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Sommerzeit-6-10,2491 IC

Everything had turned out better than it seemed. I had complete control of the situation—at least for the moment. Yes, paying so much gold was painful, but after the conquest of Marienburg I possessed enough wealth to afford such a monetary luxury.

At the end of the day, I had obtained what I desired most: the rank of general. Next year I would march to Bretonnia to secure the Empire's borders, and perhaps strike north into Kislev to halt their damned incursions. If that proved successful, I could even carry the war into Norsca and put an end to their raids, protecting the Empire before the time came to face campaigns further south—and, above all, to prevent that abomination Nagash from rising again.

For this, I had to be prepared. I had time, and still some gold left after paying the Grand Baron of Nordland. Since I hadn't needed to bribe the Emperor, I could allocate those funds to more useful projects: draining the swamps of my lands to make them fertile, multiplying agricultural output, and continuing to perfect, in my greenhouses, the selection of seeds stronger and more productive than anything we had ever seen.

I returned to my laboratory to organize payments and request a great favor from my dawi friends. This year had to be used to the fullest. The train ride was as swift as usual; I barely paid attention to my cities, confident they were under control thanks to the administration of my dwarven advisors.

Upon arrival, I decided to visit Durán. I hadn't tended to my griffon in days, and the creature, restless, was hunting rabbits and proudly showing them to me, as if demanding praise. We entered the mountains toward Durán's main karak, where he was busy overseeing the opening of new gromril veins for other clans that had recently arrived.

The horseback journey through the tunnels allowed me to see the change. The fortress was unrecognizable: statues everywhere, walls carved with runes, and corridors filled with life. Dawi artisans and merchants crowded the halls, and it was clear that reconstruction had transformed the place into a thriving center.

In the heart of the karak I found him, seated on his bronze throne, writing in thick tomes while surrounded by his kin. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.

"Durán, my friend, I bring news," I announced.

"Dawongi, what joy to see you in my stronghold. Tell me, how can I help you?" he replied in his deep voice.

"Have you heard what happened in Marienburg, or should I explain it briefly?" I asked.

"One of my engineers mentioned that you fought the umgi of that city, but I never quite understood why," he said, shaking his head.

"You should have seen it. They tried to steal dawi engineering… for who knows what purpose. Perhaps to replicate your marvels," I said, widening my eyes with indignation.

My words lit a fire. Every dwarf present looked at me as if I had spoken the gravest of taboos. Hatred blazed in their eyes.

"Those umgi did what!?" several roared at once.

"Yes… those wretched merchants tried to seize what is ours. But worry not, I have already delivered justice. All the members of the Directorate are dead, and their dynasties are being hunted in every corner. It will not be long before the last of them perishes and the debt is fully repaid," I replied, raising my voice to share their fury.

Durán clenched his teeth so hard he began muttering in Khazalid. Suddenly, he disappeared and returned with the Dammaz Kron.

"Names," he ordered, dipping the quill in red ink.

One by one, I began to list all the great houses of Marienburg that had formed part of the Directorate. Durán wrote their names in solemn runes, striking them out as soon as he confirmed their members were dead. His kin pressed close around him, tense, fists clenched and teeth gritted.

"Cursed umgi… no offense, dawongi," said one of Durán's relatives.

"No offense taken. I felt a similar rage when I received the letter in which they sought to seize our enterprise. The insult is nearly avenged, though some still remain outside the city. I will not rest until the last of them is dead," I answered coldly.

"Nor will we," said Durán, slamming the tome shut with thunderous force after writing the final entry in the Dammaz Kron.

"That said… I've come to deliver your share of what was recovered from the Marienburg venture. As I promised, thirty percent of everything. Though, to be honest, I'll leave it at the entrance of the tunnels—moving that much gold is too troublesome, and I've no idea how to transport it inside," I added, now speaking in a calmer, friendlier tone.

"And how much would that be?" asked one of Durán's kin, opening a large ledger to begin recording.

"Something around a million and a half crowns. To be honest, I don't yet have the exact number since the counting is still ongoing. It might be a little more, or a little less… but once it's confirmed, we'll settle accounts. If you don't mind, of course," I replied with a faint smile.

"A vast sum of gold… worth the wait," said the dwarf as he noted the entry in his records.

"And now that I hold political power, I'll begin selling black powder. That means steady payments for your clan," I added, looking at Durán and his kin.

"We are honored to do business with you, dawongi," Durán replied, inclining his head slightly.

"Well, speaking of business… I have a major one at hand, and you're the only ones I trust. Not long ago, I nearly died before a demon; if not for this gromril armor, I'd already be in Morr's gardens. But many of my men weren't so fortunate: they lack such protection. That is why I need to know if it's possible for you to forge five hundred full suits of armor, inscribed with minor runes, for my personal forces. And if so, tell me the price—I'll pay it all," I stated firmly.

"Five hundred runic armors…?" Durán repeated, glancing at his runesmith, who looked pensive.

"It is possible," the dwarf said after a pause. "There are enough runesmiths in this karak. But we would need to have the men here to take their measurements."

"That won't be necessary. Make them to the dimensions of an average umgi. Don't use my own frame—I'm taller than most. I'd rather have them prepared and stored, ready to be handed out to those who deserve them," I replied.

"It will be difficult to convince the runesmiths not to work each piece to exact fit… but if it is for you, dawongi, there will be no objection. The price, however, will be steep: gold for every service of the runesmiths," said the clan artisan, bowing his head respectfully.

"Excellent… you can't imagine the relief it brings me to know my men will have the finest armor to protect themselves. But the swords… damn, I'll need runic swords for them as well," I said, suddenly remembering the need.

"That will not be a problem, dawongi. Every sword will be flawless, I'll see to it personally. Only one condition…" said the dwarven smith, fixing his eyes on me.

"The clause of return upon the bearer's death, correct?" I asked at once.

"Exactly. You know it well. It is only a matter of control. If the bearer dies violently, the pieces must be recovered for repair. We cannot allow our craft to be lost or destroyed. It would be poorly regarded by the other clans," he explained with solemnity.

"Of course… of course, I understand. Entirely reasonable," I replied, satisfied.

The runesmith began speaking with Durán's treasurer. Both examined ledgers and accounts for several minutes, exchanging numbers in hushed tones.

"Dawongi, the payment is already settled with the gold for the gunpowder. As soon as your order is complete, we will send everything directly to your men," the treasurer finally confirmed.

"Perfect. I trust in your wisdom to choose the best combination of runes. I've heard of banner runes capable of dispersing the taint of Chaos… is that true?" I asked with keen interest.

"Indeed, dawongi. Do you wish us to prepare such runic banners for your house?" the smith responded.

"Yes, exactly. I've noticed I draw far too much attention from the daemons, and not all my men have the willpower to resist their temptations. Better they be safer," I explained with gravity.

"In that case, it shall be done. You have my guarantee," affirmed the runesmith.

"Well then, I won't keep you from your work, my friends. I wish you fortune in your labors. Should any problem arise, inform me at once. I must return and face the chaos that awaits me in Marienburg," I said, taking my leave and mounting my horse once again.

There my young griffon awaited me, calmly devouring his second rabbit of the day. It seemed he was hungrier than ever—a clear sign he was growing rapidly.

Thus, tending to my griffon, I returned to Reinsfeld to see what had happened in my lands during my absence. Fortunately, nothing serious had occurred. Beyond a few cultists uncovered, some disgruntled guilds, and the fact that merchants had mysteriously stopped arriving from Marienburg, everything remained in order.

The most notable development was that my bank had already begun to operate, managed by the dawi. They oversaw granting loans to non-guild artisans at low interest, and investing in enterprises proven to be profitable, ensuring constant returns. None better suited to that task than a dwarf.

I inspected my fields, where once again an overflowing harvest of legumes had triggered a massive drop in food prices within the city. That drew numerous merchants, who came only to load their carts with provisions and return to their lands, applying the classic tactic of buying cheap and selling dear.

What pleased me even more was that some merchants had begun hiring my trains to transport grain to Altdorf. One wealthy man even rented the entire train, filling it to the brim with grain and flour, unloading it in the capital for enormous profits thanks to my abundant harvests.

Meanwhile, plans were already underway to extend the railway toward Nuln, with the purpose of linking the Empire's main commercial centers and multiplying transport revenues. Until Marienburg was fully restored, that would be the route giving my railroads their greatest use.

Stopping in Merxheim, I reviewed the condition of the Bretonnian peasants I had recently freed from serfdom, making them free men. I wanted to see how many of them would seize the chance to flee back to Bretonnia—and to my surprise, none wished to return. Every family stayed, adopting Reikspiel as a secondary tongue and relying constantly on the cathedral-hospital of Shallya, whose work had increased notably with the population growth.

Even the Bretonnian men-at-arms I had freed on trial, after long captivity in my lands, had remained. Many took work as local guards in the Bretonnian villages, supporting my imperial garrisons—something especially useful now that we were overextended with so many regions to defend.

The results left me satisfied. These new subjects had already grown used to living as free men, earning wages for their labor, without losing the slightest diligence. On the contrary, they seemed almost addicted to toil and hard work, as though freedom had spurred them on further.

On my way back to Marienburg, I took two work crews of dawi with me: one to continue draining swamps in my lands, and the other to travel with me to the city to begin its reconstruction. For the moment, Marienburg was little more than an empty skeleton, devastated after political and religious purges. It had been left in terrible condition, though for the first time in centuries it could be considered nearly free of corruption. Hundreds of witch hunters still patrolled its streets with zeal, determined to root out even the faintest cultist hiding among the ruins.

Although… perhaps I could make an offer to the Emperor, to buy all his Bretonnian peasants and use them to repopulate the Westerlands…

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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.

Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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