be able to hold on to it, I'm afraid. But don't worry, it seems Captain Steiner is taking care of this chore very well.
Villefort and Lombard didn't take long to return, each on a horse.
- Villefort, go join our troops and finish eliminating these vile creatures. No one should run away and risk coming back for revenge. For the Lady of the Lake!
- For the Lady of the Lake! Sir Villefort replied, before heeling his steed and disappearing into the tunnel.
The Bretonnian lord held out his hand towards his standard-bearer.
- Lombard, you shall open the passage for us to the exit, in case one of these rascals is still hanging around. Go ahead, we'll join you.
Lombard looked down at Sigmund.
- Captain Steiner, you don't want me to bring you a mount?
- I refuse to ride any animal other than Okapia! retorted the Black Skaven. She's waiting for me at the entrance, and I'm going to join her!
- It's a waste of time, Cap…
- I don't care! When we leave this quagmire, you will be surprised how fast she can gallop!
The knight felt stung by the ratman's brutal verbiage. But then he saw his liege wave vaguely, as if saying "forget it."
- As you wish. I'll make sure no Feral Skaven attack you.
Then he left the cave at a gallop.
- You must not blame them, Captain. Like you, they learned to obey orders, fight with honour, and defend their country and their ideals.
- I don't blame them, Lord Vaucanson.
- Are you sure you'll make it?
- I left Okapia at the desecrated temple, it's not too far. Come on, enough wasted time!
The Black Skaven set off on foot following the standard-bearer, at a run, the Bretonnian lord still on his back.