-----------------------------

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.

-------------------------------

Pflugzeit -17-27 2493

Mountains of greenskins lay at my feet. After hours of brutal combat, the victory was finally ours. The orc warlord had fallen beneath my mace in single combat, and with his death the courage of his host crumbled. Without a clear leader, greenskins are nothing but cowardly beasts, always waiting for a new chieftain to gather them.

I never gave them the chance. As soon as they began their rout, I hurled my cavalry into pursuit. They still outnumbered us, but in their desperate flight they failed to realize that if they had turned and faced us once more, they might have overwhelmed us. Instead, they plunged headlong into a stampede that stretched from our fortress pass all the way to their camp. It was a tide of orcs and goblins the likes of which had not been seen in years. Such a concentration could only be explained by the influence of their gods, for it was impossible that so many would gather without a greater purpose.

Now almost all of them lie dead. The entire valley blazes with funeral pyres where the bodies of orcs, goblins, trolls, and giants burn. The latter were the hardest to move: it took the strength of dozens of men to drag each corpse to the fires.

The dawi had already begun their work, deploying their ingenious steam machines to purge the spores of the greenskins. With dwarfen discipline and enough time, every hill, every karak, and every mountain of the region would be cleansed of that insidious threat.

My soldiers, though victorious, did not come through unscathed. Casualties were limited, but the wounded were many: bones shattered by the monstrous strength of trolls and orcs, limbs torn by their crude weapons. I could not employ my magic to reinforce their armor without exposing myself; and though I mastered it, I dared not reveal my gifts before inevitably receiving the Patriarch's letter, demanding I present myself to the Colleges to be examined and caged into one of their schools.

I had planned to remain three months in the fortress, to reinforce it and give the men rest. But with an army of forty-two thousand already mobilized, sending them back to Reinsfeld or Marienburg would have been a waste. I could not squander such a force. My eyes were set further south, on the Border Princes.

There blood never ceases to flow; forever trapped in their petty wars. Yet their position is key: from those lands one reaches the most important Karaks of Karak Ankor. And their population, enslaved to petty lords and endless conflicts, could be brought into the Westerlands. Millions of new souls, added to the surviving Bretonnians in Parravon, would make my domains the most populous province of the Empire. All this, besides preventing those defenseless people from falling into the hands of the Ruinous Powers, when inevitably some champion of Chaos set his eyes on them.

"You must be very pleased with your victory, aren't you?" said Katarin, mounted on her horse as she looked over the fields of greenskin corpses slowly turning to ash in the dawi pyres.

"Bah… this is no victory. I don't know where in damnation so many greenskins came from; there weren't supposed to be such numbers in this region. Something must have driven them to gather in one place. Truly, this is no victory, for this battle should never have happened. We lost men, and giving the news to their families is always the hardest part."

"So, now we return to Altdorf? Or shall we head to Marienburg to review the arms shipments that should reach Kislev once the northern railway is finished?" asked Katarin, her voice like ice.

"None of that. We march south. We have the army gathered here, and we cannot waste it. We will conduct a summer campaign in the lands of the Border Princes. We must secure a route to Karaz-a-Karak in case of future campaigns in the region, as well as facilitate trade with our dawi allies. So we will not return for at least several months, perhaps until next year, depending on how long the princes resist our invasion," I replied, removing my helm.

"Great… more nights in a tent," Katarin said with heavy sarcasm. "I hope at least the weather is colder. This volcanic region, where magma bursts forth so often, is unbearable to me. I cannot use my magic at all; even my teachers would struggle to invoke the simplest spell here."

"I doubt you'll be sleeping in tents for long, Katarin. There will be castles taken, that is certain. The princes rarely unite against an invader; most prefer to kill each other. So it will most likely be a short campaign, visiting castles and cities to demand surrender —or a single great battle against their forces. Either option is preferable to a guerrilla war, which would be far more troublesome to face."

"Ahh… fine. Let's hope it doesn't drag on too long. Because I remember you said you wanted to help with the cleansing of Kislev… or am I mistaken?" Katarin asked, her eyes as cold as her tone.

"Yes, but I expected a far more modest commitment from the clergy. I never thought they would mobilize tens of thousands of their troops or pay out of their own coffers for the fortress construction. At most, I thought I could persuade them to garrison it. And yet, here they are: funding everything, fielding an army, and offering their finest men to guard the place. That leaves me free to march south without delay."

Katarin rolled her eyes in impatience before letting out a heavy sigh. "I only hope you make the time to aid Kislev. The help of your army would be vital to reclaim our lands from the mutants and invaders occupying vast stretches of the motherland. Every day we fail to drive them out is another day of harm to Kislev," she said gravely.

"And that day will come, Katarin. But I cannot let this opportunity slip away. What you ask means marching my army back to Altdorf —several days' travel— then taking the train to wherever the line is finished, marching north, reaching Kislev, acclimating the men for weeks and issuing winter uniforms before even beginning to move into the combat zone. By the time that happens, we'd already be well into the year.

Here, on the other hand, we need only march two days to strike the first city of the Princes. It's not that I don't want to help your father, Katarin —it's simply that this is cheaper, faster, and yields long-term gains."

Before she could reply, I continued: "And those benefits, in the long run, will also aid Kislev."Katarin finally nodded and returned to her escort.

We quickly began talks with the Cult of Sigmar, mainly regarding the management of the fortress. Being a key point for trade, its administration would directly affect Averland, whose Elector Countess already showed little enthusiasm for the idea of Imperial centralization. If we ceded to the clergy the right to collect tolls, we would put her against us immediately.

For that reason, I struck a different deal with the Grand Theogonist: I would cover the costs of defense and supply for the fortress, in exchange for the clergy refraining from charging tolls. In this way, the Elector Countess would keep her revenues intact, and the Cult would content itself with a permanent military presence in the area. It did not cost me much: barely two hundred thousand gold crowns per year. A modest sum considering that, in return, I would have the permanent vigilance of ten thousand warriors of the Cult, guarding the pass and protecting merchants against possible greenskin resurgences or the rise of bandits, who would no doubt rush to fill the void left by the orcs' defeat.

Several days passed since we last saw a greenskin in the region. The dawi continued their work, flamethrowers in hand, burning every crevice, every cavern, and every suspicious stone, making sure to eradicate even the smallest chance that the spores survived. They would soon begin reclaiming the local fortresses, one by one.

It was then that we began preparations to march south. I sent the gravely wounded back to Reinsfeld; too many of the fallen had come from my city. They were the only ones with the discipline and resolve to stand firm before the green tide. Had I placed Altdorf's recruits in the first line, they would surely have broken and fled, had I not kept them at the rear.

I made sure the news of deaths was delivered, along with the pensions owed for each soldier's loyal service. I also included them in the future shares of campaign spoils. It was the least I could do for those families who had given everything under my banner.

So we prepared the equipment, broke camp, checked the weapons, and secured the gunpowder. At the same time, I began sending orders to my laboratories to keep supplies moving south, for after the last battle my reserves were running low. With what we had, we could sustain only a few hours of combat, no more.

When everything was ready, the columns formed and soon we set out with more than forty thousand men marching south. I sent a letter to the Emperor to inform him of my plans and to ensure he would answer any diplomatic complaints that might arise while I was on campaign.

Our first stop was Vossheim, a merchant settlement overflowing with refugees from the Border Princes. In truth, it could scarcely be called a town: a camp of tents with only a few buildings belonging to traders dealing between the Empire, the Princes, and the dawi.

Our arrival was greeted with enthusiasm by the merchants, eager to sell their trinkets. Yet we soon discovered that some offered supposed sacred relics of Sigmar. As they emanated no divine energy, it was clear they were forgeries. We swiftly captured and tried them: if genuine, their sale was illegal; if false, it was fraud in the name of the Cult. In either case, the sentence was the same. All were executed and their goods seized —a boon for us, since several were local food suppliers.

The rest of the population, those who were not merchants, were sent under escort to the Westerlands. A detachment of my men ensured they were guided along and prevented from escaping.

By nightfall we raised camp once more, and once the gunpowder shipment we had requested arrived, we resumed our march. We crossed the Black Fire Pass and entered the territory of the Princes.

It did not take long before we came across small villages, where men, women, and children plowed the earth and sowed seeds. "Take them captive and avoid harming them too much," I ordered my men-at-arms. The cavalry galloped toward the hamlets, surrounding the families who tried to flee in vain. My army pressed southward, ignoring the cries of the captured peasants.

Thus we proceeded in every settlement we encountered along the road to our first objective: a walled town supposedly still ruled by a prince. It was hard to be certain; in such places betrayal is so common that a lord seldom keeps power for long before being stabbed in the back.

Our destination was Munzig, a fortified city claimed by the Empire as its own, though the local count held power and paid no tribute to the Emperor —neither in men nor in gold. In practice, an independent city, and therefore, an easy target.

As soon as we reached its outskirts, we saw the people fleeing in panic toward the walls. Some of my cavalry continued to seize stragglers as my army deployed in formation before the city. Then I advanced on my griffon toward the gates, ready to begin negotiations for the town's surrender —or to smash its walls with artillery, which would not take long.

-----------------------------

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.

-------------------------------