Standing in front of the burning body, dazed, the three friends gradually caught their breath. They were unaware of the tumult all around them. In fact, the battle was drawing to a close. Without their leaders nor lesser Demons, the few survivors of the Purple Hand no longer had the will to fight.
- What a rumble, Marjan! Just like the good old days! exclaimed Kristofferson cheerfully.
Marjan picked up her mace and carefully tapped the Chaos Warrior's chest.
- Hey, boys, do you think he's insanely handsome, or is he so ugly you'd be feared to death just looking at him?
No sooner had the young woman uttered these words than Sir Alcibiades' body burst into fire with a loud hiss. The multi-coloured flames caused the armour to shatter and fall apart, while flesh and bone disintegrated. The fearsome magic sword broke down, and its debris turned into a swarm of cockroaches, ants and other insects that scattered in all directions. In a few moments, all that remained was a vague trace of scorched earth.
Walter shrugged.
- I guess we'll never know.
Kristofferson, exhausted, didn't add a word. Inwardly, he wished a thousand curses on the Chaos Warrior who had done so much damage in just a few days. He looked up, and saw the master mage lying lifeless on the dirt. The young rat-man's heart raced. He rushed over to the White Skaven, crouched down beside him, put his hand under his shoulders and lifted his head.
- Father! Wake up! Don't let go! Come on!
He gently removed the mask. A smell of burnt hair infected his nostrils and his fingertips became hot. The fur on the White Skaven's face was scorched and cracked in places because of the heat. Kristofferson gave him a few light slaps, each one getting harder and harder. The White Skaven opened his eyes with a groan.
- Hold on, please! You've done it! The portal's closed!
But the master mage was unable to utter any coherent words, at most a few confused mumbles. Walter and Marjan arrived.
- How is he?
- He's still alive, but he looks pretty shaken up!
- He needs to be evacuated as quickly as possible and taken to the dove tent.
- We should wait for a stretcher-bearer. Marjan, are you sure he's transportable?
These words set Kristofferson's spine on fire.
- I don't give a shit! The perimeter's still dangerous, and it's an emergency!
- Calm down, Kit, we'll open you the way. Wally?
- Let's go!
The brown Skaven slid both hands under his father and lifted him gently. Fortunately, his excellent physical condition and the White Skaven's modest build made things easier.
- Wait, Kit! Walter exclaimed. Don't forget the mask!
- I'll take care of it, Marjan replied. Go!
The young woman knelt down beside the golden artefact and wrapped it in a torn cloak that lay nearby. Walter ran in front of Kristofferson, and the two friends walked at a brisk pace towards the tent that had been quickly erected by Shallya's priestesses and Weller's soldiers.
The few sectarians still able to fight were being pursued by the Vereinbarung fighters. One of them threw himself at Kristofferson with the energy of desperation, his dagger raised, ready to be thrust into his eye. Walter stepped in, grabbed the fanatic's forearm and twisted it with a strong spanner. Without letting go, he pivoted behind the attacker and forced him to kneel with a kick to the hock. The man yelped in pain.
Walter curtly pulled back the sectarian's bonnet. Kristofferson made out his features, and his hair stood on end; he had just recognised Schultz, the corporal on guard the night Bianka had been attacked in the greenhouse.
- Traitor! I knew it! You helped Palebough to infiltrate my house, you heretic dog!
Corporal Schultz didn't even bother to try to reply. His forehead glowing with anger, Kristofferson set his father down on the grass and threw himself at the corporal. He knocked him down with a kick to the chin, then grabbed him by his collar, pulled him up by force and pelted him with punches to the stomach and face, as Walter looked on hesitantly.
- Here! This one's for my pride! This one's for my fear! And take this one with Bianka's best wishes!
Schultz's nose exploded in a spray of blood. Kristofferson was about to hit him again, when Marjan's hand grabbed his wrist.
- It's enough, Kit, it's enough! I think he got the message.
The Brown Skaven grumbled, but remembered the words of High Priestess Rebmann: only the Demons were to be eliminated, the others were to be left alive until their trial. Besides, he had more urgent stuff to do. Walter called him to order.
- We'll deal with him, take your father quickly!
Kristofferson threw the corporal to the ground with a palm push on his sternum, then picked up the White Skaven in his arms before setting off again for the dispensary tent.
The tall blonde woman looked around.
- We should round up the remaining cultists and take them prisoner, Wally.
- I think so too. Let's do it at the foot of the platform. You stay there, I'll mobilise our people.
Captain Klingmann moved away from the young Human woman, looking for suspicious individuals still alive to apprehend. Whenever he saw one or other of the Vereinbarung Guard soldiers with one or more prisoners, he ordered them to join Marjan at the agreed location.
As he was wandering between the piles of cut wood, he spotted a figure lying on the ground, arms and legs turned upside down like a disjointed puppet. His heart beat twice as fast when he recognised the costume of Yavandir Palebough.
- Oh, my! So here's one of our dear conspirators!
He approached with a determined step, but a clear voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
- Wait a minute, Captain Klingmann!
The spotted Skaven pivoted on his heels. In front of him was standing Brisingr Steadyhand, himself accompanied by two Black Skaven soldiers.
- The priest Cazarras is dead, I've found his corpse. I saw you've destroyed Sir Alcibiades. So this one left remains only, he's mine.
- No, he isn't! Walter yelped.
The magister put his fingers on his chin, looking falsely surprised. Captain Klingmann continued:
- You have no right to take the place of the Vereinbarung Justice. Stay away!
- This criminal is under my responsibility, Captain. Don't worry about him.
- I am the Captain of the Steinerburg Guard, Master Steadyhand!
- And I'm a Magister, sent by the Bright College of Altdorf.
- And so, as I told you earlier, you have no authority in the Rat Kingdom! Move along and let me do my job, or I'll have you arrested for obstructing justice! And given your liabilities over the last few days, I've got an itch to scratch! Be very careful!
- My "liabilities" are the fruit of direct orders from the Prince, Captain Klingmann. Your professionalism is a pleasure to see, but the result is the same: Yavandir Palebough is mine.
Walter took a step forward, his hand on the pommel of his hammer, and hissed between his incisors.
- This is my last warning, Brisingr Steadyhand. Go and play somewhere else, or you'll spend the night in jail! Obey!
- I'm sorry, Captain, but I answer only to the authority of Prince Ludwig Steiner, as evidenced by a pass he signed. This document gives me the right to arrest Yavandir Palebough, leader of the Steinerburg Purple Hand triumvirate. Would you please permit me to show it to you?
The Elf reached into one of his coat pockets, under the wary eye of the spotted Skaven. He pulled out a small leather scroll containing a sheet of precious paper signed and marked with the princely seal. Walter grunted in frustration at the facts, but lowered his weapons.
- May Verena curse you, you dirty little fart.
- Come on, Captain, don't take it so hard! You're one of the heroes of today! You're one of those who won this battle, you were even one of the leaders of the winning side. The operation was a complete success, and you'll be in charge of all the prisoners, with the exception of one. Leave Palebough to me, you'll get much more glory with the others. Believe me, you don't have the skills to completely neutralise a Tzeentch sorcerer, as I do. But there's no reason to be angry or ashamed. You've done your duty, and the Prince will reward you as you deserve. Besides, he wasn't there for the whole battle, he didn't see you beat that monstrous Chaos Warrior with Lady Gottlieb and his grandson Kristofferson. When I tell him how far you've gone for Vereinbarung, and it's confirmed by your friends, he won't be able to remain indifferent. Forget all that, and in less than a week, you'll be Commander of his army, I guarantee it.
After a long dozen of seconds, the ratman's features finally relaxed a little. The Elf smiled again.
- Here, let me show you the first reason why I'm better at holding our mockingbird.
He knelt down beside the body of the still unconscious Palebough and took out a shiny object from his satchel. Walter squinted, and recognized a pair of handcuffs. However, they were nothing like the metal bracelets he used to restrain criminals: under the action of the brazier flames, these handcuffs emitted a powerful copper glow. On closer inspection, he could make out finely chiselled runes, set off by cast gold. He couldn't hold back a little whistle. The vigilant magister explained:
- It's Ulthuan copper, forged by an expert who added a few ithilmar.
- Ithilmar? Walter repeated. What's ithilmar?
- A metal you'll never find anywhere else but in the High Elves homeland.
- I thought you had nothing more to do with them?
- I'm not welcome at their main country, it's true, but I've kept a few contacts, some of which have given me the ultimate tool for hunting down unholy sorcerers. Enjoy with your eyes, you don't get to see something like this every day!
Steadyhand clasped Palebough's hands behind his back and handcuffed him. He took out a second pair and fastened them around his ankles. Captain Klingmann raised his eyebrows when he saw the runes flicker with a soft cyan light once they were closed.
Brisingr rose to his feet and glanced briefly at the two Black soldiers accompanying him.
- Gentlemen?
Without saying a word, the two Skaven lifted the showman. Brisingr nodded, and the three of them led their prey away from Walter's sight. The captain, still reeling from frustration, spat on the ground in their direction, then turned away in search of something of note.
He walked so for an indefinable time, while all around him, the Vereinbarung fighters continued to gather the prisoners in front of the stage. He almost tripped over a corpse wearing Tzeentch's robe. He gritted his teeth when he recognised the sectarian.
Crap! What the Hell is this one doing here?
He thought back to what Kristofferson and Bianka had told him, and inwardly confirmed. Yes, they had unknowingly been talking to an accomplice, at least, in the now very dead person of Brother Sander, the graphology expert of Verena's Temple.
He resumed his walk, drowned in a whirlwind of thoughts. All around him was nothing but confusion, calls for the attention of the priestesses of Shallya, and the crackling flames of the still lit torches and braziers.
The spotted Skaven's gaze then shifted to something a little more suspicious: on the ground, something was finishing burning. As he approached, Walter saw a small bundle of foul flesh, no doubt the remains of one of the horrible creatures attracted by Cazarras and his flock. He felt his brow furrow in puzzlement.
Well, well... What's this?
Meanwhile, Kristofferson was finally reaching his goal. He became even more nervous when he was only a few steps away from the big tent set up by the Shalleans. Once inside, he laid the master mage on one of the remaining floor mats in the middle of the tented area. He hastily looked around for someone in white robes.
- Is anyone there? Quickly, someone, help! Help!
Some of the conscious wounded on the other straw mattresses grumbled, annoyed by the tumult. A large, mature priestess approached. Her face was wrinkled with age beneath dark, curly hair. Her naturally raised eyebrows and thin, pinched mouth gave her a stern expression.
- I am Sister Agatha, young man. There's no need to shout like that or panic.
- This is an emergency, Sister!
- Of course, it is, like for everyone else here. Well, now that you've brought him here, I shall examine him. Out of the way! Make some room!
The Skaven obeyed without question. Sister Agatha knelt down beside the White Skaven, put her hand on his forehead and then her ear on his chest.
- He's still breathing... a bit warm... What happened to him?
- A magical attack by a big demon, Sister.
- A big demon? Ah, that explains all that racket outside! Weren't you supposed to stop it from manifesting itself?
- If my father hadn't succeeded, you'd be at the bottom of his stomach right now, Sister! retorted the brown Skaven, stung.
- No doubt, no doubt.
Sister Agatha rummaged in her pouch, took out a small bottle and emptied the contents into the master mage's mouth.
- A little bit of this won't hurt him.
Kristofferson didn't dare speak. The nun slipped her hand between Psody's four right fingers and asked:
- Hey, Master Mage, can you understand me when I speak to you? If you can understand me, squeeze my hand.
She smiled with satisfaction when she felt pressure on her knuckles.
- At least, that Demon didn't fry his brain. Let's leave him for a few minutes, give the potion time to work. I've got other fishes to fry, if you're kind enough to let me deal with the emergencies.
- Yes, Sister, thank you for him, Sister, the brown Skaven hardly articulated.
Sister Agatha got up and walked away to another section of the big tent.
Kristofferson could feel the anger of the fight ebbing away. He was quickly plagued by cramps, as the pains hidden by the war fever surfaced one after the other. He felt his eyes sting. He fell to his knees beside the bunk where the master mage was resting, and dropped his head onto the hard mattress. He felt weary, intensely weary. His limbs were broken and his head was pounding. He couldn't stop a few tears from silently rolling down his cheeks.
- Fuck… Don't do this to us, Father! Not after everything we've been through to win!
He jerked his head up when he felt the light touch of his father's hand on his shoulder. Very gently, he wrapped his own fingers around it, pressed it to his heart and whispered:
- Hold on, the whole family wants you back alive.
He remained like that for a few moments, before sighing.
- I've got to go out again, they might need me out there. I'll be back in a bit.
With great difficulty, he got to his feet and left the tent.
The Steinerburg militiamen had planned everything for the transport of the survivors. On a signal from Sergeant Weller, two large wheeled cages pulled by strong horses, the same ones used to move the Skaven during the Harvests, were brought to the front of the stage. The soldiers had formed two groups of prisoners, each including around ten individuals.
Marjan approached one of the cages. The cultists were not bragging, they stood motionless and silent. The tall blonde woman motioned to two Skaven.
- Take off their caps, so I can see who has betrayed our Kingdom!
The two soldiers nimbly obeyed. A few seconds later, the ten prisoners had their faces uncovered. Mostly humans, there were three Skaven, with one ratwoman. Marjan felt her heart compress as she recognised the last person to be unmasked.
- Mother Morgana?
- I'm sorry, my Lady, replied the priestess of Rhya.
Surprise quickly gave way to anger. Lady Gottlieb's cheeks ignited.
- Well, well, well! Little Branwen will be delighted to hear she's been lucky up to escape from monsters twice in a row!
- Please, Lady Marjan, spare her this pain. The poor child has already suffered enough. In any case, you won't have anyone else to blame among her benefactors. I'm the only one in the temple to have chosen a new master.
- By Ursun's fangs, why? You're a priestess of Rhya, the people of Vereinbarung trusted you, the Prince and I first! I thought Rhya hated anything unnatural?
- Yes, she does.
- So how did you get the idea to become chum with these degenerates?
Mother Morgana sighed bitterly:
- The Prince wants to modernise the country. In doing so, he's threatening the very balance of Mother Nature's forces. I couldn't stand by and do nothing. It's the opposite of what Rhya dictates me to do.
- Associating yourself with cultists who tried to assassinate the Jade Master Mage, then slander Prior Romulus, plotted to set fire to the country and finally summoned an Archdemon, all in the name of a God who corrupts the world with mutations, all of this didn't seem to you to be "the opposite of what Rhya dictates you to do"? I call that sacrilege. A sacrilege you shall have to assume!
- Nature would have been spared if the city's invasive progress had been halted. The mutations would have been contained by Rhya in time.
- And the whole civilisation would have fallen!
- If that's the price to pay to be able to live truly, without artifice, it's worth.
The tall blonde woman gritted her teeth.
- What about children like Branwen? Should they have to pay for their parents' decisions?
- Elves of Athel Loren have detached themselves from the vicissitudes of civilisation. They live in harmony with Rhya. We could have done the same.
Marjan cast a sidelong glance at Brisingr, who was putting up a security cordon around the warpstone burnt area. The Elf had a wet scarf over his face.
- Of course we could have. Doubtlessly, Rhya would have appreciated all the warpstone vomited out of the portal and infecting the whole region!
- I told you, Rhya would have contained the mutations.
- The town of Mordheim is known to be a veritable Demon Central for hundreds of years. Can you confirm Rhya contained the mutations there?
- No, you're right.
- Do you think things would have been different here? Steinerburg would have ended the same way! If that doesn't bother you more than that, then you're either completely mad or just simply stupid, Mother Morgana!
- I mainly have to be honest: I didn't think they would go so far as to summon an Archdemon. Perhaps I would have acted differently if I had found it out sooner, I can't tell you. When Cazarras mentioned the plan, I wasn't in position to back down anymore. Now I have regrets, Lady Marjan.
- It's a bit late for that, don't you think?
The fallen priestess held Lady Gottlieb's gaze.
- I'm following you, Lady Marjan. I shall submit to the judgement of Brother Tomas, and the Temple of Taal and Rhya. The only thing I'll ask is that you repeat to my brothers and sisters in the Order, and Branwen too, I didn't want this.
Marjan's face frowned.
- I doubt it'll make any difference, but if it can help you to be more serene when you appear before Morr, I'll do it.
Mother Morgana nodded appreciatively. Two soldiers took her by her shoulders and pushed her into the cage.
Further away, Captain Klingmann was watching the other group of cultists. They were all kneeling before him, heads bowed, hands behind their backs. The tall, spotted Skaven passed in front of the row of prisoners, Sergeant Weller hot on his heels. His anger and desire for revenge, reinforced by his frustration at not having dealt with the Palebough case, were almost as visible to the naked eye as a halo of flames. The guards had no doubt whatsoever: the prisoners were all about to spend a very unpleasant time.
- You all are guilty of heresy. You've been stirring up trouble in my town for weeks now, and you were about to do the same throughout the Kingdom. Making pacts with Chaos is one of the worst crimes you can commit. You will all be judged, and I can guarantee you that we will show the utmost severity! Expect no mercy from Verena's Justice!
Walter stopped in front of one of the figures. He tore off his bonnet, revealing the ruddy face of a fat man with a thick moustache.
- You! What did you expect when you sold Tzeentch your soul?
The man looked terrified. The captain insisted.
- So? Speak!
- I... I wanted to become rich! Cazarras promised me a lot of money!
- Classic... but still effective.
Walter slapped the fat man. He stopped in front of the next prisoner. Under the hood, he could make out long auburn hair. He crouched down, pulled the fabric back and looked into the eyes of a middle-aged woman.
- Why did you turn to the Demons of the Master of Lies, woman?
- For the power, little rat. Knowledge about my rivals that would have given me more leverage over them. Who knows, maybe I could have overthrown the Prince?
The spotted Skaven spat at the woman, stood up and resumed his walk.
- Our good Richter fellow is going to have his work cut out for him. I should think about giving him a bonus, because a lot of heads shall roll under his axe!
Klingmann advanced to a third cultist. With a slap, he dropped the bonnet. This revealed a round, flushed face, framed by a neatly trimmed blond beard. Two beady eyes sparkled behind the thick lenses of his glasses. With a cruel smile, he replied:
- I wanted to know all the secrets of science. I could have unravelled all the mysteries of life itself, starting with our little friends with their shells and elytra. Would you like a sample?
The blond Human slowly raised his left hand. His long sleeve folded back, revealing his forearm. There were disgusted cries: instead of a hand, the wrist was topped by an insect claw. Without hesitation, nor saying the slightest word, Walter drew the pistol from Sergeant Weller's belt in a flash and shot the cultist in his forehead. He gestured towards two retreating soldiers.
- Throw it in the fire!
The two guards promptly obeyed. The captain handed his weapon back to the sergeant, and commented:
- One less filthy vermin on this earth, who will never contaminate anyone again. Its mutation allowed it to die much more quickly and painlessly than it really deserved. Unlike the rest of you!
The spotted Skaven's eye was suddenly drawn to something. A few steps away from him was another hooded figure. This one, unlike the others, wasn't moving, wasn't shaking, wasn't breathing heavily. The individual looked unusually peaceful. Walter heard his instincts whisper to him the presence of a danger. He sensed it without being able to explain it, this prisoner was about to cause him problems. So he decided to take the initiative. He camped himself in front of the masked figure, his hands on his hips, and barked:
- What about you? Did you want money? Power? A scorpion's tail on your left leg? Or something even worse? What did the Archdemon we fought promise you?
The prisoner remained silent, its head bowed. Walter wanted to get it over with.
- So, answer my question, you fanatical bastard! What would you have got?
When his interlocutor still didn't answer, Captain Klingmann yelped in rage and pulled off its bonnet with a snarling gesture.
His heart stopped dead in his tracks.
He refused to believe it, but the voice he heard confirmed the tragic reality:
- A whole kingdom to offer my son.
- You...?!
- The raving sectarian madman expects no mercy, Wally, continued Vladimir Bäsenhau. Besides, I don't blame you.
- But... how...
- You did your job, you fought with conviction. It's a shame, if we'd won, you would have quickly realised it was also in your interest.
The tall Human slowly got to his feet.
- Well... that's life.
Walter couldn't utter a single syllable, too stunned.
- Take care of your mother. She has nothing to do with it. She knows nothing about it.
Two guards grabbed the steward, handcuffed him, and led him into the cage. They passed in front of Kristofferson. Although Bäsenhau paid no attention to the young Steiner, the latter recognised him immediately. His face scrunched up in a silent cry of incomprehension. It was even worse when he met Walter's gaze. The spotted Skaven immediately averted his eyes and took off running. The Prince's grandson remained motionless, unable to make the slightest movement.