And then, at long, long last, you have it. Just under a year before the previous Elector Count's death. Six cartloads over two days, each of them after dark, each of them exempt from tolls, tariffs and excise by the authority of the Castle, driven by a local carter by the name of - you squint - Jolan? Johan? You think it's Johan. Once more, you round up your Greatswords from where they had gotten off to. Some were down in the cells slowly and thoroughly working the truth out of the poor stablehand, some were following Herr Schultz around in the hope that he'll uncover more undead for them to cheerily bisect with their enormous swords, and the rest were hanging around the kitchens trying to wheedle snacks out of the head cook.
If anything, the Guild of Carters and Coachmen put up even less of a fight than the Watchmen on the Guardhouse. The moment you told them what you were there for, they gave you the address of a licensed freelance cart owner-operator by the name of Johan (you were right!). You head over there immediately before any of his coworkers can tip him off, and that his response to a pair of Greatswords knocking on his door was to climb out a window was a promising sign. Especially since you had three more waiting just around the corner from that window.
---
"I didn't know what was happening until it were too late," poor Johan blubbers to you from his position shackled to a bench. You hadn't even had to threaten him, you just sat there looking at him while it sank in for him what was going on, and he had started telling you the entire story. "I thort it was just another job from the castle. They'd bin movin all sortsa furniture and whatnot, redecoratin I think. So I go there with my cart and poor Delilah starts actin all sorts of funny, stampin' and whinnyin' and as I'm tryina calm her down the builders start pilin' all these books into the cart. None of 'em said a word, just pilin' it all in while I'm standin' there tryina calm my horse down. So I thort, okay, that was bad enough, but for what they was payin' I could put up with Delilah sulkin' for a few weeks, but then I take the instructions they gave me back to the guildhall and ask someun to read it for I, and they wanted it taken to a mound halfway to Julbach."
That got your attention. Every child raised in Stirland knew to never, ever, ever go near the burial mounds that dotted the landscape, and the books you read at College agreed - both those concerning magic and those that weren't approved parts of the curriculum. The tribal chieftains from before the coming of Sigmar did not rest soundly in their graves.
"I shoulda dumped the books right there and then, but then I think, the only thing worse than gettin inta business with the sorta folk that want things delivered to those sorta places is tryina get outta business with 'em. So I just did the job. Unloaded the books outside the mound, and when I got back with the next lot the last lot was gorn. Six loads, and Delilah still gets jumpy on dark nights, and until today I thanked Morr every night that that was the worst of it."
