2k words
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The coastal road was the first Imperial road the band had come across since the sinking of the wolfship, with a splendid view of the reiver Reik on one side, and hemmed in by unbroken stretches of forests on the other. The way was short and easy compared to the Contreforts, and the band made smooth progress downstream, where beyond lay the marshes that commanded the majority of the province.
The road was not theirs alone. A few small holdouts and villages spanned the shore, and upon sight of their banners their fellow countrymen welcomed them with open arms, providing what small share of food and other supplies they could spare. They were careful to keep their orc companions out of sight, but the Brettonians were given curious looks but welcomed all the same.
Roderick questioned the villagers for news of Marienburg, and they told him much the same as the Duke’s scouts had. A terrible army had besieged the city, some claimed it was Chaos, others thought they were Nurgle’s servants, but after a bit of probing he found out that none of them were eyewitnesses, it was mostly hearsay. If there was any important information to be had, it wouldn’t be from here.
Over the next day the band encountered travellers and caravans along the coast, all of them riding the other way. One group claimed to have come from Klessen, a town not far from Marienburg itself. Men in black armour had raised it to the ground, they said, and the entire way south had been cut off, leaving them to go north as far as they could. They’d tried to find a ship to make passage to the eastern shore of the Reik, but they hadn’t a single ship that would take them, even in Antorpe. “They wouldn’t spare their ships for commonfolk,” Von Kessel had said at this news. “We’ll be more fortunate than them.”
Riding through Imperial country was no less safe than Brettonia, especially with a besieging army so close. Roderick’s scouts reported a few groups of deserters and even a few patrols of Chaos warriors, not enough to threaten their humble army, but troubling in their own right. Mareinburg may not be bound to the Empire, but they were as Imperial as the rest of the provinces. Why would Kessel abandon them now? He could not wrap his head around it.
“He’s just out for his own skin,” Mazkha had answered him. She oft rode with him as he relayed his orders to the scouts or took their reports. “Ain’t so different from orcs. Ya think one Warrrgh cares about another? You’re dreamin’.”
“The Empire is different to a Warrgh. At least, some of us are. It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Wilfred trusted him, and he’s not one to be a poor judge of character.”
“Maybe it was just the face he wanted you to see,” Mazkha suggested. “Wilfred’s part of that wizardy conclave, ain’t that what you said? What if he just wanted to impress them. Without your old man around, the chance of him getting’ any credit for his help are slim.”
“But not zero,” Roderick insisted. “And people’s lives are no substitute for fame and glory. I’ve made that mistake once before, I won’t let it happen again.”
“How ya plan on doin’ that?” Mazkha asked, steering her boar over a bump in the road.
“I don’t know,” Roderick lamented. “He has no faith in our strength, thinks victory is impossible, and the Mareinburgers unworthy of our rescue. If Wilfred really was the only reason he lent his aid, I’m not sure what else I can try. It seems impossible.”
“You must be hungover or somethin’,” Mazkha chuckled. “But yer so focused on the Cap you can’t see the answer’s right in front of ya.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“It wasn’t Kessel that convinced the warboss to follow you,” she said. “And the way Eddy tells it, Kessel didn’t ask for his knights. It was you. You’re the reason our army’s as big as it is, not cause of him. Orcs follow the strongest, and people know who’s got the balls between you and him.”
“Perhaps,” Roderick conceded, scratching the stubble on his chin. He had the ears of many of Kessel’s men, and like at Cassel, they would follow him with the right motivation. “If the Captain wants no part of this quest, his men can’t all be of the same mind, can they? I’ve seen them fight, their hearts are in it, even if his is not. They could be persuaded to fight.”
“Not a bad thought,” Mazkha said. “I can put in a word for ya with me little brother, and Eddy shouldn’t be hard to convince, but I can’t help ya much with the other humies.”
“With the right motivation, the sailors could see reason,” he said. “It’s the officer’s that concern me. They’re Kessel’s most trusted confidants, they will not be easily convinced.”
“Maybe they could be… inexplicably absent all of a sudden,” Mazkha suggested. “Y’know, one day they’re here, the next they’re not. It’ll help even out the odds.”
“If you’re suggesting we execute them…”
“No, no,” she added. “I could round up some boys and detain them in the camp somewhere’s. Stop em’ from causing any mischief.”
“That would draw too much suspicion. Suddenly the entire of Kessel’s officers go missing, and only moments later I am there, trying to take charge? Nobody would buy it. No, even entertaining the thought of this… coup… is bad enough, I will not have my fellow men arrested by greenskins.”
“It sounds a bit off when you put it that way,” Mazkha conceded. “What’s your idea?”
“Kessel’s not the only one with trusted followers…”
Roderick knew a few names he would consider trustworthy. Granted, the list would barely fill half a page of parchment, but anything had to be taken at this point. None of Kessel’s officer were counted among them, only foot solders and riders he’d fought alongside with, and the few who had been tolerant of Skyseeker.
A few strolls through the ranks proved he wasn’t the only one to mourn her loss, and she had not been idle in improving her reputation. She had forsaken her home, her entire race, to stay by his side, and the small but significant number of men who had a passing opinion of her reflected how much she’d tried.
It was their sympathy he had to leverage, use it as fuel to continue where Kessel would have them stop. He would not state his intentions so plainly, and never in public, especially when the officers were around. But the camp was a big place, and there were plenty of discreet spots to gather supporters.
Mazkha knew Edouart far longer than Roderick did, and he trusted her counsel, yet he still found himself hesitating before the Brettonian. It was one thing to ask an Imperial to help the cause, but Edouart was still a Brettonian, a foreigner. To involve them in a plot like this made Roderick’s stomach turn, but he had to garner as much support as possible. It was the only path forward.
“I must say, Roderick, this news you bring is… disturbing,” the young knight murmured, pacing his lavish tent. It was not as large as a pavilion, but Edouart had taken all the luxuries he could afford to travel with on this journey. Colourful tapestries hung from the flanks, and oaken furnishings gave it the feel of a modest tavern room, and it all rested on a silk red carpet that spanned right to the edges of the canvas. “I hear much about your Empire over my lifetime, the rumours speak of an Empire spanning most of the known world, of millions of citizens who’ve come together to form a great nation. I had not expected such… ficklety in its ranks.”
“We all serve the Empire in our own ways,” Roderick replied. “What we do in these next few days, we do for the good of all Imperials.”
“Says the man who seeks to usurp his commanding officer,” Edouart replied. “Knights serve their betters, they do not plot their demise behind their backs. To do so is to risk the news.”
“We’re not in Brettonia,” Roderick insisted. “And there are no knights here but your own. This is an Imperial affair, not yours.”
“Yet you ask for my support,” Edouart said, lifting a questioning hand. “My involvement has already been proven the moment you came here, I cannot risk it growing further.”
“Edouart, surely you must see Kessel’s leadership has taken the turn for the worse? He’s betrayed his promise to your father, and if he has his way any further, all the men we’ve lost along the way will have died for nothing. It cannot continue.”
“I will not deny it, I am not fond of his decisions,” Edouart conceded. “But what you speak of, there is no honour in this.”
“And what honour will you have when you’re forced to return to your father with nothing?” Roderick countered. “You will be right back where you started, only with less knights. If we retake Marienburg, as we originally planned, your Duke will get his promised lands and be duly compensated. You have my word on that.”
Edouart leaned heavily on one of his oak chairs, which was more a throne than a simple stool, the way its wood was carved into intricate shapes around the feet and backrest. For a long time he did not speak, but when he did, he did not look up from the ground.
“Will you kill him?” he asked.
“Certianly not,” Roderick replied in an instant. “No harm will come to anyone, I will not spill the blood of any Imperial.”
“And if Von Kessel raises his sword against you, will you keep to this oath?”
“I will defend the Empire till my dying breath.”
“It seems I must agree to these terms,” Edouart said. he rose, extending a glove. “I have only one other condition,” he said. “If there is to be blood spilled between Imperials, I will not have my knights involved.”
“They won’t be asked to,” Roderick replied, taking his hand.
There was no need to pay a similar visit to Morgoroth, as Mazkha had his ear and promised to say the right thing at the right time. “But I ain’t doin’ it for free,” she’d said. “You’re taking me out someplace. That’s my price.”
“There’s not many places to take a lass out here,” he’d replied. The road had its way rests and its taverns, but they were always careful to keep the orcs out of sight. “If you mean to invite yourself to a wayrest, you best bring your spear.”
“Who wants to spend time stuffed in some dank inn that smells like cheap beer?” she scoffed. “Remember how we scouted out those steppes? Let’s do somethin’ like that again, explore these Imperials woods a little. This place ain’t nothin’ like Brettonia.”
It was easy to forget that she’d never left Brettonia until a few days ago. “Very well,” he’d answered. “I’ll assemble some riders.”
“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” she said, elbowing him in jest. “No riders, just us, a camp, and a bit of quiet time. That’s the price for my help.”
“One would think you were trying to get me alone,” he joked.
“I’ve been trying to do that since day one,” she replied with a smirk that exposed more of her tusks.
Roderick had organised the scouts for the rest of the two-day approach to Antorpe, and the next series of reports wouldn’t be due back until morning, so there was no cause to deny her. Their was a comfortable amiability between them as they saddled up that evening, their talk back in the bathhouse still fresh on his mind. They had come to know each other much better than before, and he felt humbled by her trust in him. She didn’t see him as some conquest, she genuinely felt attraction for him and was after more than a fling in the sheets, despite her attempts that had suggested otherwise.
She in turn seemed much chipper now, and he suspected this was because she’d told few people about her childhood, if anyone outside of Morgoroth. She had even gotten bold enough to touch his arm or ruffle his hair whenever they were trotting along at the same pace, and his heart fluttered each time. First a Skaven, now an orc, he seemed to be falling head over heels for every other sentient creature he came across. Being outside the Empire had certainly changed him.
The forest was serene in the late dusk, a few muted crickets providing a pleasing background noise that soothed the world. One could almost forget one of the most important battles was taking place a few days’ ride from here, yet the creatures of the forest seemed not to care. It was pleasant just being in Mazkha’s company in their gentle ride through the underbrush, even if they didn’t have to say anything.