A/N: So this is my first Omake for this quest, making a crossover between my quest and Alucard's. Hope you guys enjoy!
Concerto of Two World-Changers, Part I
Foundation of Change
(Dynasty of the Woodfolk x Lords of Darkness)
It was perhaps the oddest thing to feel, each time she peered into the threads of fate. Always the same paths, same choices, same outcomes. It was like watching a boring opera on repeat because one had nothing better to do.
And yet, this time she felt a horrible sense of unease, a throbbingly painful pit growing in her stomach.
"Why can't I see clearly into these threads?" She questioned, "I am the Goddess of Fate and the Moon! Nothing is beyond my sight! Why can't I see what fate these threads show!?"
It was a rare thing for Lileath to be so unsettled, and unsettled she was.
IIOII
It was the year 2053 of the Imperial Calendar, roughly three centuries before what would become known as the Great War Against Chaos. The Empire built by Sigmar remains fractured despite victory against the Von Carsteins of Sylvania, apparently learning nothing from the costly war that cost so many lives.
Split into four different factions, the Imperials constantly vie with each other for supremacy, eager to prove the superiority of their creeds and faiths and believing themselves the rightful rulers of Sigmar's Empire.
No worthy ruler has arisen to unite them, and so the violence and division will continue for the foreseeable future.
Bretonnia, ever a Kingdom stagnating in time, yet remains a land full of poverty and division, the peasants living a hopeless and barebones life under the yoke of their oppressors. Its nobles continue to reject the notion of change, continue to hunt Dragons, Greenskins and Beastmen and throwing aside the lives of peasants like disposable coinage.
The King of Bretonnia, ever the Lady's Puppet on Malus, remains steadfastly ready to continue this dogmatic status quo, eager to continue his rule on a pile of peasant lives.
Yet fate would soon see fit to change all that.
In Mousilion a lone Vampire trekked through the cursed Duchy, the grass blackened like soot and the sky dark and foreboding. He looked upon the bodies of the past deceased and the landscape with a deep frown.
"No one can live here, and it looks so bleak and desolate the entire landscape may as well be abandoned," Said the man.
Yet even as he walked further, he chanced upon a small little hamlet in the middle of nowhere, the chimneys still billowing smoke and a group of people tending to their houses with fear and trepidation in their body language.
From afar, the pale man could easily see how unhealthy they were; cheeks sunken and hollow, baggy eyes turned red from sleepless nights, limbs thin and skeletal from malnutrition. And yet their eyes burned with the determination to live, to survive and thrive for the sake of tomorrow.
The pale man slowly approached the hamlet, raising his hands in placation as the villagers hastily gathered pitchforks and torches and rushed towards him.
He never flinched when one of the villagers hastily inched his pitchfork closer to the pale man's gut, saying, "Who the hell're you? Ne'er seen your face 'round here before."
"Aleksander," Said the pale man, "I used to be from around here."
"Sounds like a noble's name," Said the armed man-no, boy before him, "You sure you ain't workin' for no Vampire or noble or somethin'?"
"I'm an independent man," Said Aleksander, "I have no employer right now."
"Sure you don't," Said the boy, "So what're you 'ere for, then?"
"To find out the state of things," Aleksander said, "And find out what to do from there."
"You really ain't a local, ain't ya?" Said the boy, "Well, since ya don't know, why don't we talk more in the village hall? This ain't somethin' to talk out in the open."
"Lead the way," Said Aleksander, "And might I ask what's your name, boy?"
"Bastien," Said the boy, "The mayor o' this 'ere village."
IIOII
"You're awfully young to be a village mayor, Bastien," Said Aleksander.
"Had to be; me da died young from Undead and there wasn't anyone else capable," Said Bastien, "Honestly though, this isn't any different from our daily lives; constantly on guard and anxious of the dark sky, roaming Undead and other creatures and counting the number of days we live… sooner or later we're all gonna croak like that. Not that we'll ever accept it though."
"Who can accept such a bleak and hopeless existence?" Said Aleksander.
"Heh, glad to see you've a good mouth," Said Bastien, "But I have to ask you a question: What do you plan to do now?"
"That, I don't really know," Said Aleksander, "Though I admit I came to escape someone I hate."
"Aye, that I understand, though you've come at a really bad time," Said Bastien, "Word is, we've got Dark Elf raids and Beastmen herds wreaking havoc throughout the country."
"That is rather distressing to hear," Said Aleksander.
"Hah, you could say that," Said Bastien, "But… I do hope we live to see another day."
"A desire I can understand," Said Aleksander, "But I take it no one's ever come to help you?"
Bastien simply spat to the side, saying, "Them nobles never cared for us peasantfolk, least us Mousilioni. They've given us up for dead, and no merchants ever come 'ere 'cause we're dirt broke with nothin' to offer."
Aleksander frowned at this, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
He hated seeing how far his home of Mousilion had fallen, how deep it was in the pits of despair, and how easily everyone else had given up on it entirely. It reminded him of the Empire's attitude towards Sylvania, back when he was a newly initiated Vampire learning his new powers from his seniors.
And it was here that he made a decision that would change the fate of all Bretonnia.
"I will change things for the better, I swear it," Said Aleksander.
"Bold words, but you sure?" Asked Bastien, "You're just one man."
"One man can make all the difference, if he knows how to," Said Aleksander.
"Well then, I wish you good luck, whatever it's good for," Said Bastien.
The moment he left the village, Aleksander quickly made his way to the nearest clearing – the site of an ancient battle between crusading Knights from Lyonesse and Mousilioni Blood Knights, their servants strewn about like discarded gloves.
Using his magic he began raising corpses to form his new army, eight thousand shambling corpses that would not last long against proper professional armies with the right equipment.
But he had his workforce, and it would suffice.
He put them to work in digging his new hideout in an empty cave easily concealed in plain sight. Day and night they toiled in tireless labour, and at the end of an entire year Aleksander Von Carstein now had a massive underground complex capable of housing tens of thousands, millions of Undead.
The walls were strong and sturdy, all designed with functionality and efficiency in mind, and no light shone within – an unnecessary thing for you and your Undead servants.
No one would know the existence of the Mousilion Rose.
IIOII
Tolcariath, Asrai mercenary and leader of the Phantom Fangs, fought with focus and silence as he fought off the latest incursion of Undead against the city of Middenheim, Imperial forces uttering prayers to Ulric as they let loose fury and faith against their unliving foes.
With a group of Thorn Sisters easily casting their powerful spells upon them, it did not take long for them to isolate and kill the Necromancer leading them.
And so, the Undead fell to the ground, lifeless without a puppeteer to control them.
The Ulricans cheered and thumped their chests, screaming their ritualistic triumphs to their God on high and drinking deeply of their victory – one source of hope in this bleak and hopeless world of theirs.
"It's a great victory we've score here today, all thanks to you, Tolcariath."
Günsche, elder brother of the ruling Wolf-Emperor Siegfried III, was an aged and wizened man, his eyes worn and hardened like steel from painful experiences. At nearly sixty years of age, he still wielded his sword arm with the strength of a younger person, and his eyes held burning ambition.
"But not enough," Said Tolcariath, "Not when the Empire itself is divided and easy prey to its enemies."
"I know, Tolcariath," Said Günsche, "But since your coming here, we've won more victories in the past few weeks than in the past few years against the Undead. Treasure it."
Tolcariath simply nodded, saying, "We've a long way to go in unifying the Empire."
"I've seen many Emperors throughout my life all promising the same thing, and none of them have come close," Said Günsche.
"I am not them," Said Tolcariath, "And I will never be. I am me, and only me."
"If you say so," Said Günsche, "Come, the Emperor's calling a council meeting."
IIOII
The war council of Siegfried III was nothing spectacular, all loyal officials with great faith and devotion to Ulric and the rule of the Wolf-Emperor, but their actual talent was severely lacking, Tolcariath found.
It was like listening to a bunch of dogs barking at the command of their pack leader, a plethora of different opinions that sounded like pure noise to Tolcariath's ears.
"We have to fortify our defences and prepare for the next Undead attack!"
"First we have to rebuild our roads for easier mobility, then we need to build more forts and garrisons to better protect the people."
"No, we need to focus on our agriculture! Several farms have already been destroyed, and if we don't handle this soon we'll have a famine on our hands!"
Tolcariath merely sighed, content to remain silent for the time being.
"Long day, ain't it?"
He turned to face his one-time mentor and old friend Bhesgru Grandshaper, currently a guest architect staying at Middenheim.
"Too much talk, not enough action," Said Tolcariath.
"Too bad, but this is the state of the leadership right now," Said Bhesgru, "We have to make do for the time being."
Tolcariath frowned, but nodded.
"Enough!"
Wolf-Emperor Siegfried III bellowed his voice clearly throughout the halls, silencing everyone in attendance as he spoke.
"We are getting nowhere, and we need a solution fast," He said, "If we are to truly reunify the Empire and beat back the Undead, we must work fast and hard, and we need talent on our side; we're severely short on that at the moment."
"But where do we find it?" Asked Günsche.
"I'll handle it."
Everyone was surprised to hear your answer.
"A-Are you sure, Tolcariath?" Asked Siegfried III, "Do you even know where to source it from? We cannot just hire anyone into court, mind you."
"I have my contacts," Said Tolcariath, "But I would also request some diplomats of my own to travel to Marienburg."
"Marienburg? Surely you cannot think to convince the nest of vipers called the Directorate to help you?" Günsche questioned.
"No, not them, the visitors to that city," Tolcariath clarified.
Tolcariath spoke with such supreme confidence that no one had the mind or the heart to rebuff him, and Siegfried III said, "Make sure you get what we need, Tolcariath. I will accept nothing less."
"Understood, Your Majesty," Said Tolcariath.
And he turned and left.
"Your Majesty, are you sure about this?" Asked Günsche.
"…I will admit I don't have complete faith in him," Said Siegfried III, "He's only been here for a few weeks, and he's only proven himself as a military commander, not as a diplomat or bureaucrat. But we have to try something."
"I suppose it's better than doing nothing," Said Günsche, "But what I cannot understand is what drives him on this seemingly impossible task."
"That is also what I want to understand, brother," Said Siegfried, "And that is precisely why I'm letting him do this."
Günsche nodded in understanding.
And a few days later, Tolcariath brought back the talented officials as Siegfried requested, but with additional baggage none had expected; tens of thousands of migrants from the far-off countries of Ind, Nippon and Cathay.
And several thousand Asrai exiles who could not return to Athel Loren. Among them was Trarcan the Disgraced.
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