Chapter 4: Corruption, Obsession and Deceit (Part 3):
Balthasar Gelt was desperate to take his mind off the mess that his life had become after Ludenhof's death. In order to do this, he threw himself at the mountains of correspondence sent to him by Emil Valgeir that he was far too preoccupied with his reading of the Revelations Necris to get to. What he found was not reassuring, as things weren't so quiet out west with Huss and Valten.
Under Luthor Huss' guidance, faith and hope bloomed across the northern Empire wherever Valten joined battle. Many, including even Karl Franz, were either recognising Valten's divine patronage, or in KF's case at least pretending to do so for political reasons. Valgeir could barely disguise his distaste over the matter and Huss' exploitation of the situation to further his agenda and the Sigmarites, but there was a bigger problem. The shapeshifter was following Valten. Wherever Valten ended up, mischief and disaster followed. The Ar-Ulric had no evidence, or he would have shown it to the Emperor, so he had begged the Supreme Patriarch to come north in his penultimate letter to confirm the matter.
Gelt did not do so until he read the final letter. Dated a week prior, a ceremony would be held where Ghal Maraz would be personally handed down to Valten by Karl Franz. Emil was sure that Valten was the shapeshifter, and that he crafted the persona to get close to the Emperor for an assassination. This got Gelt's paranoia to act in overdrive, and in his extreme worry, Gelt rode Quicksilver to leave for Castle Von Rauken, where the ceremony would take place. He could reach the ceremony in time, if only just barely.
The Changeling watched with glee as Castle von Rauken's defenders filed onto the muster field. Hundreds of soldiers stood waiting beneath gaudy banners, and more were arriving every minute.
The daemon had possessed no real plan when he had first arrived in the Empire long months ago. Tzeentch had bade him manipulate Gelt into sealing the vampires into Sylvania, which the Changeling had done through imitation of the golden wizard's apprentice, Dieter. After that, the daemon had been content to indulge his mischief wherever opportunity presented itself.
The ritual circle at Alderfen had perhaps been a mistake, the Changeling conceded, as a troop of Reiksguard knights came smartly to a halt over to his left, but then how had he been to know that Nurgle was better positioned to attack the breach than were the cat's paws of his own glorious master? After that near-catastrophe, one which had driven the Changeling to aid the humans to ensure that bloated Nurgle wouldn't prosper from the error, the daemon had amused himself with petty acts, letting instinct guide his misrule.
Thus had the Changeling played many roles in the preceding weeks, but always he had returned to his current form. He had not known why at first, but now it was all he could do suppress his mirth at the opportunity before him. The Emperor Karl Franz, so nearly within his grasp! The Changeling was saddened that he would have to murder the man, for it had been centuries since he had last impersonated a monarch, but the daemon could sense an edge of the divine about the Emperor, and this prevented flawless mimicry. For a moment, the reminder of his limitations saw the Changeling downcast, but his cheer was never absent for long – he was too easily amused for that. In this case, the daemon's spirits returned when he remembered that the Emperor's death would surely be accompanied by another's disgrace.
A clarion of trumpets split the air, and the Changeling looked up as the mighty griffon Deathclaw bore Karl Franz out of the skies. It wouldn't be long now…
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Quicksilver brought Gelt to the ceremony just after the Emperor himself. Gelt could see the pedestal from which the ceremony would take place, adorned with emblems and banners of House Luitpold and other such things. He saw the Emperor raise Ghal Maraz in response to the crowd, surrounded by cheering audience members atop Deathclaw his Griffon. Surrounding him was his dour bodyguard Ludwig Schwarzhelm and the Reiksguard, and around the pedestal were four of the surviving Elector Counts, the Grand Theogonist and the Ar-Ulric. Opposite the pedestal was a walkway containing Luthor Huss and Valten at the end, about to arrive for the ceremony, Huss on horseback and Valten on foot. Gelt wondered if Karl Franz' security detail could handle the assassin.
Quicksilver alighted on the stage a dozen feet from Deathclaw, causing outrage as Ludwig Schwatzhelm drew his sword and issued a challenge. Beneath all the outrage, Valgeir cracked a small smile underneath his bushy beard.
The Emperor demanded an explanation for Gelt's actions. Gelt hurriedly began explaining the situation of the shapeshifter at Alderfen and his suspicions regarding Valten, and Karl Franz couldn't help but doubt Gelt's words. Luthor Huss was a reliable and steady rock in these turbulent times, something that Gelt was decidedly not, and Franz couldn't help but feel sadness at Gelt's fraying sanity. Luthor Huss and Valten could not hear what was happening, but they hurried up their walk to the stage. Karl Franz refused to let the delusions of a maddened Wizard ruin a day of celebration, so he ordered his soldiers to escort the Supreme Patriarch from the stage.
As the soldiers approached Gelt, he panicked. Instead of drawing on a spell from his decades of Alchemical Lore, he drew on the Lore of magic that had occupied his mind over the last few weeks. It was too late when Gelt realised his catastrophic actions, for skeletal hands had broken through the mud to grasp at the soldier's feet. Silence reigned over the fields for a moment, before it was broken by a single word, taken up first by Ludwig and spreading through the crowd.
Treachery!
Gelt's life as he knew it shattered. Yet with that shattering came a moment of clarity. Gelt could still save the Emperor by killing Valten- or rather, whoever was assuming his shape- and he wouldn't be stopped by a bunch of ingrates too stupid to understand the necessities of these dark times. Gelt stabbed his staff into the ground and gave in to the Wind of Death, raising corpses across the fields to do his bidding.
Many leagues to the east, Vlad's sword stabbed into a Northmen chieftain's throat as he sensed a shift in the Wind of Death. Vlad smiles as he realises what that means, before putting the thought away.
In Castle Von Rauken, chaos ensued. The people were arrayed for a celebration, not an attack, and the chaotic mess of undead and spirits surrounding Gelt prevented any from managing to push through to him to end it. The disorganised mess resulted in many falling dead or dying. If Gelt was in his right mind, perhaps he would have spared the soldiers simply performing their duty, but in his current state he only had two thoughts. Kill Valten, Save the Emperor.
The narrative attempts to justify this:
"These were perhaps not the actions of a rational man, but then Gelt was no longer entirely sane. Gnawed at by the guilt of Ludenhof's death, shamed by the Emperor's rejection and his perceptions subtly twisted by the sorceries he now employed, the Supreme Patriarch teetered on the brink of abiding madness. Then, without knowing it, Gelt lost his grip on the precipice, and fell. The wizard did not truly see the slaughter that unfolded before him, as terrified men gave their all in battle against the worm-eaten dead. He felt no remorse as rusted blades split skulls and hacked through flesh. Like a drowning man reaching for driftwood, Gelt was focussed entirely on the one thing he was sure would be his exoneration – the death of the daemon that called itself Valten."
Yet even that goal would be out of Gelt's reach. With the events culminating, both Huss and Valten urged themselves to the Emperor's side. Through a twist of fate, Huss was pulled from his saddle and swarmed, and though he used his Holy Light to blast through them and regain his footing, he could gain no purchase and advance further. Valten, on the other hand, ran with his reforged hammers in hand without a second glance at Huss. He knew what his goal was, clearer than ever before. He rushed to the Emperor's side. Zombies grasped his legs, but he tore free. Skeletons jumped into his path, but he swung his hammers to crash through them. Spectral figures swirled about him, singing to numb his mind, but a flash of light emerged from him that caused them to fall back. Nothing could stop him.
Meanwhile, Kurt Helborg, the Reiksmarshal was slicing his way through his opposition, Grudge Settler in hand. The Runefang glowed in his hands as he repeated a mantra in his head. Kill the Wizard, End the Battle. He urged his Destrier forward as he remembered the many campaigns where he repeated the mantra in his head, fighting against the Vampires and knowing that was the path to victory.
Kill the Wizard, End the Battle. It didn't matter that Gelt was once a comrade who had fought by his side, he would be simply another enemy that needed to be taken down so the Empire could endure.
Kill the Wizard, End the Battle. Kurt's horse vaulted over the circle of undead around Gelt, and Kurt's sword would have taken Gelt's head off with his swing if the Patriarch hadn't blocked it with his Staff. In this, the Staff of Volans and the Runefang fought each other to see which would win, and the Staff survived. The blow was checked.
Emil Valgeir jumped down from the scaffolding that he was on with an ease that belied his age. Valgeir ignored the many soldiers and citizens calling for their steeds or running past and across him, and he used his axe to butt anyone out of his way, soldier and cadaver alike. He was heading for the Emperor, and if he was worried for anyone's safety, his or the Emperor's it was not clear. Valgeir vaulted over the field of Reiksguard surrounding the Emperor and approached him from the right side, moving fast just a few paces away. It would be close, but it could be done.
The Emperor was standing back, on top of his mount Deathclaw the Griffon. It was clear to him that something more was going on, and while it grated him to do so, he knew it was wise to stand back and let the people whose job it is to die for him do so. Sometimes that was required. All of that changed when Valgeir vaulted over his bodyguards. Karl Franz was astounded as pink fire blossomed from the priest to consume the Reiksguard around him. As the Reiksguard screamed, burned into charcoal beneath their armor, Karl Franz was tackled from atop his mount and knocked to the ground, Ghal Maraz jarred from his hand. Ludwig Schwartzhelm and his bodyguard attempted to rush to his side but were pushed back by another burst of pink flames. As the Ar-Ulric raised his Ulrican axe for a final decapitating blow, it was known to all witnessing that the Assassin was real, although it wouldn't have brought much comfort to Gelt to know this.
Before the axe could strike home, the Changeling was tackled by Valten. The two rolled over and over in the mud, having lost their weapons in their haste, the two punched and kicked and grappled as the Changeling's form shifted. Karl Franz stood in haste to grab Ghal Maraz, but he could not decide who to assist. Valgeir and Valten were no more, for it was Valten and Valten wrestling in the mud. They were identical in all their features, and Karl Franz was not willing to pulp his savor to take down his assassin.
Thankfully, trusty Deathclaw is there, who's far sharper than the Emperor. The Griffon tackles the closer Valten, who turns out to be the Changeling. The creature transformed into a blue hooded mass of tentacles as it attempts to escape the Griffon's grasp, but the creature only continues to scream as its chest is pierced by the Emperor's Standard, held by a burnt Ludwig Schwartzhelm in charred armor. Ludwig proceeds to destroy the Changeling by slicing into it with his sword, turning it into a pile of goo.
None were so stricken by that sight as Balthasar Gelt. Even as he attempted to stay alive under Kurt Helborg's endless barrage, he still witnessed the events and found that the Emil Valgeir who was his friend was not who he thought he was. He was deceived, and he provided ample distraction for the trickster to proceed with his ploy. Gelt released a bitter anguished cry of despair as he swung his staff to force Helborg to draw back. He took this opportunity to lift off with Quicksilver and leave, the Winds in his grasp unraveling as the undead across the fields collapsed onto the ground. The survivors of the incident left to grasp the pieces of the puzzle.
This battle would later be known as Gelt's Folly, and its ramifications were widespread. Patriarch of the Amber College, Gregor Martak, became the Supreme Patriarch after Gelt. This was only the beginning of the end for the Gold College, because after that, Aldebrach Grimm the Lord Protector of the Templars of Sigmar (Witch Hunters) started a Witch Hunt in the Gold College. Very few of the many that would be put to the pyre were truly guilty, but such was Gelt's reputation that few placed any checks on Grimm and his actions, and some would even cheer him on. This would only be the start of the persecution the Gold College would continue to face. Only the Alchemists who spent all their time on the border maintaining the Auric Bastion escaped these purges.
Gelt knew none of this. In the aftermath of the battle, he left to become Vlad von Carstein's apprentice, eagerly learning all that he could and assisting the Vampire in his mission to resurrect Isabella. Such was his broken frame of mind that he found none of what was in Vlad's halls appalling.
As the year 2525 IC ground on, all of this would pale in comparison to Grand Theogonist Kaslain withdrawing his support of the Auric Bastion on account of its creator being corrupt. Karl Franz dearly missed Volkmar, because as gruff and stubborn as he was, he would not have done as Kaslain. Gelt, as corrupted as he turned out to be, still did good work, and the Auric Bastion could not be allowed to collapse out of principle. Yet nothing Karl Franz could do would change Kaslain's opinion, and his attempts to replace him with another Grand Theogonist failed as the Cult closed ranks to refuse his meddling.
It took a fortnight for the Bastion to collapse. The Gold and Light Orders maintained their rituals, but without the Faith of the priesthood the walls could not repel the Daemons and Warriors pounding on the walls day and day out. The walls began to crumble where it all began, in the Ostermark village of Alderfen, where Gurug'ath the Unclean was sealed within the walls by Gelt months ago. There the walls crumbled, and with a triumphant roar, the Northmen charged under the guidance of the Greater Daemon. Alderfen was overwhelmed in hours, northern Ostermark in days.
Karl Franz decided to collect as many soldiers as he could to personally lead a battle against the hordes using Castle Von Rauken as staging grounds. The Imperials had no idea why the hordes were rushing through Ostermark instead of aiming for Wolfenburg, Middenheim or Talabheim, but it didn't matter, they would fight back.
Vlad was more aware of their reason. They were heading for Sylvania, where Nagash sealed the Wind of Death. That could not be, so Vlad mustered his forces to assist the Imperials in Heffengen, where they would face off against Chaos. Whether the men of the Empire desired it or not, they would not fight alone. The Nameless was left in charge of the Helreach.
And with that, we're done with this section of the chapter. Next is the Battle of Heffengen, which is pretty big, then the final chapter, Land of the Dead, covering the Legions of the Dead vs the Kingdom of Nehekhara.
This one was a doozy. I hope you guys realise part of the reason I took such a long impromptu hiatus. This section was….ugh. If I was being super nitpicky, I could say things like "How the hell did the Staff of Volans, made by Bright Patriarch Von Tarnus, able to withstand the Runefang made by Alaric the Mad?" or "The Changeling is supposedly capable of fooling Gods, but Deathclaw can tell something's wrong and apparently he has trouble with tinge of the divine, yet he assumed the position of the Ar-Ulric, the most divine Ulrican figure". Except I don't need to be nitpicky because so much of this is just contrived bullshit.
Emil Valgeir had absolutely no connection to Gelt, yet they forced one here so that Gelt could be psychologically manipulated by a person who he thought was a friend. Maybe this could have been stronger if there was ever any basis for such a relationship, but it seriously feels out of nowhere, and while I can believe that the two of them can get along, the level of trust he places on Valgeir that he immediately believes that Valten is the shapeshifter despite Valgeir explicitly saying he has no direct evidence that he could show the Emperor…
Like, yeah I get it. Gelt is not in the right state of mind. He just came off a serious bout of insomnia, he's exhausted from constant fights, he's suffering from Dhar exposure and touching other Winds, he's being manipulated by Vlad, he just came off a traumatic experience that he never intended with Ludenhof, and his paranoia has been set to maximum by a shapechanger. He's lost the trust of the people, the Emperor placed his faith in Gelt by giving him a section of the border, and Gelt's been forced to bear a burden of responsibility he never asked for. And yet… it still doesn't feel right. I could go on and on about how some level of contrivance is expected in fiction. Making things work to establish a plotline and move the story where you want it to go is somewhat understandable.
And yet, at a certain point, there's a limit to how far you can go. Especially in an established world with established rules. What this ends up resulting in is a goddamn mess. I understand the concept of this story arc, and I can get how it can be compelling, but the nature of the situation behind the End Times makes the execution fall flat.
It's just depressing. I felt bad.
And now, well. Amethyst College is gone. Gold College is practically gone. Gelt is corrupted. Bretonnia has been sundered. Athel Loren is dying. Kislev is dead. Ulthuan is on the verge of Civil War. The Lizardmen are running away with their tails between their legs. The Skaven have destroyed Tilea, Estalia and the Border Princes. The Dwarves have withdrawn into their Holds. Chaos is winning.
According to Teclis, our only hope is Nagash.
