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Warp Token 2 Word Update
🕑 Added 2025-09-28 05:57:51 +0000 UTC2k words
***
“Then we must set off at first light,” Roderick said, looking to Von Kessel. He nodded his agreement, but he thought he saw a hint of something else there, and it was far from approval. The Captain didn’t like someone else taking the wheel of his ship, it seemed, he would have to caution himself in the future.
“You’ve got spirit, boy,” the Duke remarked. “From all reports, Marienburg is the last place one should wish to be. Ten thousand men and monsters make up Chaos’ host, and their siege weapons face both directions. I hope you have cunning as well as bravery, freeing the city will not come easy.”
“You’ve yet to tell us your price, Your Grace,” Von Kessel noted.
The Duke offered a shallow grin. “Helping a few waylaid Imperials back to their lands is a kindly duty, would you not say? I trust that the Emperor’s appreciation will be properly directed my way, upon your return.”
“Of course,” Von Kessel said, seeing what he was getting at. “We travelled with the Conclave’s blessings, they’ll be sure to learn of your aid.”
“I’m sure my son will see the Emporer compensates me suitably, not that I would imply mistrust in you,” he added. “In fact, should you prevail in liberating Marienburg, the Elector Count should be more than gracious enough to give Brettonia a just reward.”
“And what reward would that be?” Roderick inquired.
“Oh, nothing either of you should trouble yourselves with,” the Duke replied. “Just tell him that Adalhard sends his regards, and expects compensation. He will know what that means, as would his advisors, should he come to an untimely end.”
The Duke steered the conversation to Von Kessel’s direction, the two speaking fondly on times long reminisced. Roderick looked down at his goblet, watching the blood-red hue of the wine swirl within. While he’d been off fetching magical relics, the Empire had come under war from Chaos forces, and while this hadn’t been the first time, the news was no less disconcerting. Multiple cities were under attack, and Marienburg of all places? The city was about as far removed from the frozen Norths as possible, where Chaos armies usually moved into the Empire from. Altdorf was a few days ride upriver from the city, and he wondered if the Capital was also under threat.
He emptied the rest of the goblet, trying to drown his worries, quickly pouring himself another cup. All around him the festivities continued, the mingling of dozens of conversations rising as more wine and cake was consumed. Had this been an Imperial gathering, there would be singing and dancing, usually initiated by those who couldn’t handle their drink, but there were no such proclivities in the Duke’s court. Everyone was prim and polite, and nobody had tried to feel up any of the serving maids who swished about in their fine silken dresses. This gathering was formal, high class. Not Roderick’s style in the least.
Lothar took his leave as he spotted another massive cake being rolled out on a trolley, but his seat was not left empty for long. Roderick glanced up as Edouart sidled into the chair beside him, the knight placing his helmet on the trestle with a clunk.
“Always a pleasure, ser,” Roderick said. “Or is it Your Grace, being the heir?”
“I am second born,” Edouart replied. “My brother is the heir, and he is warring in the south, slaying vampires.”
“Wouldn’t be too envious if I were you,” Roderick said, noting his tone. “I’ve only fought a handful of vampires in my time, and I would prefer to keep it that way if I can.”
“I wish to offer you my apologise, Erdmann,” Edouart began. “I was certain that you and Von Kessel were not being entirely truthful. I confess, I looked forward to seeing my father oust your claims with no small satisfaction, but I was foolish to think such. Please do not bare no grudge against me. If we are to travel together, I would rather share the road with a clear air.”
“As would I,” Roderick answered. He tilted his goblet. “I could be persuaded to let it all be water under the bridge, if you got me more of this delicious red.”
Edouart tsked. “You sit at the Duke’s table, you should try something from His Grace’s cellar.”
He caught the attention of a passing servant, exchanging a few brief words. The maid hurried off, and when she returned, she carried a large bottle with a red cap on the end, placing it before Roderick.
He read off the label, his eyes widening. “Morceaux Vin Sec… 2475?” he asked, glancing at the knight. “By Sigmar, this wine is older than me! You are certain I’m allowed to drink this? Von Kessel’s the friend, not I…”
“That as may be, we agreed to a drink for an apology,” Edouart replied. “Go on, see if the Morceaux is to your liking.”
“Considering a cup of this would cost my whole wallet, I doubt I’ll hate it.” Roderick poured a fresh cup. The sweet tang of ripe fruit coated his tongue. “I’ve never tasted a sweeter cherry than this.”
“I see you know your wines, Erdmann,” Edouart chuckled, flashing him an impressed glance.
“My family owned a vineyard, back in Altdorf,” Roderick said. “I worked as a hand there before war whisked me away. We made white vintages mostly, and dashed them with vanilla to give them that smooth texture as it passes the throat.”
“An interesting coupling, though I prefer a stronger taste myself. One finds very few good white wines this side of the Grey Mountains, the climes do not favour softer grapes. Even your countrymen in Estalia don’t bother with sweeter flavours.”
“Sounds like you’ve had your share of vontages. Have any favourites?”
“Aside from Vin Sec? Hm. I did happen to sample an interesting batch of Asrai when I was out journeying to Athel Loren. Our Duke pertains a strong kinship with the wood elves, and we were assigned a delivery of gifts. Each of us were given a gift of nectar in a cup the size of a thimble.” He pinches two fingers together, demonstrating its size.
“That’s not very much,” Roderick noted.
“Only a sip, yes, but a sip full of a thousand barrels of oaked grape. Our human stomachs could not parse more than that, they told us, and I believed them. It was so rich I had cramps the entire ride home. What of you, Erdmann?” he prompted. “You seem a man well travelled, you must have tasted something just as exotic.”
“Well, there was the time I had some elven Dreamwine. It was at this festival in Altdorf, where all the generals in the city came together to celebrate some victory or other, I scant remember the details. I do remember its taste, though, it was like a sweetness of no other, and after every taste, each man was struck with visions for several minutes.”
“What sorts of visions?”
“Personally, I kept seeing this same forest sanctuary, full of the brightest flowers I’d ever seen. It looked so real, as though I’d been transported to one of Avelorn’s gardens. It was like living a dream for only a scant moment. Hence the name.”
“That sounds equal parts amazing… and terrifying. What should happen if you were to drink a whole bottle? Would you ever wake up?”
“That is a test best left unsolved, I should think,” Roderick admitted, the two sharing a laugh.
“Share with me, Erdmann, on how you came from making wine to making war. You say you dined with officers in your capital city. Are you a field commander?”
Roderick pressed the goblet to his lips, delaying his answer. “Was,” he muttered. “But no longer.”
“How did that come to be?”
“I made a mistake,” Roderick said. “One that cost a lot of good lives.”
Edouart could tell he wasn’t going to get much more of answer than that, steering the conversation elsewhere. “But now you seek to reclaim your honour?” he asked. “I heard you speak of a quest for the Conclave to my father.”
“I’m just a simple deliveryman,” Roderick said, trying to underplay the importance of his mission. He had opted to bring the relic with him tot eh caslte, the sandstone haft resting in the crook of his hip and thigh. He gave no indication that it was his precious cargo.
“A very important deliveryman, if the Skaven would accost you so close to our city,” Edouart noted. “And you even consider facing a Chaos horde if it means accomplishing the task.”
“Not consider,” Roderick corrected. “The Empire requires my aid, and I will answer her call.”
“Very stalwart,” Edouart said, giving him an approving nod. “You will need such confidence when we look upon Marienburg. Our scouts are not known to exaggerate.”
His words left a bitterness that the sweet wine couldn’t quench. Even with Edouart’s cavalry, breaking a siege would be no easy feat. These were early days of course, Roderick would have to assess Marienburg’s situation himself, and that would mean crossing Brettonia and reaching the city first. Facing Chaos soldiers was a lot different than facing Skaven vermintides obviously, but one thing at a time.
“Then let us toast to it,” Roderick said, lifting his goblet. “To our will, let it not faulter on the road ahead.”
Edouart seemed amused by the gesture, perhaps the ritual was not often used in this country, but the knight raised his own drink “And to the swiftness of our horses,” he added, and they downed their cups in unison.
“By the way,” Roderick added, setting down his goblet. “Your father mentioned the Count of Marienburg would the proper reward for his aid. Any idea what he meant by that exactly?”
“There has oft been contentions between Brettonia and the Marienburg port,” Edouart said. “and the borders are always in shift. I can imagine a redrawing would be of great interest to my Duke.”
Roderick got the notion that the knight was being modest. The Elector Count would not be pleased to give up his territory – Roderick was not so happy himself of the price – but there was no alternative. They needed Brettonia’s aid, and the Duke was taking advantage to push his claims.
He pushed these thoughts aside. Roderick was a soldier, he had little patience for political intrigue. Protecting the Empire was all that mattered, and come morning, their first step home would be taken.
-xXx-
Skyseeker decided that travelling by night was safer, but after the lights multiplied it made little difference.
The orchards had very little cover for her to hide within, and she was about as visible as could be within the daylight. She would take refuge within the treetops, using the branches to traverse. It made her progress woeful, but she never once set upon the ground until dusk. The expended all her energy in desperate sprints in the moonlight, thanking the indefatigable Lord Gnawdwell for her goggles, its wondrous technologies turning the night to swirling greens, as though the moon had been replaced by a giant ball of warpfire.
Her withdrawal from the coast was quick and efficient, right up until it wasn’t. Two days had seen the coast disappearing behind her, yet the problems it came with persisted.
There were more of the Skaven every night, scouts travelling alone, to groups of rats between six and fifteen strong. Some she recognised from the patrols out by the tidepools she’d washed up in, but there were more new faces than old. Word has spread that she was in the area, and this was not just her speculating. Two eves after the coast, she had climbed upon a tree to rest her paws, when a gruff, chittery shout rose above the treetops, growly and baleful as they reported their position. It was answered by another screech from another direction, only this response was from Skaven twenty or more strong, so close she could make out individual voices. She did not sleep soundly that day.
Skyseeker could glimpse the search parties by the fire of their camps or torches, the embers flickering between the trees. With every passing night more appeared in the woods she travelled, and it wasn’t uncommon to see no less then ten embers of light surrounding her when night fell.
Her best guess was thirty Skaven sharing the valley with her, but Skyseeker couldn’t feel any more alone. Sometimes she would go to sleep thinking that Roderick was there beside her, taking the next watch, and those brief moments of forgetfulness were rays of light in this miserable position she found herself in.
One night, right as she prepared to take her nightly run, she’d almost been caught. She was halfway down the trunk when she noticed three Skaven entering the clearing below. She held her pose, daring to not even breath as they passed her tree. One of them stopped right below her place to relieve himself, and Skyseeker was forced to this unseemly sight for nearly two minutes.
Her eyes flicked as a sliver of metal was brandished by one of the others. He took the axe to the tree beside hers, the sound of it chopping against the wood making her ears flick in agitation. Once it crashed to the ground, the Skaven began hacking it into carriable chunks.
Comments
Stirling
You've done it you sick bastard, I'm playing Bretonia...
