Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest

Another cycle of Dwarven paperwork has made you almost gleeful to escape the Karak, and as your transport makes its way over mountains you look forlornly down at your still-aching hand. Your permanent ownership of the location required one set of papers, and that it was to be a religious site was another set of papers, and that it might be a site where alcohol was to be drunk was an equally formidable set, the Dwarves taking drinking almost as seriously as religion. That the site could be both a Shrine and a Tavern was not a problem, as apparently Temples to Valaya in her aspect as the Ancestor Goddess of Brewing were quite similar.

Thankfully, by the time you reach the Empire, your hand has fully healed. Gyrocopters are not unknown in the Empire, but they are certainly rare enough to draw stares. When one lands in the poorest and most violent district Altdorf has to offer, that counts for double. You disembark to dozens of curious stares, but the colour of your habitual robes has all but the boldest quickly pretend to have been looking elsewhere. People in general know not to bother a Wizard going about their business, but people here learned very, very quickly that the Grey College that lurked in the dilapidated heart of the district was absolutely not to be bothered at all. Even when you start unloading your weight in silver, eyes remain firmly turned away, and a nearby street merchant selling fried meats of unidentifiable provenance is offered a month's profit for the loan of his cart, and a swarm of street urchins and beggars are very careful not to get too close to you as they each gather armfuls of the now unwanted meats. As you wheel your weight in silver through the streets, you're entertained to see the same set of events play out on a dozen different faces: eyes alighting on an enormous stack of silver and widening in greed, then those same eyes spotting that a Grey Wizard was in possession of that silver, and that person freezes on the spot as self-preservation and greed go to war.

Self-preservation always wins. Those with more greed than sense have long since been weeded out of the neighbourhood.

The doors you wheel the cart through have not seen an overambitious thief in many years, though urchins on dares scamper in on a regular basis. Most emerge without incident after lingering long enough to show their bravery, a few meet Grey Wizards to make reports to their secret employers, and once in a while one will not be seen again - at least not until they've advanced enough in their Apprenticeship to be allowed out unsupervised. Each of the Colleges have their own way of calling to those who resonate with their Wind.

The normal way to gain access to the Grey College is to walk through the corridors in a maddening array of zig-zags in a path that seem to fold in on itself, but though Wizards love that sort of thing, sometimes practicality must win out. A storage closet near the door is home only to a single broom that has long surrendered its grip on its bristles, and you carefully wheel your cargo into it and close the door behind you. A few seconds later, you open the door again and wheel the cart out into the Grey College's storerooms, filled with all the mundane fuels required to run an institution: quills and inks, paper and papyrus, chalk and slate. Out the door, down the corridor, a few nods and exchanged greetings with those you pass. A few eyebrows are raised, but only just - yours might be a contender for the strangest cargo for the Grey College to receive this week, but only just.

The Bursar's Office is the name for the financial mechanisms of the Grey College, that's simple enough. The person one speaks to in it would, one could reasonably assume, be the Bursar. But the Colleges inherited the traditions of the University of Altdorf, and as such its names have only a tangential relation to reality or consistency. The Bursar's Office is the foyer for several actual offices, and the staff that one would speak to are an assortment of non-magicals, Perpetual Apprentices, and Magisters with very specific mindsets, and they would be speaking on behalf of the Bursar as an institution. There is, somewhere, an actual Bursar - the Grey Wizard responsible for the entire financial apparatus of the College - but even when one says that they have spoken to the Bursar, they usually would not have actually spoken to them, or even set eyes upon them.

As the unexpected delivery of a woman's weight in silver makes its way up the chain of command, you feel both terror and elation at the realization that that's about to change.

It's often said to new Apprentices that many of the greatest deeds of the Grey Order will never be spoken of, and while that was true for the Empire at large, the exception was among other Grey Wizards. Algard and his Towers of Screaming Death, which reliably draws in Chaos warbands who seek the forbidden tomes supposedly encased within and walk right into Imperial Army ambushes. Kurtis Krammovitch, double agent turned triple agent turned quadruple agent turned unofficial diplomat to the Hedgefolk, who technically breached the Articles but fought sorcerers and necromancers for new recruits in areas where the College's influence didn't otherwise reach. Walther Kupfer, who fomented civil unrest from the slave pits of Clar Karond and caused inter-house feuds that still periodically explode into violence to this day.

And Wilhelmine von Bucht, who shattered the House of Goellner when they thought their trade empire had made them too powerful to tax, who dismantled every Smuggler Guild from Middenheim to Fortenhaf, who concealed the Imperial Regalia and forced the just-deposed Dieter IV to retreat to Talabheim without performing one final theft. Who in the twilight years of a successful career settled down to serve her College as Bursar. Who is now sitting across from you and offering you a nice cup of tea.

Lady Magister Wilhelmine looks anywhere from thirty to fifty, her hair the pure grey of Ulgu rather than the interspersed whites of age, and it rather unnervingly wriggles from time to time as it tries to escape from the bun it's been forced into. Her frame is thin but not quite gaunt, and she has the air of a friendly aunt, seeming nothing like the figure of legend that inspires even the most arrogant of nobles to meet their tax obligations. As you sip on the tea - mild, with a hint of mint - she turns the bar of silver over in her hands, running her fingertips over the imprint attesting to its origin, weight and purity. She also has in front of her the paperwork you filled out to go with it, and though she only appears to have glanced at it you're sure she knows every detail you entered.

"Not the first windfall you've come into," she notes.

"No, Lady Magister. The Memoirs of Asarnil proved unexpectedly popular."

"I assume you did take the usual Vows at some point, yes?"

"Yes, Lady Magister."

"We do rather focus on how funds are obtained. Our own dear Ulgu could make quite a terror of any that put their minds to the acquisition of wealth, as I'm sure you're aware. I'm likewise sure your acquisitions will remain benign, and there will be no need for any of those little loopholes to become a noose." She taps the silver with a fingernail. "This isn't a warning. If we didn't have faith in you, you would not bear your current rank, and truth be told the silver will come in handy - our wedding present for the Emperor was not cheap. This is simply a reminder to help you retain that faith we have in you. As the Wolfship captain said to the midshipman: if a fish jumps aboard there's no point throwing it back overboard, but don't get so used to the taste that you find yourself baiting hooks. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Lady Magister."

"Lovely. I'll be watching your affairs with great interest. Oh, and if you could do me a small favour?"

"Yes, Lady Magister?"

"Do tell Magister Johann to stop playing silly buggers. He can poke at the ratties if he really must, but it's unseemly to play pretend with our allies."

---

It still feels unreal to think of Magister Regimand Speiseschrank as your peer rather than your Master. He's tucked deep into an armchair in the entrance hall, apparently engrossed in a tome, but you notice that your mind says he is reading a book rather than going through all the usual steps of identifying the object in his hands and coming to a conclusion of its own. You really should get around to learning Cloak Activity when you have a spare month or two, but time is always scarce and the Colleges frown on attempts to interfere with its passage. You slip into Substance of Shadow and take the seat opposite him before revealing yourself in a mirror of the way he used to appear to you as a Journeyman, and of course he doesn't give you the satisfaction of jumping.

"You should learn Invisibility," he says, still supposedly engaged in his reading. "Next time I might not do you the courtesy of dousing the nearest lantern."

"There's a lot of things I should be doing," you retort, and with barely a flicker the spell dissolves and Regimand is looking directly at you, the book nowhere to be seen.

"I daresay they would be. Have you seen the second layer of nastiness yet?"

"Whiskers and warpstone? Oh yes. How many of those little messages are there, anyway?"

"A few. Most of the big ones you'll probably never need. There's a big one a bit further south from your current playground, but it's going on twenty-five centuries without a whisper and thank Sigmar for that. One's just a how-to-stop-a-Waystone-from-exploding that we keep tucked away so those Journeying don't get it into their heads to seek them out, but can still deal with one gone bad if they trip over it. There's one for if you're stupid enough to go to Lustria, one that basically says 'don't touch the mummy gold, idiot' after an overambitious twit came home proud as punch of a sceptre he'd stolen from a pyramid - we jumped into the fastest ship in Altdorf Harbour and nipped across the Sea of Claws and threw it in the general direction of the Skaelings, and a week later every sailor in Marienburg is telling stories about the Curse of Zandri wandering up and down the Norscan coast. I've heard there's two in the Dark Lands, but never been curious enough to go poking around there. Terrible place. Oh, one for the Blighted Marsh to say get the hell out of the Blighted Marsh without giving the full story." He scratches his chin in thought. "I think that's all the major ones. Or maybe just the ones I know about. Far as I know, the rest are all 'run away and call for help with this codeword' warnings for specific Black Magisters - problem with them is that so many of them end up blowing themselves up in some godforsaken nowhere, but we can't take them off the books because every now and then one will re-emerge after thirty years and start raising hell." He frowns. "What was I- oh yes, rats. Honestly the best advice I could give for those bastards is find some Dwarves and point them in the right direction. They know what they're doing."

"You're a font of wisdom," you grumble, and he smiles.

"So, have you been up to anything apart from getting in scraps with the greenskins?"

"I have, actually. Are you still semi-retired?"

"As much as always," he says evasively. Perhaps he actually is, or perhaps he's getting up to mischief he can't discuss in Altdorf; he 'semi-retired' twice during your Apprenticeship, and the first ended with three different chaos cults declaring war on each other and butchering each other in the streets of Altdorf as the Watchmen waited to arrest whoever was last standing, and the second with the 'tragic accident' of a noble who turned out to be a puppet of the Lahmians.

"Well, if you're looking for ways to spend your time, I've got a few boulders to catapult into the academic landscape." You hand over your papers and he immediately tucks in, and you sit back to wait impatiently.

"The general Runic insight is solid, nothing earthshaking but there's good information there and a lot of it. Good read, too." Another period of silence, and you've only got his gradually raising eyebrows to gauge his reaction by. "They hardly ever bring those Anvils to battle, and I've never even heard of some of those abilities. Damn cagey Dwarves. This one's a cracker, too." The third one is a great deal shorter, but the information goes over just as well. "That title would give a lot of generals heart attacks. Good information, damn good information. I daresay these will see some widespread reading. If this is what's going to come out of that place, it won't just be the diplomatic sorts that want you to stay put. Tie a rope around whichever of the young'uns you got to write these for you before someone else snatches them up."

The other topic is your slightly less heavy cargo: the eggs you bought in Barak Varr. Regimand makes a crack about feeding them on magic beans, but settles when you tell him they've been looked at by Amber Journeymen. The Ambers being what they are, they don't exactly have a mailing address. Most who have cause to contact them have to go through a number of steps involving totems and burning herbs, and the process for their Brothers and Sisters in wizardry are only slightly less aggravating. He agrees to pass them along with your compliments, and you wonder when or even if you'll hear anything back about your strange gift.

[Timely Tithe: +1 College Favour.
[Diplomatic Benefits of K8P: +4 College Favours.]
[Economic Benefits of K8P: Pending.]
[Strategic Benefits of K8P: Pending.]
[Wrangling Journeymen: +2 College Favours.]
[Observations on Runecraft During The Expedition To Karak Eight Peaks. Subject: Uncommon, +0. Insight: Confirming +1. Delivery: Compelling, +1. Shared credit, -1. Varied, +1. Final Rating: +2.]
[Deployment of an 'Anvil Of Doom' During The Battle Of Karag Nar. Subject: Rare, +1. Insights: Revolutionary (Lightning and Lava), +2. Delivery: Compelling, +1. Shared credit, -1. Precious, +1. Final Rating: +4]
[Dragon Ogres and Volcanic Lightning. Subject: Rare, +1. Insights: Revolutionary, +2. Delivery: Compelling, +1. Shared credit, -1. Tactically Relevant, +1. Final Rating: +4]
[Lustrian eggs: Pending.]

---

You checked in on the Grey College's current understanding of the situation in Stirland before you leave, of course, but you try to reserve judgement until you arrive. Part of you is still quite bitter about how your employment in Stirland ended, but you're doing your best to not find joy in her failures or misery in her successes. The guards at the gate of Blutdorf salute as you pass, and you wonder if it's institutional memory from your command over the Watch, memory of your time as Spymaster in general, standing orders from Anton, or just general respect paid to a Magister. It's been less than half a year since you were last here and everything is as you remember it, and once more you find court in session, except this time Anton is sitting on the rather modest throne instead of a seat set beside it. Thankfully, Anton's father had stepped aside rather than passing on his title the usual way, and was undoubtedly making an utter menace of himself to the deer and boar of Nattern Forest.

Just as last time you were here, you wait for him to finish his current adjudication (moving field markers was a serious charge, but equally serious was attempted disembowelment with a pitchfork in retaliation), and just as last time his call for snacks keeps the grumbling to a minimum as he adjourns court when you make yourself known. His hug is just as warm as you remember, and he chatters his way through current events, most of which you've just heard the reports of. His straightforward summaries cut to the heart of most of the matters with more conciseness than even the tersest intelligence report, and you wonder if he's growing more astute or if you're just more prone to taking him seriously, knowing the diplomatic feats he's been capable of.

"Fort Redemption is the new Wurtbad, they're saying," he says as the two of you look over a map of Stirland. "She's brought Southern Stirland to heel and the selling off of the Hunter's Hills are going well, and after the Countess disappeared she brought Nachthafen and Pfaffbach under her control. The Black Guard love her, Central Stirland has never felt safer, and the road Abelhelm had made has been a boon for trade. But she's completely ignoring Western Stirland, and you more than anybody knows what the problem with that is."

"Oh god," you groan as Anton rummages through a pile of scrolls. "Don't tell me the Stirlandian League is back."

"Even better," he says with a grin, and passes you a scroll. Your eyes widen at the seal stamped into the wax, and you unroll it to find a contract very similar to ones you've signed.

"Baron Anton Kiesinger II, in his capacity as the Baron of Blutdorf, ownership of a stake of 16% of the Eastern Imperial Company?"

"I saw how Wilhelmina was as Steward, she's scary when it comes to trading and finances and whatnot. So when she started clashing with the West Stirland Riverine Company - you remember, with Franzen and Wolfsbach? I told them it'd probably go really badly, and they spoke to her, and the Countess is paying a fortune for those handguns she's trying to introduce so she jumped at the chance to be bought out of the EIC. They got half each, and that meant that the EIC had the entire Old Dwarf Road, and with the Countess away the EIC has a free hand throughout the demesne so that gives them the Nuln Road all the way to Ramsau. And of course I'm not going to ignore the advise I just gave to Petra and Artur, am I? So when Wilhelmina came to town with that look in her eye, I didn't just get out of her way, I jump aboard. I cracked open the treasury, bought 16% of her share, damn near gave Da a heart attack. But then just as the Countess is getting mad at Nuln for the prices for all those handguns - which the EIC is being paid to ship, by the way - Wilhelmina has a word with her and gives her the idea, what if Stirland made the guns? And you know, Blutdorf already has a crossbow factory, it's got a Guild of Engineers, it's a safe distance from Sylvania, so where better? So Wilhelmina turns around and gives me back all that money I bought her share with, and we've just broken ground on a handgun factory that's going to have an exclusive contract to supply the Army of Stirland."

You look down at the map and consider the economic kraken he's describing, and you wonder if maybe it's a good thing this isn't your problem any more.

---

You remain in Blutdorf long enough to catch up entirely with Anton's life. It seems that his inheritance has made him one of the most eligible bachelors of Stirland, and he's rapidly being backed into a corner and only Wilhelmina's ruthless advice has kept him from just marrying one at random to stop the sharks from circling. The closest he has to a preference is a perpetually frazzled graduate from the Imperial Gunnery School of Nuln, who has cropped red hair, a missing ear, and a patent on a very interesting variation on the Repeater Hand Gun, with only a single barrel and a revolving chamber for holding the rounds themselves; when the girl isn't looking you compare the design with your own Dwarven revolver, and wonder if it's parallel evolution or if the girl has been looking outside the Empire for inspiration. More conventionally, there are marriages within Stirland. Specifically, the Count of Halstedt has a daughter, and the Baron of Marburg has a niece. A glance at the map confirms your suspicions: the former would spread the EIC into an overland trade route with the Moot, whereas the latter would allow the EIC as much a stranglehold over the Stir as they had over the Aver.

You frown at the map in thought, trying to decide how much you disapprove of Wilhelmina's string-pulling. It could be argued it was in his best interest - after all, 16% of the EIC's profits were Anton's profits. "Or," he says nervously, "I could just marry you." You almost laugh off his words, but Anton doesn't generally joke about such topics, and your surprised stare spurs him to continue. "It's like with Wilhelmina and trade. There are things I," he waves his hands vaguely in the air. "I don't understand, and I know I don't understand them, and I'd much rather just let someone who I trust that does know what they're doing take over. Probably whoever I end up marrying is going to be able to get me to do just about anything they want to, so I might as well marry someone that can already do that and hasn't done anything bad with it, right?"

There may have been moments where you imagined what it would be like to be proposed to, and none of them were anything at all like this, but nevertheless you're at least a little touched. Anton faced a future where his life was probably going to fall completely under the sway of a woman, and in his straightforward way he had decided that you were the most trustworthy woman for the job. You let him know that you'll think about it, and he hastily says that that's perfectly okay, and even if you say no that it would be okay, and he shouldn't have even said anything, and you just smile and hug him until he calms down again.

---

The thought keeps your thoughts well occupied on the way up the Nuln Road. With painful memories now insulated by your graduation and the Expedition, you can admit that you had more than a little bit of a crush on Abelhelm, and if things had been different... well, things probably wouldn't have been different, he was a Witch Hunter and he was your boss and he had a daughter only six years your younger, but maybe they could have been... but now you'll never know, and that's the end of it. So with the age of thirty just over the horizon, where did that leave you? What prospects did you have in your life? A bunch of Journeymen, two of which were involved with each other, one was actually a Magister, and you're still annoyed about that, and two that seem at times like they're more a decade younger than you than merely a few years. Beyond that, a huge number of men who were rightfully terrified of you, and a number of Dwarves who... well, maybe the idea wasn't completely unthinkable, but from what you've heard they don't even have, well, urges, it was entirely a matter of duty and clan instead of drives and entertainment.

Maybe some bold adventurer could seek their fortune at the Karak, or some clever trader could travel up Death Pass, or a counterpart from one of the more tolerable other Colleges could be drawn by the discoveries to be made, and maybe any of the former could just happen to be suitably close to you in age and suitably easy on the eyes... but that's a lot of maybes.

Maybe romance just isn't in the cards for you. Abstinence isn't mandatory for the Grey College, but nor is it discouraged, and many a Grey Wizard goes through life without romantic entanglement. Some say that eventually, becoming sufficiently attuned to Ulgu would steal those desires away. Even if that's not the case, it could definitely get in the way - it's easy enough to say that anyone scared off by a few flickery candles and a wandering shadow wasn't worth having anyhow, but could the same be said if you sink deeper into Ulgu's embrace and they forgot your face every time they looked away?

So maybe a bird in the hand was worth any number in the bush. Maybe a marriage of understanding with Anton would be mutually beneficial. He may not be an intellectual juggernaut, but he's kind and he's likeable and he is, at times, shockingly competent. Maybe Baroness Weber would be a suitable addition to your growing list of titles.

You're relieved when you arrive and can table the entire debate and focus on spending time with Wilhelmina. The EIC headquarters has grown, swallowing up the townhouses to either side, and from the foyer you can see a hive of efficient activity buzzing away, easily the equal of any of the ones you raided during your one-night take-down of the Stirlandian League. The man at the desk doesn't glance up from his papers. "Do you have an appointment?"

You smile. "A standing one, actually."

"Who with?" he asks, boredom dripping from his words as he finally deigns to look up, and recognition and then panic flashes across his face. "Magister Weber! Of course, I apologize, at once, I mean-"

The stammering man leads you through the building and you're gratified at the awestruck faces as you pass. You've never had much direct involvement with the EIC, but apparently the Dämmerlichtreiter owning 36% of your employer leaves a certain impression. "Mathilde!" Wilhelmina cries, enveloping you with a hug as enthusiastic as Anton's. "Thought for sure you'd end up cornered in some Godsforsaken corner of that Dwarf warren for years. Already run out of greenskins to fight?"

"Two down, six to go," you reply with a smile. "Eight Peaks has an Aircorp now, so I figured I may as well drop by, see how Stirland has fared." Fared without you, is the unspoken meaning, but Wilhelmina grasps it nevertheless.

"To her credit, she jumped right in and took right up stomping the hell out of Sylvania where you left off. But hell, that's all she's been doing, and she's been burning money to make it happen. A lot of that money has ended up in my pocket so I can't complain too much, but if she didn't have the Hunter's Hills to sell off she'd have run dry long since, and even then there's not many that want to buy at the price she wants to sell, so she can't be too far off skint."

"A ripe situation," you comment, eyes going to the map on her wall, larger and more detailed than Anton's. Everything west of Halstedt is stamped with the familiar sigil of the EIC.

"Couldn't be riper. She made an Exciseman her Steward. An Exciseman! Anyone trying to smuggle goods through Stirland is catching hell, sure, but it takes more than that to keep it all running, and I should know. He's farmed out the taxation rights! Sure, with proper restrictions so it's not quite the bad old days, but when the one that buys those rights is me, suddenly the EIC can undercut every poor bastard from here to Kirchham who still has to pay tolls and tariffs. I'd call it highway robbery but I've got three lads here and two in Altdorf triple-checking that every single step of it is completely legal, because sooner or later she's going to realize she handed me Western Stirland on a platter."

You stare past Wilhelmina at the map. As the reign of Dieter IV quite thoroughly proved, if someone's stupid enough to cut their own purse, there's no law against picking up the trail of gold they leave in their wake. But as the very same example also proved, there comes a point where enough's enough and something must be done. Does your old friend's burgeoning trade empire approach that point? Has she just boasted of the entire plan to a Grey Wizard, whose remit is to crush such overreaches?

Some of your thoughts must have shown on your face, because Wilhelmina turns solemn and follows your gaze. "I pay every tax she hasn't been stupid enough to sell me, and all the ones that go to Altdorf. She had a stake in all of this and it was her idea to sell it. I'm not skinning the sheep like the Stirlandian League - more trade than ever is flowing, and the ledgers are open to you if you want to confirm that. If you think this crosses a line, go ahead and bat your eyes at Anton or wave your sword at those silly buggers along the Aver and you've got the percentages to stuff the djinn back in the jar. But the way I see it, with the Countess selling everything she can get her hands on, there's plenty worse than me that could have bought it."

She's not wrong. If Roswita wants to turn trickles of income into lump sums now, that's a decision her title grants her the authority to make and there's hundreds that would come running to fill the vacuum if Wilhelmina stopped being the one to benefit. Wilhelmina is a known quantity, a decent person, and not least of all, almost entirely at your mercy. "I saw Anton on my way up," you say conversationally. "Gone into business with him?"

"You're damn right I have," she says, grateful for the change in topic. "Abelhelm sent him off to round up the usual assortment of Tilean pikemen and he came back with a dragon. Abelhelm sent him to sort out that taxation mess in Flensburg and he redraws the political map and founded a riverine monopoly on the side. He got Nuln and Zhufbar to try to one-up each other with cannon. I can't talk to a Dwarf or a Wissenlander without that coming up! The largest concentration of cannon in history, and yeah they got the job done because you would have murdered them if they didn't, but they were there in the first place because of that boy in Blutdorf. So absolutely, the moment he had the key to the treasury, I took however much he could scrape up from it and handed over 16% and I wrote the difference off with a smile."

"Put like that, it does make sense." If someone could be a threat to you, give them a stake in your success. It's a very trader-y way of doing things, but you can't deny its effectiveness. "Thoughts on his marriage?"

"Remember when we first arrived at Eagle Castle and he seemed like a sheep among wolves? That's what he really is when some tart starts cooing and flashing skin. He doesn't know what to do about it so he gets nervous and he'll agree to anything in the hopes that things start making sense again. I was half tempted to snap him up myself and see if the second lot of children come out better than the first, but in the end I just pointed him at ones that'd actually have some give rather than being all take."

"The Moot Road, the Aver, and a gunsmith."

"Benefits for everybody. I like the idea of having the EIC stamp on ten thousand rifles instead of that bloody Nuln sigil, but a crack at that Ostermark channel or the bounty of the Moot would be nice too."

---

You linger in Wurtbad long enough to catch up with Wilhelmina, hear the latest set of disappointments her sons have inflicted on her, and pass on a few tips. The tidal wave of silver in the hands of returning Stirlanders is definitely the sort of tip she can use. All those brave souls will be wanting land to settle down on, and it just so happens that an Elector Countess had been trying to sell land for long enough that she'd dropped the price a few notches. If she was aware of the triumphant return of Codrin and his ilk she'd know to keep a hold of it a little longer, but it just so happens that she had decided against retaining the services of the stunningly talented Grey Wizard who happened to have that information. You indulge in just a little schadenfreude as Wilhelmina gobbles up vast tracts of the Hunter's Hills, which are soon to take a massive leap in demand, and not one to miss a trick, Wilhelmina also strikes a deal with the Stirland mint to supply high-purity Dwarven silver for them to debase into rather more than the sixty coins Dwarves would make of it. Land for gold, silver for land, gold for silver - a level of alchemy beyond the arts of the Gold College.

Wilhelmina is also fascinated at the possibilities of a resurgent Karak Eight Peaks - not for making the long trip to the Far East, for even with Death Pass safe the Dark Lands remain just as treacherous, but for being on hand to supply equipment to those who dare the trip and skim the choicest goods from those who succeed before anyone else has had a chance to apply their markups. Once you've established yourself, you'll certainly have to consider helping the EIC build a branch in the Karak - the information that you could haul in and send back to the Grey College would be even more valuable than the fortunes to be made. You also raise the matter of your outstanding debt to Stirland, and Wilhelmina's able to put your mind at ease. Not only does the contract explicitly disallow any early calling in of the amount owed, it also can only be sold after first refusal is offered to the EIC, and at a substantial discount. Roswita can either deal with you paying off the debt at a leisurely pace, or she can eliminate a significant chunk of it and deliver it into the hands of an organization that you and yours have a stranglehold on. You're once again reminded how terrifying Wilhelmina has become in matters of finance.

When your visit comes to an end, you enlist Wilhelmina's help in retrieving some of your most sensitive belongings from the Sunken Palace. You don't know how your gallons of snake blood would react to the prolonged vibration of a gyrocopter ride, and you're more than a little concerned that you do know how said snake's prison would react, so for the first time in quite a while you'll be restricted to more mundane methods of transportation - albeit with fresh horses at every waystation and then a Dwarven steampship down the Skull River and up the Blood can be considered mundane. That does mean you'll have time enough to decide what your answer to Anton will be. You don't love him that way, but nor did the other women; Reinhild was the closest, and the only attraction she held to Anton was that she'd talk about guns instead of all the other topics Anton's circling suitors would bring up, and Anton understood guns. Aristocracy normally means not marrying for love, and often never finding it. Perhaps love could take care of itself between him and you, and even if it didn't, it wouldn't be the worst fate in the world to spend your life with someone you merely liked. Or perhaps Anton should hold out for a storybook ending... but he has proven very bad at holding out, and you know that storybook endings don't always, or even often, come true.

[ ] Marry them...
- [ ] Reinhild Gerber
With only a clever mind and an ambitious blueprint.
- [ ] Stefanie Krebs
Delivering a stranglehold on the Aver.
- [ ] Cordula von Halstedt
Linking the EIC to the Moot.
- [ ] Wilhelmina.
She said she's thought about it. Give her a push and promise to call in a favour or two with the Jade College.
[ ] Marry me...
- [ ] Soon.
Gyrocopters are wonderful things. You could spend weekends at Blutdorf, or he could spend them atop Karag Nar.
- [ ] When I return.
An engagement ring and a promise for when you return to the Empire.
[ ] Stay single. Marry for love.
Anton's achieved miracles for others. Maybe he could do so for himself.
[ ] Stay out of it.
Without any input from you, he's likely to end up following whatever Wilhelmina advises, making this a de facto vote for the 'Marry Them' option.


And once that topic is taken care of, the arguably more significant but considerably less fraught matter of your future at Karak Eight Peaks can be ruminated on over your long return. You've committed to sticking around but not said anything of the capacity in which you'd do so. The Undumgi could use a leader, and you could be that leader, and under your stewardship a trade boom in Death Pass could bring incredible profits not just for the Karak, but also Barak Varr and the Empire. On the other hand, none of those profits will be possible if the Karak falls again, and you could certainly be a powerful combatant against the threats to the Karak, either inside or out. Or you could be the first line of defence against the less direct threats to King Belegar's dream - especially since you've seen triumph after triumph against the strange energies of the Waaagh. Or maybe you'd prefer no role at all, and simply remain on hand for the direst emergencies while you catch up on your backlog, which is only slightly lightened by the unloading of the strange eggs.

Intrigue Advisor, Internal Focus
Your focus will be on monitoring, infiltrating, and sabotaging the forces in the six untaken Peaks, as well as those that dwell underneath the Karak. The Marshal will focus on dangers outside the Karak. Other candidates for this position are Halken Stonebeard, Longbeard and Eldest of Clan Angrund; Dreng, Hammerer of Clan Huzkul and former ranger; and Titus Muggins, leader of the Halfling Fieldwardens.

Intrigue Advisor, External Focus
Your focus will be on dangers outside the Karak. Obvious dangers such as the greenskins of Black Crag and Iron Rock and the Dragon Ogres of Thunder Mountain, but also the potential dangers of those few human neighbours close enough to be relevant, such as the Border Princes. The Marshal will focus on dangers inside the Karak. Other candidates for this position are Prince Gotri and his Aircorp, Master Rein Helsturm of the Winter Wolves, and Prince Kazrik, for building ties with Karak Azul.

Stewardship Advisor, Trade Focus
You will be in command of the Undumgi and Karag Nar, and will be first point of contact for Ulrikadrin. You would be responsible for protecting the incredibly vital route back to Barak Varr; the side benefit is that if Death Pass is a safe passage, trade caravans to the Far East become merely very risky instead of insanely dangerous, and the Karak would stand to benefit hugely. Other candidates for the position are Princess Edda Grimbrow, who would emphasize a traditional Dwarven artisanal economy; Miner Durgrim Redmane, who would emphasize a mining-based economy; and Priestess Hluodwica Stoutheart, who would emphasize an agricultural economy. Keep in mind that these parts of the economy will still be functioning even if they aren't emphasized, and you will be able to choose whether you bring them under your purview or allow them to function independently.

Court Wizard, Magic Focus
You will be the first responder when anything inexplicable, unexpected or eldritch happens. Though this is the Learning 'slot', this is an active warzone, not an established industrial center climbing the tech tree. This will be a role focused on responding to and finding solutions for problems nobody else understands. Other candidates for the role are Prince Gotri, Engineer, and Kraggi Senior, Runesmith.

No Role
You will have no direct responsibilities, though you will be on hand if all-out war breaks out again, and would likely spend your time catching up on your backlog. The Grey College will likely start prodding you to start making yourself useful before too long, unless you kept it mollified with research papers or odd jobs.


[ ] 'Head Ranger' (Spymaster), Internal Focus
[ ] 'Head Ranger' (Spymaster), External Focus
[ ] Steward
[ ] Court Wizard
[ ] No role


- On the topic of marriage: age concerns are for people who don't have Jade Wizards in their rolodex.
- A true love happy ending is not impossible for Anton, but as Wilhelmina has attested, the vultures are circling and Anton has no defences against them.
- Please keep it reasonable. Mathilde has been put on the spot a little here, but this is not a 'Shipping War'. This is a fictional life we are writing the story of together. Everyone here is trying to make the best decisions they can. Nobody here is your enemy.
- I'm not outright declaring a moratorium, but I do think it would be best to put the 'how many points do we spend on a sword' topic to bed until there's a voting option related to it.
- help the updates just keep getting longer
- Those dead set for or against marrying Anton don't have to worry about strategic voting: 'Marry them' vs 'Marry me' will be tallied first, then preferred marriage candidate/time is counted separately.