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“You still owe me a drink!” she called after him.
His lodgings had already been taken care of by the men once word of his return had spread, Roderick finding his tent set up within walking distance of Kessel’s command pavilion. At least there was someone in this camp glad of his presence, Roderick sighing in frustration as he started to remove his armour. Risks be damned, it was simply unacceptable to let a roaming band of Chaos go uncontested when they had the men and the numbers to make a difference. Caution had its place in war, but inaction was the path to defeat.
He would have to try again tomorrow, this was a terrible opportunity to turn down, yet what more could he say that he hadn’t already? Maybe he would think of something in the morning.
Or better yet, perhaps there was another way to get the Captain to listen to him…
He had only used the relic on his fellow countrymen that first time he’d tested its magical waters. He could coerce the Captain into seeing reason, but would the effect linger, or would Kessel’s senses return once Roderick stopped using its magic? The tension between them would only deepen if the Captain found out Roderick had manipulated him into doing his bidding.
But why stop there? If could find a way to keep the door to Kessel’s mind open, he could control him indefinitely, but did he have the strength for such a thing? He didn’t know enough about the relic’s powers, he had to test its limits, and this was the perfect chance to do it.
Roderick ran his hands through his hair, muttering a curse. What was he thinking? Subjugation was the way of Chaos, and he was a Son of Sigmar, such thoughts should be banished from his mind, yet the allure was difficult to supress. He was not so low as to bend the wills of his fellow man. Yes, he had done it once during his first dabbles into the relic’s powers, but he had only done it out of necessity, he hadn’t done much more than a nudge or two…
He stripped down to his undergarments, trying to clear his mind as he laid down on his bedding. His thoughts turned to Bael, of how he had left the homeland as a son of Sigmar, only to return in the company of Norscan’s and Chaos. What had happened that had caused his loyalties to stray? Had he felt the same things as Roderick was at this moment?
Sleep would not come easy with all this troubles brewing inside him, Roderick feeling the hours go by as he lay with his eyes closed but his mind fully aware. Eventually he gave it up, pulling the relic from his discarded belt and laying it on the sheets beside him, its presence as comforting as a lover sharing his bed. The comparison was disturbing beyond all, yet Roderick felt himself drifting off regardless, and when he dreamt of Marienburg, the city under siege from a Chaos army thousands strong. Only when he led the cavalry into a charge at their rear, the warriors welcomed him with open arms, for they knew he had come to join them.
-xXx-
Roderick was getting nowhere with Von Kessel, two days of laying out different battle plans and strategies had been rejected by the stubborn Captain, who refused all propositions of counterattack. The Captain rejected any notion of leaving the hellcannons alone as a danger to themselves. “We will give them leagues of breathing room between us and them,” he’d said. “We’ll be well across the border by the time they catch wind of us.”
The company was trekking hard and fast across the contrefort steppes, Roderick vaguely remembering this patch of emptiness when he’d been with his scouts. He’d left the riders in the care of a man he trusted, deciding to take a small rest with the main host. With all the silver knights and banners and cargo wagons, the company was a glittering, temping target with no cover to speak of out here in the steppes, yet they proceeded on without seeing so much as a soul. Perhaps there was something to be said for Von Kessel’s focus on discretion, but it seemed more like blind luck to Roderick.
They made a point of making sure they couldn’t even see the smoke trailing from the old battlefield, Roderick feeling a pang of guilt when Edouart came up to talk with him later that day. He had a right to know his kin were just lying out there as crow food, but Marienburg was their focus right now, much as he hated to side with Von Kessel. Once the city was safe, he vowed to personally help bury the dead.
It was all sprawling steppes the rest of that day, and the rest of the day went by slowly. They camped between a few rock formations that provided a somewhat natural barrier around the tents, then packed up early the next morning. The detour around the hellcannons added a few days to their journey, but once Von Kessel was satisfied, he looped the host back towards the east.
Yet more steppes lay before them, but eventually, a detail rose up over the horizon. It was a riverbank, a tin stream of water tricking from right to left, the earth rising on the opposite bank where it met the start of a vibrant forest. As they marched closer and got a better idea of its winding shape, Roderick recognised it. There were many lengths of water drifting from the couronne swamps to the north, and this river was one of them. It also marked the edge where the provinces of Brettonia and Marienburg met. Those forests belonged to the Empire.
The excitement was palpable among the men, cheers of relief rising up among some of their number, but they were not bound for home just yet. There was no easy crossing for all their wagons and horses, but Roderick directed them towards the south, where he knew there to be a crossing. They rode close to the water bank, following it upstream until it shallowed until one could spot the bottom through the teal-coloured waters. The ford was wide enough that two wagons could pass through without risk of sinking, and so the main host came to a stop as a crossing was organised.
“We should get some infantry across first,” Roderick said, when he found Von Kessel and his advisors near the ford. “Some orcs with crossbows as well.”
“Why?” Von Kessel asked.
“Would you rather we make the crossing without covering both flanks? We will make an easy target as we cross the ford.”
“Very well. Go round up some of your greenskin friends and clear the path, we’ll start moving the wagons and supplies when you deem it clear.”
Edouart and Mazkha were willing enough to lend some volunteers. He remembered a few of their faces from the Cassel ambush, and some had been on scouting duty alongside him, and they were eager to follow him out. They brought no horses, as the tree line beyond was too dense outside of the dirt path, water kicking up little waves as he led a procession across the river.
Roderick was the first to step foot on Imperial soil, and in that moment he allowed himself to forget all his worries for a small moment of reprieve. The Marienburg region may not be the place he grew up in, but beyond lay the comfort familiarity of the Empire. He had made it through the mysteries and wonders of many foreign lands, and now it was time to come home and answer the call of his nation.
“Secure the woods,” Roderick commanded. “I want a perimeter along the river, and crossbows watching the road.”
Transferring nearly five hundred soldiers across a narrow ford was a time-consuming effort, and all of them were concentrated around a very small area. They would make a perfect target for an artillery barrage.
From this side of the bank he could see Von Kessel had decided to bring the army across one small group at a time, with the men and Brettonians first, and the orcs holding the rearguard. When about half their number crossed, Von Kessel and his advisors took their turn, along with the supply wagons. It was smooth going until one of the wheels of the wagon got caught in a sinkhole, and the back half of the cart tilted towards the deeper waters, the rider shouting out in alarm as he was nearly toppled from his seat. Tens of barrels and creates were stacked in the back of it, nearly a third of their supplies from Roderick’s count.
Von Kessel turned his mount around, and for a moment he only gawked as the mule whickered in complaint and the wagon sunk deeper into the silt. Roderick cursed, leaving his post to rush down the incline to help, but he was too far away, the wagon would sink at any second.
Just as he reached the bank, he spotted one of the orcs rushing in from the other side. It was Makzha, throwing aside her crossbow and spears, splashing into position behind the wagon. Without pause she gripped the sunken wheel in her hands, her sculpted muscles flexing as she heaved. He swore he could see her sink into the river a little as she countered the wagon’s weight with her own. For a moment nothing moved in her struggle, but then the wagon, supplies and all, began to slide, and she slowly heaved it back onto the tougher shallows, Roderick and the others watching on in bewilderment.
“A little help from yer mule would be appreciated, ‘umie,” Mazkha called. The driver collected himself, flicking the reigns and forcing the donkey forward. Mazkha pushed for a little longer, and then the wagon was out, speeding along to the safety of the shore.
“It seems your orcs have their uses after all,” Von Kessel called as Roderick walked by. He ignored the Captain, wading his way towards Mazkha as the rest of the men got moving again.
“Little knight!” she called when she noticed him. “Tell your riders the next time they get stuck, they should do a little more movin’ instead of gawkin’.”
“Good work there, lass,” he said. “I’d thought we’d lost that coach for sure, but you pulled it out all by yourself. Astonishing.”
“That little cart? It was nothin’,” she said, reaching up to ruffle her hair. It gave him a good look at her massive bicep, her sleeveless vest exposing her bulging muscles. She was built like a giantess, yet her figure was still that of an alluring woman.
“Checkin’ out my muscles, hey?” she chuckled, curling her arms over her head and flexing like a circus strongman. She pushed out her generous bust in a way that came of as intentional, Roderick’s eyes wandering. “I ain’t a museum, little knight, you can touch me if you want.”
Roderick cleared his throat, Mazkha smirking at him as he turned away.
“Let’s make sure nobody else gets stuck in here,” he said, changing the subject. “I’d rather not linger here any longer than we must.”
Under Mazkha’s protection, the rest of the supplies got across without incident. Much of the daylight had been burned by the time the last of the procession was across, and it was early in the evening before they were ready to proceed further.