Dammerung, Reikland

Falk

Falk's first choice would have been Helmgart. It was the primary fortress that guarded Axe Bite Pass, which allowed passage between Reikland and the Bretonnian Dukedom of Parravon. It had seen off incursions from greenskins, beastmen, undead, and, of course, Bretonnia itself. Unfortunately, Falk had to rule it out. It was too large, too well-defended, to make a tempting target. The garrison commander would have the clout to deny the warrior-priests the use of his city.

Dammerung was closer to the Imperial side of Axe Bite. It was a smaller fortress town, a way station for caravans traveling through the pass that also served as a fallback point in case the garrison at Helmgart was routed. The highway ran through Helmgart, but Dammerung was situated off to the side of the road. It was in two parts, a lower caravan yard where the fort's small civilian population lived, and the actual garrison up a short switchback, built upon a shelf that had been blasted out of the side of the Grey Mountains long ago. Both halves of Dammerung were fortified, though given it was a fall back from Helmgart, it was more meant as a means of slowing down invaders. Not so, with Falk's plan.

Falk stood on the walls of the upper half of Dammerung with two others. It was late winter. The air of the mountain pass was frigid but still.

"What will you do if this enemy of yours doesn't take the bait?" Asked Major Hetz, a great bear of a man in full plate armor. He was the commander of Dammerung, a soldier that had come up through the ranks. That was why he had gotten shunted to this backwater posting. Hertz had been all too willing to volunteer his command for the chance to actually fight the enemies of the Empire. There had been enough time between accepting and the present for him to form more and more doubts. Hetz had yet to try to back out of the agreement, at least. Both he and Falk were indulging in tobacco pipes.

"The rat will take the bait. Count on that, Major." Falk assured him. Of course, he couldn't know that for certain, but his gut feeling told him Harrox would show.

"We Tileans know the skaven better than any other humans, Major. Brother Falkenwulf is right. We have defied this ratman twice now. It will not pass up this chance to regain face and show its strength." Bianca added.

"Yes, well…I will have to take your words for it." Hetz said. He turned to leave the wall. "My men will be ready when the time comes either way."

Hetz left, leaving Falk and Bianca alone.

"He's going to worry himself to death, I think." Bianca suggested. She was buried beneath more layers than most people. Growing up in the mild climate of southern Tilea made her ill-suited for an Empire winter in the mountains. The Radiant's superiors had given her leave to join this effort when she explained it was to end the threat that had been behind the disappearances she had been investigating previously in Marienburg. Falk, for obvious reasons, was glad for it.

"Nah. A good seventy-five percent of soldiering is just waiting and worrying what could go wrong." Falk assured her. He tamped out his pipe, putting it in his tobacco pouch.

Bianca took a step closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with Falk. "If only there was something we could do while we waited that would also keep us warm."

Heat rushed into Falk's face.

"I have a pretty good id-...", Falk started to say, but he was interrupted by a horn sounding off from outside Lower Dammerung's walls. A column of about a score of riders was breaking off from the Axe Bite highway, coming up the path to the front gates of the fortress. One of the riders near the front carried a dark blue banner depicting an orange sun back by crossed silver swords.

"Dreadful timing." Bianca said with a chuckle.

Falk laughed, leaning in and kissing her before starting to make his way down to greet the newcomers.

The riders were inside the gates when Falk reached them. They all wore gleaming breastplates over dark blue gambesons, with vambraces and greaves of leather or splinted steel. A variety of weapons hung from their saddles and about their persons. Had Falk not known it beforehand, he never would have guessed the fighters before him were, one and all, knights of the Empire.

Draga and Rikter were speaking to one of the knights. He was a tall man, right about the same height as Bianca was, but wolfishly lean. The knight was in his mid-fifties, with faded tattoos covering what little of his neck was visible. Multiple scars criss-crossed the knight's face, and his left eye was a simple wooden prosthetic. A cloak of pale blue was thrown about the old knight's shoulders, the pin holding it depicting a black heart split by a jagged red line.

Falk and Bianca approached. The aging knight looked up at them as they did.

"Ranald's cloak, you could've picked a warmer place to make your stand, Brother Falkenwulf." The old knight rasped.

"Forgive me, Lordship." Falk said contritely.

The knight made a gagging noise. "None of that 'Lordship' nonsense. It's like putting a gilded seat in a shithouse."

Rikter cleared his throat and said, "Brother Falkenwulf. Sister Bianca. This is Baron Volker Weilstadt-von Bauman, Marshal of the Order of the Dawnbringers. And, as you are aware, my father."

"I prefer Weil. Sir Weilstadt, if you really need to." The Marshal said, shaking hands with Falk and Bianca. "Good to meet you."

"And you, Sir Weilstadt. Did you get a hold of those Bretonnian contacts Rikter mentioned?" Falk asked.

"I did. The Earl d'Terre is an old friend of mine. He agreed to the plan. Sadly, he won't be coming himself." Weil said.

"Damn. A Grail Knight would have been a boon." Rikter muttered.

"Ser Gerard has his own battles to fight, son. We'll be just fine." Weil said. "Now, let's get these horses put away and get everyone out of the cold. We'll worry about planning and all that until after everyone's fed." He put an arm around his son's shoulders. "Alright, time for a drink, and for you to tell me all about how you met this young lady."

Some of the Dawnbringers began leading the horses towards the stables, the rest heading for a nearby inn with their Marshal. Falk noticed the man limped with every other step. He met Draga's eye. She sent him a helpless but pleased smile.

"Shall we?" Falk asked.

"Wine will warm the soul enough for the time being, I suppose." Bianca said as she took his hand. "Come along, then."

They joined the gathering.

Fort Fang, beneath the Grey Mountains

Harrox

It had taken longer than expected. Maybe it was a sign the Felkretch way of doing things really did work. Or maybe it was just evidence that Harrox Razortail was rightly feared and respected. Harrox did not know. He didn't bother stopping to ask his attackers about it.

Harrox's hammer scattered one assassin's brains across the wall, then his mace crushed the leg of the next. Harrox stepped over the second assassin, finishing it off with his tail dagger as he passed. The assassins had come in through the window of his tower, but the door to Harrox's chamber had just burst open. Multiple stormvermin rushed in, and it wasn't to check if their warlord was alright.

Harrox killed them, one after the other, with cold dispassion. It was a chore, like any other, an obstacle between him and stability. Harrox killed five of them, but the sixth and last he left alive, but injured.

The warlord's actually loyal guards arrived moments later, weapons at the ready. Rather than reprimand them, Harrox gave orders in Queekish, the skaven language.

"Get some slaves in here to clean the filth. Take that living rat-meat and use him as an example. Hang him from the battlements by his tail." Harrox growled as he walked out. The failure of the attack would cow the schemers for now. But skaven were still skaven. Not even Felkretch was immune to the strife that had always riven their society.

"Yes, Warlord!" The stormvermin replied in unison.

Fort Fang had been a dwarf-thing hold once. Once could still see it in the blocky, stooped construction of everything that made up the place. The dwarf-things made many attempts to take Fort Fang back over the years. All had failed. All would continue to fail.

Harrox barely made it any distance down the halls of Fort Fang's keep when a messenger rat scurried up to him.

"A message for you, mighty Warlord!" The brown furred messenger said, bowing obsequiously as he handed over the message.

"Dismissed." Harrox grunted, opening a scroll written upon in glowing green ink. It was a report from surface spies. Harrox's beady red eyes flicked back and forth over the words. He looked up thoughtfully after he had read it.

Warpstone. It was being moved along Axe Bite Pass to where man-thing wizards could dispose of it. Not only that, the hated man-thing, Falkenwulf, would be part of the escort taking charge of it near the border between the two man-thing nations.

Harrox's snout twitched thoughtfully. A trap, obviously. It was far too convenient for it to be anything else. Yet, that didn't change certain realities. The message wasn't sealed. The courier had certainly read it. Word would quickly be spreading through Clan Felkretch. The man-thing was clearly smart enough to figure out how to force Harrox into action.

Unfortunately for the man-thing, Harrox had not held his position by being a fool. When one was expecting a trap, one could change who was being caught in it. Harrox knew the man-thing fortress where the warpstone would be handed over. It would only take a few arrangements. It was in Harrox's territory. If there were any entrances from underground to take advantage of, the garrison would be sealing them off. But, skaven weren't the only thing he had at his disposal.

Harrox crumpled the note and ate it. The warpstone in the ink gave him a small rush of euphoria. Clan Felkretch would march to war. This time, his enemies wouldn't escape.

Dammerung, Reikland

Falk

More allies trickled in. A platoon of soldiers arrived from Stromdorf with Captain Lundt's compliments. Khaldrir came at the head of a contingent of rangers from Karak Azgaraz, alongside Vedwi, Zedam, and Galdrig. A dozen Bretonnian knights-errant of Terre and their accompanying men-at-arms arrived alongside a decoy convoy that actually contained only a paltry amount of warpstone. Oddest of all was a score of elves in conical helms and light steel armor, each armed with a bow and a spear. They were led by a tall elf wearing the pelt of a white lion as a cloak and armed with a huge axe. The most absurd part was Rikter, who spotted the elves first, saying, "Uncle Aclan is here."

When Aclan encountered Weil, the Marshal of the Dawnbringers had folded his arms and said, "Ranald's cloak, Herr Sunshine. Is that a grey hair I see?"

Aclan had let out the slightest of laughs, a glittering warmth in his eyes. There was also a deep melancholy; the result of an elf seeing their human friend growing older year by year, no doubt.

"It probably got there because I knew you were dragging me into more nonsense." Aclan had replied, locking wrists with Weil.

"Of course. It's gonna be just like old times, Ac." Weil had said.

Between all the new arrivals and the usual caravaneers that passed through Dammerung, the lower fortress was beginning to feel crowded. The dwarfs and elves stayed far away from each other, which was probably for the best.

Draga and Rikter spent much of their time with Weil among the Dawnbringers. Falk did his best to socialize and welcome everyone, to thank them for their help, but he found himself drifting away from the larger gatherings. He knew why he was doing it, tried to consciously turn where his thoughts were going, but nothing worked.

Falk was in his room in the upper fortress, his lit pipe clenched between his teeth. From his window, he could see over the walls of the upper fortress, and thus, out over the lower fortress and into Axe Bite Pass itself. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that if he didn't see the skaven approaching, it would be irrevocably lost time and advantage. A bottle of Estalian brandy was open on a table within reach. A fire blazed in the hearth.

The door to Falk's room opened behind him.

"I'm beginning to suspect you don't actually enjoy taverns that much." Bianca's voice said.

"I'm just not very good company right now." Falk replied.

"I beg to differ." The Radiant said, her boots treading across the stone floor to come join him. Without asking, she took the pipe from Falk's hand and drew on it, handing it back. Smoke curled from her lips as she said, "I find your company to be most agreeable."

Falk snorted a quiet laugh, looking away from the mountain pass and toward his paramour. Bianca had shed her cloak and coat, hanging them both on a nearby chair. She took a seat and began removing her boots, occasionally pausing to drink from the bottle of brandy.

"They're all here because of me." Falk said. He knew better than to try to hide his concerns from Bianca. "I know the deaths won't be my fault. But this plan, this set-up…if it fails, I can't help but feel like it will be my failure."

"It…would be arrogant to say that you are entirely wrong." Bianca said diplomatically. She started taking off her boots. "Yes, we are all here to act on your plan. But you are having the courage to do something about this threat. Even if it all ends in failure, doing nothing would be a greater crime, and would do more harm." Her smile was wan and sympathetic. "I don't envy you.. It is a great burden you carry right now." She offered him the brandy bottle. "Unlike your enemy, you don't have to carry it alone."

Falk breathed out through his nose, feeling his anxiety lighten a little. Knowing Bianca understood him did more good than she probably realized. A certain thought passed through his mind, followed by a swooping sensation in his stomach. With what was coming, Falk knew if anything went unsaid now, it might never be said at all.

"I'm in love with you, Bianca." Falk said out of the blue. "I know it might be too soon to say that, and I'm sorry if it is, but Verena's a goddess of truth and I can't help but speak it." He smiled in spite of himself. "I haven't been able to help but imagine us sharing those easy lives of retirement we have planned. Fuck, who knows if we'll even still be alive in a few days. Either way, if I'm jumping the gun with thinking all this I need you to tell me now, and I'll shut up about it."

"I understand why you're worried. But, I don't think it's too soon. I'm glad to hear you feel that way. Truly." Bianca said.

Falk once again looked her way. Bianca had unlaced the front of her shirt, which now hung off of one shoulder. The necklace Falk had bought for her was proudly displayed beneath her throat. A lackadaisical half-smile graced her countenance. Falk couldn't help but revel in how beautiful every unique thing about her was; her aquiline nose, the slight gap between her front teeth, the freckles dusting her cheeks, and of course, the mesmerizing warmth of those coffee brown eyes. Bianca stood, coming to stand beside him, placing her hands on Falk's shoulders.

"So glad, in fact, that you should say it again. Just for good measure." Bianca suggested with a coquettish expression.

Falk smiled. He was more than happy to oblige her.

"I love you." He said softly. "I'm in love with you. And I won't go to Morr's garden without you knowing that."

"Amore mio…", Bianca whispered, as if the words escaped her involuntarily. The Radiant's eyes grew glossy. She took Falk's cheeks in her hands. "Never doubt that I love you."

Something opened deep in Falk's soul and he had to close his eyes. Even so, he felt a tear roll down his face. Bianca wiped it away with her thumb, then hugged his head close against her chest.

"Blessed gods, I face down the horrors of Old Night with a smile on my face but this has made me a mess." Bianca said with a sniffle, taking one hand from Falk to wipe her eyes on her sleeve.

Falk bunched his hands in the back of Bianca's shirt. "You won't hear me complain."

Bianca laughed and sniffed again. She once again took Falk's cheeks, lifting his face so he was looking into her eyes.

"If we really are about to go to Morr's garden, I won't have our last night together be one of tears." The Radiant said. She took his hand, guiding it to her breastbone. Falk could feel her heartbeat, a quickening drumbeat. "This is yours now. You understand?"

The Truthblade nodded. "I think mine's been yours since Marienburg."

"I should hope so." Bianca said. She leaned down, kissed him, then whispered in his ear, "Now. I'm done with words for the night. But I'm not done with you."

Falk let Bianca pull him to his feet and lead him to bed. At least for that night, his doubts were nothing before his joy.