The History's Got Its Eyes on You
Now faced with the choice of committing all his forces or facing certain loss, Mannfred von Carstein hoped to defeat the armies of the dwarfs and the Men of the Empire separately before they could unite into a larger force. While the numerical odds were at his favour, the vampire fell for the cunning strategy of double envelopment used by Elector Count Martin and crashed the undead army from three sides. Elector Count Martin of Stirland, mounted upon a majestic Griffon, gave chase and after fierce battle slew Mannfred at the very edge of the swamps near Shadow Lake.
All possessions and holdings of the von Carstein Dynasty were redistributed among the Empire's aristocracy, with a single exception. 2145 IC saw not only the fall of the vile vampire regime, but also the creation of the Barony of Slawkenberg from Sylvania's borderlands. It became a possession of Sir Ciaphas Cain, also known as Ciaphas the Good, formerly a landless knight and now the Baron of Slawkenberg, in recognition of his valour during the Battle of Slawkenberg where he led his Kislevi houseguard out of encirclement and attacked the flank of Mannfred's vanguard which had assailed the Elector Count's forces. This battle is notable in that Baron Cain slew two vampires in single combat.
As the House of von Carstein had become extinct and Sylvania now become part of Stirland and through it the Empire of Man this would mark the start of foreign rule over Slawkenberg which still continues today 300 years later.
An excerpt from The Annexation of Sylvania and Creation of the Barony of Slawkenberg by Wenceslaus of Slawkenberg.
As always has been and always will be the case not every man - or woman as the case may be - fought for fealty or faith. The 597 is a collective way to refer to the various Kislevi mercenary bands which fought under Empire command during the Third Vampire War. Of course those were their numbers at the beginning of the war. The survivors not already in his employ would later later swear loyalty to then-knight Ciaphas Cain after he led them out of encirclement and become his houseguard after his elevation to the Baron of Slawkeberg.
The 597 is notable for Iron Rain, an all-female Gospodar mercenary band led by Captain Regina Kasteen, skilled horseback archers. Their presence initially led into conflict with the rest of the Kislevi bands due to their flouting the women's place in traditional Ungol tribes from which the male bands hailed. This rift was healed when when the Iron Rain fought together with Captain Broklaw's Storm Vanguard at the Battle of Slawkenberg. Later the Storm Vanguard survivors would gather stragglers from other mercenary bands, the most notable among them the Tundra Wolves.
And excerpt from Blood Money: The Role of Mercenaries in the Empire's Expansion by Johann Eberlich.
There is something deeply ridiculous about surviving the Third Vampire War where many braver and more skilled men hadn't only to become a vampire after the fact. From the lofty position of hindsight I really ought to have expected something would go wrong when I finally got land, money and an excuse to stop roaming the continent with the battle maniacs that used to be my mercenary band and now call themselves my houseguard.
Slawkenberg wan't a large or rich barony those days, consisting of a single town, two villages and the fields surrounding them, but it was wealthy enough that a good administrator can live comfortably and I never was all that ambitious in the first place. I wouldn't have said no to silks, foreign spices and fine wines, but good quality wool, local spirits and meat at the table with a side of admiration from the locals was plenty good already.
Too bad I wasn't the only one who thought so. The asshole who turned me claimed to be Gero Nictus, a direct descendant of Albrecht Nictus, but I didn't for a moment think that was true. His absolutely well thought out and not at all likely to fail plan was to make a well-known war hero into a puppet ruler to hide his crimes and excesses behind my good name as though people somehow wouldn't notice their neighbours kept going missing or petition to the Elector Count.
Or at least I would like to think it would have been that simple, but considering how the larger Sylvania was still hip-deep in bloodsuckers by the time Mannfred made his brief attempt at ruining everything for everyone again I can't be as certain as I would like.
And of course the puppet ruler had to be turned into a vampire first because then he would be unable to disobey his maker. If I didn't obey him he would tell everyone what I had become so what could I do? Maybe the nitwit was under the impression that Vlad von Carstein tripped down the stairs and fell into a conveniently positioned firepoker, but the moment when I realized that that had somehow gotten the jump on me still remains the most humiliating moment of my existence.{1]
And the incredibly enough the 597 didn't kill me upon finding out what I had become. I swore I would find a way to go on as a vampire without eating people to death and they believed me. And of course I really meant it, but taking a vampire at his word doesn't generally speaking say good things about your survival instincts. But of course at this point there were only seventy two of the original five hundred ninety seven so I guess that ought to go without saying.
"Does this mean we become vampires too? I'm not sure this Barony can support all of us, there just aren't enough people. How much blood do vampires need per night?" Sulla asked, being all quartermaster about it.
And this was the same Jenit Sulla who had previously stated that the only good vampire is one hacked to pieces and then set on fire just to be sure.
"Too much in all likelihood, but we ought to be able to maintain a small elite guard. Though the bigger problem is going to keep people either from noticing or from spreading rumours," said Regina Kasteen, the captain of the houseguard.
"Can sir still drink tea?" asked Jurgen with the certainty that that was the biggest problem at the table.
The four of us were in the library that currently contained whole four books with Nictus dead at my feet, my mouth bloody and a sword in hand. Penlan was wringing her hands in a corner. She had been the one to tumble into the library in the middle of the battle, worried because I had remained behind closed doors for over seven hours at that point. She luckily could testify that Gero had been a vampire and not just an innocent courier become a victim of my bloodlust, but she looked like she had committed some terrible wrong against me.
"I sure hope so. But how are we going to explain that I never go out during the day anymore? I live active life, lived active life," I asked since my guard seemed so determined to sick by me to the point of being willing to be turned though damn if I know why.[2]
Broklaw then returned into the room. He had the Crowned Bear of Ursun hanging from his neck, but while it made me a little uncomfortable I didn't feel the need to recoil like I had seen some vampires recoil from the Hammer of Sigmar. Maybe Ursun didn't care all that much as long as I didn't try to eat his followers?
"The castle is now under lockdown, though luckily only the night guards were even awake anymore. But it'll just be an hour when the kitchen staff will begin to light the fires and carry the water so whatever we decide we must decide now," he said grimly.
And the servants put me into a nasty spot. I couldn't keep my condition a secret from them for long and they had family in town. I could keep them from leaving, but that would be incredibly suspicious. Even if I limited my feedings to my surprisingly willing houseguard even the illiterate would see the writing on the wall when I never stepped out during daylight anymore. I could flee of course, but where would I flee?
"So my only option is to convince people that being ruled by me isn't a bad deal despite all the bad history," I concluded grimly. "The first prong of the attack will be the servants. They can vouch for me..." Just like Penlan had vouched. She was still wringing her hands.
"If only I can get their trust. They will speak to their families regardless, it's up to me that they have something good to speak," I finished.
What really stuck my craw was that I hadn't lasted a full year in Sylvania. And yes, Slawkenberg was definitely Sylvania back then for all that on the paper it was its own administrative area. I lasted six months and three days from my ennobling! I felt a brief flash of pity for the Elector Count whose problem the whole lot now was. I felt more pity for the nobles that had been sent to rule the Sylvanian heartlands because if I died on the border then what chance did they have? But mostly I pitied myself.
"Give alms to the poor, sir," Jurgen suggested. "The winter's turning to spring and a lot of the poorer folks' stores are running out so handing out food is good."
"That could work," Kasteen mused. "The servants will feel grateful if you show charity to their families and their families will feel more at ease later if the servants speak kindly of you. Do it right and the circle will feed itself."
It was still a stupid, desperate plan, but I have a lot of experience with those. When all else fails try bribery.
[1] Self-declared Gero Nictus is not known to be of Albrecht Nictus' lineage. By historical accounts he was powerful and a skilled fighter however, which explains how he survived long enough to meet Cain despite being, as Cain so aptly described him, a nitwit.
[2] While the veterans of the Third Vampire War might generally have been expected to turn against a turned former comrade Cain underestimates his ability to inspire loyalty. There is a non-negligible chance had he demanded it his entire houseguard would have submitted to turning.
An excerpt from The Confessions of an Imperial Vampire, the fragmented writings collected and annotated by Witch Hunter Amberly Vail.
If my beloved came this night
Came by the rise of the moon
I would recognize my seeker
For I know he will come soon
Be he still a mile away
Or a whole league more
I know that he will arrive
And I'll wait him by the door
Of course I would take his hand
Like cool water during drought;
Of course I would sneak a kiss
To spite the death on the mouth;
Of course I would hold him close
Should decay rest on collarbones;
Of course I would lay by him
If his bed was full of stones
A popular Slawkenberg folksong dating 2170 at the earliest, possibly as late as 2250. Outsiders tend to find the second verse a bit unnerving.
The tension in the air could be cut with a knife when I lit the bonfire with as much pomp and ceremony as possible when doing something as simple as thrusting a torch into a big pile of wood. Near the bonfire stood the maypole, the ribbons braided around it by the dance.
What was the point of having a second nighttime celebration? Everyone knew even if nobody said it. I'd had 597 patrol the lands surrounding the town all day long just in case some plucky youth or a priest's hired man decided to make a run for it and petition to the Electoral Count. The orders had been to politely escorted any runaways back to town. Now it was Sulla's squad on the night duty, but so far nobody had made a move.
"Good night and happy spring solstice to everyone. Before we begin the celebrations I will address some rumours that have no doubt circulated as of late regarding my change in schedule." A gazed at the people gathered on the square. Not everyone in town could even fit in the square. It was a good portion of the town regardless and there were even a few children in the crowd which really surprised me.
"Three weeks ago a courier appeared late into the evening with a message he claimed to be from the Elector Count and I unfortunately chose to receive him in my library alone. He turned out to be a vampire. I avenged my mortal life upon rising, but there is no restoring it. Currently I am the only vampire in Slawkenberg." Though that might change in the future because Sulla was weirdly fixated on the idea of an immortal honour guard for me. She'd already come up with a name too: the Red Kislevi. I wasn't as enthusiastic, but couldn't deny that the thought of Jurgen not being there for me one day was unpleasant.
But nothing was decided and I certainly wasn't going to spring the possibility of more vampires in the future on the people when they were still reeling from just the one.
"For the most part life will not change for you. I don't need to kill to feed and am currently feeding from volunteers among my houseguard. In the future it will be possible for people from sixteen or older to fifty or younger to volunteer as well in return for tax deductions." All people around the world have rituals to make people unite and make them stay united. Feedings for tax breaks might sound a little morbid, but with food and blood on the table already all I needed was either gold or public ritual sex to make an ancient pagan trifecta and I sure knew what would offend fewer modern sensibilities.
I outlaid the structure of the blood donations. No more often than once a month and no more than a pint at a time. Donation would happen cleanly with that pint and a knife, I wasn't about to go around biting people. Ability to volunteer would be temporarily revoked in case of illness, being wounded or pregnancy. How large the deduction was depended on how many times a person volunteered per year. I rattled off numbers I didn't think anyone would remember later because it was so complicated. The cake flour and the normal bread flour were taxed differently for an example and had to be deducted differently too as an example.
I hadn't even known I taxed flour![6] That was something I left to Jafar and then ran by the head cook to ensure his decisions wouldn't result in a peasant revolt.[7]
"So if anyone has any questions now is the time to ask them," I said and looked at the crowd that surprisingly hadn't broken into cries during the speech, fearful or angry.
"I have some." One of the four priests in town stepped in front of the crowd and I swallowed discreetly. Anton Baciu didn't look intimidating, he was a middle-aged man and balding early, but I knew he could make or break this for me. Religion has been the rise and fall of more nations and causes than I even know to count. Religion is a powerful thing because it can make people act in ways that endanger them.
"What will become of the Cult of Sigmar under your rule now?" he asked. The two-tailed comet at his chest didn't glow precisely, but it felt like fire only barely too far to burn painfully. Now I realized a lot of people were wearing various symbols of Sigmar, but only his had that effect.
"Nothing will change. I won't attend the masses anymore because I don't think I can." And that really wasn't the time and place to have a crisis about the implications. "But I won't kill priests, burn churches or demand other people stop attending. I only demand that you don't try contact witch hunters."
I didn't mention the Elector Count because it might be the stupidest hope ever, but maybe it just hadn't occurred to people yet that they could.
"And what reassurances do we have that this continues? Vlad von Carstein started out a good ruler," he asked the most damning question.
"We trust him!" Jurgen shouted, startling me. "We fought in the Third Vampire War while you cowered in a church! If we trust him then so can you."
I was completely floored, not because of his loyalty, but because Jurgen isn't really the type to speak out like that. He leaves speaking to others and lets his bow speak for him if necessary.
"Vlad von Carstein was never a good ruler, just better than Otto von Drak and that's not difficult. If he ever made a plan to acquire blood ethically and without killing I haven't heard of it," I seized the moment.
I was holding the breath I didn't need for more than speaking as Father Baciu pondered that for a moment and then nodded his head slowly. I didn't feel like answering anything after that so I clapped my hands decisively and somehow miraculously we got to the celebration part of the night, though it still felt a little like unusually festive hostage situation. Most people left me a wide berth, but the few women and men who had dared to bring their children made a point of coming to the bonfire for warmth, even if they didn't outright speak to me.
And everyone ate what I offered. It was simple fare, dill pickle soup, bread and ale, but free food is free food. My finances were a bit tight now and Jafar was grumpy, but nobody accused me of attempting to poison everyone so I was willing to call it a success. That my palms were tingling surely didn't mean anything at all.
If only I had known I would have insisted on more questions just to spare myself the mortification. Next week sure showed me what plan some of my more scared and less conscientious subjects had cooked up.
[6] This doesn't surprise me in the least.
[7] It falls to me to elucidate as Cain in his usual fashion doesn't. Jafar originally hailed from Araby, an ancient, southern empire with three independent principalities. Originally a merchant's slave who fled upon the Empire of Man's shores, he somehow ended up in Stirland when the Third Vampire War started and became acquainted with Cain. The head cook at the time was a middle-aged woman named Gosie Dalca who, knowing Jafar, probably spent more time making sense of his byzantine calculations than actually cooking.
An excerpt from The Confessions of an Imperial Vampire, the fragmented writings collected and annotated by Witch Hunter Amberly Vail.
The Offering is another quaint tradition of the Slawkenberg City which is mostly practiced by the rowdy youth, usually coinciding with a festival or another excuse to indulge in spirits if it also coincides with travelers in the area. The young men will first accost the travelers, sometimes even barging into their rooms, truss them up and then take them to the Slawkenberg Castle where they present their "capture" to the Baron or Baroness. The ruler will then order them released, apologize for the inconvenience and invite them for a dinner. While a startling experience if one doesn't know what to expect the food is without fail worth it.
I believe this tradition has it's roots in the subjects who had recently been freed from the von Carsteins' thrall making mockery of earlier, much darker offerings in an attempt to exorcise their past sins. While many barely remember it nowadays the Barony of Slawkenberg used to be part of Sylvania and the practice of sacrificing outsiders to their vampire masters to spare their own people used to be widespread.
An Excerpt from The Observations of an Itinerary Merchant by Jean Anouilh.
Perhaps the strangest tradition of Slawkenberg is observed whenever one does direct business the ruling house. House Cain has since its ennoblement employed Arabyan scribes citing their superior mathematical and administrative prowess. What is strange is that before a contract is signed it must be sent to the head cook for a review. No-one living knows how this tradition came to be, but like her other traditions Slawkenberg observes this borderline religiously.
An Excerpt from The Observations of an Itinerary Merchant by Jean Anouilh.
Emeli Orus obviously had a Bretonnian first name. Of course there could have been some perfectly innocuous explanation. People have been known to move into foreign countries, I certainly wasn't born in Stirland.[42] But burned hand teaches the best and I remembered what happened when I had last ignored the tingling of my palms. Her eyes were like emeralds, her hair luscious, her bosom made a thousand promises and her hips made a thousand more, but I had no intention of meeting her alone. My library was intimate enough without being too intimate.
"So how did a woman such as you come to live in Kislev?" I asked. Suspicious detail number one: while she spoke Kislevi well she had a foreign accent and despite her name it wasn't Bretonnian.
"Bridenapping - not mine of course, but my mother's. It's rarer than it used to be, but still happens sometimes among the Ungol. My mother earned enough of his regard that he allowed her to give name to a mere daughter. But he died in a battle and my mother left after the funeral. I grew up in Bretonnia." She picked a prune from the plate of small refreshments. I have never liked them, but the way she ate it made it seem alluring.
Suspicious detail number two: how did a Kislevi man come to kidnap a Bretonnian woman in the first place? Suspicious detail number three: unlike literally everyone else in Kislev they don't hold funerals after death, but after a person might as well be dead. For men that is when they become warriors, for women when they marry. Disturbing implications about the marriage institution aside, I speak with experience when I say that attending your own funeral is equal parts morbid and bizarre experience.
"Bretonnia has her charms of course, but I have long since found that my desires run rawer than that. More primal," she almost whispered as she shifted just a little and her red shirt pulled tighter over her breasts.
"You might note that Slawkenberg is quite civilized nowadays," I said a bit hoarsely. That little movement had done for for me than some women had by dropping their dresses. "I quite like fine things in life."
"Fine certainly, my dear baron - or can I call you Ciaphas? But civilized? A wolf hunting in a garden of roses would not give such a rank smell of blood and nectar. And like calls to like. A flower with petals of different colour is a flower still and a beast of a different pelt still a predator. I'm impressed with how careful you have been, but you have no need to lie to me," Emeli fairly purred as she crawled over the table to to reach for my cheek. A plate of cheese fell down and broke on the floor.
"What are you and from where?" I managed to ask.
"A flower among all warriors, a deadly chaser of pleasure. And you don't worship Nagash or I would have been able to find at least one altar. I believe we can come to a wonderful understanding." She licked her lips.
I lifted my hand to gently grasp the back of her neck. Then I twisted and it broke with a crack.
Emeli screeched and I jumped up and to the side. Broken neck doesn't always kill immediately, but I was very sure I had been thorough enough. Then Emeli rose up standing on the table hung to the side before flopping downwards. Something pink and purple and black and sickening began sparkling at her fingertips even as her nail lengthened. It was so fast describing it took more time than watching it happen. Then her neck began to righten itself with terrible crackling sounds.
"I will kill you! I'll drown you in boiling wine as I..." She didn't really stop screaming even as an arrow pierced her head from behind and Jurgen leaped from behind a hastily fixed curtain.
I ducked low and then pushed the table over even as sickening energy rippled from Emeli's hands, hitting the ceiling instead of my face. The stone began peeling to reveal something full of holes and bleeding clear liquid that smelled like burnt sugar. Whatever the holey stuff was it wasn't stone anymore and couldn't hold the weight of the wrought iron chandelier anymore. It fell atop Emeli, but still she didn't stop screaming increasingly lurid and obscene threats. The floor under her was peeling as well as the door flung open and Captains Kasteen and Broklaw barged in. Aged though they were they were still wiry and fast.
"...and then I'll make you eat the sheep!" Those were her last words as I plunged my dagger into her chest, Jurged pierced her head with his sword, Broklaw threw a javelin at her side. Kasteen waited for an opening before upending a jar of oil atop what was left and dropping a torch she had been holding.
The smell was something indescribable. I'd had Jurgen doused in rose perfume, hair and clothes, to overpower the odour that defied soap and all sense. Now the cloying roses mixed with burnt sugar and burning flesh. I had a terrible feeling he would smell like this for the rest of the week. He picked the still-burning corpse up, went to the open window and threw her out, then jumped after her. Kasteen pulled down the curtain that had hid Jurgen's alcove and threw it atop the burning floor, trying to stomp the fire out, but the porous material the wood had turned into broke and her left leg went through the floor.
"Some reconstruction is in order, I see," I said as I pulled her up. "Fire! Somebody bring water!" I bellowed as loud as I could.
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to be sure," Kasteen said, embarrassed.
"The floor was a lost cause already, don't worry," I said. "But at least this means I can get married."
What?" she fairly shouted.
"What?" echoed Broklaw, already down the corridor.
"The tragic Lady Emeli. Our love story was beyond compare, alas, she died in a fire. Luckily she had already birth to Ciapas II Cain." Waste not, want not. I'd been thinking about marrying just for this ruse for a while now, but backdating it ten or so years worked even better. The barony would lie for me and marrying a Kislevi woman without making a big scene about it was absolutely believable in character for me.
If she was Kislevi at all. Norsca would be more likely and it would explain why I couldn't recognize the accent. A Norsca raiding party might have kidnapped a Bretonnian woman. But why the attempt to pose as a Kislevi then? She had to know I would know a lot about Kislev and her traditions. Norsca party might well have raided Kislev as well and leave her knowing less about her heritage than I did, but then why the Bretonnian name? Her past was infuriatingly vague.[43]
Broklaw arrived with a whole barrel of rainwater and two servants with buckets later as I attempted to piece together a suitably tragic and sensible backstory.
[42] Though where he was remains a mystery. At this point I am convinced that Cain is obfuscating his place of birth on purpose.
[43] The hypocrisy is staggering.
An excerpt from The Confessions of an Imperial Vampire, the fragmented writings collected and annotated by Witch Hunter Amberly Vail.
Flower among all warriors,
beware of the trap of glory.
Choose, fair seawolf, the better part
of eternal rewards. Not blood,
for brief are the arteries in bloom
and rush fades quickly; and soon there
will follow decay or a scheme
to lay you low. But desire is
an arrow that will fell all men.
Yet remember: other hands
may as well nock such an arrow.
Translation of A Warming for Young Warriors by Unknown Skald, 1900 IC.
This was around this time that I began to make preparations to step down for someone else. Pretending to be my own child wouldn't work now that Slawkenberg wasn't the underdeveloped backyard it used to be and people were actually paying attention. I still have no clue how that happened.[72] Adopting a mortal and retiring to be the elderly relative of vague connection to the future generations held certain appeal. And sure, he looks so young, but we don't talk about that, no.
Slawkenberg didn't have an abundance of orphans and those that did exist tended to have extended family to take them in. So I did the logical thing and looked over the border to Sylvania. My most pessimistic estimations had come true about Sylvania. Pretty much every Imperial noble sent to rule the land had died without issue or else they tended to have sons who mysteriously resembled them. And somehow they kept getting away with it? So had I, but my barony was prosperous, safe and paid a good amount of Imperial taxes. I was so legal I was obviously a human.
So finding some downtrodden orphan was going to be easy once I left the border region. The border region didn't tend to have people to find because they would look over the border and decide to move over, an occasional headache, but not one I could really blame them for.
So off I rode with my Red Kislevi, all of them because I have common sense. And if I knew what was to become I would have ridden off regardless, but with much less confidence.
It was at crossroads with one sign pointing towards Angarsat and another so covered by moss it was impossible to tell what it said. I knew Angarsat to be a fairly large village that had been built around a church, or at least that had been the case fifty years ago. It was as good a place to start searching as any.
"Wait, did you hear that?" Jenit Sulla asked suddenly and I froze. I had hoped nobody else had. We all waited for a moment and then we heard a second, distant boom like thunder, but this night was unusually clear for Sylvania. The sound had come from the direction of the unreadable sign.
"We will investigate," I ordered, cursing the trappings of my reputation in my mind. Ciaphas Cain the Good wouldn't risk innocent being hurt and Ciaphas Cain the Valorous never flinched from a battle.
I knew the chances of getting to the sources of the noise before everything was over was small, but against my expectations we heard three more booms, then screeching sounds from afar as well as screams and the mess just seemed to drag on and on. Then everything fell silent and as we rode on we passed by a strange scene. Disturbed, bloody earth turning into tracks leaning down the moor, more tracks from carriage leading down the road yet no way to tell how old they were and seven bloody bodies, one human and six Skaven.
It was hardly a surprise the Skaven would have fled a loosing battle. It also offered me a way out.
"We will follow the victims, they might need help," I ordered and my guard all nodded, expecting nothing else.
It only took a little comparatively leisurely trot for the noises of the battle to begin again. It turns out the road curved and the Skaven hadn't so much fled as they had displayed a disturbing amount of cunning by pretending to do so and preparing a second ambush. I knew deep in my chilled, sinking guts there was something afoot because persistence in the face of bad odds is the polar opposite of the Skaven character.
"Jurgen, you watch my back!" I commanded as I hurried my horse to a gallop. "We defend the victims! Sulla, you, Drere and Vorhees are the main assault!"
We arrived to a scene with a carriage that had fallen on its side by the road and terrible wailing could be heard of it. Four humans were holding back two tanks and five Skaven foot soldiers - footskavens? Then one of the humans split a Skaven in half with a single-handed blow and another grabbed the turret of a gun of one of the tanks, managing to actually bend and crack it a little before an arch of green energy threw him back. My mouth went dry when I realized these were no humans, but I told myself that the vampires of Sylvania were young and fairly weak. All the old and strong had been slain in the war.
"Attack both sides!" I shouted and the whole tank shot what seemed like half a dozen metal apples at me. My horse swiftly jumped to the side and they exploded with green glow and enough force that the air felt like a giant's fist to the back.
The tanks were weird things on what seemed like rolling metal mats on both sides. While less insulated from the world at large than before I hadn't seen many tanks before and never close-up. I don't think anyone has seen a tank like that, before or since. It was a small thing, half the size of the carriage and despite having armoured sides it didn't actually have a proper roof, only some chainmail stretched over it and a big gun.
There are more dangerous enemies than the Skaven, but there are no more annoying and that's true for their machines too. They are dangerous when they work and when they stop to work they do so explosively.
Drere and Vorhees engaged and the tank prepared to fire again judging by the glow of the turret. Kislevi-trained warhorses are good, but no horse is ever that trained. When I jumped off Hazel because at that point trying to control her was more work than her battle prowess was worth I didn't notice one of those metal insects hanging over me. I only noticed when Jurgen jumped above me and struck his sword through it. Then it predictably exploded and Jurgen fell atop of me. I managed to stay on my feet and kind of twirl him to the side though my nose got squished uncomfortably into is malodorous hair.
"Stop-cease man-thing, I'll kill-kill you!" the Skaven inside the tank screeched.
"Truly the Skavenkind is the undisputed masters of negotiations," I said and jumped. But I wasn't the only one who jumped.
One of the enemy vampires leaped up and ripped the corner of the chainmail off the struts that supported it even as I thrust my sword through the narrow gap in the front. The Skaven crowed yes-yes even as it was impaled. I pulled my sword off quickly and leaped at the other vampire, when something happened inside the tank. It swerved fast, tilted perilously, but didn't fall on its side and finally the gun fired. It just so happened to hit the other vehicle which then exploded in a cloud of sickly green mist.
At this point Sulla was still finishing off the last of the Skaven and the vampires were all dead, but Janny Drere and Vorhees had already turned towards a group that swiftly advanced from the south. Seven people, armed with short swords and wearing what looked like an ancient general with his six aides had fallen through time and landed in an Imperial courtesan's closet. Also, they were very obviously vampires.
"What business do you have here?" I asked and didn't introduce myself because I was very obviously a vampire too. No sense opening myself up for blackmail should one escape.
"Well, don't get me wrong." One of them, a young man with a blue satin shirt, manly lack of chest plate combined with large shoulder pauldrons, a ankle-length white fur cape, tiny golden spectacles and leather pants tight enough they left nothing to the imagination. said. "I'm sure we are of somewhat similar mind and goals. In a different world you could have been one of us. But we won't let you steal our place in the new world."
I didn't now how to respond to that so I resorted to trying to kill him. Now that the tanks had fallen silent I could hear shrill wailing from the carriage all the clearer.
Trying to get past his guard wasn't easy. My longsword had the reach advantage, but my opponent was nimble and had an easier time maneuvering with his. I ended up being more on defense than attack as he kept sneaking under my guard and then dancing away. I would like to be able to blame how disorienting he was to look at, but he genuinely was a skilled fighter.
"The most basic animal impulse we are born with is toward slow decay and laziness. The less we have to do to grow , the more likely we are to take that route. You could have been so great," he mused as his blow was deflected by my mailshirt, though the concussive force of the blow wasn't mitigated in the least.
"You should see my weekly schedule," I quipped and parried another strike. I intended to say something about how that schedule might involve a lot of paperwork, but some of that paperwork had commissioned my mail and that had been invented for a reason. It would have been very pithy, but then one of his underlings tried to leap at me from from the left and I managed to grab his arm and throw him into my opponent's sword instead. I was always better at letting my actions speak for themselves.
A lot of the time they spoke lies about my courage and honour, true, but those were really erudite lies.[73]
While the leader was trying to pull his sword out of his underling my longer reach finally carried the day and I removed his head from his shoulders. There was only one vampire left now, Jurgen, Sulla, Drere and and Vorhees having each killed one. He didn't show any inclination of running away though, just giggled wildly. He wore a purple vest, low-slung leather pants, white boots, arm and thigh guards and no shirt. And he just. Kept. Giggling.
And then he stopped in a flash of sickly green lightning. It was a Skaven that had somehow not only survived, but found the courage to not run. I gritted my teeth to keep my jaw from dislocating from dropping. With a set of metal boots crackling with tiny lightning arcs it made for a very visible figure. How exactly did it sneak behind the vampire into a perfect position to leap at his back and incapacitate him was anyone's guess, really.
"Vampire-things have dangerous prophesy-goal! Avoid-beware the Altar of Defeat!" it yelled in a high-pitched squeak and then valiantly ran away. Jurgen didn't need to be order to try to catch it, but every bouncing step from the boots launched it forward like a bullet.
I wanted to think it was over, but my palms just kept itching. But at least everything was silent except for the wailing from the fallen carriage and nothing moved that wasn't supposed to.
"Janny, I just want to say. I really love the graceful way you cut off his arm and... stepped on him like he was dirt," Vorhees said and took Drere's right hand into both of his, just holding it. I cringed.
"It wouldn't have been the same without you. Your gaze always turns me fiercer," Drere whispered. Hoarsely. They gazed outright maniacally into each other's eyes.[74]
"It turns you on," Sulla groaned and for once we were united in thought and sensibility. "Get a room or at least find a bush to fall into."
"Not before the mission is over," I clarified and turned to the carriage. At least a baby was alive, but the lack of other sounds didn't leave me with much hope for the parents.
There were no parents in the upturned carriage and not a baby precisely, but a toddler who looked up at me with huge, dark eyes glistening with tears. Usually a child crying is an awkward, snotty, blotchy affair, but this one had already mastered the art of crying beautifully, if not melodiously. she had dark, wavy hair pulled back with a wooden hairclip and very noticeably delicate, pointed ears. A large gem rested against small breast.
What was a baby elf doing in Sylvania?
[72] Despite having described it. Those woolen and dye exports certainly helped. I must congratulate Cain for finding a legal use for arsenic sulfide.
[73] An argument could be made that if you have fought a thousand battle without retreating once, but were scared doing so, you still didn't retreat.
[74] They really are like that all the time. They probably asked to be turned so they could be like that for all eternity together.
An excerpt from The Confessions of an Imperial Vampire, the fragmented writings collected and annotated by Witch Hunter Amberly Vail.
The Zerayah Affair as it is referred as in Slawkenberg took place in June 2243 IC. Baron Ciaphas II Cain was bravely patrolling the Sylvanian border along with his honour guard when a strange carriage which had attempted to cross the border to the Sylvanian side was attacked by the Skaven menace alerted him to dark misdeeds. A cabal of vampires who called themselves the Sunfall Brotherhood had made their brief entry to the world stage by kidnapping a one-year-old High Elf from Stirland.
As Ciaphas II Cain came to find out this was in response to a prophesy by a seer identified by the leader of the cabal, the self-proclaimed Prinz Varga of Sunfall, as "Mad Melice" whose mortality, lack thereof or even race remain unknown. Word for word the prophesy stated: "A child of the noblest of elves shall be born on the Soil of Man when a twin-tailed comet is on the sky and the moon is dark. Sacrificed on the Alter of Defeat in the Dark Prince's name her blood shall bring an age of eternal darkness."
An Excerpt from The Chronicles of the House Cain by Wenceslaus of Slawkenberg.
Many questions were left unanswered in the wake of the destruction of the cabal. While the Sunfall Cabal had interpreted "child of the noblest of elves" to mean a High Elf rather than elven royalty out of convenience none know if this interpretation is correct. What the Altar of Defeat is remains likewise a mystery as Ciaphas II Cain never found it. The famous historian John the Blind has posited it to be the lost tomb of Mannfred von Carstein, supported by the Sunfall Cabal's headquarters' position near the Shadow Lake. Yet there is no proof that Mannfred von Carstein was ever entombed or technically even that he died. Another possibility is simply some lost shrine to the dark god. Nor is it known if there was some set time for the sacrifice or if the prophesy is still valid.
While victorious, Ciaphas II Cain failed to find Zerayah's family and the general consensus was that they had most likely all been murdered by the vampires. Unmarried and childless, he adopted the elven girl. The resilient people of Slawkenberg took the news of being ruled by an elf for potentially centuries in the future with as much aplomb as they had accepted being ruled by House Cain in the first place.
An Excerpt from The Chronicles of the House Cain by Wenceslaus of Slawkenberg.
I spotted spotted the most recent victim, a woman who luckily wasn't slung over anybody's shoulders this time, looking resigned to her position. Not panicking which at least meant she had been pre-warned, though her companions didn't look as reassured. The leader of the group, I think his name might have been Maxim or something like that, grinned at them from below his hat.
"What is the meaning of this?" Zerayah demanded in all her glory and I knew, I just knew that she was immensely enjoying this. She always wore that stupid red choker as a sign of allegiance even now that she was the baroness and made a point of personally welcoming people who came to donate us blood whenever possible. She always made sure to look vampiric, whatever vampiric looked like any given decade.
This year it apparently involved a detachable lace collar that stood upright on the back of the neck on spikes and opened in the front. She wasn't wearing it now because it wasn't comfortable, but she would have if she had known ahead of time. She said it was because a person who obviously went out in the sunlight a lot acting vampiric helped to hide me, but I think she just really loves the drama.
"An offering for you, Baroness Zerayah, in acco~dance with the tradition," the red-faced man slurred a little.
The woman sighed and shook her head a little. "As fine an introduction as a travelling bard like me could hope for, I guess." She and her fellows were pushed forwards. "My name is Amberly Vail, I am honoured to meet your ladyship. I have traveled with these people for safety's sake, they are itinerary merchants. Surely they at least could be released if I am to be held for a ransom of a song?"
She was even more beautiful than Emeli had been. Golden hair, lithe yet muscular body more in the way of cats than bulls - though her clothes did a lot to disguise that. I guessed it wasn't fashionable for a woman to seem muscular, but when you travel for a life the ability to beat a ruffian to death with a lute would be handy.[137] She had a little red mouth that just begged to be bit and posture that made me confused because I didn't know whether I should kiss her hand or beg her to be gentle.[138]
"That cannot be!" Zerayah declared. "For you all have been brought to me as an offering and this means that I owe you all a meal in apology. Guards! Release the prisoners and take these ruffians away!"
The guards gently begun to untie the hapless group, or so they seemed at the moment, and one ushered the snickering group away with a long-suffering expression. He was some relation of Maxim, I think? In this moment my attention was torn from the beautiful bard to the other woman of the group. She had the most eerie vacant expression on her face as she looked not at Zerayah or the guard untying her, but straight at me.
"Blood has sugar for a reason," she said with clear, ringing voice. "Even in death there's strength in sweetness."
And Zerayah's entire receiving room froze.
[137] As it happens I have done exactly that once. It wouldn't have been my first choice of weapons, but there were witnesses. Damn waste of a good lute.
[138] This actually disturbs me as I was trying to present myself plucky yet polite rather than holding any power in the situation. That I apparently "just had that air" isn't useful commentary when Cain can't tell just how I was standing wrong. "It was the spine" isn't helping.
An excerpt from The Confessions of an Imperial Vampire, the fragmented writings collected and annotated by Witch Hunter Amberly Vail.
Baroness Zerayah Cain, though eccentric, is most definitely not a vampire as evidenced by four-hour picnic in the castle garden on a sunny day. That she doesn't seem to age is easily explained by the fact that she is an elf and considering the only reason she came to be under suspicion is because of her currently very fashionable collar, a tradition that involves forcing travelers to dine with the ruler and that her father bore the same name as her grandfather leaves me suspecting the informant's objectivity on the issue.
I have gathered that many merchants in fact bait being made an "offering" by purposefully loitering around groups of inebriated youngsters nowadays as getting an audience with the Baroness can be difficult, but offerings are always received and given her attention for the duration of a meal. In addition not only is the the market value of all the final goods the barony produces large for its size, but also generously spread across the populace. In the light of this I will now cross the border to Sylvania as I feel the people there are much more in need of assistance.
A letter penned by Wtch Hunter Amberly Vail.
I don't know if even Amberly could have distracted from my more suspicious features if not for the fact that when the corruption of Nagash overtook Sylvania it stopped at the border. It wasn't as though there was an invisible wall separating a land shrouded in perpetual darkness, where the dead rose and vampires could stride across the land unperturbed by the curses lain on their kind, from bright blue sky and Divine Magic. There was this blurry twilight zone I quickly evacuated people from, but most of Slawkenberg remained untouched.
Yes, Mannfred's victory was spoiled by his own actions – as the ritual was completed, Sylvania was locked into a wall of faith, powered by relics Mannfred himself had buried at the Sylvanian borders in order to banish their holiness from his domain. But those were the old borders of Sylvania!
Now I understand little about rituals and gods, but the best I can tell is a combination of many things. On the paper Slawkenberg was now separate from Sylvania. In the minds of Slawkenbergians Slawkenberg was separate from Sylvania. In the minds of Sylvanians Slawkenberg was separate from Sylvania. In the minds of Stirlanders and the Empire at large we were Stirlanders and so while we didn't get the protection of the wall of faith in the sense that the various necromacers and vampires could leave Sylvania for my little barony this was seen by the Empire as proof of my innocence.
From a certain point of view I guess I was.[257]
Of course I was now stuck in what amounted to a cage fight with a horde of necromacers and vampires.
"Of course this means that we have to seize the initiative," I told my Red Kislevi, the captain of the Slawkenberg City Guard and the four marshals of the Slawkenberg Border Guard. "The unsavory sorts continue to migrate to Sylvania. This problem will never be smaller than it is today."
Nor would my forces, incidentally. Blame the vampire for being old-fashioned, but I had settled for the old tradition of maintaining a comparatively small, highly trained core force of my Red Kislevi and mortals. When the war came I would call for levies of course, but the expectation had been that I wouldn't have to provide that much because we would never be the contested region. Even today in a barony as small as mine this didn't raise any eyebrows as it was the Stirland and the Empire at large which was supposed to protect us.
Except now we were a really convenient buffer state between the Empire and the resurgent Sylvania. The poor refugees that had gotten as far as here made for a haunting sight.
"Things have been bad before. From the chaos will come law and order again," I said. If only I had known what it would take I would have whimpered rather than stood resolved so maybe for once it was for the best that I didn't.
"Now Mannfred has sent a message that he intends to negotiate with me." No doubt with me at a sword's point. And the scariest part was that he wouldn't even have made the attempt if he didn't know. I had the Empire fooled, but not him.[258]
"No doubt to hand my serfs over like a good little vassal." Which I didn't even have. Only a completely moron thinks slavery will lead to prosperity.
"The brutes prowl upon our borders now, out to gouge out the weak. But we are not such meek prey! We'll raise the banners of war!" Well after the initial ambush because I wasn't a moron. But keeping the moral high is important during times like those.
"Raise the banners! Death to Mannfred!" Sulla screamed with a shrill voice and I nearly winced. All these years and I still can't be rid of her vigorous enthusiasm. But it's frankly my own fault for agreeing to turn her in the first place and at least now it would set her between me and the enemy.
Zerayah walked up to me, all decked out for war. She was weaker than I or my vampires physically speaking, but she had become a formidable sorceress, striving to protect me as I protected her. Unless it was from my duties. That tearful speech as she marked me as her first child after her marriage still made me equal parts impressed and horrified. Yes, being particularly human-looking half-elf ought to protect me from inconvenient questions about not aging for a good long time. It was still incredibly awkward to be my grandsons' brother in addition to the renewed burden of ruling.
But it was a heartfelt gift for Zerayah. I'm not a monster.
"He may come with an army, he may come with a daemon for all I care, nothing will stop me from slaying him for you!" she promised.
"Most vampires' ability to plan long-term is frankly abysmal and baffling for creatures so long-living," Jafar of all people said, stepping forth as well. "Sometimes I think all evil gods are creatures of Nurgle. What sense does it make to slaughter, starve and torment your own populace? That leads to nothing but stagnation." I had often wondered if agreeing to turn him had been the right decision, but now I knew it had been. He was one more person willing to stand with me and even if his reasons weren't the most noble I couldn't throw any stones there. If it saved people but was selfish it still ultimately saved people.
"Tea, sir?" Jurgen handed him a mug and I took it in my hands, savouring the calming warmth that seeped through the tin.
This was mine and it was a heavy weight, but it was my heavy weight. One way or another Mannfred von frakking Carstein the Petty was going down.
[257] Ciaphas Cain has never as far as I know fed from anyone to the point of death, not even an enemy, after Gero Nictus whose case is debatable as Cain's memories of the fight are a too blurry to recount what happened. Certainly he has never worshiped Nagash.
[258] Alternatively Mannfred von Carstein truly believed him to be his own descendant and either was genuinely impressed by "Baron Ciaphas III Cain" or sought to defile the memory of his ancestor by making him into a vampire vassal in addition to taking Zerayah Cain for a sacrifice. Otherwise choosing to arrive only with a single necromacer and ten vampires for a guard would have been an unimaginably foolish decision.
Of course Mannfred being unimaginably foolish isn't a bad bet either.
An excerpt from The Confessions of an Imperial Vampire, the fragmented writings collected and annotated by Witch Hunter Amberly Vail.
What do you mean Slawkenberg has been under vampire rule for 360 years? They have been paying their taxes! And of course it's bad, but how is Dowager Baroness Zerayah threatening to commit suicide on an altar relevant to this discussion?
Attributed to Emperor Karl Franz upon being read in on the true nature of the House Cain.
In recognition of his loyal service to the Empire acting in accordance with his duties as the Empire of Man's first line of defense against the renewed vampire threat and exemplary management of The Barony of Slawkenberg Emperor Karl Franz has chosen to grant the Baron Ciaphas Cain the Good I, II and III the status of Imperial Vampire. This is a unique award in these unique times, one that bears the burden of loyalty, selflessness, and wisdom.
In recognition of his loyal service to the Empire acting in accordance with his duties as the Empire of Man's first line of defense against the renewed vampire threat and exemplary management of The Barony of Slawkenberg Emperor Karl Franz has chosen to ascend the Baron Ciaphas Cain the Good I, II and III to the rank of a count, reissuing the title of the Count of Sylvania which had become extinct after the death of Mannfred von Carstein in the Third Vampire War. This is a position that bears the burden of meritorious and exceptional service in holding back the darkness that threatens all world.
In recognition of the reveal of the continued life of Count Ciaphas Cain, in accordance with a definition of life as being capable of performing functions such as eating, breathing, moving, growing, reproducing, and responding to the world around him, Dowager Baroness Zerayah Cain is henceforth stripped the rank of baroness, to be henceforth known as Lady Zerayah Cain.
The Imperial Declarations later colloquially referred to as the Twilight Declaration.
ZERAYAH WHAT DID YOU DO?
Attributed to Count Ciaphas Cain upon reading the Twilight Declaration.
AN: Since it wasn't asked of them Kasteen and Broklaw noped out of being vampires. They would have said yes out of loyalty if Cain had asked. I made Sulla vampire because being Cain is suffering, I made Drere and Vorhees vampires because they are canonically a couple, I wanted a sickly sweet couple and being Cain is suffering. I made Jurgen a vampire because you can't have Cain without Jurgen. Jafar elbowed his way in and I don't even know what happened.
Wenceslaus of Slawkenberg absolutely knew. He was a man of culture who understood the importance of getting his version of the story out first.
Wool and woolen cloth was probably the single most important medieval trade commodity in medieval Europe. For an example woolens were England's major export throughout the period, and wool exports were a royal monopoly.
Zerayah wouldn't have actually gone though with it, not because she wouldn't die for her father, but because she wouldn't perform a dubious Slaaneshi ritual that might or might not doom the entire world. She learned bluffing at her father's knee. Good thing too because the Altar of Defeat is any monument to a fallen ruler as long as the people they ruled still acknowledge them as the ruler. Killing her on Mannfred's grave wouldn't have achieved nothing at that point in timeline. (Except reviving him because definitely a virgin sacrifice.) Killing herself in front of a portrait of Cain would have worked if done right - provided that Mad Melice is to be believed and wasn't just plain mad.
Jurgen keeps calling Cain sir because he's literally a knight.