Chapter 24
The Baron sat at his desk, leg bouncing incessantly. There was just a couple of hours left before their operation would begin, and the Baron was itching to do something. He didn’t have much to do other than wait, and it was driving him crazy.
He didn’t even need to do much maintenance on his gear. It was all enchanted so his sword didn’t dull and his armor was rarely even scratched. He still had his guns to maintain, but they just weren’t really enough to do.
The Baron had already picked his squad, it would be him, Fergus, Udo, and a gifted one Janissary named Hasan Pasher. The Baron had seen Hasan fight in the governor’s mansion in the city of Kisa, he knew that this sort of mission would come naturally to him. Hasan was having no trouble waiting. He has been in the army his entire life, and the most universal experience in the army was waiting around for hours on end.
Fergus was performing a ritual to the patron god of the berzerkeri, Gán. He had been having dreams foretelling the death of a loved one, felled beneath a hail of iron, and he needed to be sure it was not who he thought it was. Fergus lit the candles placed into the eye sockets of a fallen enemy and crushed an egg filled with ritual powders made up of minerals found in the bogs of Orkney, then added crushed bone of the same man whose skull Fergus cleaned in preparation for the ritual.
He inhaled a small amount before blowing it into the flame of the candles. The powder produced a green flame, the color of the forest. This was surely a sign that Gán had fated that Ludwin would survive this battle. He figured now the worst case scenario was that one of his parents or grandparents would die, but that was not something he had to worry about at the moment. It was also possible this was years in advance, the Vell’lem were strange like that.
Next, Fergus took a worm from his pocket and held it over the now green flame, an offering to Gán’s only equal Jormungandr, the world serpent, brought to this world by the founders of the Orkney Isles millenia ago.
Lastly, Fergus sliced the palm of his hand with his knuckle knife, dripping the blood onto his ax blade. After cauterizing his wound on the green flame, he smashed the skull using the now bloodied ax. His ritual complete, Fergus left his tent to find a healer for his hand.
Udo was preparing for battle the same way he always had: by seeking out the prettiest woman he could find and filling her with all his might and courage. He had found one, a laundress whom the soldiers all agreed was by far the most beautiful woman in the Ottoman Empire. She had been taken in by his masculine charms and did as one does under the circumstances.
Hasan was preparing for the fight the same way the other Janissaries did: by eating, wrestling, and telling stories of battles and women.
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The time came for the squads to infiltrate the city of Nyumba ya Jua. Unlike the siege of Leibensburg, the Ottomans had very little information on where the mages were, so the squads would simply have to search for them. They had an idea of where they would be, in barracks or generally near the walls themselves, but they had no real way to pinpoint their locations before entering the city.
The guards in and out of the sewers were no problem for the highly trained Janissaries and mercenaries. They were killed before they could even make a noise, let alone alert the city that enemies had infiltrated it.
The Baron’s squad decided to head for the walls, specifically a larger structure seemingly built directly into said walls. Try as he might, the Baron couldn’t restrain himself from openly admiring the architecture of the city. It was absolutely stunning, and a style which he had never seen before in either world.
The streets of Nyumba ya Jua were lit up even during the night, which made the Baron’s squad’s job harder. They had to move through alleyways and across rooftops to avoid civilians and guards. They all agreed that killing guards at this stage would only make their jobs harder, and as such would want to avoid doing so if possible.
Outside the building constructed directly into the walls, which the Baron assumed was some sort of barracks, two guards were posted outside. The Baron eyed his pistols with disdain.
“Do we have anything ranged and silent?”
Fergus raised his hatchet.
“We’re taught tae toss these puppies ‘round real good.”
“That’s great, does someone else have something as well? I mean, I could throw my saber like a javelin…if neither of you have a throwing knife that is.”
Udo and Hasan shook their heads. The Baron sighed and flipped his saber around to hold it in a reverse grip.
“I guess this might as well happen. You take the left, I’ll take the right. On my mark Fergus…now!”
The two of them rounded the corner and immediately threw their weapons. Fergus’s ax stuck firmly in the guard’s unarmored head, killing him near instantly.
Simultaneously the Baron’s saber soared through the air and stuck into the other guard in the chest, pinning him to the wall. The guard struggled to make noise before he died, but all he could get out was a moderately loud gasp.
The two men quickly made their way over and retrieved their weapons, lingering a moment just in case they needed to cut down any guards coming to check on the noise. After just a few seconds, it became clear that no one heard a thing.
The group entered the building and was greeted with an empty foyer. It was a medium sized room with chairs, a desk, and a large coat of arms, most likely that of the town watch. It looked more like a reception area than a barracks. Udo walked over to the desk and smiled at a small wooden statue of a bird.
“Cute. What should we do now? Split up?”
“Horrible idea. Skill can only make up for so much. There are far more of them than there are of us, at least currently. I suppose we just have to wander or look for clues as to where they would be. Mages tend to congregate in areas with books, for instance.”
Udo booped the beak of the wooden bird statue.
“Really? Why?”
The Baron opened a door and briefly checked the hall. It was empty.
“Learning magic is more of an academic process than a spiritual- is this really important now? Just trust me. And leave that damned statue where you found it.”
Udo sheepishly set down the statue and walked over to the doorway the Baron was at. After making sure the hall was clear again, the Baron led his squad into the hall.
Luckily for the Baron, each room was labeled with a small placard, and the Baron had the gift of tongues from the gods. There were quite a few rooms labeled ‘bunks’ and ‘storage’ which the group gave a cursory glance at. The bunk rooms had, unsurprisingly, bunk beds and sleeping men, and most of them were just long rooms with multiple doors. The storage rooms had nothing of note, cleaning supplies and tools mostly.
The Baron came across a room labeled ‘Library’ and smiled.
“Alright men, this is it. Let’s keep this quiet.”
They briefly peaked in, committing the whole room to memory with just a brief glance.
The Mage was there, reading books with his armed guards. The whole group was wearing kente cloth, and a few wore some sort of scalemail under said cloth. One of them had more impressive jewelry than the others, a few golden rings and a necklace of multicolored beads. He was reading a book which the Baron couldn’t quite see the title of.
“I assume the one with jewelry is a mage. They tend to be better dressed. You know, mages are quite expensive, but really worth the hire. Geidpfeld has saved the lives of my men hun-”
Hasan spoke over the Baron.
“So what is our plan of action? Do you believe it is wise to continue making little noise?”
“Right. Yes, I believe it is indeed wise. We can make more noise when the bombardment starts. Hey, did they tell you how we’re supposed to signal our success?”
Hasan looked at the Baron in bewilderment.
“Their bombardment will begin at 5am, whether or not we successfully kill the mages. In the very least it causes psychological distress, which is quite useful.”
“Why didn’t Suleiman mention that?”
Hasan shrugged his shoulders.
“It is standard practice here. Time tables are important. What is our plan of attack?”
“We should see if there are any other entrances. If not, then I guess we have to make some noise.”
Udo groaned.
“Can’t we just run in there, if they’re sitting around reading during a siege they obviously aren’t all that vigilant or whatever.”
The Baron made a shooing motion down the hall.
“That’s overconfidence, overconfidence gets people killed. Any advantage there may be must be utilized. Now go around and see if there’s a door or something.”
Udo ran off grumbling down the hall, followed by Fergus who seemed to be enjoying himself. After a few moments, Fergus turned and gave a thumbs up to the Baron.
“Great. They’ll rush in when we rush in, just as we always do, simple and clean.”
Hasan quickly inspected the blade of his Yatagan. It was pristine.
“Ready when you are, Baron.”
“Ok then, on three. One-Fuck it three!”
The Baron dashed into the room, followed second later by Hasan.
The soldiers in the library noticed them quite quickly, as it was impossible for such large men wearing armor to move both quickly and quietly, and drew their weapons. Most of them were wielding beautiful Takobas, which meant they weren’t just regular grunts. Five of the men gathered around the sixth, most likely protecting their mage.
Just as they all focused on the Baron and Hasan, Fergus and Udo sprinted in from the other side. Fergus reeled back and let loose his ax, sending it flying into the exposed back of one of the soldiers. The force of the ax knocked him down onto his face, but his armor protected him from any immediately fatal wounds, with the ax clanging into him hard but not biting into any flesh.
Just as a few men turned Udo and Fergus were on them. Udo thrust his longsword forward, just barely being deflected from the soldier’s neck as he brought up his guard. The soldier slashed at Udo, who ducked under the blow and wrenched his sword up, slashing the man’s armpit. His sword bit deep, cutting his arm most of the way through, only being stopped by Udo’s subpar technique from moving quickly at a strange angle, preventing a clean cut.
The strength almost immediately left the soldier, and as he was slowly falling to his knees, Udo grabbed his sword by the blade and jammed it into the man’s neck, ripping it out to block an oncoming strike.
The Baron knew what his opponent would do: step forward and thrust, attempting to use his longer blade to catch the Baron before he could effectively strike back. Just as he began to step forward and thrust his sword, the Baron stopped on a dime, bringing up his sword with enough force to knock the soldier’s blade way above his head. Before the man was able to bring his sword back down the Baron slashed his throat, immediately turning to his next opponent.
Hasan caught the blade of his opponent in the inward curve of his Yatagan, defecting it to the side and attempting to quickly flick his wrist to the soldier’s shoulder on the other side of his body. His sword connected, but bounced off the chainmail armor, which came down to around mid bicep. The soldier jumped forward and delivered a flying knee to Hasan’s solar plexus, forcefully drawing the wind out of his lungs.
The soldier thrust forward as soon as he landed, which was dodged by a hair's breadth. Hasan brought his Yatagan up into the soldier’s exposed flank, but was only able to create a superficial wound. He wasn’t able to get much force behind his strike, and his unenchanted Yatagan was not suited to thrusting through armor.
The soldier elbowed Hasan in the face, knocking him down to the ground. Not wasting a single second, the soldier thrust down at Hasan’s chest. Hasan twisted his chest just far enough for the Takoba to miss his heart and simultaneously swung his Yatagan, chopping deep into the soldier’s throat.
Hasan figured his wound could be healed, if they got him to a medic in time. The soldier, however, barely even had enough time to realize he was struck before the life drained from his eyes.
The Baron spotted the mage signing in the air, his eyes beginning to glow green. Whatever he was doing, it was taking a long time to get done, and that usually meant it was going to kill whatever it was pointed at.
“Hasan, let’s make this quick!”
Without waiting for a response the Baron immediately set about ripping through the soldier’s defenses, sending out lightning fast strikes from every angle he could manage, forcing the soldier on the backfoot almost immediately. The Baron kept the soldier’s defense spread thin, just waiting for Hasan to find an opening and exploit it. However, after a few seconds of constant attack, the Baron was beginning to tire, and Hasan had still yet to strike.
“Rudi nyumba!”
The soldier hopped back just as the Baron was preparing to end his offensive. The mage ripped many smaller stones out of the ground and began to fling them towards the Baron and his allies. Each one swiftly swung in a circle before being fired, mimicking the motions of a sling using magic to create the centrifugal force which was known to easily break unenchanted swords clean in half.
The Baron scrambled to find cover, just barely being able to throw himself behind the small stone wall that separated his part of the room from the central bookshelf area. The Baron curled in a ball as he felt the rocks touch his hair and come dangerously close to his hands, sending sharp shards of stone crashing into his arms and armor.
A fragment pierced his neck, not deep enough to cause any damage, but large enough for the Baron to see a massive fragment sticking out of his neck. Another sliver of stone stuck in his arm, again large but shallow.
God in heaven please preserve us! This is too much!
Fergus pushed forward through the onslaught. He had fought plenty of earth mages over the years, earth magic was the second most common type of magic in Orkney. He knew that he could allow some rocks to hit him, the gambeson and chainmail setup which makes up the traditional armor of the Berzerkeri was specifically designed with an earth mage barrage in mind.
All I gotta do is break the ones flyin’ towards somethin’ vital. Gán will take care of the rest.
As Udo and the last two soldiers hid behind cover, Fergus gave himself over completely to the fates. He stopped thinking, allowing his instinct to be fortified by the skill of a war god, a feat only easily achievable by children brought up in the Cult of Gán.
The only thing which kept him alive was the sole purview of the Berzerkeri, a true berserker state. Barely able to see as his other senses were heightened to their limits, his limbs moved faster and faster, crushing or pushing aside more and more stone as he got closer to the source.
With one last push, Fergus broke through the barrage, right on top of the mage himself. He tackled the man to the ground, spearing him in the stomach with his shoulder. He immediately pulled himself on top of the man, slamming his dagger down in a reverse grip at the mage’s heart. The mage abandoned his weapon and grabbed Fergus’s wrist, just barely keeping the blade out of his chest. Fergus pushed with all his body weight, steadily lowering the tip down over the mage’s heart.
As a soldier lifted his sword to slash Fergus’s back, he was interrupted by a chair shattering against his back. Just as he turned to address this new threat, Udo planted both feet on the man’s chest, sending him flying backwards into the bookshelf, cracking the back of his head against and smashing the wooden shelves, sending books flying everywhere alongside his sword. Udo scrambled to his feet and grabbed his sword in the middle, flying forward and piercing through the chest armor of the soldier like it wasn’t even there.
The last remaining soldier got up from his cover and scanned the room, finding his mage in a very bad position.
Click!
“I fucking dare you.”
The Baron growled in fluent Jua. The soldier stared at the gun pointed at his chest, knowing that there was nothing he could do but watch as this foreigner steadily pushed his dagger into the heart of a comrade.
I don’t want to fire, it’le alert everyone to our position.
The soldier gripped his sword tighter. The Baron could see the resolve building on the man’s face.
Shit! Is he gonna call my bluff?
The soldier stared unflinchingly into the Baron’s eyes.
“Fire and tell every soldier nearby that you are here.”
As soon as he finished his sentence, both him and the Baron began to dash forward. The Baron leaped, just barely getting a hold of the man’s ankle as he landed, tripping him. The soldier looked back and kicked the Baron in the face before scrambling to his feet. Just as he began moving again the Baron tackled him from behind.
“I’m a fucking gravity mage!”
A trickle of blood came out of his nose, causing him to spit some out as he spoke.
“You think a kick in the face will stop me?”
The Baron straddled the man’s back, lifting up his arm and delivering an elbow to the top of the man’s head with earth shattering force, the man’s arms and legs shaking as his brain slowly shut down. He delivered another elbow to his head, causing him to go completely limp.
The Baron covered a nostril with his thumb and blew out some blood.
“May God have…Huff…mercy or whatever. Fergus, hurry it up!”
With one last exertion, Fergus slowly lowered the knife into the mage’s heart and began to jiggle the blade, only ripping it out after the mage stopped moving entirely. The Baron looked around and found Udo eyeing his blade unhappily.
“Something wrong, Udo?”
“Yeah, my sword’s got a few nicks in it. This thing is getting really beat up man.”
“Yes, because you refuse to do proper maintenance. Enchantments can only protect your blade so long as you maintain it properly. It’s probably weakened”
Udo waved his hand dismissively.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Next, the Baron looked for Hasan. He had failed to work with the Baron as well as he would have liked, and therefore deserves being yelled at. He could have cost Fergus his li-Oh no.
The Baron rushed over to Hasan, who was still lying on the ground bleeding out.
“Well, that doesn’t look good. Think we can fix you here? Because we are not getting you out of the city in a timely manner.”
Hasan sucked in short, shallow breaths, occasionally stopping to grunt in agony.
“Unless you know healing magic, I do not think so. His sword pierced clean through my chest, a good five inches.”
The Baron grabbed Hasan’s hand, hoping to give him any amount of comfort.
“Yeah, I can see that. Well, you got him in the end, didn’t you?”
Hasan’s eyes began to unfocus a bit.
“Yeah. I did. Right in his…throat.”
The Baron nodded and gently set his hand on the man’s chest, laying him down and using a book to prop up his head.
“Then you have earned your death, soldier. May you find peace in the afterlife. I may not know much about Islam, but I do know that our Gods are one and the same. He will take good care of you in the afterlife.”
“Thank you…make sure my body is returned to my unit…they will…treat it…properly…”
The life slowly faded from his eyes as his speech became slower and airy. After his chest finally stopped heaving, the Baron gently closed Hasan’s open eyes. He said a small prayer for the dead, standing up and turning to the rest of his squad.
“Do we have anything else to do here? I would like to return him to his comrades as quickly as possible.”
Udo scratched his chin in thought.
“Weeeeeell….I meeaaaaan…we did what we were told to do, and the outcome of this isn’t really our problem in the end so like…I see no reason not to leave.”
“Fergus? Any opinion on the matter?”
Fergus pulled out a sharp piece of stone which pierced his shoulder and threw it aside.
“Let’s go. Donnae feel like it today.”
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In the end, the siege of Nyumba ya Jua was very anticlimactic, which was exactly what Suleiman wanted. Being a reasonable man who cared for his citizens, as soon as it became clear that Ottoman bombardment was bringing down the walls and Suleiman’s men would soon raze his beloved city to the ground, King Jabari surrendered. There was no winning a siege without walls, and their earth mages had all been killed in less than two hours.
Suleiman had gathered everyone of importance to witness the proceedings. Present was Suleiman, Grand Vizier Ibn al-Karud, the Bostancı Basha who lead the Ottoman Corps of Gardeners, King Jabari and his two sons, the Baron, and enough Janissary guards to make Suleiman comfortable and whoever he was speaking to uncomfortable.
King Jabari was a tall, well built, middle aged man. He wore a beautifully intricate kente cloth, various gold, pearl, and bead jewelry, and a simple dark blue headband with golden flowers pinned around it periodically. He kneeled in front of Suleiman, flanked by his two young sons. Suleiman sat upon a raised platform, in an elaborate chair with dark blue satin pillows and gold engravings on the backrest.
“King Jabari! So good of you to meet me here! I am glad you chose to avoid further bloodshed! I will, of course, make sure your people are treated well! For most of them the only difference should be an extra tax for infidels, which of course will be waived so long as they convert.”
King Jabari looked up at Suleiman, an expression of acceptance covering his face. His voice was deep and sweet, like dark chocolate.
“I assume this is on the condition of my death.”
Suleiman smiled.
“Of course. I am sorry to do this, believe me I truly am, but having a former king living in my lands…well such a thing is certainly inimical to stability and peace, I am sure you understand.”
King Jabari bowed his head deeply.
“Whatever you do to me, I ask that you spare my sons such a fate.”
Suleiman frowned slightly.
“Jabari, I want you to know, I have spent untold weeks racking my brain on how to spare your sons while maintaining stability in my empire, because I respect you greatly, as a king who truly cares about his people.”
King Jabari did not move from his kowtow.
“However…”
“Suleiman! May I offer a possible solution?”
The Bostancı Basha glared at the Baron, malice clear in his eyes.
Yikes, he's pretty big. Are we sure he’s actually a gardener?
After a few moments of thinking, Suleiman gestured for the Baron to stand.
“Thank you. Instead of killing those two, I could take them back to Bickenstadt with me, put them to work somewhere nice. They can live out their days mostly comfortably thousands of miles away where they can do you no harm.”
Suleiman considered the offer for a moment before turning to the Vizier and having a quick hushed conversation. After finishing that, Suleiman cleared his throat and spoke.
“Baron, I believe I will take you up on that offer. Out of respect for a man as great and reasonable as King Jabari, I am happy to take any solution which preserves his son’s lives while keeping my empire safe and sound. You will take them to the Empire, where they will live simple but respectable lives. Is this acceptable, King Jabari?”
Jabari continued to keep his head bowed, showing remarkable humbleness for a man who lived his entire life as a king.
Such a shame. He seems like a good king.
“Yes, thank you. I accept my death with honor, and I trust the future of my sons to you, Baron von Bickenstadt.”
Suleiman smiled and snapped his fingers, prompting some Janissaries to step forward.
“Someone take King Jabari’s sons to the camp of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company, unless they wish to witness their father’s final moments. A father should have his sons with him in the end.”
Janissaries approached and grabbed both boys by their shoulders. One of them walked off shakily, while the other decided to stay behind, the younger one, just a lad of fourteen.
“A brave decision, boy. What is your name?”
“K-k-k-kwaku. Sir.”
“Kwaku, son of King Jabari. Know that your bravery will be remembered. I apologize that things have to end this way.”
Kwaku balled his fists and stared at the ground, unsuccessfully holding back tears.
“Ayez, carry out King Jabari’s sentence as swiftly as you can.”
Bostancı Basha Ayez nodded to Suleiman and withdrew a red silken cord from around his neck and stood behind King Jabari, who raised his head to look Suleiman in the eyes. Ayez brought the cord around King Jabari’s head, pulling it tight around his neck. Ayez put his foot on the back of King Jabari as he pulled with all his might, crushing King Jabari’s spine before he could begin to truly feel the agony of being strangled, a luxury afforded to very few men being executed.
As King Jabari slumped to the ground, his son began to weep over his corpse. The Janissaries decided to give him as much time as he needed, a reward for the boy’s bravery. The Baron stared on dispassionately. He had seen death countless times throughout his life, personally killing possibly hundreds of men over his decades long career.
This death should feel different…but in the end, death is death.
The Baron put his hands together in prayer.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
May he rest in peace.
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Before the Klarwasser Mercenary Company left the Assai’id, the Baron had two things left to do: Gather his payment and further discuss the terms of his agreement with Suleiman. They sat together in Suleiman’s palace, with only Suleiman’s handpicked guards and his Grand Vizier present.
“So tell me, Suleiman, do you have more men than what you have shown me? If I’m not mistaken, the invasion of Mashujaa wa Jua only involved around ten-to-fifteen thousand men. No offense, but the Grand Imperial Army can field 250,000 men, more or less. As they have been recruited from all of the Empire’s 9 provinces, I imagine some will defect to my side, but that still leaves quite a few men. Do you have enough to actually make a difference? Of course, I will take all the help I can get, I am just curious.”
The Baron smiled brightly.
“Judging by how your men handled the siege, they will be valuable allies no matter how low in number.
Suleiman took a hit off hookah before speaking.
“Of course we have more than that. The force we used to conquer the Jua was just a few conscripts and my elite Janissary corps. In total we could field close to 50,000 infantry. Of course, most of that number would be conscripts, not nearly as strong as the Janissary Corps, but an army of 50,000 is nothing to scoff at.”
The Baron nodded his head.
“Yes, I believe that’s around the amount of men I could conscript from Bickenstadt. To be honest, you’re in a better place than I am currently. I have two thousand elites to your ten thousand. Very impressive. How many would you be willing to spare, do you think?”
Suleiman ran his hand through his bushy beard.
“Al-Karud, what do you think?”
Ibn Al-Karud briefly looked over the papers in his hands.
“I believe 15,000 men would be sufficient. I would prefer to send mostly conscripts, but we could easily afford to spare two-to-three thousand Janissaries for the venture. For the siege of your mountain citadel we can spare a few siege engineers, possibly around one hundred and fifty, though any laborers would have to be hired at your expense. In addition we could provide a good amount of bombards, twenty five full crews, perhaps?”
“Harika! That sounds like an excellent plan! Baron, we will go with Al-Karud’s plan of 15,000 infantry, one hundred and fifty engineers, and twenty five bombards with crew included sent to conquer your mountain citadels. And, of course, I will allow you to pay for an army of a few thousand Janissaries to assist you as mercenaries in the war afterwards. If I am to unite all of the Assai’id under the house of Osman, my men need to gain experience!”
“I just may take you up on the mercenaries, depending on how the war goes. And after our civil war is over, I will send you an equal amount of men to assist in your conquering. Does that sound fair to you?”
Suleiman stroked his beard in thought before nodding his head.
“Yes, that would be adequate, especially if you send me veterans. Al-Karud, if you would be so kind as to draft an official agreement which we will sign, fully solidifying our deal?”
Al-Karud immediately produced a large piece of paper.
“I already have such a thing. You told me to write it out when we first spoke of this deal. All I have to do is fill in the troop numbers, and all you have to do is sign.”
Suleiman unleashed a joyful belly laugh.
“Elbette! Şüphesiz! Of course you did! What would I do without you, Arkadaş?”
Al-Karud set the paper down in front of Suleiman and gestured for a Janissary to bring over a quill and inkwell.
“Not much, I imagine.”
Another belly laugh erupted from Suleiman.
“Too true! No man on earth can write as quickly and neatly as you!”
“Teşekkürler bayım.”
Responded Al-Karud, completely deadpan.
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A frantic series of knocks erupted from the door of the captain’s cabin. The Baron put down his book and glass of brandy, quickly crossing the distance to the door. If someone was knocking that frantically, it meant something was going wrong. The soldier gave the Baron a crisp salute as he opened the door.
“Sir! Wako ships have been spotted! They haven’t made any moves yet, but we-”
The Baron cut him off.
“Oh, Wako? No worries, I have an agreement with their boss.”
The soldier was visibly confused.
“But, they’re pirates, sir? Who’s to say they won’t break the agreement?”
“Oh, Wako pirates are a little different. They may be a wild, rambunctious bunch, but they strictly adhere to hierarchy. They respond to power, their bosses rise up through merit and achievement, growing so powerful that no one else questions them. If the most powerful captain shows fealty to me, well, they’re not going to risk being fed to sharks.”
As if the fates were waiting for the Baron to finish his explanation, the second he finished, another soldier ran over.
“Sir! The Wako are sailing closer! They’re moving fast!”
The Baron’s slightly bemused smile instantly transformed into a scowl.
“Fetch that wind mage, whatever his name is. And bring me a cannon ball.”
The Baron bolted past the two soldiers before immediately stopping and turning back around.
“Better yet, bring me a grenade. Largest one you can find. See you on the deck.”
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“Yep, they’re heading right towards us. And they have no symbols of parlay visible. Oshan is gonna hear about this.”
A soldier ran up to the Baron and handed him a larger than average grenade.
“Thank you, son. Do you have a match?”
Just as the soldier opened his mouth to speak, the Baron cut him off, talking to himself.
“Why would I need a match-I’m a God damned mage.”
The Baron made a few signs with his open hand, his eyes glowing a bright yellow. A second later, the grenade began to levitate. The soldier standing off to the side watched the Baron work in fascination, unabashed amazement clearly visible in his eyes. The Baron smiled.
“Want to be a mage, son? Learning how to do this is a fairly intensive and painful process, painful for gravity mages, at least.”
The Baron made a single sign with his newly unoccupied hand, his right eye glowing red as his left eye continued to glow yellow. The Baron held up his pointer finger and produced a small flame, about the size of a pinkie. The Baron spoke to the soldier as he floated the grenade over towards his right hand.
“That, however, is much easier. You simply need to learn the fundamental nature of fire and combustion, as well as figuring out whatever method of manipulating energy works best for you.”
The fuse lit and after waiting for a few seconds, the Baron thrust his left hand forward, launching the grenade at an incredible speed.
“Though, of course, a mental image of what you want to do makes the process faster, most likely because if you can imagine what is going on chemically, which in the case of fire has been theorized that some unknown source of energy some call mana, though within the Empire that theory is considered defunct…which troubles me greatly because it means we simply do not understand how magic works-oh, right, anyways it acts as a source of chemical energy and is being burned to produce heat and light, and when you really understand that your casting becomes an order of magnitude more efficient.”
Off in the distance, the grenade impacted the lead ship and exploded, punching a small hole in the giant house-like structure built into the deck of Wako ships.
“Of course, you would also need to learn the true nature of energy, which is that it is all largely the same thing no matter what form it takes. Think of energy as how much something can do, and what form that energy takes, whether that be chemical or mechanical energy or something, dictates what that energy can be ‘spent’ on. Wind mage, what was your name again?”
The Wind mage, who had been quietly standing off to the side trying to absorb any amount of knowledge this more experienced mage might reveal, shot up slightly nervously.
“Gregor, sir!”
He spoke with a slight polish accent, though it was extremely slight.
A Holenstadter? How’d I miss that we hired a Holenstadter mage for the baggage train?
“Gregor, son of Holenstadt, understood. Can you amplify my voice please?”
The mage sheepishly began to draw glowing white sigils in the air, a slightly different form of casting than the Baron’s hand signs and martial casting. The process took longer than the Baron expected as he had to make small edits to the sigils to get them exactly right, which marked him as an intermediate mage.
“Y-your voice is amplified in the direction of the Wako, sir.”
“Thank you, Gregor. How does this work, anyway? Something about wind…right, save that for later.”
The Baron faced the Wako, taking a deep breath before yelling in perfect Wa.
“You are approaching a ship of Bickenstadt! I have an agreement with your boss, you are not to harm any ship coming from Bickenstadt, let alone one owned directly by me, the Baron von Bickenstadt! Stand down!”
Soon after yelling, the Wako fleet slowed to a crawl. After about 30 seconds, a reply was carried across the winds.
“...I’m the captain of this fleet, Hoji. We didn't realize you were a Bickenstadt ship, you got no flag of Bickenstadt anywhere in your fleet. Can I approach?”
“Yes. Only your ship, the rest stay behind or we will open fire.”
“...Alright.”
The lead ship finally began to move forward again, quickly getting close enough for its captain, Hoji, to jump over to the Baron’s ship.
He seemed to be a wind mage, as he lept over by causing a giant gust of wind to propel him up and forward, landing on the deck and rolling to his feet in one graceful motion. He was a man of medium height and build, which meant he was most likely a lot more dangerous than he looked as he was significantly smaller than any other pirate captain the Baron had ever met. At his waist was a simple katana.
“Wow, you’re bigger than I thought. What kinda food they grow in the Empire to make you so damn big?”
The Baron cracked a smile.
“A lot of meat, actually. Being a Baron has its perks. And my mother and father were quite large as well, it runs in the family.”
“Damn, wish it were easier to raise meat animals back home. Grass don’t grow without sun apparently.”
“Yes, grass gets its energy from the sun through a process known as photosynthesis. Think of it as the grass eating sunlight the way we eat grain or meat. Anyways, you did not know that we were Bickenstadt ships, and fair enough we fly the flag of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company, not Bickenstadt, and you did no damage to our ships or killed our men, so you will be let free, with a fine bottle of brandy, as an apology for blowing a small hole in your flagship. You do like brandy, yes?”
A soldier ran off immediately to grab a bottle of brandy from the captain's cabin. Hoji smiled and reached into his shirt and pulled out a medium sized canvas bag.
“I don’t mind it, more of a sake guy myself, but a little eastern booze never hurt nobody! I’m also here to give you a gift, a bag of coffee beans from the Assai’id, plundered from the Elven Republic ship if you care. I don’t like the stuff personally, makes me all jittery. Oh, also can I get one of your flags? The Klarwasser one? Makes it easier for the boys to know not to attack you guys if we know all your flags.”
“Yes, of course, we’ll give you a few extras. Give it to Oshan, he’ll put it somewhere noticeable. And thank you for the coffee, I much prefer it to tea, to be honest.”
“Well, being a proud Wako, tea is in my blood! Can never get enough of the stuff!”
The Baron shrugged.
“Honestly, more healthy than my predilections, probably. Well then, good to meet a reasonable man! I’ll remember you, Hoji, as the most reasonable pirate I have ever met! If I have any information about good scores of mutual enemies, I’ll try to make sure you hear of it first. Good luck in your future endeavors!”
The Baron held out his hand and Hoji grasped it with both hands, shaking it a little violently.
“Good to know not all nobles are sheltered useless! Hope to do business with you in the future man!”
Hoji leapt back to his ship and quickly began to sail back to his fleet. As the Baron watched the Wako leave, Helmut approached him from behind.
“Excuse me, Baron. I have a question.”
The Baron replied without looking away from the fleet.
“Yes, of course, ask away.”
“Well, it is my understanding that pirates are generally an unruly bunch of undisciplined former fishermen. Why was he so…civil? And reasonable?”
The Baron smiled and turned, patting Helmut’s shoulder as he spoke.
“Well, pirates may be on average less educated than you or I, however, they are not idiots. Especially the Wako, who are oftentimes trained specifically to be pirates. They know that if they piss off someone really important, and in my case every Wako pirate knows that I have an agreement with Oshan, they will be killed, either by said important person, or by their captain for being an idiot and making his life harder. They also know they can’t attack too frequently or kill people too often, because if they become a large enough nuisance, governments will begin to root them out. Basically, they know that if they aren’t at least cordial to men like me, they and their men will suffer a horrible death!”
“Oh, well, that makes sense. I did not know pirates were so practical.”
“People don’t tend to just do things for no reason. Almost every institution serves some function, in the case of piracy, it provides a job for men who are generally too unruly for proper military service, or fishermen who are down on their luck, things like that. It’s the same thing as banditry, men resort to such things because they are desperate. Though, Wako is a bit of a special case, but that only makes them more reasonable to deal with. Say, do you like coffee?”
Helmut looked confused for a moment at the quick change of subject.
“Oh, um, I do not believe I have tried it before.”
The Baron began to head back to the captain’s cabin, gesturing for Helmut to follow.
“Well, now is an excellent time!”
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Crowds formed to watch the Klarwasser Mercenary Company disembark from their ships at the famous Bickenstadt Harbor built directly into a coral reef, returning home after just a few months abroad. Klarwasser was very well liked by the citizens of Bickenstadt, they were the face of the city and brought much honor to the city by their martial prowess, and thus whenever they returned they were celebrated as heroes.
Soldiers waved to the cheering crowd, all trying to look as suave and strong as possible in case there were any young women who liked a man in uniform in the crowd. Which there were. A lot. The Baron spotted Udo beginning to break formation to speak to some woman dressed as a barmaid giving him bedroom eyes and grabbed his collar.
"Not now, son. Young woman! You may find this dashing young lad at Castle Bickenstadt!"
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"So, Suleiman is willing to provide men?"
Wolfgang sat at his desk, tearing through his piles of paperwork. The Baron was combing through his bookshelves, looking for anything that looked at least vaguely interesting.
"Yes, he is willing to offer up around 15,000 men, though most of them will be conscripts, and it will most likely take quite a while for them to arrive."
"Good, any amount of men is better than no men. Speaking of which, I believe we should begin building up the army of Bickenstadt. Our standing army as is will crumble to dust at the slightest bit of pressure from the Empress's forces. We need to reform basically everything and expand recruitment."
The Baron took out a book that looked somewhat promising, then put it back when he saw the author.
"Jurgen Hässlebach is a talentless hack, I can't believe you own his works. Oh yes, we should reform everything. We are going all in on the elven style of warfare, and as such we need to organize our army in the elven fashion. I will send word to Napoleon that we wish to recreate our army in the image of his and he should quietly send some men to help us. Oh, we should try to be a bit quiet about bolstering our numbers, at least for the time being. We can't let the Empress get too scared and attack us first."
"Yes, I completely agree. I suppose we shall have to leave this up to statistics, calculating the maximum number of men we can recruit without it looking suspicious."
"Yes, well, I'll leave you to that. Statistical analysis was never really my strong suit. Oh, by the way, we are housing the sons of a fallen Assai'id king. I feel I should have mentioned that earlier."
Wolfgang fully stopped writing.
"We're what? House the sons of a king?"
"A dead king."
"A dead king. Yes, of course, that makes it much better. What else did I expect? You to act responsibly? Bah!"
Wolfgang pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Why do you insist on making my job harder? What are we even supposed to do with the sons of a king?"
"I don't know, turn them into desk jockeys? I didn't really think about it to be honest, I just didn't want to sit by and watch children be strangled to death."
Wolfgang slumped back in his chair.
"Well, when you put it like that…even I'm not heartless enough to argue against it. Damn. Fine. I will find a use for them, but stop doing this sort of thing!"
The Baron shrugged.
"I make no promises."
"Great. Whatever. Excellent even. I'll make them fisherman or something. Anyways, what is our next step? Perhaps going to Waffenstadt? You haven't visited uncle in decads."
The Baron let loose a long suffering sigh.
"That is the logical next step, however, I am unsure if Ingo has forgiven me for allowing your mother to be killed."
"Please, father, it's been nearly three decades, that is plenty of time for the scars to heal. If anything, I suspect he is more angry that you haven't visited him once since she died."
"Yes, you're probably right. Though last time I saw him he largely ignored me."
"Like I said he's most likely upset with you for refusing to confide in him. He loved mother just as much as you did, well, in a brotherly way instead of romantic love."
The Baron frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Who'da thunk I'd have more trouble dealing with a brother in law than people of a different species entirely."
Wolfgang raised an eyebrow.
"Who'da thunk? Did you pick that up from the men? Not a very noble way of speaking, though of course there is nothing wrong with that necessarily. Just make sure to keep up proper appearances for the people."
The Baron smiled.
"What can I say? The way they speak is infectious! Dropping all the formalities makes communication far more efficient. I believe that any leader worth their salt should learn how to speak like a member of the working class. Well of course I believe that leaders should work in the interest of the working class in general, as they are the one that allow for society to exist, so it's only fair."
Wolfgang reached into his desk and pulled out some blank paper and envelopes.
"Let's not get too off topic now, we have a few things to take care of before our clash with the Empress: Expanding, reorganizing, and improving Bickenstadt's military, visiting Waffenstadt, building infrastructure, and finding a new source of food for the future."
The Baron froze as he was reaching for another book.
"My god, I completely forgot about that Ebenenstadt will not be siding with us, and therefore will not be giving us food. I’ve gotten used to my logistics network, but that’s all going to be ruined!"
Wolfgang smiled smugly.
"And that is why you have me around. Now, I believe that the best course of action food wise is to get it from the Elves and possibly the Assai'id, though that is less of a guarantee as they are fairly far away."
"Correction, we will be getting food from the Elven Republic, not the Elves. Just like humans, the Elves are not a monolith."
"Right, of course I know that, I am simply using Elves as shorthand, the Elven Republic is quite a mouthful compared to just Elves."
"As long as you know the distinction. Yes, we should definitely speak to Napoleon on this. I am unsure of their farming situation, but they seem to be fairly advanced technology wise, so I would be surprised if they had worse crop yields than us."
"Yes, I had a similar thought process. It shall be done as quickly as possible. I believe I shall hold off on expanding the military until those drill sergeants arrive, and I will send a letter to uncle as soon as possible. Assume you will be visiting in two to three months."
The Baron put back all the books he took out and sighed.
"Right, well, that should give me plenty of time to steel my resolve. In the meantime, I have things to speak with my lieutenants about."
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The Baron jogged towards where he assumed he would find Fergus: the training grounds. When he arrived, he discovered he was right. Fergus was doing push ups, completely shirtless, while Ludwin sat on his back reading a book, an impressive show of strength.
"Hey, lovebirds! I have something to discuss, mostly with Fergus, but Ludwin may come if he wishes."
Fergus stopped doing pushups and allowed Ludwin to stand before standing himself. He wasn't even breathing hard.
"What'dya wanna talk 'bout?"
"Oh, just the possibility of bringing over some friends from Orkney."
Fergus scruffed his beard in thought.
"Aye, we've got some stuff tae talk 'bout. You wanna come Ludwin?"
Ludwin shrugged.
"I don't see why not."
The Baron smiled and threw his arms around both men.
"Great! Then come! To my office we go!”
As the Baron escorted his lieutenants to his office, he briefly stopped to speak to a nearby guard.
"Excuse me, you know that priest of the Imperial Cult, Adolf, right?"
The guard nodded his head.
"Good, if he comes by here can you knock on my door? He freaks me out, I need to ready myself if I am to speak with him."
The guard nodded again.
"Excellent. Thank you sir! Here."
The Baron handed him a few Reiksgeld, a common occurance in castle Bickenstaat, and entered his office, gesturing for Ludwin and Fergus to take a seat. The Baron lowered himself onto his chair and opened a drawer to retrieve a bottle.
"Scotch or Brandy?"
Fergus smiled brightly.
"Scotch!"
The Baron pulled out a bottle of brandy, a dumb grin plastered across his face.
"Sorry, I only have brandy on hand."
"Why're ya like this?. What coulda happened in yer life tae make ya like this? Why d'ya like brandy so much anyway?"
"A whole lot, my auburn haired friend. A whole lot. And as to why I enjoy brandy, well, it's the first thing my late wife ever gave to me. I am a tad attached."
Fergus looked visibly apologetic.
"Oh, sorry for makin' ya drag up old memories."
The Baron shrugged.
"I've had decades to process my emotions. It's fine. Anyways, do you have anyone in mind in your native Orkney that would be a great help? Perhaps someone with a warband or something? We would probably be best served by a decently sized unit of irregulars for harassment detail and scouting. Most generals would sell their souls for even a single orkney tracker, so I have low expectations numbers wise."
Fergus stared off into space as he combed through his memories. After thinking for a good while, Fergus’s face scrunched up a bit, like he had just eaten something bitter.
“Well, I ken a’ one man who’s perfect fer your purposes, but I donnae like him much. Personal rivalry, an’ ‘es a right bastard as well.”
“Is he liable to commit massacres? Or generally get up to anything distasteful?”
“No massacres to his name, that I ken a’, but ‘e’s known tae commit human sacrifices from time to time. Not willy nilly or nothin’, but Jörmungandr likes a soul or two bein’ thrown his way.”
The Baron pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t like that, human sacrifice grates against my sensibilities. Well…so long as it’s not excessive. We need to be pragmatic about this sort of thing. We’ll have to set ground rules regarding that sort of thing should I decide to employ him. Please, tell me about him.”
“‘Is name is Caelan McTavish, ‘e comes from the Isle o’ Talamh Neo-Sheasmhach, one of the least developed places in Orkney. I ‘avnae been there, but I ‘eard it’s filled with all sorts of beasties just itchin’ tae feast on your marrow. The Isle’s said tae be covered in wet fog at all hours, with little land good fer farmin’ an’ just general livin’.”
Fergus shrugged.
“Though I’ve ‘eard rumor that it’s got quite a bit o’ minerals, but I doubt anyone is gonna be industrializin’ it any time soon, so I’d say don’t even think ‘bout it. Just growin’ up there'll make ya a right proper tracker, but this lad, ‘es got raw talent on top of practice. An’ quite the warband backin’ ‘im.”
“Well, that sure sounds enticing. If he is as good as you say he is, well, I’d say he’ll be worth the money. Wait, would a man like that even want money?”
Fergus waved his hand dismissively.
“You’re probably only gonna need tae give ‘im food n’ shelter.”
“Well, I can do that easily. If he is as good as you say, I’d be willing to bet he will be worth the money. Do I need to send you off to Orkney or something?”
“Aye, an’ I wanna take Ludwin with me. ‘E’s never been.”
“Of course, You’ve got a blank check from me.”
Fergus looked confused.
“A what?”
Ludwin spoke before the Baron could.
“Think of it like a voucher for money, it’s a newer concept that has been becoming more popular amongst merchants as of late.”
The Baron kicked his feet up on his desk and took a sip of brandy.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Actually, that was a bit of a slip up. Didn’t know they used checks in this world yet.
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Adolf was overseeing the construction of a larger, more impressive temple of the Imperial Cult.
While it was not yet done, the church the Baron was constructing was larger and more ostentatious than the old temple, built during a time where the Empire preached austerity and discipline heavily and was therefore rather bare. The only thing differentiating it from the buildings surrounding it was the black stone used in its construction, a hallmark for any project public works erected by the Imperial Cult.
The fact that a Christian’s place of worship would have more glass, let alone stained glass, than the temple would simply not do. He had managed to convince the Baron to pay for half of it, with the other half being paid for by the Grand Imperial Temple in Grössenburg, as is tradition.
Adolf assisted a few immigrant laborers from Wa in lifting a particularly large beam. A warrior priest of Auftragter must keep a healthy body in addition to a sharp mind, lest he be unable to distribute swift justice when the time came.
One of the laborers slipped and shouted a curse in his native language, Adolf quickly repositioning himself deeper under the beam to better distribute its weight over his shoulder. The fallen man marveled at Adolf’s strength as he effortlessly lifted two men’s worth of weight.
A voice come from behind.
“Excuse me, Adolf, could I borrow you for a moment?”
Adolf quickly placed the beam where it needed to be before finding out who just spoke to him.
“Abbot Abol, do you need me?”
Adolf took out his simple iron pocket watch and snuck a peak at the time.
“Yes, just for a moment, as I said. The usual reason, but also something new for you.”
Adolf dusted off his robes and turned to the workers.
“I will be back in a moment. Keep up the good work men, you are a credit to your countrymen.”
The two men walked off, heading to a fairly popular Inn, The Dented Anvil.
The Dented Anvil offered private rooms to drink and talk to friends without the worry of someone coming around to ruin your fun, which made it perfect for more clandestine meetings. After setting down a small writing pad at the table, Abbot ordered two mugs of honey sweetened mead and brought them to their private room. Adolf looked displeased.
“Please, you know I do not drink alcohol. The Imperial Cult head theogonist’s opinion on Alcohol is not the same as mine. It dulls the wits and makes those who consume it immoral.”
Abbot smiled and took a sip, savoring the sweet taste.
“It may dull your wits, lightweight, but I am a champion drinker. Such a low alcohol content will hardly affect my wits. Plus, he only encourages alcohol consumption as a concession to the Holenstadters. If he banned Vodka they would have revolted ten times over by now. Also I got two, for me and you.”
Adolf scowled but said nothing more. Abbot shrugged and scooted the other mug back over to himself. After taking another sip of mead, Abbot leaned forward on the table.
“Now, let’s get down to business. Have there been any important developments?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. There are a few things we need to discuss.”
Abbot raised an eyebrow as he sipped his mead. Adolf scowled at the mug.
“Firstly, the Baron made a trip down to the Assai’id confederation for mercenary work. Not the land of coffee, unfortunately, but to the Ottoman Empire I believe. I couldn’t make it to the boat in time, I overslept and then traffic got in my way. I have no proof of this, but I believe the Baron may have drugged me and arranged for heavy traffic to follow me.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Because I do not ‘sleep in’. I am a man of Auftragter. He is the god of order and discipline.”
Abbot chuckled slightly.
“Does that have anything to do with you never blinking?”
Adolf stared directly into Abbot’s eyes, unblinking.
“Yes.”
Abbot kicked his feet up on the table, balancing his chair on two legs. He gestured for Adolf to continue with his stein.
“Fair enough. Go on.”
“Thank you. I am unsure of what the Baron did down there, however, he did come back with a few Ottoman military advisors and two boys, black as night. I am unsure of who they are, but they were dressed well. I assume some important people. They could be hostages, or they could be here to attend school. I do not know. However, I do find this fairly suspicious. Especially since he did not announce their presence.”
Abbot scrawled down a few notes before speaking.
“I agree that is somewhat strange, however speculation without evidence is a recipe for disaster, don’t you think?”
“I agree, however it is something you should note. Anything else?”
“Yes, I believe we need to observe the Baron’s mercenary company to learn his style of warfare. He has moved away from pike and shot that makes up traditional Imperial warfare, and it seems to be treating him well. His losses on this most recent campaign were lower by a statistically significant amount.”
“Hm, explain what he is doing differently.”
“Of course. He plans to completely get rid of pikemen in his army, and he is transitioning everyone over to just firearms. He is moving his formations away from the blocks that we use and more to longer lines just a few men deep. Additionally, he seems to have somehow gotten his hands on more advanced firearm technology. I caught a glance at one of the weapons he was producing and there was no flash pan, just a little nob where it is supposed to be, alongside bayonets that are attached at all times to a lug instead of a plug.”
Abbot took a moment to process what he was told, occasionally writing out conclusions in his notepad.
“Well, the bayonet thing should be easy to implement. However, this thing about new gun technology…are you completely sure this is not a mistake on your part? I know warrior priests don’t tend to use firearms so…”
“No, I am absolutely sure of it. There was no flash pan and there was no beginnings of a flash pan, there was simply something else. I recommend sending in a specialist to see if there are documents they can take or copy. He has built a gunsmith near castle Bickenstadt attempting to mass produce firearms.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it. Been inside, actually. State-of-the-art.”
Abbot set his chair down and pushed it back, sitting up straighter in his seat.
“The place is run by that elf and a Wako man. It doesn’t seem to match up to the production of the Grand Rauchburg Foundry, but it certainly is a step in the right direction. Also, we should consider a different meeting space, this one seems to be compromised.”
Abbot’s form became blurry, and after a few seconds it slowly dissipated into mist. The door opened and a body flopped to the floor, a pool of blood forming from the base of their neck. Abbot stood in the doorway, wiping his long, thin stiletto with a white cloth.
“Well, it seems the Baron has noticed my presence here, or more likely his son. We have to be more careful in the future.”
He returned the blade to its sheath deep under his cloak.
“Well, I must be off. Figure out what to do with him. I’ll stop by the workshop again on my way out, and I’ll send some observers from Grössenburg, your assessment of his new style of warfare and his continued growth of the mercenary company are worrying. I will recommend the Empress restructure the Grand Imperial Army, perhaps bring up the idea of upping firearm production in Grössenburg with the way things are going in Waffenstadt. Ingo does not seem to be a fan of her, and he is related to the Baron by marriage. I highly doubt the Baron’s upcoming trip to Waffenstadt is an entirely social affair. Good luck with your construction, seems to be going well.”
Abbot turned to leave, but hesitated for a moment before turning back.
“Oh, also, about the Baron’s upcoming trip to Waffenstadt. I suggest you stay here. Things may end up…messy. For better or for worse. Makes it harder to justify killing you if you’re not even there. Also, I arranged for a bag of coffee to be left near your room. You do good work, and you seem to enjoy the stuff. I prefer tea personally, though that’s neither here nor there.”
Abbott disappeared down the hallway, and Adolf was left with a dead body and a pool of blood to clean up. He sighed deeply, tapping the body with his foot.
“Things seem to be heating up around here. Perhaps it may allow me to root out christians.”
He bent down to pick up the body, making sure the coast was clear before swiftly leaving the building and depositing it in a nearby sewer.
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The Baron stared out his window dispassionately. The land around Rauchburg was unimpressive, a mostly barren rocky landscape with large-scale mines blotting the surroundings.
There were occasional smaller dying trees huddled around whatever water source wasn’t depleted. The Baron sighed and checked his pocketwatch, a silver casing with ivory and gold highlights.
“I understand that the eastern half of Waffenstadt is better, but this is just dreary. You think it affects Leibenstadt?”
Helmut looked up from his book, Hans Bruekner’s ‘The Clown Prince’, which was banned a couple years back for containing anti-monarchy sentiments.
“Yes. Ingo has drained quite a few water sources, it must affect something around there. Leibenstadt is already a fairly dry place, despite the river Leiben.”
“I wonder if we should bring it up? Perhaps convince him to build something nice out here, or plant something. My God, anything for a little splash of color. I’ll finance it myself.”
Helmut went back to reading.
“Well, make sure to add it to the itinerary. I am sure he would be willing to discuss it.”
“Yes, maybe. I just hope he is not angry at me for never visiting. Could make negotiations more…complicated. Say, any idea how much further we need to go?”
Helmut answered without looking up from his book.
“We should be able to see it from here, lean out the window.”
The Baron did as Helmut suggested.
A thousand small plumes of smoke rose up in the distance. Even from so far away the harsh, industrial, utilitarian walls could be made out. They weren’t black like the walls of Grossenburg, but instead was made up of a light red brick. It was certainly a nicer look, but was nothing compared to Bickenstadt’s artistic walls, let alone the beauty of Nyumba wa Jua’s stunning architecture.
“Well, let’s hope those walls are as sturdy as they look, it may be protecting against artillery fire in a few years. Driver! Make haste towards Rauchburg! I want to see my brother in law!”
End of Book 2