And here we are. You understood, good old Psody wasn't dead! Anyway, I would like to tell you how sorry I was for playing this dirty trick on you. Honestly, when I posted chapter 52, it was a Christmas day, plus, I said to myself with a smile "I'm giving my readers a great gift", but I quickly became very sad. I had a few messages to this effect, not many, and fortunately none of these messages showed disappointment or resentment.
I shared something special with Psody at that moment: the frustration and sadness of not being able to reassure you. As our White Skaven had to keep his plan secret from his children and friends, I had to refrain from revealing everything to reassure you, and thus spoil important parts of the plot. I had to go all the way, and if you are reading these lines, it's because you followed me.
Thank you for accepting this rule of the game. I have ensured that there were no inconsistencies that could lead you astray, nor any flaws in the plot, and I hope you won't find anything of this kind. At times, I had to call the characters by their false identity, but I was always careful that it was through outside eyes. Same for the thoughts: I didn't display Fershitt Melted Mouth's thoughts in italics with intentions that a real Clan Skryre Warlock Engineer would have had. It would have been dishonest, because it would have been nothing more than a false clue placed there solely to mislead you, readers outside the plot.
Regardless, I would really like to thank you again for your loyalty and understanding. I hope that the rest of the story will live up to your expectations.
Glory to the Horned Rat!
- I wish I would have met him at least once, my boy.
Without slowing his pace, Sigmund asked:
- Who?
- Your father. If I had been introduced to him according to the right manners, I would probably have done differently.
The Black Skaven growled impatiently.
- What is done is done, Lord de Vaucanson. Stop distracting me.
- The master mage was a good person.
At these words Sigmund stopped. He gritted his teeth and barked over his shoulder:
- How can you be so sure of that? You had him murdered without have approached him!
- All I have to do is see you. It's easy to understand how he raised you… and what you are ready to do for him.
- Hum…
Captain Steiner wanted to reduce a little the rage that was panting him. He thought of another foreign face, friendly this time.
- You're not the first to tell me this kind of thing, Lord de Vaucanson. An ambassador from Estalia had the same impression about me.
- Did he? This is hardly surprising. You are passionate.
- And I should curb my passions, I know. Wring their necks.
- No, not necessarily. Tame them, but don't reject them. There is nothing more pitiful than a man devoid of the slightest passion. When passion becomes passive, there is nothing left to hope for.
The Bretonnian lord heard no response. He was disappointed, but accepted with resignation. Sigmund took the opportunity to resume his run. A few long minutes passed in silence. Lulled by the tossing, exhausted, Vaucanson felt his mind drifting more and more into the limbo of sleep, perhaps the last, when an exclamation woke him from his state.
- Ah, here we are!
The Human painfully turned his head, and saw a building he had briefly noticed when he arrived.
- This is the place we left the horses. If I believe what Renata told me, my mare is still waiting. There she is!
Sigmund felt a warm smile stretch and relax his features, and the feeling relieved him. Finally, after all these atrocities, he saw a familiar and friendly at the same time face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the few Dwarves who had survived the onslaught of the Clan Eshin killers. Sitting on the stone steps of the desecrated temple staircase, dazed, mute, they had no reaction to the approach of the Black Skaven.
Captain Steiner walked briskly towards his mount.
- I'm so glad to see you, girl! Sorry for hanging on!
Okapia raised her head, and let out a little relieved neigh when she saw her master. But she immediately changed her expression at the sight of the Bretonnian on his back. She jerked her head to the side and pawed nervously.
- I have the feeling she doesn't agree, Vaucanson muttered.
Indeed, true to her fierce reputation, she was already snorting, and moved aside when Sigmund tried to put his hand on her saddle.
- No! Okapia, no!
- She doesn't like me.
- She doesn't like anyone. I told you, she is like me, Sir de Vaucanson; more stubborn than a regiment of Kislevite Kossars! I'll have to reason with her. Would you mind if I drop you down?
- Go for it.
The tall Black Skaven crouched down and undid the bonds. Horace de Vaucanson fell limply to the ground. Without paying attention, Sigmund faced the mare. He gently stroked her muzzle, and whispered:
- Okapia, my best friend... I need you to allow me to carry this Human. It's so important. You are strong, you are fast, if you want, you can help me save his life. Do you want to trust me? Please…
As he spoke, Okapia breathed less and less nervously. Her gaze became less suspicious. Finally, she blew noisily through her nostrils, and grudgingly presented her saddle to Sigmund.
- Thank you, Okapia, replied the young ratman.
He carefully picked up the Bretonnian and placed him behind the saddle, then he reached into the saddlebag and picked out a coil of rope. He applied with caution attaching Vaucanson to the mare's rump.
- It won't be very comfortable, nor worthy of a lord, but if you hold on to me, it should be good until we get to the camp.
He undid the reins that held Okapia to the barrier, but stopped his action. His ear jerked to the side. No doubt, he heard a rather characteristic noise: a sort of gasp mixed with panting, to the rhythm of a limp. Sigmund turned his head, and saw a small figure emerging from the tunnel. It was a slave with a severed ear, the most miserable of the Under Empire's spawn. This sickly creature had its body covered in filthy bandages stained with various bodily fluids, and the few exposed inches of its skin glistened with pus.
With just one leap, Sigmund was already on his prey. Ignoring the risk of infection, he grabbed the slave by the bandages around its chest.
- Where are you going like this, you stinking jackal?
- I... I'm fleeing, oh magnificent-wonderful Stormvermin!
- You are one of them. Given your condition, if I let you go, wherever you go, you'll spread-spread plague!
- Pity-pity for poor little Gozib!
Sigmund secured his grip on the slave's throat and shook it.
- Give me a single reason-reason why I shouldn't rip your head off right here-now?
- Gozib is just a poor, weak-shabby slave!
- You serve the Under-Empire! You are my enemy, you have to die!
- No! Gozib regrets!
- You "regret"… Like Larn, that little Gutter Runner bastard who begged me to spare him so he could deceive me better? Is this the way you "regret"? the Black Skaven growled, raising his fist.
- No-no! No-no! Gozib is scared! Gozib doesn't want to die-die!
Sigmund wanted to unleash his anger again on a Feral Skaven. But as he was about to burrow his knuckles on the slave's muzzle, something stopped him. He understood this something was a sensation: his heart clenching with pity. Once again, Koursh's and Larn's terrified and desperate pleas squeaked in his ears.
Aware he maybe was doing a mistake, he decided he had had his fill of Feral Skaven blood for the day. He released his grip, and Gozib sprawled miserably on the ground. The Black Skaven lowered his head, and whispered:
- Out of my sight.
- Wh… what?
- You heard-understood me well. Go as far away as possible, and pray your Horned Rat never to cross my path again!
Gozib didn't have to be told twice. He got up, and hobbled as quickly as he could towards the exit tunnel. He passed as far away from the Dwarves as possible, which was no use, Barisson's men were still too shocked to react to his presence.
- Come on, run, you poor shit… muttered Captain Steiner, climbing onto Okapia.
He took place on the saddle and grabbed the reins. He felt the hand of Lord de Vaucanson on his shoulder.
- Once again, I didn't understand a word, but I saw the gestures. You acted nobly.
- How can you say that if you didn't understand anything?
- All you had to do was look at this unfortunate thing. From my point of view, you spared an enemy too weak to defend itself.
- A pitiful slave which will die in the coming days will not make a difference.
- That's what you think, my boy. I see the behaviour of a true Bretonnian.
Sigmund gave an ironic smile.
- I do not know how I should take it?
- As you wish. I advise you to take it as best you can.
- I'll see. For now, hang in there. When we are outside, it will be a full gallop! Come on, Okapia! We're getting out of this giant burial vault!
The mare obeyed, and guided the two men into daylight. A figure also on horseback awaited them in the light. It was Guillaume de Lombard.
- The path is clear, Captain! I saw a few giant rats... I mean I saw a few Feral Skaven running away, we'll catch them.
- Perfect. You shall accompany us, Lombard... I have a feeling you won't be of excess.
- At your orders, my liege! Captain, I follow you!
- The camp is not very far. Go! Giddy up, Okapia!
Psody and Gabriel entered an alley between two small houses. In the distance, they could see the main gate of the karak. Psody stopped, and held out his hand in front of his son.
- Hold on!
The White Skaven frowned and narrowed his eyes. A smell had tickled his senses. A smell that was not completely unfamiliar to him. Not that of a particular individual, but rather a place that had meant a lot to him. His ears fluttered at the sound of harsh panting, audible through the little White Skaven's incessant cries.
- Father, what is happening?
- Stay back.
A silhouette then tumbled out of the perpendicular street. It was a Feral Skaven, not very tall, but monstrously fat, which dragged its fat mass as far away as possible from the Vereinbarung fighters. Without paying attention to the three Skaven, it sat on the ground against a wall.
- These damn men-things... are going to massacre us all!
The master mage had plenty of time to recognize him.
- Garog! It can't be!
The obese Skaven raised its head and widened its eyes.
- Hey, who're you?
- I am the one your people use to call "Blasphemous One", you boar-faced buffoon!
The ratwife grimaced under the effect of violent surprise. Psody took the opportunity to explain to the little light grey Skaven:
- This guy is Brissuc's ratwife-in-chief. It was he who gave birth to me.
Gabriel didn't answer, but his throat tightened with worry. Garog growled.
- Psody? Is this you?
- Indeed.
The large Feral Skaven pointed at Gabriel, who took a quick step back, Emil clutched close to him.
- And this one? He is kidnapping the little chosen-chosen one of the Horned Rat!
- This one is my son, Garog. I strongly advise you not to approach him. As for the little White Skaven, he leaves with both of us.
- Karhi won't let you do it!
- Karhi will never-never be able to do anything to anyone again.
- You killed-killed him, huh?
- No, his stupidity was enough, he killed-killed himself by his own action.
The ratwife spat on the ground.
- They were right to call you so! You have been fighting against your people-kind, you have been slaughtering-suffocating us for years. You betrayed the Horned Rat to the point of denying-rejecting the gifts he left on your body!
- I will never betray the Horned Rat, Garog.
- So what are you doing? barked the ratwife.
- I do everything so that the Skaven live happily on the surface, as our God wants! And as for the gifts of the Horned Rat, I did not deny them-reject them; I disguised myself to trick your stupid master, and it worked-worked!
Garog gritted his teeth, but the master mage's response seemed coherent to him. Psody took advantage of his silence to question him in turn.
- And you, what are you doing here? The last time I saw you, you were in Brissuc, which was so weakened because of the Humans, and we picked up all the viable pups from the nursery!
- So that was rightly you, Blasphemous One!
- Yes, it was me. And how did you end up here? There were no longer enough Clanrats to support a complete colony in Brissuc! You would have never been able to come to this place by your own!
- That's right-right, Psody. After your sacrilegious act, someone came to pick us up.
- Who?
Garog gave a little laugh, and murmured in a mocking voice:
- I won't tell anything.
- Oh, yes, you will! Otherwise, it will end very badly for you!
Far from being impressed, the ratwife sneered louder.
- If you kill-kill me, you'll never find her!
- I'm not going to kill-kill you, just… huh? What did you just say? Who are you talking about?
The ratwife openly burst into laughing.
- My dearest little white benefactor, there is something Vellux never told you. A little secret I can reveal-reveal to you, now. The night you were born, when I saw you, I ordered my lackey to fetch Vellux. But when he came back and took you in his arms, the breeder that fathered you had new convulsions. A little moment later, pop! A new little pup on the litter box. There were not six of you, my little Psody, but seven. And the very last born was a female-female!
As the large, castrated Skaven spoke, the White Skaven felt his vision blur and his hearing muffle. It was easy for a Skaven in danger to tell any fib to stay alive, but deep down himself, he felt Garog was telling the truth. Too much conviction in the eyes and voice of this despicable ratman for it to be a lie. He uttered in a monotone voice:
- I… I have a sister?
- A what?
- A sister. It is a female Skaven related by blood, with the same mother as me. We say "brother" between Skaven of the same blood, or of the same Clan. The word "sister" doesn't exist among the Feral Skaven, because females have no place in their society. But civilized people say "sister". I just taught you something, fat-ass. Keep on going!
- Vellux immediately took her to the female nurseries, where she lived the same life as all the females. Who knows, you might have knocked her up without knowing it!
Garog sneered again. Psody asked in a scathing voice:
- Did she stay in Brissuc?
- No, Psody, your betrayal ruined everything. Vellux went to the surface to fight against the men-things. A few nights later, other Sons of the Horned Rat arrived to tell us of his death. They took breeders and pups away with them, and permitted us to keep some of. That's where they picked up your… "sister". I didn't want to follow them. Then, Brissuc was attacked by the men-things.
- Yes, I know-know. It was I who told them where to find you. I was hoping to eliminate you all!
- We managed to hide-hide in the nursery, and the men-things ended up leaving, they thought we were all dead-gone. I thought Brissuc would come back to life, but a couple of seasons later, you came back and took away in turn all the pups we had left! Because of you, for the second time, the colony was about to disappear! It was panic! I would have been better off leaving at the first opportunity! I experienced the worst-worst moments of my life!
- Stop whining, and continue your story, or I'll make you understand you haven't experienced the worst-worst moments of your life yet!
- Alright-alright. Another moon later, Clanrats came. They were the same real Sons of the Horned Rat than the first time, who came to check if there was anyone left in Brissuc after your visit. Offered to come with them. This time, we all accepted-accepted. They put us up here.
Garog caught his breath, tired from the interrogation. After having lived again these painful events, he no longer seemed boastful. The White Skaven felt his face harden further.
- What about my sister? Where is she? Is she in this colony, or was she transported elsewhere?
The ratwife remained silent. It was too much for the master mage. His pink eyes darkened to blood red. Then he raised his hands with a yelp, and immediately, a pair of giant hands made of rocks and dust shot out from the ground and grabbed the ratwife. He was compressed like a rat in the hands of a Human.
- You tell-tell me where my sister is, otherwise I crush you!
- Help! Stop!
Garog wriggled nervously like a monstrous pig being cut up, and ready to be slaughtered, his eyes shed a torrent of terrified tears. Psody lowered his arms, and the two stone hands lowered Garog's head to the level of the master mage's.
- Speak, you ball-less bonehead! Who came after Vellux died? Who collected the breeders and the pups before the big clean-up by the men-things? Who came back for you after my Harvest? Who are these "same true Sons of the Horned Rat"?
- Tweezil! It was Tweezil of Clan Eshin!
Psody almost jumped when he heard the name come from deep in his past. At the same time, after finding Garog, it was the logical next step. The ratwife, dripping with sweat, explained hurriedly:
- Men-things with him, paid to evacuate us! Tweezil allowed me to settle here, with White Skaven named Karhi! Karhi commanded this colony, but I don't know where the female related to you by blood birth is, I swear! May the Horned Rat make me rot immediately if I lie!
- Tweezil was the Nightleader. He was an enforcer, not a colony leader who makes a deal-deal with Humans. When he returned to Brissuc, Vellux was already dead, he obviously had another leader!
- Um... Maybe?
- Who gave orders to Tweezil? Come on, spit it out, you piece of lard!
- Tweezil was with his men-thing mercenaries, no one else! Please-mercy, I don't know anything else! Let me go-go!
- I haven't finished; tell me how many white pups Vellux produced?
- What?
- Several breeders were serviced by Vellux before his death. One of them gave him Iapoch, and another laid Karhi, is that right?
- Yes-yes!
- And so, Iapoch and Karhi were brothers?
- Yes, smart-clever Psody! Both sons of Vellux! They were laid just after Vellux disappeared. And a moon later, they were both taken away and bought by Tweezil and his men-things. And I didn't follow them, and I really should have, I regret!
- Were there others? A third White Skaven, maybe a fourth one?
- No! I only gave birth to Iapoch and Karhi! I beg you, O Grand Master of the Rat Kingdom, spare me, that's all I know!
- Tell me where my sister is, or else…
The giant stone fingers tightened their grip on the ratwife's neck and ribs.
- Ouch! I don't know! Gone with Tweezil and the men-things, like I said! I swear, it's the truth! Please-please, magnificent-terrific Psody, I can't say anything more!
- Father, don't kill him! Gabriel wailed, afraid of seeing the White Skaven do him a worse fate than Karhi's.
Without letting go of his prey, the White Skaven glanced over his shoulder.
- Don't worry, Gab.
Then, returning to Garog, in Queekish:
- I'm not going to kill you, Garog. I'll just…
He made a small gesture. The stone hands forced the large Feral Skaven to turn, not letting him stand up. When the unfortunate prisoner found himself with his back to Psody, the White Skaven clapped his hands, and the magical arms crumbled into dust. Garog fell hard on his knees, and scratched his hands on the stone. Without giving him time to catch his breath, Psody made a small series of gestures in the air with his right hand, and a new appendage, shaped like a boot this time, materialized just behind Garog and delivered a masterful kick in his enormous rear end. The ratwife took off, rolled on the pebbly ground, and fled, squealing in pain, as quickly as his short legs could support his heavy carcass.
Psody laughed out loud.
- Look at this big clumsy!
Gabriel chortled in turn. Then, perplexed, he pouted and asked:
- What did he tell you? I did not understand.
The master mage regained his serious expression.
- He told me Karhi was indeed another son of Vellux. The two White Skaven who threatened Vereinbarung were brothers.
The young light grey Skaven's face wrinkled in thought.
- He didn't try to lie to you, did he?
- I don't think so. Given the scare I gave him, he couldn't have done it. Not brave-bold enough for that. And then, I spent enough time near Karhi to see and understand him. There is the look, the voice… and then the smell.
- What smell?
- I smelt a light scent beneath the rot-decay, when I joined you.
- You hadn't smelled that smell earlier?
- Not while I had my Fershitt Melted Mouth helmet. Without it, I am sure, the smell of his corpse was indeed Vellux's. It makes sense: they are two White Skaven born from the same father, with the same ideas of anger-revenge in their head, and who attacked the Kingdom at around the same time.
- "At the same time"? No, we only had to go to war against Iapoch, after the last Harvest.
- Karhi threatened Sueño with his ritual just before Iapoch's attack, remember. They worked together. Well, anyway, just a few weeks apart. But there were only two of them, according to Garog. However…
Psody thought about this second statement. There, again, he had not perceived the deception behind the fat ratwife's words.
- Gab… you have an aunt-aunt.
- What… Huh?
- This trunkless oliphant told me after me, the breeder who spawned me gave birth to a female.
- Amazing! And is she there?
- No, and I don't know where she is. Garog didn't know that.
The White Skaven took the time to look at his son, and whispered:
- Let's keep this question in a corner of our head-mind, and let's get out of here.
- With pleasure, Father!
The camp was a few minutes galloping distance from the entrance to Ysibos. The sun was high in the sky, and the mist had almost completely cleared. It was mid-afternoon, and the rays of the heavenly body with their beneficial warmth were more than welcomed by the occupants.
Prior Romulus, assisted by Sister Astrid, was taking stock of the number of injured and the nature of their injuries. It hadn't taken long for them to tie up and disarm the Feral Skaven anesthetized by Gabriel's gas. Sergeant Lescuyer and the others had collected the rusty and poor quality weapons of the ratmen, then set fire to the so constituted pile.
Despite the strategy developed and the audacity of the militia, the losses were significant. Commander Renata was not the only one to lose her life during this succession of clashes. The wounded were not very numerous, because the Feral Skaven had not done half-measures; the citizens of Vereinbarung who were unable to escape on their own had quickly been torn to pieces and devoured by the Clanrats.
At the entrance to the camp, two soldiers were watching the surroundings, on the lookout for the slightest movement. They had already intercepted some fugitives from the Underground Empire. They quickly spotted two horses galloping in their direction.
- Hey, here are some more coming.
- One moment... Have you seen the coat of arms of the rider on the left?
- What? Oh, he's a Bretonnian!
- Yeah, like Pourseille's! What is he doing there?
When they arrived at the gates of Ysibos, Vaucanson and his knights had not passed near the camp of Vereinbarung, which explained this surprise.
- Hey, look at the other one, it's Captain Steiner!
A few seconds later, the two horses stopped in front of the guards. Sigmund gestured to Lombard
- He's with me, let us pass!
The soldiers obeyed without saying a word. Sigmund and Lombard galloped to the largest tent, and dismounted together. Prior Romulus came out from under the stretched canvas.
- Siggy? You are… By the Shallya's Mercy!
- He's in a very serious condition, Prior! Something has to be done!
- Come this way. Sister Astrid? I need you now!
The blonde Shallya priestess was not operating someone, fortunately.
- Prepare a table for your new patient. Stretcher bearers, come! Siggy, Sir de Lombard, put him on the stretcher, carefully!
The two men placed the lord de Vaucanson on the medical equipment. One of the stretcher bearers asked:
- What happened to him?
- He fell into a chasm. He broke his back.
- He lost consciousness when we came back into the open air, the standard-bearer precised.
Indeed, if he was still breathing, the Bretonnian lord was unconscious.
- We shall take care of him, assured Romulus.
To his great surprise, Sigmund noticed the prior did not follow the stretcher bearers into the tent. The latter turned to him and explained:
- I know what you're thinking, Sigmund. Saving Vaucanson's life would have been the end point of my redemption. But I prefer not to impose my face on him at this critical moment. And then, I have to admit, I am less competent than Sister Astrid.
Sigmund pushed past the prior to join the stretcher bearers. Despite the priestesses' protests, he crept over to the table on which the Bretonnian lord lay. Sister Astrid was leaning over him. The painting was reminiscent of an engraving from a religious book of Couronne, where the Lady of the Lake was preparing to collect the soul of a knight fallen in battle.
Sigmund approached nervously, and moved by a somewhat unhealthy curiosity, took his place next to the priestess.
- How does it look?
- Very badly, I'm afraid, sir. It's not just the bones that are broken, his organs have also suffered from his fight.
- He'll be able to live sitting in his armchair anyway!
- That's not the question, Capt...
A growl interrupted Sister Astrid.
- Ignace…? Is it you?
Sigmund came forward and stood beside the table. Lord de Vaucanson slowly turned his head in his direction. The spark of life in his eyes was dangerously flickering, like the flame of a candle threatened by a rising wind.
- Ignace… I would have liked things… to have happened differently.
The Black Skaven quickly understood the situation. The Bretonnian lord was delirious, and took him for his late son. Something squeezed his fingers. He looked down, and saw the Human's gloved hand gently pulling his.
- This young captain was right... I'm just... an old wretch. Please, Ignace, forgive… my madness. I… love… you.
Sigmund didn't dare to answer. He remained silent. And what he feared to see happened. Horace de Vaucanson closed his eyes, his hand fell gently on the wood, and he stopped breathing forever.
The Black Skaven remained motionless, completely haggard. Sister Astrid's voice barely pulled him out of his daze.
- I'm sorry, Captain. Given his condition, there was nothing that could be done anyway. Not even Sister Judy could have saved him, in my opinion. The fact he lasted this long is already a miracle.
- Not a miracle… an iron will.
He slowly turned on his heels, and left the tent. Outside, Romulus didn't need to ask him the question, his decomposed expression was already an answer.
- Go to the commissary, they will give you something to eat. After all these emotions, you need to regain your strength.
Sigmund, still unable to utter a single word, walked to another tent, a few yards away, where the provisions had been stored. He picked some food at random, left the camp and walked away.
He sat down on a rock, took off his helmet, and laid his hand on his ear. He softly moaned as he felt the wound, fortunately not as serious as he had feared. He began to eat a piece of bread with a slice of pâté. Then he wanted to drink. He put the neck of a bottle to his mouth... and realized with horror he had taken a bottle of wine without thinking. He jumped up and threw it against a tree with an angry "No!". The bottle shattered into a thousand pieces on the trunk. Sigmund prostrated himself on his rock, buried his head in his hands, and wept again.
The soft voice of Prior Romulus brought him back to the present moment.
- You've had some really difficult times these last few days. Don't be ashamed, others would have given up a long time ago.
The Black Skaven shook his head and sniffed.
- He asked me to finish him off when I found him in this chasm.
Romulus sat down beside the young ratman, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sigmund continued:
- It's terrible, Prior. I don't know if I'm frustrated I didn't kill him myself, or if I'm sad he died far from home, because of those awful Feral Skaven!
- You had a hundred times the opportunity to kill him, Sigmund. After your duel, after defeating the war chief, and while you galloped as quickly as possible to bring him back here, so that we could try to save him. To me, the answer is very clear: you hated him, but not so much that you behaved like those "awful Feral Skaven". You remained the valiant Sigmund Steiner, the one whose merits your father praised, and who filled him with pride.
The prior glanced at the wine-stained tree.
- And what's more, you manage to repel this demon, even though he was going to sneakily strike you when you seemed most vulnerable. I'm proud of you. Alas, the day is not yet over. Let's go back to camp, we still have work to do.
The two men returned to camp. They joined Lombard in front of the big tent. The Bretonnian, seated on a bench, stripped to the waist, remained still while a priestess was bandaging his few wounds. Without getting up, he talked to the Black Skaven.
- I don't know if you still want to waltz with me, Captain Steiner, but whatever you say or do, know that Bretonnia is in your debt. Thanks to your tenacity and your sense of honour, the body of my lord will end buried on his land, and not torn to pieces by the Feral ones.
The image of Commander Renata being devoured alive by Blokfiste and his henchmen came back to the young ratman's mind. He felt relieved, but also a little disappointed.
- I wish I could bring him back personally, Sir de Lombard. Alas, you know very well it is impossible. I'll never be able to cross the Empire, nor Bretonnia.
Sir Guillaume de Lombard stood up, and solemnly declared:
- Don't worry, Captain Steiner. I will bring the Lord de Vaucanson home, and I undertake to tell the circumstances in which he fell, and how your action will allow us to offer him a burial worthy of him. This is the word of a Bretonnian Knight!
- Would you do that?
The standard-bearer looked the Black Skaven in the eye when he articulated:
- It is time for Bretonnia to understand all the Skaven are not the monsters that infest the tunnels. Today, I saw people fighting for the same ideals as us. King Louen Leoncoeur must know.
Sigmund gave a small nod, his gaze filled with respect. He asked again:
- And you? When you return home, what will become of you?
- Horace de Vaucanson had no heir anymore. I don't know if he had made any arrangements in case of defeat, but if he didn't leave instructions, I guess his domain will be distributed fairly among the neighbouring suzerains. If he does not replace him, Sir Reginald de Villefort will find a place at another lord court. As for me, I no longer want to serve a particular individual, but my country as a whole. I will put my sword at the orders of the troops of the King himself, and those who want to follow me will be welcome.
The prior hailed sergeant Lescuyer.
- Where are we, Sergeant?
- The first caravan is ready to leave, prior. We're just waiting for the departure order.
- Perfect. Sigmund?
The Black Skaven spun towards the priest of Shallya.
- We will have to bring our men back to Steinerburg. The Brave Griffin won't be able to contain everyone. Children and the most crippled will board first. While waiting for the others, we can already send a first company among the most valid. Sigmund, you will be best placed to lead it.
Sigmund scratched his head.
- Are you sure of that, Prior? Commander Renata is dead, I'm the highest ranking soldier on this battlefield, I think I'd better command operations here?
- It is because you're the highest ranking officer that you're ablest to guide our troops as best as possible.
- Well, if you say so... In this case, let me just a second.
The Black Skaven called:
- Himmelstoss?
Captain Steiner's faithful lieutenant arrived quickly and stood to attention.
- Himmelstoss, you shall command the camp until your return to Steinerburg. I count on you.
- At your orders, Captain Steiner!
- Good. Prior, do you have a horse ready to go?
- No, Siggy. I stay here.
Sigmund's stomach twisted.
- Why, Prior? You're not going to let the Bretonnians execute you, will you? Vaucanson has absolved you!
- Yes, don't worry, I no longer intend to sacrifice myself. I will pay my debt to Vaucanson by healing as many Bretonnians as possible.
- Swear it.
- Excuse me?
Sigmund's gaze became penetrating.
- Swear you will return safely to Steinerburg, unless something unexpected happens to you! I want to see you join my grandfather!
Romulus let out a small sigh. He held the gaze of the Black Skaven, and articulated:
- By Shallya's Tears, when I have brought my help to all the men and women who need it here, I will return as quickly as possible to Steinerburg to find and reassure your family. Now go!
- Right.
Himmelstoss retired in order to begin the supervision. Sigmund and Lombard shook hands.
- Farewell, Sir de Lombard. May the Lady of the Lake guide wisely your path.
- Farewell, Captain Steiner. May Verena always inspire you as she does today.
The Black Skaven hurried to ride Okapia, and took the lead of the first convoy towards Steinerburg.