I don't know how I missed it, but my last post was saved as a draft and never saw the light of day. Please accept this 6k word update as my apology .
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She rolled on top of him, lifting his arms and encouraging him to pinch her nipples. “My human,” she said. “My mate. Let’s consummate our love, I want you reeking of my scent for hours.”
-xXx-
Roderick led his horse between the tents, adjusting the sling of his pack. Everyone was in the midst of packing up for the next long march, though there was a certain sense of excitement that could be gleamed from the men’s movements. There was only a handful of days left until they reached Antorpe. For some this meant the end of their long journey, but for others it was one last stepping stone before the greatest fight in their lives.
It was becoming a more prevalent topic of conversation among the camp, rumours circulating of how Roderick had once been a general, and that his leadership would see to restoring the city. This wouldn’t be too much of a concern on its own, but Roderick had heard that Lothar, Von Kessel’s second, had overheard one of these conversations and had demanded who’d spread such rumours. Whether Roderick’s name had been said he did not know, but he had noticed a conspicuous distance between him and the Captain’s advisors. He was oft encouraged to attend their meets and councils, but there had been little of that lately. There were few conclusions to take from all that.
Some of the men gave him strange looks as he passed, none more than fickle glances who weren’t eager to make eye-contact, but strange nonetheless. Roderick had his supporters, but he had his adversaries as well. It was one thing to have the backing of the orcs and Brettonians, but with the sailors things were not so clear cut. Being scrutinised by his fellow countrymen was more shameful than anything, and perhaps they were right to on some level. He was undermining Kessel’s command, yet if he did not follow this path, thousands would die.
There was only so much staring he could take, so he’d saddled up early that morning, his bags ladened with his maps and navigation equipment. His scouts were already waiting for him on the outskirts, and if the men were swift he’d have reports on Antorpe’s walls by evening. The settlement was only a few days’ ride from Marienburg, they had to be prepared for the possibility it had been caught in the siege.
Some orc riders had volunteered to return to the duty. Mazkha wasn’t with them, Roderick blushing as he struggled to decide if that was a good thing or not. They had gone at it until exhaustion and further the night prior, Roderick remembering his sense of time diluting until the seconds seemed like hours. She’d planned to spend the next day or two ensuring that her brother wouldn’t cut ties if Von Kessel decided to flee. “Shouldn’t be so hard,” she’d said. “If there’s a choice between a few little skirmish or the biggest fight of our lives, I know which my little brother would pick.”
So he would ride alone with his scouts this time around, which at least would mean he wouldn’t be distracted by her wily charms.
While the camp packed up, the scouts rode out, Roderick sending out the first batch of riders once they had crossed a few hills and were a suitable enough distance. He kept a small contingent with him as he pressed on down the coastal road, the warm breeze rippling over the water.
Across the day he would send a rider back to the main force to report any wayward findings they came across, such as the many inns and way rests sprinkled down their southern path. This was the busiest highway between the Empire and Brettonian kingdom, and although Roderick had never walked this road, he could imagine its traffic in times of relative peace.
Yet now the travellers were few, and the wayside inns barely had any patrons, and the welcome they received was barely passable. Armed men meant trouble, and few were willing to say more than a passing greeting.
One of his men did hear one interesting rumour worth passing on. The innkeeper had heard sighting of a mage in the region, walking from place to place in search of men willing to fight. He hadn’t seen him in person, but most folks couldn’t agree if he was a fire mage or a light wizard.
Roderick decided to double back and ask the innkeeper himself about him, and for a couple gold coins he told him all he could. “People think he’s holed up at the Keg,” the fellow said. “And that wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
“Why is that?”
“The Keg’s a place that’ll welcome just about anyone. Criminals, deserters, people with the witchunter’s after them, ain’t nobody that grouchy old Falko won’t take under his roof for the right price. Can’t say if the mage is still there. Why you so interested anyway?”
“He’s not the only one looking for recruits,” Roderick replied, but he would say no more. Fire or light, a mage was a useful ally, perhaps they had a common goal and the mage was planning on aiding Marienburg. Perhaps if he dropped Wilfred’s name, he could be persuaded to join them.
Supposedly the Keg tavern was a little further on down the coast road, they could reach it by nightfall if they were quick. Roderick’s orc outriders reported back intermittently throughout the day, and of Chaos forces there was no sight. He sent the next batch to scout further afield, while he would cover the Keg and the coast road personally.
While the men were capable riders they did not make well for conversation, and riding along on his destrier became a very quiet affair, little else to watch but the river to let the time pass by. Perhaps it was no so fortunate that Mazkha had not come along. With most of his friends gone, and Von Kessel now poised to abandon his duty, this quest had become a very forlorn affair.
The winding road eventually sloped upward and west, into a raised plateau that gave a commanding view of the river Reik, at least where the arrays of trees broke to give one. They passed between rock formations for a short while before the ground evened out, and here Roderick had his escorts clear the area. Brettonia was not the only place thick with bandits, and Roderick would take no chances.
When his riders returned there was no sign of banditry, all save for one had nothing to report. “Someone’s out on the road behind us,” the man had said. “No mule, no horse either.”
From up on the plateaus edge, Roderick could see it for himself. Down the curling road, perhaps a league or two, was someone walking the road in their direction. He was using a walking stick in one hand, but it was hard to tell if he was armed. This was far from the first wanderer they’d seen on this road, but this was the first one to be going towards Marienburg, and that was worth some scrutiny.
“Let him be,” Roderick had decided. “One man on foot is hardly a threat to a group of riders. Most like he is just a vagrant.”
They rode on for a few more hours, yet when they stopped to break camp Roderick could feel eyes on him, and he turned to look back down the road. The vagrant was not there, yet he swore he could see movement through the threes that hugged the curve of the road, though it surely had to be his imagination. They had ridden briskly all day, someone who needed a walking stick would never catch up.
He watched their flank the entire break, yet the vagrant did not reveal himself. He discarded the matter, and had his men ride on. The Keg was only a few hours away now, if the innkeeper’s directions were accurate.
Eventually they caught sight of a lone, triangular rooftop poking up from the tops of the trees, a wisp of chimney smoke leading them the rest of the way. Soon the forest yielded to a fork in the road, one path leading towards a clearing and a wayside tavern, the other continuing on towards the south.
The building was three stories tall in one part, while the rest was a two-tiered offshoot, roughly thirty meters long and half as wide. The stone walls were painted in a brisk orange shade, contrasting with the dark tiles of its roof. Someone had gone to great lengths to carve patterns into the stone, painting in wooden planks to make the building appear as though it were made of oak, most likely to pay homage to the Keg’s namesake. Glass windows lined all down its length, and in the early evening he could see candlelight spilling through to create squares of light on the dirt around the structure.
The road curved towards its main entrance, while a rickety stable had been erected to the other side of the path, most of the pens vacant save for a few saddled horses. Balconies jutting from the upper levels of the Keg were supported by wooden beams, which also helped to shade a modest outdoor dining area. At this distance, there was nobody outside.
“Any of you been to this place?” Roderick asked. The men shook their heads, even the orcs, as if that wasn’t obvious. “You three come with me, the rest of you keep watch on the road from here. Orcs stay out of sight, just as last time. Keep an eye out for trouble.”
“Found some,” one of the greenskins said almost immediately. “Looks like our tail’s growin’ bolder.”
Roderick turned, frowning as he saw the vagrant round the bend in the road. For a lone traveller he was bold to stay out in the open so much, unless he wasn’t alone at all.
“I don’t like this,” Roderick said. “We’ve ridden all day, yet he still closes distance with us.”
“Then let’s gut him and be done with it,” another orc suggested.
“If it comes to that, we will,” Roderick said. “I’ll get rid of him. Orcs with me, the rest of you hang back. If he has people in the woods, be ready to ride out to meet them.”
The vagrant stopped in his tracks when Roderick and his three orc outriders separated, rushing him down in a supressed charge. He’d thought the rushing boars would scare him off, but the vagrant simply held his ground.
Roderick signalled for his orcs to slow alongside him as they neared, the greenskins circling the lone stranger from all sides. Now that he could get a better look, he saw the vagrant was cowled, his long robe concealing all but his liver-spotted hands and the leather boots on his feet.
The Vagrant seemed more curious than alarmed at being surrounded by orcs, and a knot of unease welled in his chest. Roderick suppressed it, one hand moving to the scabbard of his short sword as he addressed the stranger.
“State your name and your business,” Roderick demanded. “You’ve been following my riders for some time now. If you value your life, you will tell us why, now.”
“Is this how you greet an old friend?” the man chuckled. He reached for his hood, pulling back the cowl to reveal a withered face, Roderick’s eyes lighting up in surprise.
“W-Wilfred?”
He clambered off the saddle, waving for the orcs to be at ease as they looked on in confusion. The old man went to say something, but Roderick pulled him into a hug before he could speak, careful to consider the wizard’s aged body despite his enthusiasm.
“I thought you had been lost!” Roderick said, his relief infectious as his embrace was returned. “We sent a raven, but we never got your answer.”
“The birds I sent were shot down,” Wilfred explained. “I was too far into enemy territory to risk it, and by the time I was safe, I knew not where in Brettonia to send them. I am sorry to have worried you so, Roderick.”
“Don’t apologise, my old friend,” Roderick insisted, pulling back to clap him heartily on the shoulder. The burden that had settled on his shoulders ever since Lyonesse, it was lifting away, Roderick’s relief palpable. “I’m just so glad to see you.”
“As am I. Let’s have a look at you,” he added, begging in to fret over Roderick as he looked him over, almost immediately lifting his right arm, the one he’d bruised back at Cassel. “What happened here?”
“Relax, Will, it is fine. I took a fall from my horse, but that was many weeks ago.”
“Did one of the good Captain’s men treat you?” Wilfred said. “If so, they should have used one of the many remedies I left in your care.”
“Actually, it was one of my orc friends here,” Roderick said, gesturing to the riders. “You can relax, men,” he insisted, seeing they were still on edge.
“I see you’ve been busy!” the wizard noted. “I know in your note you said you’d enlisted a tribe, but it’s still a fascinating sight to behold. They follow your command?”
“Yes and no. Their warboss has agreed to lend his aid. Their Warrrgh is back with the main host, along with the Brettonians.”
“And you brought them all this way without conflict?” he asked. “Well done indeed, Roderick.”
“I wouldn’t say without conflict,” Roderick admitted. “It’s not been without its disagreements, either. From all sides…”
“Yet you managed all the same, as I knew you would,” Wilfred replied. “Come,” he added, steering Roderick towards the tavern. “We have much to discuss, and your men must be tired. The Keg has plenty of food ready.”
Roderick took his horse by the reigns, walking him along as he and Wilfred made their way up the road, the orcs trailing behind. The wizard peered round to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard, then lowered his voice. “Forgive me but I must ask,” he began. “What of the relic?”
“It’s here,” Roderick said, patting the staff hanging from his belt.
“I know that, but has it done anything?” Wilfred reiterated. “Did you remember to cast the wards I taught you?”
“Yes, but… they had little effect as time went on,” Roderick said. “The past few weeks, it has become more and more… alive, almost as though it wanted to be used, like it’s… aware.”
“It is, in some ways,” Wilfred answered. “The true powers of the Warp are far beyond even the comprehension of our most learned scholars, but Chaos energy is a hungry creature, it will feast on any life force it can reach. You did not let it out of its containment, did you?” he asked. “The wards should have kept it contained, if you were vigilant.”
“I... tried to, Will,” Roderick began. “But…”
“But what?” Wilfred asked, visibly growing concerned. “You… You did not use it, did you? Oh, no. Roderick…”
“I had no choice,” he insisted. “We were attacked by Chaos so many times, Will. If I had not used it, my friends and comrades would have died.”
“And did you consider it would put your own life in jeopardy?” Wilfred snapped. “We don’t know how the relic was created, what purpose it served to the Tomb Kings. Did I not warn you against these very threats from the beginning? You risk its corruption with every drawn breath. Even now I can sense it drawn over you.”
Roderick felt his anger flare. “I have not, and will never, submit to Chaos. Why would you thrust this thing into my care if you did not think I could resist its will? The relic does not control me.”
Wilfred scrutinised him for a silent moment, and Roderick could see a flash of disappointment cross his face. He exhaled, stroking his long beard with his hand.
“Forgive me,” Wilfred sighed. “This is a great weight I have put on you, I do not need to add blame to it either.”
Roderick wanted nothing more than to apologise in that moment, but his temper forbade it. “We cannot dwell on what is done,” Roderick replied. “A good friend of mine told me that once.”
“Indeed, we can consider our options at another time,” Wilfred agreed. It was a thinly veiled postponement, but Roderick would take it. He had many questions for his old friend, and a lot to tell him in turn.
“So then,” Roderick said, after a few quiet paces. They were coming up on the tavern now, and he could hear mild chatter spilling form the open shutters. “The last I saw you, we were on the other side of the continent. How did you get here before us?”
“It’s quite the tale,” Wilfred replied. “We took a far shorter route than you did. I’ve not crossed the Grey Peaks in many decades, and it has not improved in the slightest.”
“We?” Roderick repeated.
“Oh, yes. I was not without a helping hand or two. I wouldn’t do the tale justice, but someone else surely would…”
“RICK-ROOOOOOD!?!”
He paused, turning his eyes up to the tavern. One of the shutters had been thrown open, a familiar, rodent-like snout peering down at him, mouth spread in a bright smile. His heart fluttered in his chest, Roderick feeling a swirl of emotions at the sight. He’d never been so glad to see a Skaven in his life.
Rather than turn to leave the tavern in a sensible fashion, Skyseeker stretched one leg onto the sill, and leapt straight out without pause for thought. At the last moment her paw flung out to catch on one of the balcony supports, and she slid down it just slow enough so she didn’t’ break her ankles on her landing. She landed in a clumsy sprawl, flailing about as she tried to sprint and stand at the same time, rushing across the space between them like a twirling bullet.
Roderick spread his arms in welcome, Skyseeker launching into his arms. She leapt off the ground, landing in his chest hard enough to nearly knock him over, her fuzzy body pressing against him as she wrapped her arms over his shoulders. He started to laugh, and so did she, Roderick able to easily hold her light frame as he held her close.
“I… I thought I had lost you, lass,” Roderick murmured, pressing his temple to hers. “When you did not turn up in the wreckage, I’d feared you… gone.”
“But not forgotten!” Skyseeker replied. “It takes more than a few shipwrecks and captures and stab-stabs to kill me-me, I told you this many times.”
Roderick laughed in disbelief, her tail batting against his legs as it waved in excitement. For a moment she simply stared into his eyes, then without warning she mashed her lips against his, her legs danlgin behind her in excitement. He let her warm tongue flick against his teeth, the sound of wet smacking intensifying as she poured every ounce of effort into the kiss.
Her brazen display left him blushing, and he could feel the eyes of his men on him, but he was beyond caring what they saw, and he returned her affections as he pleased.
He eventually broke away with a pop, but she wasn’t having it, Skyseeker pecking him on the cheeks and lips. “Skaven is so glad=glad to you see you again, Rick-Rod!” she panted. “I’d breed you right here and now if these… green-bean looking things you brought with you weren’t observing.”
“You are one uninhibited little rat, aren’t you?” he chuckled.
Rather than deposit her down, he held her at his waist, like a groom carrying their newly wed bride, her slight frame barely weighing a thing. She giggled, nestling into the crook of his arm, glancing over to see Wilfred watching their reunions with a quiet smile on his face. It had been a long, difficult road, and the end was far from sight, yet in this moment Roderick felt like things would turn in their favour yet.
As much as he’d relish the moment, something distracted him. Skyseeker was leaning into his shoulder, and the movement shifted the hood from her neck a little, exposing a nasty scar trailing down the length of her jaw. He didn’t remember that being there.
“What is this?” he asked, touching the unhealed skin with a finger. “Are you well, lass?”
“Well as a fiddle!” she said, turning her head to conceal the wound, but that was not the only blemish that was new. She still wore the bandoliers that was her signature fashion, but between the belts were a patchwork of scars, trailing form her neck to her waist. There was even what looked like a burn mark on her shoulder, covered in a patch of fur that hadn’t quite healed properly.
“Who did this to you?” Roderick asked, feeling a flare of anger rise. “What happened?”
“Would be easier if I told you what didn’t happen,” Skyseeker said, beginning to list off using her fingers. “First, I nearly drowned, then I got hunted, then I was captured, enslaved, tortured, warped, stabbed, whipped, punched, frostbitten, and…” She looked down, as though surprised she’d run out of fingers. “And like twenty thousand other thing-things!”
“Tortured?” Roderick demanded. Before she could explain, Wilfred stepped in, clearing his throat to get their attention.
“We all have much to explain,” he began. “Let’s head inside.”
“Is it just you two here?” Roderick asked, the three resume their walk up the path. Skyseeker was glued to his side, her tail coiled around his shin, as though their time apart could be relieved by never breaking physical contact with him.
“The men I took to escort me are inside,” Wilfred said. “Along with some others we picked up along the way. Even a few of Miss Seeker’s kin have come along.”
“That’s right-right,” Skyseeker confirmed, placing an enunciating hand on her chest. “Skaven’s got own little band of miscreants. Should have got slaves wayyy sooner, they very handy!”
There was room for their mounts at the stable, which was tended to by a working hand who was tentative about the orc boars, but he seemed to be on familiar terms with Wilfred, and eventually agreed to find them a trough.
When they reached the steps of the tavern’s entrance, there was someone standing outside waiting for them. He wore a white apron over a pair of working overalls, his face covered in a thick pair of handlebar moustaches. Roderick had to be a fool not to know this was the owner. Curiously, he seemed only mildly alarmed by the orcs’ presence, fixing Wilfred with a scowl.
“What’s all this?” the man asked with a furious gesture. “Finding board for your rats was one thing, but fuck me, now you’re bringing along greenskins?”
“It is as much a surprise to me as it is to you, Albert,” the wizard replied. The two seemed on familiar terms. “But if they’re in Roderick’s company, then I’ll take full responsibility for them.”
“Would it kill you to bring along some normal guests for once, maybe some wenches or something?” Albert sighed. “The Keg’s not got much of a reputation left, but with all these ‘people’ you’re bringing in, I don’t need chaos worship tacked onto the list.”
“The Conclave will compensate you accordingly, Albert.”
“Aye, so it always has, but coin only gets you so far, Will.” He looked the orcs up and down. “They’ll have to wait outside. My door’s ain’t big enough for them. Nothing personal.”
The orcs were amiable enough, taking to sitting around the tables in small groups, as the human-sized chairs were too small for them. As Roderick’s outriders piled inside, he noticed Skyseeker had pulled to one side, stopping to watch the orcs as they produced hunks of meat from their pockets, snacking on them as they chatted to one another.
There weren’t many patrons inside the dining area, only a couple of barmaids wiping down the furniture, a quiet drinkers spread to the corner booths, with the exception of a small group at the far side of the tavern. The place was nothing fancy, maybe able to house twenty or thirty diners, and perhaps half as many rooms from what he saw from the outside.
“I’m surprised the innkeep an his people are so tolerant,” Roderick noted. “That Albert hardly flinched when he saw the orcs.”
“This is not the first time I’ve brought eccentric guests to Albert’s door,” Wilfred explained. “He’s usually amiable to strangers, as long as the coin is right, and the guests aren’t too disruptive.” He pointedly looked at Skyseeker.
“Hey, don’t look at me-me. That alien was a danger to all life.”
“That ‘alien’ was Albert’s cat, and you nearly skinned it with that knife of yours.”
“You told Skaven to clear the perimeter!”
It was nice to listen to the two banter, it seemed they’d grown much closer since last time they were together. They passed a section of wall where the kitchen could be seen through an alcove, and the sound of banging pots and pans was echoing from within, Roderick taking a peek inside. He did a double take when he saw not one Skaven, but half a dozen of them crowded around the ovens, chittering and mumbling as they brought knives to vegetables and spoons to broiling broths. He was amused to see most of them were wearing aprons, one even had a tall chef’s hat perched precariously on his head. They were being supervised by a burly man who must be the tavern’s cook, overseeing a sort of controlled chaos. He supposed that was no less different than any other kitchen.
He wanted to ask about it, but Wilfred was hurrying the group along to the far side of the dining area, where the group of men he’d seen had risen form their seats. They were sailors, he realised, and his outriders recognised them, called them by name. The two groups came together, exchanging hugs and handshakes, their jovial mannerisms infectious.
“We thought the sea had taken you, Otto!” one of the riders exclaimed, bringing the man into a bear-hug.
“There are more survivors upstairs, resting,” Wilfred told them. “I’ll send for them later, as they are still recovering from their wounds. Even with magic, frostbite is a serious matter.”
“How many of you are here?” Roderick asked.
“Nineteen, including those down here,” Wilfred answered.
“So few of us survived the shipwreck,” Roderick said. “I am glad they’re here, of course, every man counts, but we still lost so many.”
“Don’t forget my slaves!” Skyseeker added. “They not good for much than washing or cooking, but with a bit of training from the man-things, they can make a good meat shield.”
“She brought twenty-three of her kin with her,” Wilfred explained.
“Just over forty men to the cause,” Roderick said. “It feels good to be reinforced, we’ve not had anyone to bolster our numbers since Lyonesse. Brettonia is a hostile land, and we’ve been whittled away many times.”
They joined a few tables together so that everyone could sit within earshot of one another, Skyseeker hurrying to plonk herself in the chair beside him, while Wilfred sat across from them. Warm food and mead was arranged for their table, and after eating from rations all these weeks, the prospect of fresh food was a welcome sight. The men were eager to reunite and tell each other of all that had happened, but the outriders were so hungry there was a kind of lull in conversation when the maids brought out the dishes.
“So tell me,” Roderick began, cutting away a slice of served pork crackling. Even using cutlery seemed like a novelty. “You seem well established here at the Keg, how long have you hunkered here?”
“Almost a full week now,” Wilfred answered. “Once I was sure the Skaven would be safe under Albert’s care, I ranged the province, and eventually heard a rumour of a great forcing coming in from the north. I suspected it was you, but I was weary nonetheless. Chaos forces have been spotted in the area, and I would take no chances.”
“That’s why you suddenly appeared,” Roderick mused. “You were watching us for a while.”
“He did same thing to me!” Skyseeker added in. The cheese wheel was meant for the table, but she was wolfing down the whole thing with her bare hands. “Skaven thought was all alone in forest, then next thing, here he is! Creepy old man right behind you. Not good look, Fred-Wil.”
“And how did you come to be here before us?” Roderick asked. “We marched tirelessly across the country, and Will, last I saw you were riding south, while we pressed north to Lyonesse.”
“We crossed the Grey Mountains,” Wilfred replied, Roderick cocking his head in confusion. “There is a small part of the mountain chain where the Grey’s are most narrow, and we crossed it straight into the Empire.”
“A bold move. What made you come to that decision?”
“It was Miss Seeker’s strategy,” Wilfred corrected. “It was an arduous journey, and the risks were many.”
“That’s putting it lightingly,” Skyseeker said. “Cold almost froze off my whiskers, and then there was the beard-things, and that dragon I had to fend off.”
“Wait, what?” Roderick said, holding up a hand. “You fought a dragon?”
“Well, no. But! I gave it a good old fashioned Skaven fisticuff. Yep. Definitely didn’t flee-run from its pointy teeth. Why would you suggest that?”
“I see you two had quite the journey. Crossing the Grey’s of all places, meeting dragons, and arriving here with Skaven who help in the kitchens. Tell me how that all came to pass.”
“I’m not even sure where to begin,” Wilfred chuckled, taking a sip from his wine goblet.
“From the start silly!” Skyseeker replied. “And that’s the most best part, because it began with my mighty survival of the shipwrecking…”
Roderick ate as he listened to their tale, Skyseeker and Wilfred taking turns to explain all the details. Her capture after her failed attempt to assassinate a Skaven warlord called Ironsnout had him greatly concerned, and she didn’t have to elaborate on who had given her all those scars.
“This Lord Gnawdwell greatly wants you dead,” Roderick mused. “If he’d said a warlord all this way, plus those ships that took down our wolfship.”
“Skaven is only secondary goal for the Clan,” Skyseeker replied. “It’s relic-thing he wants, and the Snout won’t stop until he gets his paws on it. Man-thing did not come across him yet?”
“No, I’ve not seen any sign of Skaven activity at all these past few weeks.”
“Neither have we, since crossing the Grey’s,” Wilfred added in. “We were certain his warband was coming after you, and they would have had ample opportunity to cut you off as you made your way east. Troubling…”
“We’ve been busy holding off Chaos warriors,” Roderick said. “They have bands roaming the whole countryside, and their leader, Bael, his raiders have kept us occupied, to say the least. “
“Bael?” Wilfred asked, frowning at him. “I know the name, but he’s not been spotted in many years. Did you slay him?”
“No, he fled before we could corner him, and I’ve only seen him once. I’m not sure where he’s gone, but I doubt it isn’t far. He could be part of any one of these Chaos bands raiding the countryside.”
“So we have two warlords with a boner for our journey-mission,” Skyseeker mused. “The Snout and this hay-bale thing, plus whatever Chaos-things attacking the ‘Burg. Sounds fun-fun.”
“I’m afraid our problems don’t stop there,” Roderick said. “Von Kessel, he’s had a change of heart these past few days.”
Skyseeker narrowed her eyes, but it was Wilfred who answered.
“How do you mean, Roderick?”
“He does not plan on relieving the city,” he said. “At Antorpe, he wants to charter a ship and take his men elsewhere, maybe north to Laurelorn or the northern provinces, I don’t know.”
“And leave the western Empire to its fate?” Wilfred demanded. “Have you taken too many casualties?”
“We’ve taken a few losses, and our numbers are very few, but with the Brettonian and orc auxiliaries, we stand a chance,” Roderick answered. “But the Captain thinks otherwise. With you missing, he thinks there’s no point in pressing on.”
“He’ll banish the thought when he comes our way,” Wilfred grumbled. “Even if I had fallen, my death does not release him from his duty to the Empire. He should know better.”
“It’s not like Kessel-man to be unreliable,” Skyseeker added in. “Give him an earful from me, Fred-Wil, go off!”
“I assure you I will,” Wilfred replied. “perhaps we should hold council once the main host catches up to us,” he added. “The Keg has room to spare where we can plan out next course of action, the Captain, whoever represents the orcs and the Brettonians, everyone.”
“A moot of all the big cheeses?” Skyseeker asked. “Can I come?”
“Of course you can,” Roderick replied. “You represent the Skaven, don’t you?”
She pumped her fist in victory, hissing a quiet yes under her breath.
“I’ll have a rider let the band know to divert this way,” Roderick continued. “You think Albert won’t mind us camping around his tavern?”
“If anything, he’ll be thrilled for the business,” Wilfred replied. “I’m sure the men will be thrilled to see Otto and the others, and there’s plenty of empty rooms in the Keg. They’ll want to celebrate, and I don’t see a reason to stop them.”
“Agreed,” Roderick said. “We’ll convene afterward, when everyone’s turned in for the night. I’ll get someone to head down and let Kessel know right away.”
“I’ll come with you,” Skyseeker said, leaping off her chair to follow him. They circled the table, the conversation fading behind them as they crossed the tavern.
“There’s something that’s been bothering me greatly, lass,” Roderick said, when they were out of earshot of the others. “When the ship went down, what happened to you? The last I saw of you, you went to clear the upper deck, but I when I finally got there I couldn’t find you.”
“There was an… incident,” Skyseeker replied. “Skaven took a tumble straight into water by… by warp-cannon strike. Knocked me right off my paws!” She gestured wildly with her arms.
“You fell overboard? It’s not like you to lose your balance, lass. I’ve seen you run lengths across that railing many times.”
“I was fight-fighting man… many gutter-runners at the same time-time,” she insisted. “Stabbing and balancing, hard to do at once.” She wrabbed one of her arms with the opposite paw, was that shame on her face? He couldn’t understand why, perhaps talking about it wounded her pride.
“Well, you made it out alive in the end,” he said, trying to frame it in a better light. “And… I am sorry, lass.”
“What? Why?”
“For not being there,” he said. “I should have come with you, and you spent all those days alone, captured by those Skaven. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. If I’d been there to help…”
“What did I tell man-thing about looking backwards?” she scoffed, planting her hands on her slim hips, scowling up at him. “Don’t regress into stupid train of thought again. You spent too much time with Kessel-man, you getting as doubtful as he is!”
“You’re right, you’re right,” he said. “It’s just… after all the fears, the doubts of what had happened to you, I cannot help it.”
“I’m more insulted you’d think Skaven could be killed so easily,” she replied. “I’ve survived gryphons, dead-things, that big metal freak at the relic temple, many angry man-things, Gnawdwell’s best warlord, nothing can really stop me-me when you think about it.”
“You can add survived a dragon to that list as well,” he pointed out.
“That too! Skyseeker the dragon smiter, will be my knew title, along with master assassin and best breeder in the Empire!”
“Maybe give that last one a little more thought,” he laughed.
The orcs were still gathered outside, the three of them glancing up from their meals when Roderick pushed open the door.
“You men want something to do?” Roderick asked. “I need someone to rally the others here, and someone else to let the scouts know. Who goes I’ll leave up to you, just make it so.”
The orcs were no fans of idleness, and they were eager to get going, collecting their things and making for their boar mounts. He noticed Skyseeker was quietly staring at him, his armour creaking as he shrugged.
“What?”
“Look at my man-thing, ordering green-things around like they’re slaves. I should take some pointers for my own.”
“Those Skaven back in there, they’re not really slaves, are they?” Roderick asked.
“Of course they are you fool. They were slaves for the Snout just like I was, but I helped stage a riot, and now they’re part of my growing following.”