Warhammer: Age of Woeful Change — IC Thread

[Karen]

It is a time of lies.



A century after the assassination of Mandred Skavenslayer, the Empire is once more at a precipice. Gunthar II, known as the Faithful, had brought men together once more on hunting out witches and rooting out cults. Only dogma and paranoia appears to hold the Empire together as the Cult of Sigmar— once a relative outsider in the order of things— ascends to sacred primacy in the 'Myrmidian Pact.'



The sheer devastation of the Black Plague and subsequent wars against the Skaven— already a fading memory to most— has left the Empire divided and much of it is devoid. Once lesser provinces rise to domineering holdouts while the old strongholds of power appear to be ebbing in their place. Conspiracies swirl around Middenheim, cults are abound from Sylvania to the Reikland, and old houses rise and fall in this era of deceit...

Table of Contents
Out of Character + Roster
Discord
Mini I - Three Dilemmas
Imperial Election of 1241 IC (TBA)​

 

[Karen]

I. Succeeding Sigmarism
​

When Gunthar breathed his last in the presence of close (and distant) relatives and the small retinue that had followed him for most of his late reign, no-one could really predict the future of an Empire that, for the most part, looked as if it had been narrowly saved from the brink of anarchy. Already being retroactively referred to as "the Faithful", Gunthar represented the most extreme tendency of Sigmarism as a faith within the Empire. Since Johann Helstrumm aided the first Reiklander Princes to the throne in 51 IC and beyond, the uncomfortable subject of Sigmarite influence over any prospective Emperor was by no means a subject any respecting Elector wished to broached. The Landtag of Altdorf, the largest and most cohesive collective of burghers across the entire feudal collective of loose duchies, counties and free cities, was a thoroughly Sigmarite creature, and Gunthar had been produced from that machine of political aspiration, shrewd enough to understand that he owed his titles to the cult and his own personal successes in stamping down on the previous von Drexler family that had ruled Talabheim, helping bring the von Rossgartens to the forefront during the subsequent political crisis.

This hard-bought election was not without flaws. Gunthar was a figure of contrasts; preaching tolerance and human unity while clamping down hard on the forested hag-conclaves of the northern imperial forests, banning 'rogue or hedge' wizardry and forbidding the construction of magical colleges. Arguably setting back the Empire a full century in magical lore, Gunthar's prosecutions did not come without meagre benefits; the rate of violence had dropped significantly in the cities during his reign, along with an average rise of wages for day-labourers as the demand for manual workers supplanted the previously beneficial relationship the nobility of the Empire had with the old cults. Drawing upon Dwarf anathema to magic was not an easy sell in the more tolerant Empire, but tolerance had created the Plague, or so it was told, for the memory of Skaven had been all but eradicated in the grand purgation.

That left the Empire in a curious place; Gunthar presided over a distinctly Sigmarist reign, and Mandred before him had been a vessel for the Cult of Ulric, leading their resurgence to the point the White Wolves were among the most dominant military orders in Middenheim, and the religious orders that had seen resurgence in the latter years of his reign were as political as they were spiritual in their affairs. It was not uncommon for the bickering god-fearing to be a mainstay in court politics, particularly in the court of Gunthar, who tolerated the southern gods and the likes of the Ranaldians with a tense acknowledgement that Sigmar had done much the same. With him dead and the Röt line largely sequestered to Tilea, Hochland passed to the lesser line of Wasserman securing rule over Hergig, the pendulum of politics swung again.

The Altdorf Landtag, that beast of mercantilism, was quick to offer their sponsorship to host the election. Ever a source of wealth and pride, the prestige of hosting the imperial election is both an expensive but also insanely profitable venture that would bring much prestige to a prospective host-city, though it was up to the prospective Electors to throw themselves into the lot, with 'traditional' candidates like Nuln and Altdorf having powerful enough guilds and councils that'd happily submit proposals despite not having their own decisive voice in the court.

II. Tilean Troubles​

The project of imperial expansion, not particularly excised since the days of Sigismund the Conqueror, brought Gunthar to the Tilean Sea in a curious time. Starting in 1210 IC, the alliance informally known as the Sacred League (Helilige in Reikspiel) drew the Principality of Miragliano and the inner plains of Toscania into the imperial sphere, though ostensibly given independence through the vessel of Gunthar's nephew, Engelbert von Maskewits, named viceroy to the familial holdings.

In truth, this was as much an ulcer as it was a boon, as while the wealth of Reman naval trade gave the Empire a port (and naval base) in a sea that, until recently, was entirely dominated by the fleets of Settra the Imperishable, though the expansion of the imperial navy to base in Miragliano allowed for a gradual, planned expansion to be overseen by Emperor Gunthar. The Vaults, while seen as a natural border for the south-west, also served as a route of expansion, with so-called frontiersmen from Solland, Wissenland and Nuln risking narrow passes, wandering ogre tribes and the odd giant to pursue a new wealth that, for the most part, went both ways. Toscanian vineyards were cheaper and more plentiful, and the Trantine hills were milder than the 'Soll Belt' of the southern Empire, allowing for the exploitation of those moors to grow exotic fruits that otherwise simply perished in the Averland heat.

However, the political climate is not one of peace and prosperity; von Maskewits, self-styled as 'Imperial Prince of Tilea' has long been proven as an incompetent and often short-tempered leader, dragging his holdings into multiple conflicts and skirmishes with the Luccine and Pavonese holdings to the south, along with challenging Bretonnia in a war of commerce, one that ultimately culminated with the forces of the knight-errant Charles du Schwarz in seizing Sartosa from the native Lord Giovannius, and establishing a Bretonnian duchy. With the straits firmly held by ships of the 'book-thumping madmen' of the plains, it was no surprise that most imperials saw Tilea as a burden more than a future prospect; far too distant and isolated to be of particular note, the ulcer only drew upon funds and troops as withered nobles begged for support from prospective Electors in order to finally complete the conquest and establish a new Grand Elector, the potent lobby of Miraglianian nobles led by Lucretia's descendants often faced with the contentious and ironic remark of 'No Runefang, no Vote', with some invoking the bought vote of the Mootland in response.

Needlessly said, the matter of Tilea will likely dominate the opening steps of the new Emperor, as some argue for simply jettisoning the whole project and urging the Röts to renounce their holdings in Esk and Hochland, along with potentially dissolving the "province" in favour of restoring Taranto and Toscania back to semi-independent city-states, satrapies, if you will, of the larger seat of the Tanaquillia family.

III. The Regiments Debate
​

The formalizing of the state troops was not a foregone conclusion by 1241, as a myriad of issues had prompted a return to something resembling the old legionary system of the Myrmidian empire; demographics, funds and the immediate threats to the rule of an emperor and his (or her) prospective successes in keeping the whole institution together. Starting in the latter years of the great winddown after the deprivations of the Plague and during Mandred's reign, the first 'regiments' were, for the most part, built around the personal bodyguards of the nobility, made up of men-at-arms and infantry that turned from the over-armoured knights of the plains and their various mounts to conventional formations of massed footsoldiers, supported by crossbow-wielding mercenaries or archers drawn from the hunting communities of the Drakwald, of which there were many.

The knight's lance proved to be the weapon of choice at this time, and fit the style of close-knit formation poorly in tremendous battles during the von Drexler-led campaigns of expansion. During the Battle of Kemperbad, which saw a still-crippled Reikland lose one of their core river-based cities to Talabecland, Archebalde von Drexler used dedicated formations of spear infantry in the style of a Myrmidian spear-phalanx to curb the Sigmarite sortie led by the Knights of Soll Incarnate, a once-greater order from Altdorf that has long fallen into disrepute.

The discipline-led, mass infantry columns proved expensive but devastatingly capable, and were only really augmented during the rise of Emperor Gunthar, who organised local gunnery schools on recovered thunderers and bespoke longrifles that were (allegedly) inspired by the Skaven (who don't exist) which had begun to turn into something of a generational project. The Hochland Longrifles were by no means a single regiment in the same sense that their powder successors would be, and generally consisted of irregular formations drawn from the countryside made up of solitary hunters and local town militia that were given patronage by Gunthar during his campaign for the throne and subsequent expansions. The sight of their standard, bearing the face of Saint Gerhard the Gunsmith, inspired men to fight to bitter victory during the struggles against the witches of the Gryphon Wood, whose purgation re-knit the once porous border between Ostermark and Talabecland, though even the self-made proved to be an expensive prospect.

Money was always the main point of disagreement when it came to the future of a 'standard' troop, as had been the general belief of regional captains who had hoped for a standard army to ward off the worst deprivations. Quoting a number of letters exchanged between frontier commanders, the matter of the standardized army played an important role in crafting the image that the Empire was both coherent and functioning, however that was far easier said than done. The rise of meritocratic institutions had been stiffly resisted by old officer-nobles, and the aristocratic nature of the military's upper echelons means that educated men and women looking to make themselves known out in the fringes often find themselves bowing to the local landlord elite that, for the most part, had no vested interest in a centralised military.

Famously illiterate Gunthar had no such desire towards the standardized army past the immediate emergencies, placing emphasis on local forces favouring the Elector Counts, a system of regiments that owed fealty to local rulers, though some in the Landtag and former capital cities argued that an army pledged to the title of Emperor would lean more heavily towards the idea of defending the frontiers, though the political power given by a centralized military, while novel, can be seen as a tantalizing step forward for an Empire in shambles. Of course, the debate of gunnery has been second to that, as the so-called 'powder regiments' established by Reikland, Hochland and the southern provinces are something to be aspired to, if an expensive aspiration given the current drive.

 

[Maybe Mike]

An Elector's Evening​

There was something to be said of the mechanisms from which power was leveraged. Whether it was mercantilism, from whence power came from gold procured via materials, and was stable or unstable as the Market allowed. When it came to matters of land, it was a matter of if it was workable. Rocky craggy fields netted no crops, less it was home to valuable ore from which the holder might yet procure material power. Up unto that also ran out. Of course there is also the matter of strength from arms, yet that too relied upon gold mercantilism or farms enough for which to feed such a force... Unless you were, of course, sacking and pillaging another's lands. But the less said of Orcs or Norscans the better.

So what did it say, when you had one who possessed both, power from coin and gold bought by grapes and wine, while also holding land from which said grapes were cultivated. Not to mention the power of having so many souls within the town you were lord of? Then you have a Noble well and true. No middling count, nor viscount, nor knight, nor some other monotonous noble title from which other nobles must know lest insult their kind.

Baron, would be the title in this case.

But one thing that came with such power, was yet responsibility, assuming one held themselves to that standard. Many didn't, lounging away atop piles of gold and land, fattening themselves, until such a time as their rivals cut them down to proper size.

For Volker Haspel, such responsibility came hand in hand with the ventures of his family.

His hand moved, writing yet another tiring letter to the Elector Counts of which Reikland was leading for the time in the naming of where the Elector's Meet might yet occur. Several names had occurred in the mass letters which flew from the desks of the electors, he himself having offered Averheim. It quite the surprise when Solland backed such a choice truthfully. The young boy seemed the type to fight his choice especially.

Alas, two does not beat the tie between Nuln and Talabheim of six. Not it seems all but certain Nuln will end as the choice for the Elector's Meet but it is proving a close run thing. Reikland having opened a second round of voting to break the tie between the two and only the two. His vote for Talabheim seemingly lost in the surprising wave of Nuln support... Or perhaps not.

Yet, the string of letters, more went out to the various Electors attempting to feel out how this meet will turn out. Most seem appropriately wishing for another Emperor, but agreements on who have proved hard to find. Talabecland has already agreed to hand over his Runefang for, altogether, minor concessions from Averland...

His quill stopped, as he muttered to himself and looked up to the map of Sigmar's empire.

His eyes traced Talabecland's position compared to the growing Ostland and Ostermark claims.

"Courting the south?" He murmured, propped up elbow resting his cheek on his fist. "Possible, yet Ostermark and Ostland surely won't turn... But the plague did do horrible damage to the two..." His mind rolled that over in his head, before his eyes drifted towards Stirland, expanded far to the east it connected not only dwarven Zhufbar through land, but Karak Kadrin via the Stir...

Even if Ostermark was the true entrance to that dwarf hold...

"Stirland has been quite on matters concerning the meet..." His eyes wind down to the recent missive he had received only just that day. "Their concerns are of religious rather than geological, however..." his fingers tapped on the wood in a wave for a few moments before he turned his eyes back to the map.

This time, instead of east, his eyes turned west and south. Solland, recently with the ambitious and prideful von Elzach at the helm. He was a boy, barely a ban, yet has already curated quite a following amidst the lowlands of Solland. Controversial, yet popular. There was no doubt they would make a bit for Emperor. Whether they would proceed to curate a rivalry with Averland had yet to be seen yet.

Then there was Reikland, where von Grautal now sat. A military man before anything else, with Bretonnia currently attempting to prey Westerlands away, perhaps a war with the brother country might happen soon? "I can't imagine he'd play the party of Merchant." Volker sighed. He had already received notice the man would aim for Emperor as well.

It was coming down to the South, as no word or response had been sent of the North sending forth their own representative. Westerland might, yet unlikely. If any, Ostermark might leverage themselves into the position, but it was only Talabecland he had assumed would aim for the position... for Aldrech, it would be political suicide. All remember the Goldgather well... "I suppose that would rule out Ostland." Volker grumbled, writing off the elector from his mind.

His hand tapped on the wood of his desk once again as he pondered it all.

"Sigmar's empire is far too divided... Especially with the rise of the Church of Sigmar's persecutions. Taal and Ulric are playing second..." His thoughts turned dark, before he idly looked through his letters once again, opening his correspondents with Talabecland... "Attempting to make a move with Taal?" He pondered that. It didn't make sense at first, but as he thought about it, it could very well be they were playing a long game. Trade and benefits to neighbors before pushing foward the Church of Taal? "That surely wouldn't work. What would they offer Stirland? Ostermark has not been quiet about their want of funds or arms, Ostland might do similar..."

He frowned, digging through his letters once more, to find no notice of Hochland's reply nor anything hint towards such amidst Middenland's... He was beginning to wonder if he was overthinking such, before his door opened, seeing his wife, Alexa Haspel, into the room.

"You've been in here all day." She pointed out, only for his eyes to look towards his candles to his begrudging agreement, she was correct. "I haven't seen you so enthralled with letters since you secured the Elector Count seat. Has the politicking of the Meet been truly so heavy?"

He sighed, waving his hand to ward off her concerns with the one not holding up his head "It is just busy work, letters over where to meet, over what retinue should be allowed, more letters of voting, let alone my own aims to gather the feelings of my fellows..."

She came to his side, looking down at his weary features "Then there's the matter of Emperorship, letters to hear who is aiming to be candidates, not to mention the politicking and dilly dallying that came with such things... Its enough to drive a man mad and cause his hand to rot off with all the ink I have used in the last month alone."

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, before she leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Perhaps you should rest for a time and allow the letters to rest. You have yet to go and tour your newest vineyard. You are also to Wine Taste later this week, perhaps you should allow yourself some rest if it tires you so."

Her offer was oh so very tempting... To step away from the worries of a full empire for a moment and worry of his own holdings... There was the matter of von Elzach practically selling his sisters far and wide... Perhaps he should open up his own searches for his three youngest siblings... Plus his own son...

His hand ran across his face "You're right, I am thinking far too hard on it all." He twisted his wrist to try and ease the pain before standing "Let us go and take a ride. I need some fresh air from all this business."

So the Elector Count of Averland strode from the room, leaving his mountains of letters behind... Setting aside his ambitions for the rest of the day.

 

[Releca]

An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations​

"When Sigmar rose to apotheosis, he saw the beauty of the tribes of men; he who was a child of the Unberogen sought out his kindred and when his conquests came to an end, Sigmar rested pleased. What he saw was not merely the beauty of petty kingdoms united by bonds of kinship but the beauty of mankind's orchestra. The fifteen lead the duchy, muster the armies, purge the unclean, a duchy without its count is bound to great perils. Yet, a count's action and the legacy of his scions are like a tree stake, well put, the duchy will grow and rise to reach the Heavens atop which Sigmar watches, hastily made and the entire structure is at risk of collapse. It is why before the squabbling masses come the Counts, the instruments of His will above."

Excerpt of Reminiscing by Elector Count Walter Sinaasappel 'Fimir Bane'​

Sitting at the mouth of the Reik, Marienburg stands from time immemorial as the Empire's grandest city. Founded some millennia ago, the city has made its fortune linking the inner Empire with the rich lands of Tilea, Estalia and more recently Bretonnia. Truth be told, there is little that cannot be bought in Marienburg and in recent years, such was the hub-city's wealth, it seemed as if the sea of spires, canals and bridges would set sail for distant lands only known to Manaam never to return. Then came the plague. Then came Gunthar. Then came their runefang. Then came unrest. Then, their power waned, diminished, withered under the bleaching rays of the sun.

Excerpt of Marienburg, the city by the water by Master Scholar Ferdinand von Franz.​

Before the dream had shattered in so many pieces there had been the greatest expedition to have ever set sail from Marienburg, carracks, galleys, caravels, hoys and many more smaller escorts setting sail towards Misty Albion. Before the dream had shattered in so many pieces his father had heeded his counsel -despite some reticences from Berthold, ever cautious- they would bring Albion under their banner and find the treasures their famed ancestor had been gifted. Before the dream had shattered in so many pieces it was the promise of a new era, a Sinaasappel Empe-



Wilhelm snapped back to the present before his memories continued. That fateful day their entire legacy had sunk below the waves, never to be found.

"What would father do in my stead ?" he pondered, staring at the solemn sun of Averland, the light cast by his candle making it seem as if it was judging his every word and action.

Without much surprise, the frowning sun left his question unanswered as his words dissipated into the silence of his solar.

As unaswered as the piles of letters that stood around his desk.

His brother-in-law Joseph reported the discovery and subsequent extermination of a beastmen herdstone A quick outline would be sufficient as of now: 'Much thanks brother, the preparation for the weddings are well underneath.'

A small smile graced his figure. His son returned from the Bretonnian marches, still enamored with his so called 'parrot knights', 'What you tell is cause of concern Hugo, we shall discuss this at the coming reunion'.

On to another, the vote between Nuln and Talabaheim remained tied despite his best efforts. This was troubling, the Northern Electors would most likely cast in with Talabheim, the southern block around Altdorf would therefore have to act as the tiebreaker. 'To the esteemed Banking Guild of Nuln, we renew our interests in further cooperation'. Were he to reunite Nuln, Marienburg and Altdorf on a shared Axis…

The sun began to rise when he was left with his last letter, he'd best hurry rejoin Charlotte lest she felt obliged to treat him like an ill child for another month. These were certainly interesting times Handrich had seen fit to have him navigate but despite all his efforts his hands remained bound. Were he in charge of Walter's Marienburg, he'd have brought the guilds to heel, armed the fleets and entered the race for emperorship. Instead here he was, a tiebreaker courted with scraps to ensure another rise to power.

The letter came from Solland, did young Sigismund also seek his vote? He'd be left waiting were it the case.

It took him two rereads to ensure what he had read wasn't a flicker of his tiring body. Twice that number to calm the grin that split his visage.

The Wheel of Fortune was turning for Grand Baron Wilhelm the Third 'Guild-Friend', Warden of the West and Baron of Marienburg.

What interesting times indeed.

 

[Todorius]

Nuln - Hofmeister Manor
Beware of doubt, but beware more those who have no doubt.
Verenian Saying

Barold Bettinger Hofmeister, started dumbfounded at the roll of parchment he had unlaid in front of him. He was certain that he hadn't misread, yet he sat there at his desk scanning the words again and again. He couldn't believe it, there was simply no possibility that this was true but the next electoral vote would be held in Nuln. No, not just held in Nuln. He, Barold Bettinger Hofmeister would be given the opportunity to serve as the honourable host of the prestigious event in his very own halls!

What an honour! What a great chance to finally make a name for his house! What an absolutete disaster! A raging torrent of competing throught flooded his head threatening to overwhelm him; some jubilant, others skeptical. Whatever the case was, Barold Bettinger had not expected the elector counts to actually host the upcoming election in Nuln. Afterall, house Hofmeister was an upstart with a lineage that was barely a couple centuries old. As a matter of fact, the only reason they had come into a position of prominence even in Nuln itself was due to their recent prodigious wealth in a period where most everyone else was struggling.

No one of genuine importance would be inclined to even turn an eye to house Hofmeister were it not for their money, in spite of their new grandiose titles. In fact, Barold was acutely aware of the barely disguised disdain Nuln's nobility directed towards house Hofmeister for "acting above their station", and as much as he would have liked to pretend that this wasn't an issue Barold sharp enough to know that letting linger resentment fester would spell doom for his house.

Volunteering to act as host had been a calculated attempt to elevate the Hofmeister name. Since even a failed bid would attract attention and potentially draw in some desperately needed prestige if even a single count voted in favour of Nuln. It was a decent plan of action, Nuln was a historic centre of Imperial power and had even been the Capital of the Empire in the past afterall.

Actually winning the bid to host the election was an entirely different issue all of it's own. It was prestigious, more so than any failed bid could ever hope to be, that much was true. It also meant that the attention of the most powerful men of the Empire would all be on house Hofmeister for the first time ever. More than that, if Barold accepted his bid to host, it would meantthat the Elector counts would all be coming to Nuln. Soon.

Barold sprung up from his chair at the realisation and began pacing around his desk. Maybe he could make this work, this was a bigger event than he had planned for initially, but this could be the chance to elevate house Hofmeister that he had been looking for. He stopped pacing as he made up his mind to accept the honour of hosting the election, and he sat back at his desk to begin drafing his reply.

He had a whole lot more work ahead of him to get the city ready for to host such an important event.

 

[Aquadragon10]

Leicheberg, Stirland - Castle of House von Stolpe

Welf von Stople paced in the solar of the castle, a map of Stirland sitting on his desk. So much troubles across the Empire were ongoing, but the rise of Sigmar worship, Tilea and Regimental Problems were minor to him. Well, maybe the Sigmar issue as Welf was devoted to Morr and his cult. Not surprising considering Lecheberg was a center for the Cult of Morr, but still.

For Welf, the problems were internal and Stirland and the von Stople's had several. His family dynasty seen as more usurpers due to how they got their Elector Count status, thank you father on that, the old ruling family still being in Stirland was not helping matters here at all. His family did not even possess Wurtbad as their fief so while technically the Capital of Stirland was the capital, but it made Welf feel unsafe so he appointed a deputy and for now ruled from his home. Add in the County being so large effective governing was nearly impossible already. Luckily the weakness of the province also meant his rivals were also weakened.

The biggest problem for Stirland though, was the continued rise of the undead. Or at least Welf thought so. So many nobles going on ill-advised hunts and returning as undead monsters craving flesh. Its how Welf even got the title as his father's heir in the first place as his dear older brother Frederick Jr. had ended up going on one of those hunts, returing as a vampire, and well, Welf had to put him down. Shock of it killed father too. Not the best. Still, Welf had his family and kept them far more aware of the dangers of the Ghoul Woods and the monsters lurking there. But they were a problem, one even with his allies in the Cult of Morr meant he couldn't stamp out or do politics with. What he needed was more support. More aid, more gold, more whatever. He needed to get control of Stirland proper, through controlling Stirland, he and his family could then focus on eradicating the Vampires from the Ghoul Woods. Forever.

 

[Easter]

Deinste-Castle Sthal

Rodrick Samstahl grit his teeth as he rose from desk, his knees popping as he forced himself up. The missive in his hand partially crumpling both due to the slight strain and the annoyance that was clear in his expression. When the man was fully standing upright his grimace turned to grumbles as he went around the desk and started making his way out of the room

"Ulric damn Nuln of all places, couldn't have been Tableheim or Altdorf could it. No now I have to ride all the way down there and back, my joints will be killing me for weeks!" The man's grumbling continuing up until he arrived at the door, where he paused to gather himself before stepping through with a much more genial expression on his face, there was no need to scare the servants with his annoyance afterall.

For all his complaints about joint pain and his seeming annoyance at rising from his desk the broad and tall man moved surprisingly smoothly through the halls, eating the distance between him and his family's general quarters with a swiftness, at the same time belting out orders to the servants on preparing for the trip to Nuln. Plenty of preparations would have to be made, new outfits ordered, rations acquired, escorts scheduled, and more. They had some time before they had to leave, but best to get it ready now rather than later.

When he finally arrived at his family's quarters the castle was bustling with activity behind him as he closed the door. Now all that was left to do for now was speak to his family on the matter of who to bring and what their stances would be.

He already knew he would be bringing his eldest son along, leaving his other children to take care of things here. But it was best to talk it out with all of them, being on the same page was something he learned was vital when he was learning to be a lord from his own father decades past.

Fortunately it only took a few minutes to get everyone gathered and to start laying out their opinions of the major electoral topics, at least the ones on everyone's mind's currently. The first being where the election is being held, already passed their ability to sway but it was important to discuss. Second being the issue of the Imperial expansion in the south. Third on the option of the regimental system.

The family was in agreement that Nuln was one of the worst options for an election for the north, partially due to the sheer distance needing to be covered but also the symbolism. It once again pushed forwards the Sigmar cult in prominence over every other cult in the empire due to Nuln's Sigmar majority. Alongside this it also reinforced the political dominance that the southern states enjoyed in the empire, a dreary result for Middenland, Middenheim, and Ostland. Simply put they reinforced a status quo unfavorable to the north.

Next, the family's opinion on the Imperial expansion down south were simple. Abandon the project entirely or make it the neighboring elector's problem, Middenland wanted no part in supporting the obviously failed project. Better to put the resources in the land that is rightfully theirs rather than to steal from the other human states.

Finally, the regimental system left them torn. It seemed like a sound strategy but it would clearly come with drawbacks. After much discussion it was decided to wait on the matter to hear the arguments for and against it at the election, prehaps one of them will be strong enough to convince Rodrick either way.

Overall, it was a productive meeting. Goals, thoughts, and thoughts were aligned so that the leadership of Middenland both present and future were of one mind. As Rodrick got up once again he couldn't help but grimiace at the thought of the journey south both from the physical prospects but also the political.

But it was his duty to go, and so he shall. Even he'll be dreading the days until it was over.

 

[Archon of Ghosts]

Altdorf - Grautal Estate

Siegmund stamped the fresh wax, sealing another dispatch in a string of back and forth discussions. Another milestone reached, and yet as he climbed the steps of the metaphorical mountain, it seemed to loom ever higher.

The Prince-Elector slumped into his seat, letting his exhaustion overwhelm him as he took in all that had led him to this moment, making deals and promising aid through letters in his refurbished study. Missives from across the realm were sprawled over his table, partially covering maps of the provinces of Reikland, Drakwald, Westerland, and the Middle Mountains. Underneath those, he knew, lay the most detailed map he possessed of the Old World.

Had he decided to shoulder too much in too little time?

No. He breathed in deeply, and opened his eyes once more. His eyes landed on Dragon Tooth. Even in its scabbard the Runefang reinvigorated him. He had been chosen to inherit the ambitions of his father and brother: to be the Grand Prince of Reikland and its storied past. Honour and duty would not allow him to disgrace it. Standing once more, he motioned for his aides to help him clean up the maps and keep them on standby, save for that of the Drakwald. That one could go back in the archives.

He held a finger on the map of the realm before it was rolled back into its container.

Nuln. The "neutral" ground. So be it.

The horse trading that was the election would have to wait until he and the other electors reached the city. More was yet to prepare for the issues beyond the election itself. Tilea, the apple that would rot should they remain passive to its struggles. The Gospodars, whom the Prince-Electors of the East sought to humble their attempt at nation-building. Faith, which was fraying at the fabric of the nation. The dispute over military standardisation, which was only in question because some weren't willing to see its advantages.

He gathered his correspondences together and bound them in string. It was their responsibility to discuss and resolve these issues. And their choices would have far reaching consequences. And yet, he could continue to bolster some of these efforts still.

"Retrieve Thunder Shadow from the armoury and make preparations to host the Grand Prince of Ostland." He passed the order as he walked through the halls, their small windows granting sight upon the diminished on-and-off capital of the Empire under the moonlit sky.

He stopped. Was it already that late? "Belay that for tomorrow, I believe we all deserve a reprieve for today." He dismissed his aides as he turned, his new heading leading him towards the northern part of the manor.

And to think he believed that managing a knight order used to be complicated. Now he had to not only govern a province and sway the other electors, but to also once more take care of his family.

Being a good father was more taxing than he believed it to be, but it was all so rewarding.