Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest

[Boney]

Spoiler: Unfinished business

[*] [BARBITUS] Interrogation
[*] Magister Egrimm van Horstmann
[*] Attempt to find the Norse Dwarf outpost of Kraka Ravnvake
-[*] With Johann

Thankfully, the Norscans leaving enough room on the thoroughfare for mammoths meant there was enough room for steam-wagons, so you're able to slip between the buildings and through the town without damaging any of it and risking angering the locals, who seem to be accepting the Gods' judgement on the duel. You run a thoughtful eye over their mammoth as you pass, noting its clear eyes, symmetrical features, and hair as blond as the humans around it. They say that the second set of tusks and the fangs on its trunk are a mutation induced by chaos, but they say the same of Demigryphs. The mammoth seems to be inspecting you right back, possibly surprised to encounter something even larger than it trundling through town.

With the town safely behind you, you turn your attention to other matters: performing the interrogation of young Journeyman Barbitus. This far into the journey, there are plenty of empty rooms that were once filled with peat-coal or provisions. You select the least odorous of them, set it up appropriately, and have Egrimm direct the potentially wayward Journeyman your way.

"You wanted to speak to me, Lady Magister?" he says cautiously as he pushes the door open warily. Your dramatic side wanted gloom for him to peer into, but for the sake of his nerves there's a lantern on the floor between the two chairs.

"Take a seat, Journeyman Barbitus," you reply, gesturing to the chair opposite yours. There's a moment of hesitation before he obeys, glancing around the room and then jumping as the door swings shut behind him. That was another thing your dramatic side wanted, but credit here goes to the design of the doors which makes them swing shut unless actively held open. "I wanted to check how you've been doing, after all we've encountered."

"I'm fine, Lady Magister," he says instantly.

"I'd hope not," you respond. "There's no good reasons and plenty of bad ones for somebody to be serene after their first encounter with something like a physical manifestation of the Ruinous Powers. While I was growing my calluses in Stirland, I lost my lunch the first time I encountered a man twisted by Dhar. So please, answer honestly."

"Is this an interrogation, Lady Magister?" he says after some thought, and to his credit he quells the surging of Hysh he had started to unconsciously draw upon.

"No, what could be waiting for you back in the Empire is an interrogation. This is your chance to avoid that. Magister Egrimm feels you have promise, and the Empire always needs more Magisters, so I'm willing to be convinced."

He considers that for a moment. "You've got visual Windsight, haven't you?"

"Mostly. Some secondary olfactory synaesthesia with Dhar and Waaagh energies. And you have visceral?"

He nods. "Visual is easy, there's names for every colour imaginable. With auditory, you can map directly onto musical notes. All five main senses have an entire lexicon for communicating. But visceral? Most people only know hunger, satiation, pain, nausea, and the call of nature. Even most Wizards assume it works like emotive or intuitive when they hear about visceral Windsight. But it's not, it's an entire sense as well-developed as sight or hearing or taste and it's completely alien to normal human experience. And there's no filters either, none of the psychosomatic tricks like blinking for visual or vomiting for gustatory to block out some of it. All you can do against a bad visceral sensation is curl up in a ball and hope it passes."

You nod. "And how did the servants of the Tempter manifest through that?"

His eyes dart around, and you'd think it was regular evasiveness if it weren't for the blush starting to rise up his neck. "At first, in the way you'd expect," he finally says. "Then it split into entirely alien sensations and became overwhelming. It was all I could do to focus on Hysh and follow the Chant. It took days for the sensation of phantom organs to fade, and then came the Windfall, and then the Wastes."

"It sounds like it must have been quite draining."

He shakes his head, then stops. "Well, yes, I see what you mean and in that sense I suppose it was, but 'draining' is a sensation in itself and it wasn't that. This is what I mean, Lady Magister. Words quite literally fail me."

You nod. "And I imagine there's a bevy of lessons for dealing with visual or auditory Windsight at the Light College. But for you..."

He nods. "My Master recommended the diary of Supreme Patriarch Ptolos, but it was extremely redacted and from what remained I believe he had intuitive Windsight. So I'm almost entirely self-taught. That wasn't a problem once I grew accustomed to the environment of the College, but adapting to the outside world has been a challenge, even before all this."

"So what brought you to this Expedition at all? Surely there's work aplenty for a Light Wizard in the Empire?"

"Timpania recommended me to Magister Egrimm after he said he wanted different Magesights. Each batch-induction divides up by language until everyone learns Reikspiel, so the three of us knew each other pretty well already. They say Magister Egrimm reports directly to the Magister Patriarch, so I figured the chance to work alongside him would be worth the discomfort."

You nod. The Light Order takes on the most Apprentices of any order, but produces the fewest Magisters. It makes sense for someone with ambitions to rise from the Choirs to take chances to be noticed. "Do you still feel that way?"

He takes a moment to consider that. "Now that it's almost over, I do. But I don't think I'd do it again any time soon."

"Tell me about the Wastes."

He hesitates. "I'd expected to be nauseous, or something like it. But it was more like the feeling you get in your gut when you've been awake too long. A constant weight that drags down everything you try to do. It was never much more than an annoyance, but it was always there."

You nod at that, remembering the campaign in Sylvania. The dull throb of Dhar had been everywhere, and you're still not entirely sure if some of the darker thoughts you had then were entirely due to circumstances or if the constant ambient corruption had crept in. "And after we left there, things returned to normal."

"Yes, Lady Magister, once we went into the mountains."

And then Egrimm had taken the return to his normal appetite and sleep patterns as reason for concern. You suppose that's understandable. One advanced in the use of Hysh would be naturally resistant to that sort of low-level onslaught and might not have noticed it at all. But for a Journeyman barely used to the streets of Altdorf, let alone the Chaos Wastes... "It's to your credit that you're bouncing back from the experience. I'm sure by the time you return home this will all seem like one big adventure. It's not every Journeyman that can claim to have participated in the rescue of a Dwarfhold and the defeat of a Higher Daemon."

"I suppose so." He hesitates. "So you won't... I mean, I won't, uh..."

You smile. "I see no reason for concern, and I'll share that information with everyone that needs to know."

He exhales and gives a shaky smile. "Thank you, Lady Magister."

---

"You think it was just the influence of the Chaos Wastes?" Egrimm says doubtfully, fidgeting with a small square mirror.

You nod. "It's a matter of perspective. You're Hysh-y as a lighthouse and it's not my first experience in a Dhar-rich environment, but Barbitus has the worst of both worlds: he can directly experience the Dhar and he's not immersed enough in Hysh to resist it. It fits that he'd be worn down as we go north, then start to recover as we leave the Steppes."

Egrimm considers that. "I suppose he'd barely had the opportunity to recover from the Daemons when I hit him with the Windfall, and barely had time to recover from that when we entered the Wastes. He rang true to you?"

"He did. There was genuine frustration in his tone when he talked about it. If he was tempted and trying to hide it he'd either brush it off or play at being disgusted with it, not annoyed."

He nods thoughtfully. "That makes sense, and I'm glad to hear it. The three of them work well together, and I doubt the other two would be willing to work with me if I had to hand Barbitus over to the Magisters Vigilant."

"Yes, he said they were all inducted together. Is that common for the Lights?"

"Oh, yes. There's an old joke that the best way to contact a Light Wizard is to found an orphanage, there'll be one there the next morning to winnow through the urchins. The three of them were from Tilea originally, hence the names."

"Is that how you came to the Light Order?" you ask curiously.

He smiles. "No, I woke up one day with the realization that I needed to go to Altdorf. 'Seeing the Light', we call it. Once I made it through to the Pyramid of Light I was accepted as an Apprentice. I did my time in the Choirs and ended up on the Choir for Magister Patriarch Alric during a rather tricky exorcism. I was one of the few left standing after the smoke cleared, and the rest is history." He sighs. "A very apt choice of words when it comes to that man."

"He has been around for quite some time," you prompt.

"Oh, yes. He doesn't like his age being talked about, but he can't hide the facts. Let none forget he was Supreme Patriarch during the Night of a Thousand Arcane Duels, and that means he must have won the position in 2406, so he must have been at least a Lord Magister. I doubt he's any younger than 120. No wonder he needs to hand the reins off every so often."

"To Lady Magister Mira?"

"The one and only. Devastating woman. From what I've heard she never even made it out of Altdorf as a Journeywoman - was about to set off when the city was besieged by Tomb Kings after some trinket or another, and by the time they were rebuffed she'd made enough of a name for herself on the walls that they promoted her to Magister. Pity she keeps handing back power, she's much better suited to it." He sighs. "What about yours? Magister Patriarch Olorin, isn't it? I've never heard much about them, which I suppose is only natural."

"Olorin retired back when I was an Apprentice. Algard is the current Magister Patriarch."

He frowns. "Algard, of the Storm-Towers? I'd assumed he was dead."

You resist the urge to smile. "No, called away from his collections for a higher purpose. Hopefully his Towers remain hidden away until he can return to them."

"I tried to chase down rumours of one during my Journeying, but when I got there, an Outrider patrol was riding down a group of cultists and the storm moved on and the Tower disappeared before I could circle around the battlefield. They're a magnet for trouble."

You have to bite your lip. "It sounds like it. Algard seems well-suited to his current position, so they'll have to fend for themselves at least a while longer."

"Mmm." He spins the mirror on its corner. "What do you think, did the Expedition succeed?"

You exhale. "The goal was to ascertain the status of Karag Dum. Personally, I have many more questions, but this wasn't my Expedition. It was Borek's, and it's Karak Kadrin's, and it's the Karaz Ankor's. Borek's apparently got his answers, and to the Dwarven perspective, we've uncovered enough information that they can write it off with a clean conscience. So, yes. We cauterized that wound in the Dwarven psyche. That's a success even before you factor anything else in."

"That's an odd choice of words. Are you worried about the Dwarven psyche?"

"It's twenty-five centuries since their dark age, and their population is still going down. Why do you think that is?"

He frowns. "Well, they're always fighting one war or another."

"So are we. So are Kislev and Bretonnia and everyone else. That's just the world we live in. They haven't changed biologically since their Golden Age, and yet their oldest and richest Holds are shrivelling, even during times of peace, even though those Holds were built and populated when Daemons walked the world freely. So yes, I think it's the Dwarven psyche. I think that the average Dwarf woman does her duty in bringing four children into the world, and then chooses not to inflict it on a fifth."

"Four? But-"

You wave a hand. "Three quarters of Dwarven births are male."

"Ah. I suppose that explains why I mostly ever see ones with beards." He spins the mirror as he considers your words. "Is that why you do what you do? Hoping to single-handedly heal the Dwarven soul?"

You shrug. "If it happens I'll take it, but I joined Belegar because Abelhelm died and I didn't know what else to do with myself, and I found Vlag because I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time with the right talents. I can't grab the entire Dwarven race by the beards and shake them until they stop looking backward and start looking forward. But I like them, so I'll do what I can to make the world a better place for them."

"There's a line for their history books. 'The Mathilde Age: She liked us, so she made the world a better place for us'." You roll your eyes at his teasing, but can't help smiling. "Why do you like them? Dwarves aren't exactly fans of magic."

"They don't like magic because they know magic is often dangerous and unreliable, and they physically react badly to it. I can respect that. That's probably what it comes down to: what I disagree with them about, I can usually still understand and respect. Not like how it is in the Empire, where every other person is a twit with a fistful of virulently-held beliefs they've never given any thought to."

He smiles. "I thought the Greys were supposed to cleave closely to the Articles."

"Even we didn't lay down our staffs and let ourselves be burned after Alric let the Night happen. Being a bigoted fool is not part of the 'ideals and laws of Sigmar's Holy Empire', even if it seems like that sometimes."

"Hear, hear," he says, his smile widening.

---

As the Expedition travels along the banks of what you can't help but refer to as Lake Sausage, you and Johann circle around it in the other direction, making your way across the river and through a forest to seek out the lake's main tributary, which is easier said than done and involves some going back and forth and arguing about whether one river seems wider or deeper or faster than another. Eventually you settle on what you hope is the correct candidate and then following its long, winding path uphill as it flows through the mountains. Your Shadowsteed is as tireless as Johann's golden lungs and muscles, but neither magic grants proof against boredom and you can't find refuge in a book without risking missing your goal and rendering the entire purpose of this journey pointless.

What feels like a lifetime later, you're thoroughly sick of the sight of mountains and Johann is frowning at the river. "The Norse Dwarves were sailors, weren't they?"

"That's what I've heard, they'd build their holds along rivers and then travel up and down them. Why?"

"Because I think we've gone too far."

You frown and consider the river alongside him, which definitely seems like it's grown too shallow to be navigable. "Damn."

Several more hours later, the setting sun forces you to find shelter for the night behind a network of Magic Alarm tripwires and several piles of pebbles under the effects of Eye of the Beholder to lead any wandering Norscans into thinking they've found river-gold to lead them into said tripwires. You glare at the patch of sky where the sun was last sighted, grumble under your breath about how unreliable it is, and then have to mentally concede that as you are quite far north and it is summer, the sun is sticking around for much more of the day than you're used to. Just not long enough.

The next morning sees you resuming your search, and you eventually find what you're looking for on the other side of a narrow crevasse that can't be seen all the way through no matter which way you look at it: a small hidden valley that looks like it was quite beautiful once. Now all that remains is charred stone foundations and Runestones so thoroughly defaced you're just guessing about the Rune part. You make your way through the rubble, frowning at the Norscan graffiti covering everything still standing, some of it sigils in honour of the Chaos Gods, some of it what looks like the same sort of thing you'd find on the walls of Altdorf, just in a different language.

"Metal fragments," Johann says, kneeling down to inspect something. "Looks like a weapon was shattered, but they took away the largest pieces."

"What kind of metal?"

"Iron. Bad iron. Coldshear by the feel of it."

"It doesn't bode well if the Norscans were comfortable enough here to cover it with graffiti and take away all but the crumbs." You turn your gaze to the entrance. "Shall we?"

"I'm not going to turn back after coming all this way."

Lit by a Glowing Light, the two of you venture into the mouth of the Dwarfhold of Kraka Ravnvake, frowning at the walls as you do. The interior lacks the graffiti of the outside, but bloodstains cover much of the floor and the walls are marked with chips and divots from errant swings and shots. It doesn't take you long before you reach the cave-in you were told about, and Johann kneels down to concentrate.

"There's... a hammer or an axe, about fifteen yards in," he says. "High-quality steel, but badly battered, and completely covered by stone."

You run your eyes over the cave-in. "Fifteen yards? There's no way we're getting through that much stone." You frown as you consider it some more. "For a good weapon to be under there, chances are its wielder is too."

"So they're not just hiding behind the rockfalls and hoping any intruders wander off of their own accord," Johann says grimly. "They would have recovered the body and taken the weapon while they were doing so."

"It tells us this was made to collapse, rather than it being disrepair. Otherwise either Dwarves or Norscans would have taken the weapon before it got buried by the stone. It matches what I've heard about the defence of Kraka Drak: falling back and caving in the Hold as they go."

"Dwarves destroying their own Holds," Johann says, shaking his head. "They must have known it was the end, so all that mattered was taking as many Norscans with them as possible."

"Not just Norscans," you say, looking around the tunnel. "Kurgan, Hung, Tong, and probably other Tribes we don't even know the names for. And mutants and Daemons and champions of the Chaos Gods. Asavar Kul gathered his forces from the entire Chaos Wastes, and after he died they all came up here. They probably would have fallen to infighting before long, but they had a common enemy and the surviving lieutenants of Asavar Kul to unite them."

"So when Magnus saved Kislev, he doomed the Norse Dwarves," Johann says, rising back to his feet.

"Seems so. Let's check the side-passages. I don't think we'll find anything different, but we may as well while we're here.

The two of you map out the accessible portions of Kraka Ravnvake, and you ultimately find that every one terminates in a wall of rubble. Both of you strain your Windsight to try to glean any suggestion that there might be life on the other side or the rockfall might be thin enough to dig your way through, but all you find is evidence that at some point in the past, others have tried and had eventually given up. From the traces of metal left behind in pick-marks Johann deduces that there were at least two groups that tried to make their way through, one with middling-quality iron and another with high-quality steel, which you assume to be Norscans and southern Dwarves respectively. A closer examination of the main shaft reveals a cavernous expanse of missing roof partway in, indicating a cave-in that had been excavated at some point in the past. A great deal of work to find nothing but more blockages on the far side.

"After Vlag, I was half expecting to find them alive and well," Johann admits as the two of you emerge into the sun.

"Part of me was hoping too," you say, "but I suppose it makes sense. This is a mystery the Dwarves are entirely capable of solving themselves, and it seems like in this case they have. The Norse Dwarves have fallen - or at the very least, Kraka Ravnvake has."

"They could still be alive, deep underground," Johann says half-heartedly. "Runelights and cavern farms and underground springs and geothermal heat."

"Maybe, but if they are, it makes no difference up here. If they're burrowed that deep they may as well be on Mannslieb."

"It's nice to imagine, though," he says wistfully. "Or at least nicer than the alternative."

"I suppose it is," you say, dusting off your hands. "Let's head back."

---

As the walls of Fort Straghov come into view, you exhale and feel yourself relax a bit. You are now officially in Kislev. Northern Kislev, populated largely by Ungols who never fully assimilated into Kislev and are still prone to banditry and worshipping the wrong kind of Gods on occasion, but Kislev nonetheless. The Expedition has finally returned to friendly territory. The next week will take you south along the River Tobol, passing Fort Kaminski and eventually arriving at Fort Ostrosk, where you will cross the river and be ready to begin the final stretch overland to where the Expedition began months ago.



The four with the most votes will be chosen.

Spend time getting to know...
[ ] Head Ranger Snorri Farstrider
[ ] Preceptor Joerg von Zavstra
[ ] Sir Ruprecht Wulfhart the Younger
[ ] Asarnil the Dragonlord
[ ] Deathfang
[ ] Ice Crone Ljiljana
[ ] Magister Egrimm van Horstmann
[ ] Citharus, Barbitus, and Timpania
[ ] Magister Michel Solmann
[ ] Journeyman Cyrston von Danling
[ ] Journeywoman Alexandra Kohler

Become involved with:
[ ] Ranging far ahead of the convoy
- With the Knights of Taal's Fury
[ ] Scouting near the convoy
- With the Winter Wolves

Other:
[ ] Be ready to use Rite of Way should it prove necessary
[ ] Attempt to scout the Skaven stronghold of Hell Pit
[ ] Attempt to steal the mammoth from the Baersonlings
- With Esbern and Seija


- There will be a two hour moratorium.
- Before anyone asks, I will not reveal if the state of Kraka Ravnvake was the result of dicerolls or was a foregone conclusion.

 

[Boney]

Spoiler: Voting results

Tally
[*] Asarnil the Dragonlord
[*] Ice Crone Ljiljana
[*] Magister Egrimm van Horstmann
[*] Deathfang

Fort Straghov would have to be extremely alarmed at the appearance of giant metal behemoths on the horizon, but if the cluster of flags of various Karaks and Colleges didn't convince them to hold their fire, the blue-on-white sword ensign marking the presence of an Ice Witch definitely did the trick. Once they see the largely Dwarven crews and Ljiljana emerges and yells at them in Kislevarin from the prow of the Magnus they're more than happy to allow you on your way.

---

"Too easy," Ljiljana says scornfully as she looks back at Fort Straghov. "Should have checked papers, should have tried to search steam-wagons. Didn't even have to threaten to freeze their yaichki off. Tch, Northerners. Too barbaric for Kislev, not barbaric enough for the Chaos Gods."

"How are you doing?" you ask. "You seem to have gotten your energy back."

"Yha, yha, fretting from Knights was nice but got boring. Will make it home to die in the usual way. Play more rounds of games with the Tzar." She snorts and spits over the railing. "Needs to die already. Fights against threats, yha, but just keeps throne warm when there's nothing around for him to ride out and hit. Doesn't listen to Ice Witches, doesn't listen to courtiers, doesn't listen to diplomats, just listens to generals, who all grow fat and lazy. Young Boris born under good omens, respects the Gods properly, will be better Tzar." She snorts again. "Still, could be worse."

You nod in understanding. Directly after Tzar Alexis who fought in the Great War Against Chaos was Tzarina Kattarin the Bloody, who reigned for a century and a half before being staked, frozen, and supplanted by her son, who proved quite adept at dodging questions about how someone who had been a Vampire for at least a century could have a living human son, and also provided the inspiration for the Tsarevich Pavel Society. After all that, a merely incompetent Tzar must be quite refreshing. "I think most everyone will be returning to politics of some stripe," you venture. "The Dwarves will have a tough time adapting to the results we've delivered, and there seems to be some Engineers Guild disagreements about the steam-wagons themselves. And there's the whole Marienburg situation, too."

She frowns, thinking. "The rebel merchants who block in the Wolfships from hunting Norscans?"

You conceal a smile, remembering Chamberlain von Bitternach's gambit to frame the situation that way to foreign eyes. "The very same. The Dwarves are building canals that threaten their monopoly, and the merchants don't like that."

She frowns. "Have they met Dwarves? Easier to convince the sun to stop turning than to tell them to stop building. But merchants are like that, think gold in a purse means more than steel in a hand. Perhaps Erengrad will go the way of Marienburg one day, guilds richer than boyars."

"Perhaps Kislevite pressure can help resolve the Marienburg situation and defang the trade families, and help keep the merchants in Kislev from growing too big for their boots."

She narrows her eyes at you thoughtfully. "Perhaps," she eventually says. "Will perhaps have a word or two with my sisters. Tzar will only care if it turns into war, but the Tzar is far away. Perhaps we could involve ourselves in the matter, and in doing so build useful ties with the west."

"The Magister Patriarch of my Order has taken a keen interest in the Marienburg situation, and has the ear of the Supreme Patriarch. He would be very open to reaching an agreement on the matter. And the Empress would be just as happy to build new ties with our eastern allies."

"Powerful titles," she says thoughtfully, "and interesting words. I will put them in the right ears."

You nod, smiling. Just a few planted seeds, but they could end up sprouting in all sorts of useful ways.

---

Ever since the Urmskaladrak succumbed to the call of gravity, Asarnil and Deathfang have spent most of their time aloft rather than relaxing atop one of the steam-wagons. Part of the reason for this is practical, as part of the cargo of the Urmskaladrak was the foods that Asarnil prefers and in their absence nothing less than freshly-hunted and Dragon-roasted meat is suitable for his palate, and part of the reason is for the simple reason that the remaining steam-wagons have less deck space and what they do have is largely taken up by cannon and cows. So the only good time to approach the two of them is as the day draws to a close and the steam-wagons come to a halt, and the two of them descend with whatever beast was unfortunate enough to encounter them clutched in Deathfang's claws.

"It is growing increasingly difficult to find anything but trolls and goats," Asarnil says as you approach, seamlessly switching the target of his complaining from Deathfang to you as he carefully examines the day's catch, a heavily-muscled bull. "Take this beast. A bull without horns? What sort of challenge is that? But still preferable to the rest of the creatures nearby."

"A mutation?" you ask, frowning at it.

"No, it's just a quirk of the local species. The first time we came to this part of Norsca, we spent quite some time searching for a 'normal' cow." Deathfang snorts, his eyes not moving from the butchering. "As long as the major organs all look wholesome, this should make for a suitable meal."

"You didn't take it from nearby, did you?"

Asarnil waves a hand dismissively. "I crossed into Aesling territory. If they pay any mind at all, the Baersonlings will be celebrating the theft."

"Any herder should be grateful for the visit," Deathfang says grouchily. "It will be a generation before any wyvern or manticore dares to be seen above their pasture. To charge a single cow for the privilege? It is we that were robbed."

"That was quite a showing against the Norscan."

Asarnil shakes his head as his blade cuts through hide. "Humans have perhaps two or three decades to hone Eldrazor's art before their body begins to fail. Without magic or mutation or blessing, no human has a chance to stand against me. I would have felt pity for him had he not invoked the Blood God."

"So you sacrificed him to Vaul."

"Not the most conventional sacrifice," he says with a smile, "but I trust Vaul would appreciate the spiting of the Bloody-Handed God."

"I've never fully understood how Ulthuan reveres Khaine," you admit carefully. "When His worship reaches our shores, it always ends poorly."

"Oh? I'd have thought that Teclis' acolytes would understand quite clearly. Something in the nature of humanity makes you incapable of proper moderation, perhaps you simply do not have long enough lives to cultivate it. Just as you embrace Ulgu instead of weaving all eight Winds into Qhaysh, human worshippers embrace a single God instead of understanding the place each has in a well-rounded soul."

"Don't Dragon Princes learn just Aqshy?" you ask, perhaps a little stung.

"We're not trying to be Wizards," he says with a tolerant smile. "We adopt a few cantrips to help make our partners comfortable, and to protect ourselves from their flames. We save our full attention for Vaul's works, not Hoeth's, and every one of our number has skill in spears and swords, halberds and lances, whether on foot or on horseback or in partnership with a Dragon. And even then there are those that call us dangerously overspecialized because we do not also develop our skill with a longbow. So we do specialize, in our way. Just as we still revere all the Gods and recognize their place in ourselves, even if there are those we pay especial attention to." He cuts free an organ you'd guess to be a stomach and lifts it up for Deathfang's inspection, who sniffs at it and nods. "The Cytharai represent the world as it is now. The Cadai represent what we strive to make it. To embrace one while ignoring the other leads to either depravity or derangement. So we recognize Khaine just as we recognize that the world contains violence and hatred, but anyone who pays attention to only that facet of life is doomed. It is no wonder that human worship of Him goes poorly."

"So when you go to war, you balance Khaine and Vaul in your thoughts?"

"And Kurnous, and Eldrazor, and Addaioth. They are all facets of the whole. What do you do, without Gods to structure your thoughts around?"

"She serves the Dancer," Deathfang says distractedly. "She was glowing with His energies when she and the Ice Witch returned from spreading devastation."

"Ah," Asarnil says, pausing in his work and looking you over. "That fits. Perhaps that gives you some measure of stability as a counterbalance to the pull of Ulgu." An impatient snort from Deathfang has him return his attention to his work, and with a grunt he pushes a lung aside to expose the heart. "It all looks normal enough," he says after a moment of careful study. "Care for a haunch?"

"Sure, thank you," you say. In truth you are getting rather tired of beef, but a meal with the Dragonlord isn't an opportunity that comes by every day.

Asarnil cuts enough of the hide loose to expose the joints, then cuts the rear legs almost free with deft and practiced bladework. From there you simply have to stand back far enough to give Deathfang room to work, and he exhales what would have to be a very carefully controlled amount of flame in a slow but intense stream. The rest of the camp barely looks up, having grown used to their mealtime preparations. Once Deathfang is done, all that remains is to pull the haunches free from the carcass before Deathfang starts biting chunks out of it, and then carving still-steaming meat off it with a knife. It's certainly tender and juicy, but it doesn't quite live up to Asarnil's claim that Dragon-roasted meat is a world-class delicacy.

"Many of your cities are built on what were once ours, before the..." he glances around the camp. "The disagreement with the Karaz Ankor. Much of Tilea, and Marienburg, of course, but also Altdorf and Talabheim and even Kislev City. So I suppose it is no wonder you added many of our Gods to the pantheons you brought from the east."

"I have heard of some worshipping Kurnous in Talabecland," you concede.

"Yes, I suppose you would have," he says in an amused tone.

"Are you suggesting that Taal and Kurnous are the same?" you ask directly. Cryptic asides are a lot more fun when you're the one making them.

Asarnil smiles archly. "Are you going to suggest that he isn't? That there's two horned Gods of the hunt, two Kings of the wilderness, two husbands to the Goddess of fertility and bounty?"

"Rhya isn't Isha," Deathfang interrupts around a mouthful of beef.

"What?" Asarnil says, taken aback.

"Rhya isn't Isha," Deathfang repeats. "Draugnir joined with your Gods, but Radixashen joined with Rhya. I know not of Kurnous and Taal, but Rhya and Isha are two different beings."

There's quiet as you and Asarnil digest that. "I don't suppose you're going to go any further into that?" Asarnil asks, and Deathfang just grins and takes another bite of cow, and you conceal your smile similarly. "Thought not. Though I don't know if that has any significance. Gods tend to have complicated relationships." You remember your own thoughts about the relationship between Ranald and Shallya, and refrain from commenting. Asarnil sighs. "I never thought I'd get much use out of ancient history when learning it as a child, and here I am living amongst its ruins and trying my best to remember the Tars and Tors and Kors."

"If it helps, I think Altdorf was a Kor. I've heard that the Celestial College's towers are a recreation of an Elven tower that used to stand on that location."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm almost certain the Kor was in Laurelorn."

You let him dwell on that a while as the three of you eat in silence. "Any idea what you'll do after we return to civilization?"

He shrugs. "I'll stop in at Marienburg to pick up some replacement travelling equipment, then keep going west. Do a circuit through Bretonnia, and then down to Estalia and back through Tilea. There's always something interesting or profitable going on somewhere in the Old World."

"Not going to let them court you again?"

"The Marienburgers? No. The more I think about that business, the uglier it seems. It's either going to go nowhere and leave the two of us extremely bored and underpaid, or it's going to get very ugly, and Marienburg is about as bad at gratitude as the Dwarves are at forgiveness, and your Empire is no slouch in the grudge department either. So I'd much rather go on a good straightforward monster-hunt, or browbeat one city-state or another and be paid extremely well for it."

"What is it you do with your payment?" you can't help but ask. "Even the best of food and drink couldn't eat through the amounts you charge."

"Do?" he repeats, confused. "Treasure is not for doing, treasure is for having." Deathfang nods firmly in agreement.

---

"Bloody Marienburg," Egrimm says as you bring the topic up with him. "A thousand curses on Dieter IV and all his kin."

"Does the Light Order have a position on the matter?" you ask carefully.

"Officially, no. You'd think the place would be a breeding ground for apostasy and abomination, but the Star Chamber and Baron Henryk's pick up the slack left by the secular authorities, and as long as that's the case we consider the conflict outside our jurisdiction. Unofficially, the Great Library being all but closed to us gives us a quite large axe to grind, and if the Emperor decides that it's time for the city to return to the fold, he'll find us more than willing to do our duty."

"That's a rather prosaic take," you say.

He shrugs. "We are the Order of Light. Our Wind is the Wind of wisdom and truth. To deny us our books is like denying soil to the Jades."

"I'd wondered about that, actually. If it's the Wind of truth, can you-"

"-use it to identify objective truth?" he finishes, and you nod. "No, sadly. It was the first large-scale experiment the Order of Light ever performed. It's attracted to any moment of revelation, no matter how flawed or factually incorrect it may be. Pity, if it could be used in that way we'd put the Celestials to shame." He snorts. "Then again, if it did pick a winner out of the mess of conflicting philosophy schools and mystery cults we were in the early years, we might have torn ourselves apart. Our slow descent into secularity might have been the only way forward."

"How can you be secular if you're dedicated to the Wind of holy radiance?"

"Now there's a question for the philosophers." He shrugs. "Best I can offer is that perhaps the Gods use Hysh too."

"So you're not a man of faith?"

He shakes his head. "I searched when I was young. We all do, it's as much of being an Apprentice as the choirs are, and the library is bulging with works on philosophy and religion. But I never really found anything that fit. I've heard that the worship of Sigmar was once the most common amongst our Order, but ever since the Night of a Thousand Arcane Duels, relations between the Order of Light and the Cult of Sigmar have been rather strained. Mira might be able to fix that once Alric's out of the picture, but for now the closest we have to a majority is Shallyans. We work with them relatively often, for exorcisms and for the pursuit and purging of Daemons of the Fly Lord." He shakes his head again. "They do good work, but most are too dedicated to mopping up the aftermath to do anything about the actual causes of problems. What about yourself?"

You shrug as you formulate a scrupulously honest response. "I'm not a part of any formal Cult, but any that work in the shadows will at least cross their fingers, even if they lie about it afterwards."

He nods. "I've put a prayer or two in that direction myself. Only a fool would completely scorn Him."

You consider the matter further. "To be honest, I'm not entirely convinced the Cults have the right of it, or at least not the entire picture. The Dwarves talk of their Ancestor Gods as beings that walked the world, and their history books agree. The Elves speak of the Gods as though they were abstract concepts in one breath and then speak of their deeds in the next. The Dragons speak of their own ancestors dealing with the Gods as equals. I'm not sure if we're all talking about different beings, or if we're all talking about the same thing from different perspectives and there's a larger picture we're not putting together."

He looks at you oddly. "Is this a Grey Wizard thing? You just seek out the biggest question you can and bang yourself against it like a moth against a lantern so you have a constant source of confusion at hand?"

You open your mouth to respond, then consider it. "That would explain a few things, honestly," you admit. Like how some of the most potent Ulgu spells operate through directly manipulating time or space.

He smiles, seemingly amused. "Ever been to the Imperial Museum?"

You frown. "The Magnus Museum? Or the ruined one?"

"Neither, the one at the Collegium Historica at the University."

You frown in thought. "I don't think so. Why?"

"There's an old runestone there, the Obernarn Stone, along with a translation. It speaks of some of the Gods and their acts as though they were a band of adventurers. I don't think it will give you an answer, but it might give you more interesting questions."

You nod, making a mental note. "I'll have to pay it a visit. More interesting questions might be the best I can hope for, at least for now. The Gods seem to cling tightly to their secrets."

He smiles. "Yes, they do."

---

After passing Fort Kaminski and Fort Ostrosk, both of which proved just as willing to let the convoy continue on its way as Fort Straghoy was, the convoy has crossed the Tobol and is entering the final overland stretch to Praag, where it will circle around the Golinyi Hills and leave deep furrows in the Ungol-dominated steppes. Renewed energy has filled the convoy with just a single week remaining until the Expedition comes to an official end, and everyone goes their separate ways once more. It's been quite an adventure and you're extremely relieved to be returning with all the Wizards you left with.


The four with the most votes will be chosen. This is the last week of the Expedition.

Spend time getting to know...
[ ] Head Ranger Snorri Farstrider
[ ] Preceptor Joerg von Zavstra
[ ] Sir Ruprecht Wulfhart the Younger
[ ] Asarnil the Dragonlord
[ ] Deathfang
[ ] Ice Crone Ljiljana
[ ] Magister Egrimm van Horstmann
[ ] Citharus, Barbitus, and Timpania
[ ] Magister Michel Solmann
[ ] Journeyman Cyrston von Danling
[ ] Journeywoman Alexandra Kohler

Become involved with:
[ ] Ranging far ahead of the convoy
- With the Knights of Taal's Fury
[ ] Scouting near the convoy
- With the Winter Wolves

Other:
[ ] Be ready to use Rite of Way should it prove necessary



- There will be a one hour moratorium.
- The Asarnil and Deathfang portion of the update was originally posted here.
- Fun fact: Altdorf canonically has at least three museums that could be described as 'the Imperial Museum', though one was destroyed during a harsh lesson on why Nehekharan mummies are a poor choice for museum exhibits.
- The Obernarn Stone is canon, and if you're curious about it Google can provide the text.
- I'm pretty sure I can think of something for them if you just want to read more about hanging out with them, but if you want to keep spending time with Asarnil/Deathfang/Egrimm/Ljiljana because you're imagining there's something juicy if you 'max out' the relationship, that's not actually the case.

 

[Boney]

Spoiler: Voting results

Tally
[*] Citharus, Barbitus, and Timpania
[*] Head Ranger Snorri Farstrider
[*] Preceptor Joerg von Zavstra
[*] Deathfang

You once more find Snorri engaged with his collection of maps, many of which inherited from Gotrek and Borek, but this time he's not studying a future route, he's detailing the past path of the Expedition with the help of a pantograph and a reading stone. "Preparing your memoirs?" you ask lightly.

"I wish," he grumbles. "Only need to write a memoir once, I'm going to have to tell this tale over and over. Karak Kadrin, Zhufbar, Karaz-a-Karak... just make sure you make it back safely or I'll need to tell it to Karak Eight Peaks too."

"So what's the take-away?"

"Speed, surprise, and a show of force," he says immediately. "The original plans were hoping that speed alone would work, but our actual speed turned out slower than what Kurgan could have managed. But the surprise of the steam-wagons, being something that nobody here has encountered anything like before, and the show of force of the carried warriors gave us enough time to be gone before anyone decided to attack. I'm certain that the steam-wagons alone would have been attacked at least by the Iron Wolves if they had a chance to observe them and convince themselves they had a chance, but the Knights kept them off-balance long enough for us to leave their territory."

"You said similar back at Karag Dum," you said with a nod. "That they'd be ready for us if we returned the same way. So you think that the same force would run into more problems a second time?"

"Even apart from the bloody ascent, aye. Word would have spread around the steppes, reports would have been sent to Zharr-Naggrund. If not by now, then at least by next spring, every force east of Karak Vlag would have heard about steam-wagons and will have decided on the best way to assault them if they ever have the chance. I don't think our relative success here can be replicated." He frowns. "At least not here, anyway." He leafs through the maps.

"The Badlands, maybe?" you say, guessing his train of thought.

He shakes his head. "The Dragonback greenskins have put almost as many ships into the water as Sartosa, they'd be familiar enough with our monitors to know how much force it would take to counter." He pulls out a map of the Old World and lays it atop the pile. "Kislev, the Empire, Bretonnia, Estalia, Tilea - the only places you'd need significant force just to get through are places you couldn't get a steam-wagon into. Forest of Shadows, Athel Loren, Massif Orcal, the Zombie Swamps, places like that. The Border Princes are full of rivers and they've all got major Holds at one end or both, so Barak Varr could reach anywhere trivially using their current navies. The Marshes of Madness, no. The deserts of Nehekhara, certainly not... If Karak Azul was still cut off I'd recommend it for the next expedition to there from Karaz-a-Karak, but that's no longer a problem..." He taps the Badlands. "The southern Dark Lands. If there's a possible repeat to be had, it will be there."

You frown down at the map, where only the major features of the area in question are included - the Expedition didn't bring maps of areas half a continent away from where you'd be operating, unfortunately. "The Desolation of Azgorh, the Wolf Lands, the Plain of Bones... Scouts from the Tower of Gorgoth would probably pick it up, but it would have the same problem Uzkulak had - the Chaos Dwarf Navy operates out of Zharr-Naggrund so the necessary expertise wouldn't be at hand... what about Crookback Mountain? Skaven, isn't it?"

"One of the Warlord Clans. Avoiding it would be as simple as not using Mad Dog Pass. And Mount Grey Hag is Night Goblins, they wouldn't be a problem."

"But not any further east," you note. "Black Fortress and Daemon's Stump along the River Ruin, they'd have the know-how and probably the firepower to handle small vessels."

"And I wouldn't want to try to tackle the river itself, it'd eat through anything you try to caulk the steam-wagons with. And the Ogre Kingdoms have taken to buying cannon from the Chaos Dwarves. So you could get anywhere within the Dark Lands themselves, but you couldn't get into the Mountains of Mourn or to Ind or Cathay."

"I can't think of anything that would be worth the effort or the expense," you conclude after a moment of thought. "Not if you couldn't get further east than River Ruin."

"Me neither," he says with a shrug, "so the steam-wagons are most likely bound to be converted into proper River Monitors when they get back to Karak Kadrin. Ancestors know we need all of those we can get, every shipyard and slipway in the Karaz Ankor has been at capacity ever since they broke ground on the canal project. Doubly so, now that Karak Vlag will need reconnecting." He leafs through the maps once more until he finds one of Kislev.

"Here's the Talabec... which of these tributaries is the Brunwasser?" you ask, comparing the map to your own mental one of the Empire.

"Here," he says, pointing, "and the Urskoy splits off the Talabec here, at Zavstra."

"So you could easily get from Karak Kadrin to..." you trace the rivers north. "Vdovya, it looks like."

"It would be just as easy to dock at Kislev and take the road north," he says. "Or you could go up the Lynsk from the Sea of Claws. That's easier said than done, especially with the Marienburg troubles, but that would get you as far as Praag."

"So the only real trouble is the leg from Praag to Karak Vlag."

"The Dukhlys Forest is swarming with Forest Goblins, but traders keep the road cleared and me and the Redbeards will see to the rest. They'll be isolated, but not much more so than Karak Kadrin has been, and Kislev will be glad to have them back."

You smile. "I'm glad. Karak Vlag makes the whole Expedition worthwhile."

He nods firmly. "That it does."

---

With the biting cold of the Frozen Sea behind you, the relative warmth of northern Kislev means that the decks of the steam-wagons have become more popular, and you find the trio of Light Wizards lounging atop the Volans, idly chattering in Tilean while passing a few freshly-written pages back and forth for editing and corrections.

"Good morning, Lady Magister," Timpania says as you approach, wiping ink-stained fingers on a robe that indicates it's far from the first time, and you feel a pang of sympathy for them for being obligated by their Order to always wear white.

"Journeywoman, Journeymen," you reply. "Getting your notes in order?"

"We'll be travelling with the steam-wagons until Kislev City, and then back to Altdorf by river," Barbitus says distractedly as he writes, "and Magister van Horstmann wants to get at least the first drafts written before we get back to the College in case he gets sent somewhere else."

"Hopefully somewhere that needs a three-Wizard choir with proven Battle Magic capabilities," Citharus says with a grin.

"And if not?" you ask curiously.

"We'll have a better idea of the opportunities in Altdorf," Timpania says. "Maybe Sylvania, I've been hearing there's a siege there that's about to get interesting."

"The Lahmians Mihnea and Ioana," you say, after a few moments to rack your memory. "The Elector Countess wouldn't turn away more hands if you decide to turn your attention there. But the Sylvania Decree is still in force, so you might be overshadowed by the Battle Wizards if you head there."

"Told you," Barbitus says.

"I thought it was just for the war," Timpania says.

You shrug. "A lot of them have gone home now that the campaign's at a low burn, but the wording of the Decree has it in effect until there's no more Vampires anywhere in the Empire. When it comes time to take the towns proper, the Battle Wizards will be there."

Citharus sighs in disappointment. "Maybe Drachenfels, then, or Marienburg. Or some new hotspot. There's always something." He looks over at you. "What about Karak Eight Peaks, Lady Magister? Any adventures that way?"

You shake your head. "Not in recent years. There's still enemy strongholds nearby, Iron Rock and Thunder Mountain and Black Crag and the like, but that would be rather overambitious." You give it some thought. "If nothing else is stirring there might be work in southern Stirland, where the Dwarves are building the canal. The Black Water is full of nasties that might be stirred up by the construction, Karak Varn is uncomfortably close, and there's still survivors from the Ghoul Woods in the area. You should be able to pick up some straightforward bounties. Or you could come back out here. Karak Vlag is going to need to rebuild its ties with the greater world, and the Dukhlys Forest is home to a fair number of Forest Goblins, and I'm sure Snorri would be happy to have you helping out the Redbeards."

"Wouldn't mind working with Dwarves again," Barbitus says thoughtfully.

"Good pay and decent food," Citharus agrees. "We'll keep those in mind."

"What about yourself, Lady Magister?" Timpania asks curiously. "Back to Eight Peaks?"

"At least at first. I'll give the matter some more thought while I'm on the road. Like I said, not a lot of adventures left there, which is great for the Karak but it does mean I need to get creative if I want to make myself useful."

They nod in understanding at that. You take a seat with them and look over their notes, and fleshing out some of the parts they're not so sure about turns into a rambling discussion on magical theory. The three of them are fairly sharp and work together well, and you don't find many areas of magical knowledge where at least one of them doesn't have enough knowledge to make up for the other two. You can see why Egrimm would have brought them along, and find yourself hoping that he's able to retain them for whatever his next adventure is.

---

With the lights of Praag glowing on the horizon, you make your way over to the Knights' section of the camp. You exchange nods with a few Knights you vaguely recognize and after asking you're pointed in the direction of their leader, who you find setting up a shrine to Taal. You're not very familiar with the King of the Wilds, not even from your upbringing, as Stirland is mostly free from the forests that blanket the Empire and thus the Cult never gained much influence south of the Stir. But impossible to miss, at least to you, is the strand of Divine energy flowing out of Joerg and taking root as the shrine is very carefully constructed.

"Yes, Lady Magister?" he finally asks, as he finishes the construction and his murmured prayer.

"I didn't realize you were Anointed," you say, nodding towards the shrine.

"I'm not," he says simply. "A Priest may be Anointed, but I have never been Initiated into the Order of the Antler."

You resist the urge to frown. "You can shape the Divine Magic of Taal, is what I mean."

"Taal can act through me, as He can through any of His followers." He faces the shrine and slaps his thigh, chest, and arm, causing a faint jingling of chainmail, then turns back to you. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

You consider and reject a debate about the importance of proper terminology. "A few things," you say. "Firstly, I had hoped you had some more insight to share about what we witnessed at Karag Dum."

He sighs, and you fall into step beside him as he leads the two of you away from the shrine for the Knights waiting nearby to pay their respects to it. "I do know more about the Cloven Ones than most, but all that I do know insists that what we saw was impossible. Even if the Dwarves of Karag Dum had fallen to the worship of the Dark Gods, the Beastmen would not dedicate their lives to defending their home. At most they would fight against a common enemy with them, which is what Asavar Kul managed. Even some Chaos Cults have been destroyed by failed attempts to make common cause with the Beastmen."

"But they were definitely Beastmen," you point out.

"Yes, everything about them except their purpose there was correct." He shrugs. "Some sort of illusion that has convinced the Beastmen that Karag Dum is a Herdstone to be protected is the best guess I can make, except even that doesn't explain the presence of the Shadowgave. No, I don't think I can be any further help to you in this matter." He hesitates. "Except, I have a guess as to how they got here. Have you heard of the Beast-Paths?"

You frown. "The trails in the deep woods that Warherds travel along?"

"In part. And what of the Worldroots?"

Your frown deepens. "I don't believe so. Unless it refers to leylines."

"They might be connected to them in some way. It's a network of underground passages that once connected all the lands of the world, but in modern times many of its branches are sickened or dead, and the Beastmen burrow into the dead Worldroots like woodworms. In this way the Beast-Paths allow Beastherds to reach many parts of the world unseen and unsuspected. It may be how they have reached this place, far from the defiled woods that they usually haunt, and how their population has survived however many years of combat with the Kurgan."

You resist the urge to sigh as the list of things you intend to look up when you return to civilization grows ever longer. In your defence, who would have predicted that you should have read up on Beastmen before travelling to the steppes? "Thank you. I'll investigate the possibility when I have access to the libraries of Altdorf once more. Is this a mystery of Taal or Rhya I should keep to myself?"

He shakes his head. "A curiosity known to those that dedicate themselves to pursuing the Cloven Ones."

"Very well. The second matter I wanted to talk about is how the Knights feel about the results of the Expedition."

He smiles. "There are only two things the Knights of Taal's Fury ever feel upon returning from a campaign: either disappointed that it was less eventful than they expected, or mourning for those that were lost because it was more so. Apart from clashing with the Daemons in the mountains around High Pass, we had only minor skirmishes along the entire journey, and I will cherish the disappointment that this Expedition has left me with."

You can't help but smile. The simplicity of a Knight's perspective reminds you why they exist: because there needs to be those who do not care for politics or puzzles, just that there are enemies to kill. While you are digging through bookshelves trying to figure out what Cor-Dum is doing a continent away from where he should be, the Knights will already be on their way to the next battle. "I can respect that. There was another matter, but it's something I want to ask as a person to one of Taal's faithful, rather than as a Wizard to a Knight."

He looks at you curiously. "Oh?"

"A close friend of mine has something of a family dispute involving worship of the Earth Mother, and whether it should be pursued as they traditionally have done, or whether they should join the Cult of Rhya. I wanted to know if you knew anything of that division."

"Would this family live in Altdorf? In a round house with a very tall wall?"

"It might."

He considers that for a while. "A man once sought to truly understand water, and followed every river he could find to its mouth. His conclusion was that the true nature of water is salty, and he died of thirst."

You consider that for a while, and nod. "Thank you."

---

Deathfang is not the chattiest being you've ever encountered, but some of what little he has said has been rather intriguing, so you resolve to see if he can be convinced to let any more pearls of wisdom drop. One day while Asarnil is dozing in a hammock you're pretty sure he stole or borrowed from Ljiljana, you take the opportunity to sidle up to the Dragon and try to make conversation.

Easier said than done, especially when the Dragon has had to live without pillows for almost two months now.

The flat look he gives you as you approach almost has you forget the opening remark you'd decided upon, and the direct "what do you want?" has you discard it entirely. Eltharin is a very difficult language to be direct in, and having a Dragon manage it in your direction is rather alarming.

"When I've spoken to Asarnil and yourself before, you've made comments that were very interesting. I was hoping you'd make some more."

The look he gives you is long and flat, but eventually he snorts and scratches at his neck, where the scales punctured by the Greater Daemon have grown dull as they prepare to shed. "Very well. I will tell you a variation of a tale I have told my children."

Twenty thousand years ago, though the length of a year was different then, the world was a ball of ice floating in an endless void. It had been for millennia beyond counting, and the crude and limited creatures that had come to live on the thin strip of liquid water and uncovered land at the equator had grown complacent in their eternal stalemate: the Prometheans ruled the seas, the Shartak ruled the mountains, and the Fimir ruled what was between.

How they must have despaired when we graced their world, the sky turning red as the air itself tried fruitlessly to hamper our arrival.

We were led by five, the greatest of our flight: Draugnir, Abraxas, Radixashen, Urmskaladrak, and Kalgalanos. They led us on the long flight through the void, and decided this ball of ice would be adequate for us to rest and grow. The Shartak were the first to encounter us as we claimed the highest peaks and the grandest caves for our own, and we drove them from the heights and slew those that resisted. The Fimir grew maddened at the Shartak invading their lowlands, and tried to unite to make war against us, and they too we shattered utterly. The Prometheans were wise beyond what their forms would suggest, and sank below the waves, only emerging to feed on the battlefields we left in our wake. The world was ours.

Many years passed, and many children were born. They grew into Sun Dragons, who could breach the sky itself and warm themselves in the unobstructed radiance of their namesakes. They grew into Moon Dragons, and would stretch their wings by visiting the white moon, which at that time was the only moon of this world. And at last they grew into Star Dragons, ready to leave to find new worlds to conquer, and many flights did so. But for every Dragon that left this world, one would add their bones to the blown plain of stone that was the only place suitable to die, too far from the mountains to be found by Shartak, too far from rivers to be explored by the Fimir, and too far from the oceans to be fed upon by the Prometheans. The world was large, but so much was unusable that many Dragons grew gaunt and withered without ever growing strong enough to withstand the embrace of the void. Our leaders came together, and the plan they reached was brilliant.

If only our tools had been the equal of our ambitions.

We knew of other beings that plied the void, travelling in silver ships to protect themselves from the radiance we happily bask in. But though their forms were primitive, their cunning was almost sufficient, and we reached an accord with them. The worlds danced in the grip of their magics, and the sun grew larger in the sky as the ice began to melt. We spread across the entirety of the world, from the equator that we had dominated to the poles where the cunning beings made their grand machines. The continents were reshaped into five, and five cities were founded and our five leaders each joined with one. Draugnir with the city of Qt, Abraxas with the city of Iz, Radixashen with the city of Cd, Urmskaladrak with the city of Zl, and Kalgalanos with the city of Cl.

Deathfang pauses, and looks over to the hammock with what almost seems like fondness. "It was Qt that created beings worthy to guard our nests and grow our food. That is almost enough to forgive them for their ultimate failure."

Attracted by the jealous whispers of the Fimir and the broken despair of the Shartak, the Ruinous Powers turned their eyes to this world. After ten thousand years of their insidious scratching, they finally found an opening. The great machines begin to fail and the energies they were supposed to harness began to pour into the world, and the Ruinous Powers began to mould those energies - but the machines were more clever than they expected, as most of the energies were transformed by their passage into the world into forms that followed their own natures, rather than the orders of the Ruinous Powers. But enough remained true to them that they were able to pour their minions into the world. Daemon and Shartak and Fimir fought against Dragon and Elf and the cunning beings and their creations, and we begin to turn the transformed energies of the Ruinous Powers against them.

In the end, the greatest creation of the cunning beings were those they created by accident. With the great machines sealing the world against the Ruinous Powers, the combined beliefs of their creations had accumulated and grown into an entirely new form of life. When the cunning beings finally fled, we fought alongside the Gods instead. To defeat the inrushing of energies at the poles, we and the Gods and the Elves built the Great Vortex, and magic drained back out of the world, and Daemons shattered as the world grew inimical to them. In the end, we were victorious. But Draugnir lay dead, having given all he had to create a terrible blade that had held back the Daemonic legions. Abraxas sent himself into exile. Kalgalanos was never seen again. Radixashen was corrupted and disappeared into the earth. Urmskaladrak died not at the hands of Daemons, but errant creations that he had attempted to recapture.

Those who are true to who we are live beneath the land that was created for us, growing in strength and waiting for the day when even the least of our number is able to depart. But many lost themselves to these new energies that permeated the land, either in desperation during the long war or out of curiosity after it. By embracing the artificial energies that exist nowhere else but here, they doom themselves and all their descendants to die with this world. They live and die without ever knowing the true radiance of stars.

One day, we will leave this world behind to be squabbled over by lesser beings and fallen Dragons. One day, this world will be swallowed by the Ruinous Powers, who will rejoice for a moment or two and then grow bored and turn their backs on it. One day a new sky will turn red as we descend upon an unsuspecting world and make it ours. And one day, we will leave that one too.

Deathfang takes a deep breath, and then turns to look at you once more. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

All you can do is nod.

"Then go."

 

[Boney]

With the sun starting to peek over the horizon, you give the room that had been your quarters a final once-over for any errant notes or dropped quills. The pace of the last few weeks have been almost relaxed, but you'll be parting ways here and making your way towards Altdorf atop a Shadowsteed along with your more portable possessions. "You sure you don't want me to travel with you?" Johann asks again.

"Someone needs to keep Max out of trouble," you reply lightly.

"And lug an unreasonable number of books across the continent."

"And that. Besides, it's not like you're missing out on an adventure, I'm just making sure Altdorf is still standing and checking my mail before heading back to the Karak."

He nods. "Ride safe," he says, clapping you on the shoulder as you pass him.

You stop at a few doors on your way up to exchange farewells with Michel and Cyrston and Alexandra. You didn't grow particularly close with any of them, but they pulled their weight and gave you no reason to regret their involvement, and you'd be happy to cross paths with them again in the future. They'll be continuing with the Expedition all the way back to Karak Kadrin to either collect or negotiate their payment. The trio of Lights similarly proved themselves, and you suspect if they manage to stick together and fight appropriate challenges they'll make quite a trio of Magisters in years to come.

Up on deck, Egrimm is watching the rising sun and you take a moment to take in the landscape with him. Dawn is a time of significance for both your Orders, though for quite different reasons. To Ulgu it is a transition, the moment on the cusp of day and night, not fully one or the other, where shadows stretch longest and fog still clings to the ground. To Hysh it is illumination, the hidden and unknown becoming suddenly clear as a single source of pure light banishes the darkness. As the two of you stand there, strands of Ulgu creep up the side of the steam-wagon to seep into you and wisps of Hysh ride sunbeams to find purchase in Egrimm.

"It's been a pleasure working alongside you," he eventually says, "and a very welcome reminder that the competent can still claw their way up the ranks."

"Likewise. The journey would have been a great deal more stressful if I couldn't count on you to keep the Lights in hand," you reply, avoiding commenting on the latter part of his statement. You do hope he manages to get out from under Alric's shadow and make his own way in the world. "Any messages you'd like for me to pass on?"

He shakes his head. "We'll not be too far behind you, it's only about a week to Kislev City and from there it's all downstream to Altdorf." You nod. The Lights were here at the behest of Magister Patriarch Alric, so they have no payment waiting in Karak Kadrin, just whatever reward the Light Order might see fit to grant them. "If you ever have another adventure in mind, let me know, and I'll see if I can claw my way free to join it."

"I'll keep that in mind," you promise with a smile.

Down below the camp is waking up, and you pass through it making your goodbyes. You exchange respectful nods with Preceptor Joerg, a hearty handshake with Ruprecht, who promises to get Hubert home safe, and a pair of warm hugs with Esbern and Seija.

"You're off, then?" Snorri says, approaching as Esbern and Seija head back to their mounts.

You nod. "I'd rather get going now than try to fight my way through the mess that will be tomorrow. Your Rangers going east, the Knights going west, the steam-wagons going south... it'll be a mess."

"And with that horse of yours, you'll be halfway to Erengrad by then," he says with a shake of his head. It's more like two thirds, but you resist the urge to correct him. "How are you getting back to Karak Eight Peaks?"

"Gyrocopter relay from Karak Norn, probably. Want me to send some messages about Karak Vlag?"

"May as well, you might reach there before I do Karak Kadrin. I know my lads wouldn't know where to start trying to winkle that lot out." He exhales. "And... thank you. For Karak Vlag. If it weren't for that, it'd be very easy to think it was all for nothing."

You nod and clap him on the shoulder. "Range far, range fast."

"Range far, range fast," he agrees. "Safe travels, Loremaster."

A day and a half to Erengrad, you mentally calculate as you summon your Shadowsteed. Call it two, better to overnight in Bolgasgrad than to try to find a suitable tavern in a village. Norden the next day, Middenheim the day after that. Two more days to Altdorf, so overnight in Delberz, they have such lovely wine. From there... well, one day to Nuln would be pushing it, so let's spend a night in Kemperbad. Finest brandy in the Empire, and you're pretty sure the EIC has an office there too. One day from Nuln to Karak Norn, then gyrocopter-hopping to get back home.

You pat the insubstantial flank of the Shadowsteed below you. You owe quite a debt to whichever Wizard managed to turn the conceptual link between Ulgu and twilight into a steed that somehow taps into the speed of the line of day.

Later that day, far behind you:

"What do you mean, she's gone?" the Longbeard asks in disbelief.

"What do you mean, the High King's here?" Snorri replies.

---

A week of relaxed travel later, you make your way through Altdorf's most reputable disreputable neighbourhood and into the grounds of the Grey College, and despite actively looking for it you're still unable to spot the point where you transition from reality into the artificial plane that the College resides in. When you reach the correspondence offices you find reason to frown as you consider the familiar array of pigeonholes. They're enchanted so that the eyes of any viewer slip past any square but their own, and you find your gaze skittering across them without finding any purchase in where you remember your pigeonhole being. You'd been in the same place for almost twenty years now, ever since your promotion to Journeyman, and finding it absent was quite jarring. With nothing else for it, you approach the nearby desks of the Registrars.

"Oh, Lady Magister Weber, you don't have a pigeonhole any more," says the young man you accost. "All the Lord Magisters have lockboxes. Do you want to access yours?"

"Please," you reply.

"Follow me" he says and bustles off, leading you on a jingling path marked by him applying a ring of keys to several extremely sturdy doors and into a small room with nothing but a table with a normal-looking chest with a slit in the lid atop it, and a chair to one side. "It would have been keyed to you by the Porter when you were promoted," he says cheerily. "Please don't open it until I'm safely out of the room, the protective measures can be a bit sensitive. Once you're done, simply close the chest and pull the door closed on the way out."

"Okay, thank you."

"Of course, Lady Magister." You wait until the Registrar leaves, taking the opportunity to examine the chest. You can't see any protective enchantments, but that only means it's no more enchanted than the rest of the Grey College. If it was keyed in to the same magics that allow the College to exist within the realm between reality and the Aethyr, then it could utilize that to do all sorts of things to someone snooping where they shouldn't. You shrug and lift the lid, and then frown at the mound of correspondence within.

---

To the esteemed Lady Magister, I write on behalf of my master to beseech you to pay heed to this request...

You grow used to variations on this theme as you make your way through easily twice as many letters as you'd ever received as a Journeywoman or Magister, and as you do your shock gives way to understanding. The Colleges have thousands of magic users and hundreds of those are Magisters, but the total number of Lord Magisters couldn't be much higher than fifty, and many of those are too busy, eccentric, or retired to work outside the Colleges. So when a new Wizard reaches the lofty status of Lord Magister, there seem to be many parties that will send them a request or invitation in the hopes of being able to take advantage of their skills or status to their own ends.

You discard the invitations to various parties, balls, and gatherings, many of which already occurred while you were busy up north. Then you discard all the ones that make it clear that the writer has never heard of the Vow of Poverty or that the Grey Order is forbidden to meddle in the Empire's internal politics. Then go the ones from towns and villages whose problems barely merit the attention of a Journeyman, let alone a Lady Magister. Even after this culling there's quite a pile of offers, some troubling, some intriguing, and some both.

In that you possess unrivalled insight into the problems that will face any administrator of these territories, it pleases the Grand Countess to offer the position of Markgraf of Eastern Stirland to the Lady Magister; if that is not suitable for concerns of inheritance, the titles of Count of Waldenhof, Count of Tempelhof, Baron of Mikalsdorf, and Baron of Nachthafen will be revived and granted in the coming years, and the Lady Magister is considered an ideal personage for any of the above...

It has come to the attention of Grand Count Konstantin von Liebwitz that the Lady Magister Mathilde Weber has peerless expertise in certain sensitive matters that may present difficulty for Wissenland and Nuln in these coming years, that would benefit the Empire as a whole should she accept the position of Spymaster of Wissenland...

Given the Lady Magister's sterling reputation amongst the Empire's allies in the Karaz Ankor, I have the honour of writing on behalf of the Chamberlain of the Seal to invite you to join the Graf's staff as Ambassador-at-Large to the many Dwarfholds that bulwark the Empire...

As it has been vouchsafed that the Lady Magister's trustworthiness and suitability are beyond reproach, the Chamberlain of the Imperial House invites the Lady Magister to act as Bodyguard and Tutor to Crown Prince Mandred...

Given the unique challenges presented, it is felt that the Lady Magister is eminently suited to the position of Governor-General of the New World territories and control over the entrepôt commonly known as Swamp Town...

Thanks to you, our mutual friend has the opportunity to mend some important bridges in Kislev, and thinks that you'd be perfect for the job. It will let the cat out of the bag in some respects, but what better way to do that than to be named High Priest of Ranald?

In recent years, piracy, sabotage, and border skirmishes in the Border Princes region has shown that Dwarven dominance over the area is required to guarantee the safe flow of trade. King Byrrnoth Grundadrakk of Barak Varr wishes to make you aware that support would be available should an Umgi of proven trustworthiness seek dominion over the territories of the western end of Mad Dog Pass, near the banks of the Howling River. He also extends the observation that the Lady Magister is of proven trustworthiness.

You put down the last of the letters, reeling from the barrage. To restore your sense of normalcy, you turn to a letter you hope to be much more prosaic: an official announcement of some sort from Karaz-a-Karak.

An announcement from the Emergency Meeting of the Ancestor Cult Conclave of the Karaz Ankor, hosted in Karaz-a-Karak.

After certain confidential information was vouchsafed to this body by a source of undoubtable repute, a Grudge is hereby levelled against the being, spirit, force, ancestor, demiurge, and/or anthropomorphic personification commonly known as Ranald, believed to originate somewhere in or about the continent called The Old World, for the crime of theft of a disembodied Dwarven soul, which has subsequently been incarnated in the form of an Umgi.

Reparation or vengeance for said Grudge is to be postponed pending the full and proper evaluation of the consequences of those actions, which may be considered to mitigate, in whole or in part, those actions.

Witnessed and entered into the Great Book of Grudges by the High King.

Well. Okay then. That certainly didn't help. You take a deep breath, quell the internal screaming, and begin to apply cold logic to the document.

First of all, you'll operate under the assumption that it's genuine, as it will be easy to confirm the existence of the announcement in Dwarven records, so all someone counterfeiting an announcement like this would achieve is to earn a very swift death for the crime of counterfeiting the seal of the High King.

Second of all, Ranald. Well, you haven't exactly kept your worship of him a secret, considering your involvement in His worship at Karag Nar and, before that, the attempt to institute his worship among the Stirland Watch. It wouldn't take much investigation to uncover that.

Third, you having a Dwarven soul. You spend some time turning the idea around in your head, before ultimately discarding it as unfalsifiable. And on top of that, it doesn't ring true. Would Ranald steal a Dwarf soul to reincarnate them as human? Well, maybe. Would He do so for something they'd achieve decades down the line? No. He's not that sort of Trickster God. And the argument that He might have done so for a laugh and that person just happened to later become involved in world affairs stretches credulity. And you're pretty sure you're not actually a Dwarf. As much as you like being around them, actually being one seems incredibly stressful.

So, fourth, why? Assuming the Dwarves don't have some sort of secret runic device capable of detecting the very nature of a being's soul without said being ever becoming aware of the detection, they must have been convinced by something. And you frown, and pull on the chain around your neck until the Coin emerges from your robes, where the face of the Protector glints smugly in the light. Well, you suppose that would do it. Not only did you save Karak Vlag, but also however many Dwarves survived in there had the divine revelation that you were the one that protected them, and that you did so for the noblest of motivations. You can't see the Dwarven ego being particularly good at managing the fact that a Umgi succeeded so spectacularly where the rest of the Karaz Ankor failed miserably for one hundred and eighty-five years.

You examine the date on the letter - early in Nachgeheim, only three weeks after the return of Karak Vlag. The Expedition had sent Knights to ride back to Praag and arrange for word to be sent to the Dwarves, and you frown as you consider the distance. Best case scenario, Karak Kadrin would have heard about it in two weeks, and sent a Gyrocopter to Karaz-a-Karak. They send someone to confirm matters, they take however many days it would take to get past their jumpiness, then word goes back to Karaz-a-Karak, then a Conclave is summoned, then they deliberate, then they make an announcement...

No. That doesn't happen in eight days or less, even if every Conclave representative dropped everything they were doing to get aboard a gyrocopter. The only way this announcement would be remotely possible is if Karaz-a-Karak had some way to know immediately that Karak Vlag had returned... like, say, a sudden inrush of energy from two Old Holds being reconnected to the Karaz Ankor waystone network. Damn and blast. For the sake of harmony you'd been hoping that the waystone network was a Golden Age relic that had been forgotten, but this could indicate that Belegar's suspicion might be correct, that the High King is actively and knowingly siphoning magical energy from the Karaz Ankor without their knowledge or consent.

You sigh, and move on to the fifth consideration: repercussions. A quick mental recitation of the Articles confirms that you're in the clear with the Colleges, as even if you were a Dwarf, you were still a magic user that existed within the bounds of Sigmar's Holy Empire, and as such the Colleges were able to bestow upon you full rights to study, document, practice, and experiment with the arcane forces of magic. As for everyone else... well, in your experience Dwarves are more likely to direct pity at you than hostility over this, considering how they feel about Umgi. Humans? Well, probably better to be a Dwarf than a Wizard in the eyes of most citizens of the Empire. Elves? From your admittedly limited experience with them, you suspect they'd scoff at the idea of a Dwarf doing magic, so they'd discount it as a salve for wounded Dwarven pride. As far as you can see, this announcement doesn't seem likely change anything for the worse. Time will tell whether it changes anything for the better.

You exhale and gather up the letters. You can continue mentally processing all of this on horseback as well as you could here, and there's still a lot of road ahead of you.

---

The thing about being a Lady Magister, you reason a day later under the calming influence of a few fingers of Kemperbadian brandy, is that you don't have to simply take an assignment. If you show interest in something, people will be invested enough in getting your assistance that they'll answer all the questions you have without needing to actually commit to it. You don't have to make the decision based on a few sentences on parchment, you can investigate the possibilities and figure out which one takes your fancy after you're much better informed.

Bolstered by this, you begin to weigh the possibilities in your mind the next day as you travel along the Upper Reik. You can't deny that things in Karak Eight Peaks have settled down considerably since you took the position of Loremaster, and recently you've been suspecting that a more traditional Loremaster would be better able to contribute to the Karak's long-term wellbeing by helping negotiate the return and immigration of Dwarf Clans, as well as smoothing over any conflicts that might arise amongst the Dwarves. Maybe your work in Karak Eight Peaks is done, maybe it's time to move on. Or maybe not. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to investigate.



[-] Sinecure
The first possibility, of course, is that you accept the current status quo as a reward for your hard work, rather than a deficiency to be addressed. Belegar will keep finding ways to make use of your talents, and you'll have time and resources enough for your pet projects, as well as still being on hand should something go drastically wrong and need correcting.

[ ] Loremaster-at-Large of Karak Eight Peaks
Or you could push Belegar to continue sending you afield. He does want to continue to enhance the stature of Karak Eight Peaks in the Karaz Ankor, and what better way to do that than for you to travel it and solve all their strangest problems? It would also mean getting to see every corner of the Dwarven world and encounter all the strangest phenomenon it would have to offer.

[ ] The Waystone Project
Or you could turn to the biggest possible project you could pursue. The Laurelorn Elves have voiced their desire to work with you to unravel as many secrets as possible about the network in the slightly inaccurate belief that you already have some of those secrets. This might be the only chance to pool the knowledge of the Laurelorn, the Empire, and the Karaz Ankor, and for a project that could do wonderful things. Sure, you doubt you'll be able to replicate the combined efforts of the Elves and Dwarves at their heights, but every scrap of understanding of the existing network could make all three peoples better able to protect and make use of the ancient energy streams.

[ ] Markgraf of Eastern Stirland
A Markgraf exists to transform troublesome land into a land of productive and obedient tax-payers, usually after said land has been conquered. Historically, it also apparently exists to create rivals to the Elector Count that appointed them, which is probably why the letter made it so clear that no inheritable position would accompany the title of Markgraf. It still remains a position of extreme power, prestige, and influence, second only to the Elector Counts themselves. And it would be quite a feather in your cap if you could one day boast to have pacified Sylvania.

[ ] Count of Sylvania
Or you could go even further with House Weber and turn them - well, turn you - into proper aristocracy. One slice of Sylvania would be significantly easier to pacify than its entirety, and rulership in this corner of the world seems to have worked out quite well for the former Countess of Nachthafen.

[ ] Spymaster of Wissenland
Grand Count Konstantin von Liebwitz of Wissenland is known to be quite touchy about his independence, so when you spread word that the Skaven were in a civil war, he lead the forces of his county against the Skaven stronghold of Under-Nuln without any outside assistance except a single Dwarven diplomat. It went rather poorly, as the Civil War had already been decided there and what he had taken for continued fighting was mere squabbling over the spoils. Reading between the lines of the offer, it seems that there may be further consequences for that failed attack, and Wissenland wants your help to avert them.

[ ] Ambassador-at-Large to the Karaz Ankor
An Ambassador is appointed to a single polity, whereas an Ambassador-at-Large has broader rights for many more places. In this case, for the entire Karaz Ankor. A prestigious and important position, and one that might be a stepping stone into even greater positions within the administrative infrastructure of the Empire. You may not be quite as diplomatic as other candidates might be, but you pride yourself on your understanding of Dwarves and your reputation amongst them is, to put it mildly, rather good.

[ ] Bodyguard and Tutor to Prince Mandred
Though the offer came through the Chamberlain of the Imperial House, this has Heidi's fingerprints all over it. You're not sure if the offer is for exactly what it says or as a cover for beings her catspaw as she plays politics, but either way it would be a position extremely close to the levers of power, and one that would let you have a huge amount of influence over the likely future Emperor.

[ ] Governor-General of Swamp Town
This one is an oddity. The others, you can follow the logic as to why it was offered to you, specifically. But why Swamp Town? Are things there so drastic they need a powerful Wizard to get it under control? Is something particularly magical going on there? Has it become a haven for Black Magisters? Whatever the case, if you want mysteries and adventure, there's few places like the New World for encountering both on a regular basis.

[ ] Ranaldian High Priest of Kislev
Another one from Heidi, this one more directly. This is a wheel you set in motion yourself, and perhaps it's suitable that you follow it through to the end, resolve the grudge between Ranald and the Gods of Kislev, and establish the worship of your oldest friend in a new land. You did leave quite a few mysteries behind in and around Kislev that you'd quite like to get to the bottom of, and it would be fun to have the undeniable right to attend future Grand Conclaves.

[ ] Border Princess of the Howling River
With Karak Vlag returned, the only pass through the World's Edge Mountains that is not dominated by an existing Dwarfhold is Mad Dog Pass. It seems that Barak Varr wants to change that. Many have tried to make something useful of the sprawling, anarchic lands known as the Border Princes over the years, and one of the few times it was managed was almost two thousand years ago, when Emperor Sigismund the Conquerer established the province of Lichtenberg. With Dwarven support, perhaps you can follow in his footsteps.

[-] Nagarythe
For delivering a Druchii that had been working with Clan Moulder to the Nagarythian Ulthuan Ambassador, you were given a token that will allow you to live and fight alongside them for ninety-nine days. There's no time limit on it except for your lifespan, all you have to do is arrive in Lothern and present the token. You did just complete quite an adventure, but perhaps that whetted your appetite enough for another.

[-] Research Sabbatical
You can't deny that your research projects have been piling up, and it might be nice to take some time off to concentrate on getting through those. But it would mean no immediate challenges to keep you engaged, no employer resources to draw on, and no payroll to keep the Wizards you've gotten used to working with around and focused.


This vote is for which possibilities Mathilde will investigate. No commitment is being made here, the results of this vote will be the roles Mathilde looks further into, so vote for whatever ones you are interested in. Some of the possibilities are marked [-]. This signifies there's not really anything to investigate, but they're still listed here for reference purposes. You can still vote for them if you really want to and if someone votes for them by accident, it's not a problem. Don't take the results of this vote as an ironclad indication of what the thread's interested in - being curious enough to want to find out more is not the same as being interested enough to dedicate the next swathe of the quest to it.


-There will be a three hour moratorium. If there's another position or project you want Mathilde to consider, feel free to suggest it.
- I say again, this is not the vote for selecting Mathilde's next assignment. This is for what she's interested enough in to find out more about.
- There's no set cut-off points for what will win. I'll decide based on what the final vote looks like. Simply vote for what you like the sound of and want to know more about.
-The job offers were originally posted here; the announcement from Karaz-a-Karak was originally posted here.
- Mathilde missed the Karak Vlag meeting with Thorgrim because I tried to write it a bunch of times and it wasn't working. Mathilde won't miss out on any accolades because of this, they've just been delayed a little.
- The decision for how/whether to spend Mathilde's boons and such will be made after the next assignment is locked in.

 

[Boney]

Spoiler: Voting results

Tally
397 votes total (a new record for DL)

[264] The Waystone Project
[190] Bodyguard and Tutor to Prince Mandred
[166] Markgraf of Eastern Stirland
[157] Border Princess of the Howling River
[144] Governor-General of Swamp Town
[131] Loremaster-at-Large of Karak Eight Peaks
[131] Spymaster of Wissenland
[118] Ranaldian High Priest of Kislev
[110] Ambassador-at-Large to the Karaz Ankor
[49] Count of Sylvania

By the time your gyrocopter takes off from the wooded plateau atop Karak Norn, you've settled on a list of opportunities you'll look into further. Notable amongst these is Barak Varr's plans for the Border Princes for the simple reason that you'll be passing through there on the way back to Karak Eight Peaks, and you'll be able to pop in for a chat on the subject while there - if not with the King himself on such short notice, then at least with someone who'll be able to answer your questions.

---

As you'd expected, King Byrrnoth isn't available at zero notice, but you do end up in front of Barak Varr's Varrakatuli, which translates to something like the 'Master of Oceanic Cartography'. Every ship that plies the waves takes soundings with lead lines and triangulates its position based on the coastlines, but Dwarven ships do so with exacting precision and every measurement eventually flows back into the office of the Varrakatuli to be distilled into charts. It's said they're of such accuracy that they can be used to navigate in heavy fog by depth soundings alone.

Elamina Skarrenbryn of Clan Gunnarsson spreads the map out on the table, weighing down the corners with intricately-carved stone depictions of various sea-beasts. The range of recorded depths of what seems like every foot of the Howling River is marked off in intricate detail, and in stark contrast the towns and villages of the area are pencilled lightly in so they can be removed without having to redraw the entire map. "There are seven major rivers in the Border Princes," she says, "excluding Wrecker's Run, as both banks of it are considered Tilean by most. Each of these rivers has a Dwarfhold somewhere in the headwaters." She points at the map, going west to east. "Karak Izor, Karak Hirn, Karak Gantuk, Karak Angazhar, Karaz-a-Karak, and Karak Eight Peaks via Ulrikadrin. The only exception remaining is the Howling River, as the Varfund outposts were abandoned after the Silver Road Wars, and the Clans that once guarded it moved to the Grey Mountains."

"And now the security of these rivers is more important than ever," you say, nodding.

"Yes, and for a few different reasons. Most prominent being Karak Eight Peaks, of course - it is growing more self-sufficient, but that simply means that instead of importing staples it's beginning to generate more traditional and more valuable commerce, and barely a year goes by without a lot of gold or silver flowing north and some new shipment of weaponry going south. Karak Azul is not buying quite as much now as it did during those first few years, but it's still an old and wealthy Hold that wishes to trade with the world now that it can. And, of course, the Canal project demands a great deal of supplies, and once it's completed the rivers will only grow busier as trade begins to flow up and down the Skull River. Despite the rapid expansion of the Slotchokri, trade will outstrip our ability to defend it for years, possibly decades to come."

You run your eyes up and down the Howling River. It's a neat story, but if piracy was their only concern there were much easier solutions. Even your untrained eyes can recognize a half-dozen places a boom chain could be strung across the river. "And the Pass itself? The last pass through the World's Edge Mountains not controlled by the Karaz Ankor, isn't it?"

She nods reluctantly. "With the Marienburg situation and the Canal project consuming so much attention, most have so far overlooked that the Karaz Ankor is on the brink of being able to exert complete control over all overland trade with the East."

You nod thoughtfully. "But an aligned human polity on the flatlands... well, that might boost trade since you wouldn't have to worry about the locals robbing the caravans, but you've got a grander ambition. What are Barak Varr's plans for Mad Dog Pass?"

She hesitates. "We plan to have plans for Mad Dog Pass." You're surprised at that - for them not to have a course planned out already must mean they're truly scrambling. "Most of our resources are tied up with the Canal project for now. But whatever those plans end up being, the current powers in the area would be a great hindrance, and a friendly power would be a great help. And most of all, we want to have someone in place to prevent some other power from realizing that Mad Dog Pass is the only still unclaimed route through the World's Edge Mountains, and moving to claim it for themselves."

That makes sense. None of the Old World's major powers would be daft enough to try to seize a Dwarfhold, but Mad Dog Pass was never home to proper Dwarfholds, only outposts for them to project power between Karaz-a-Karak and Karak Eight Peaks. That makes it up for grabs - and with the Karaz Ankor's population already stretched thin by the reclamation of Karak Eight Peaks, the Dwarves aren't in a good position to make that grab. "Okay, that makes sense." You tap the map and lean closer to try to read the pencil marks. "Tell me about these princes."

"There are two major enough for us to know of, operating out of the two primary population centers. To the south, a loose collection of bandits and pirates operating out of Mirstadt, and to the north, a Tilean mercenary band that has taken Zenres as their base. Since they don't seem to clash we suspect they have some sort of accord, and there's certainly an element of symbiosis - without mercenaries nobody would feel safe enough to travel through the area and the bandits would have nobody to raid, but without bandits there'd be no reason for caravans to hire the mercenaries."

"Do we know what mercenary company it is?"

She shrugs. "Not one of the ones we regularly work with. All we know for sure is they use spears."

Since she'd already said Tilean, that doesn't narrow it down much. At least you can rule out Braganza's Besiegers. "What do you know about the terrain in the area?"

"Mostly flat, growing hilly as you approach the mountains. The river itself is fresh and wholesome, though too fast for fishing on any scale. The soil is thin but there are still those that manage to coax crops out of it, and the grasses are sufficient to graze herds on if you can protect them. There's minable quantities of iron ores in the foothills, and every now and then gold flecks are found in the Howling River, though we've never managed to find the source. There's supposedly ruins of some sort in the area, but they say the same of everywhere in the region."

"And greenskins?"

"Bloody Spear Night Goblins in the mountains, Black Spider Forest Goblins in the Forest of Gloom to the north, Iron Claw Orcs in the plains to the south. But the lands around the Howling River seem to be too far from any of their population centers for them to be more than a nuisance."

A nuisance by Dwarven standards could be considered quite threatening by others. "What support would King Byrrnoth be willing to provide to a theoretical Umgi of proven trustworthiness who might be carving a principality out of the area?"

"Generous monetary and logistic support to establish it, and after that 'most favoured nation' treatment for imports and exports. King Byrrnoth does not want to be seen as directly intervening to prevent too much attention turning this way, but we can organize arrangements with suitably discreet and trustworthy mercenary companies. He is also willing to establish a treaty granting sanctuary rights to all citizens of a theoretical friendly principality."

That last point comes as a surprise to you. When a Waaagh or some more esoteric threat sweeps into the Border Princes, the population flees westwards to the valleys of the Vaults, where Karak Izor grants them shelter in the valleys that surround the Dwarfhold. Barak Varr has never extended the same protection to the inhabitants of the Border Princes, possibly due to a lack of sheltered valleys to keep refugees a safe distance away from the Hold itself. Shelter being available at Barak Varr would make a lasting nation a lot more possible than if the nearest sanctuary was at Karak Izor. "That answers the questions I had. Thank you."

She nods. "Of course. Fair travels, Loremaster."

---

You built the foundations of the plan for the Waystone project during the gyrocopter trip, but working off half-remembered skimming is grossly insufficient. Once you're properly settled back in, including letting Belegar know you'll have a formal report ready the next morning and letting Panoramia know that you've returned intact and giving her ample opportunity to confirm that for herself, you settle into your library, mildly handicapped by Wolf's continued attempts to climb into your lap. You dig through your library for books on an eclectic range of subjects as you begin to put together a rough outline of the Waystone project, should you decide to embark upon it. This isn't something that could be covered by an interview, as the person who would be conducting the project is you, as you try to bring together the disparate scraps of knowledge possessed by man, Elf, and Dwarf.

The first piece of the puzzle: the Eonir. Most Imperial accounts describe them as fae woodland spirits of which little is known for sure, but Dwarven ones go back considerably further, all the way to a research expedition sent by the Everqueen into Laurelorn during the reign of the second Phoenix King, Bel Shanaar the Explorer. In time it sprouted into the two cities of Tor Lithanel and Kor Immarmor, and at first they were simply outposts of the Kingdoms of Ulthuan. Then during the civil war when Malekith and Caledor I tore Ulthuan apart over who was the rightful third Phoenix King, the Old World colonies declared themselves Elthin-Arvan, the eleventh Kingdom of Ulthuan. After Malekith was expelled and Caledor I was slain by assassins, the newly-crowned fourth Phoenix King, Caledor II, quite firmly suppressed this attempt at independence and brought the High Council of Elthin-Arvan back under the direct control of Ulthuan, breeding quite a bit of resentment amongst the Old World Elves who chafed under the rule of an island that many of them had not seen for centuries.

Then Caledor II shaved the Dwarven Ambassador and began the War of Vengeance, and the full force of the Karaz Ankor fell upon the Old World colonies.

By the time Caledor II fell during the Battle of Three Towers, slain by High King Gotrek Starbreaker, the devastation of the Elthin-Arvan was almost complete. Athel Numiel was destroyed, later to be rebuilt as Pelzburg, then Dorogo, then Kislev City. Kor Vanaeth was destroyed, leaving a single standing tower that humans would build around, first as Reichsdorf, then Reikdorf, and finally Altdorf, and College rumour has it that the central tower of the Celestial College is that same tower. Athel Maraya was destroyed, though its existence is firmly rejected by the Cult of Taal who insist that their ancestors were the first to build a city within the great crater that surrounds modern Talabheim. Tor Alessi was besieged fourteen times by the Dwarves, and the final time became the final battle of the War of Vengeance, and the buildings that survived later formed the core of Castle L'Anguille in Bretonnia. Only three significant Elven population centers remained in the Old World: the port-city of Sith-Rionnasc'namishathir, the scattered settlements of Loren Faen, and Tor Lithanel of Loren Lauroi.

Sith Rionnasc is easy to explain, because a river delta surrounded by swamps and supplied by sea is not the easiest nut to crack. It was later abandoned anyway after the fifth Phoenix King, Caradryel the Peacemaker, ordered all Elves to return to Ulthuan to participate in its defence against a renewed assault by Malekith and his followers. The ruins they left behind were settled by either the Jutones as the capital of the Jutonsryk or the Endals as the capital of Weysterland, depending on which version of history you read, and it is now known as Marienburg. The Elves of Loren Faen survived by joining with the forest itself, entering into strange pacts with the tree spirits native to the area and over time becoming known as the Asrai of Athel Loren. But Tor Lithanel survived by turning to the 'Grey Lords', the organization founded by the original research expedition and bolstered by Archmages exiled from Ulthuan for unsavoury experiments. When a Dwarven Throng destroyed Kor Immarmor and were on their way to do the same to Tor Lithanel, the leaders of the city called upon the Grey Lords, and the Throng never emerged from the forest they were marching through. As a bastion of safety in a sea of angry Dwarves it swelled with Elven refugees from across the Old World, and that immigration formed the basis for their modern society consisting of the aristocratic 'Cityborn' descendants of the pre-War settlers and the 'Forestborn' underclass that live in treetop dwellings. And presumably the Grey Lords still fit into there somewhere, enjoying the protections and privileges that their defence of Tor Lithanel bought them.

What this amounts to is that the city at the heart of Laurelorn has stood for over five thousand years, and was originally founded by magical researchers. That is, to put it mildly, rather promising.

Since then they've been largely isolationist, but much less violently so than the Asrai. After a rocky start with the now-extinct province of Drakwald's attempts to conquer them early in the Empire's history, they actually came to the aid of the Empire during the destruction of Drakwald by Beastmen, and then later during Mandred Skavenslayer's war against the Skaven. Over time relationships improved to the point that they actually signed a treaty allowing limited logging by Nordland in 1700. But something must have changed, and by 2168 things had soured to the extent that Laurelorn's army besieged Nordland's capital of Salzenmund until the Grand Baron of the time begged forgiveness. You're not sure if Nordland failed to learn a lesson from this, or if this emboldened Laurelorn to start reconsidering their concessions. The different books you have on the subject reach wildly different conclusions about who is to blame.

The second piece of the puzzle are the Dwarves, who need no introduction. They're quite likely to be difficult as the only ones likely to have relevant information are the Runelords, who have a religious obligation to be secretive about runelore. What you're hoping is that they don't consider the Waystones as falling under their aegis, either due to the involvement of the Elves in their original creation or because their knowledge of how to create them is lost, and therefore they'd be able to be part of a joint investigation into them. You also have hopes that they might still have in storage somewhere items seized during the War of Vengeance. Dwarves don't loot, but being very thorough about taking trophies isn't looting, nor is the seizing of reimbursements.

Last, but hopefully not least, are the possible human contributions to the project. Teclis did not reveal much of the workings of the Waystones to the Colleges, but what he did reveal lays a foundation, and Teclis is not the only source of mystical secrets in the world. You know from Panoramia that the Jade Order knows more of their workings than what Teclis said, and you wouldn't be surprised if any of the others knew more than they let on, including your own. Each of them come from mystical lineages, some very ancient indeed, and though the Waystones themselves are of Elven manufacture, many are supported by Henge networks of apparently human make. Someone had to have made them, and their descendants may still exist among the Colleges or the Cults or both. And there's always the many libraries of the Old World and beyond, and the many arms you'd have to twist to get access to the most interesting.

The more you think about it, the more it seems like the Waystone project is going to be less about pure research and more about getting all the extant information in one place and getting as many relevant organizations on board as possible, at least at first. There's no chance you'd be able to reverse-engineer the world-spanning masterpiece of the Elves and Dwarves at their heights from scratch - older and wiser than you have tried and failed. The same would likely apply to any given researcher from the Eonir or the Karaz Ankor. But together you might succeed where individually you would all fail.

---

The next morning, you go over your many notes from the Expedition. You'd spent some of your downtime during the last leg to Praag going over what your report would be, and then that announcement from Karaz-a-Karak, or more specifically the date of said announcement, had thrown an unexpected complication in. You've got strong circumstantial evidence that Karaz-a-Karak is on some level aware of the flow of magical energy from the Karaks, which could be seen as supporting King Belegar's belief that Karaz-a-Karak is knowingly stealing that energy. Do you include that conclusion in your report to him?

[ ] Yes
[ ] No


- There will be a one hour moratorium.
- The remainder of the explored options will come over the next few updates. I've not yet decided exactly where the cut-off will end up being - I'll do at least the top five, and might extend that to top seven.
- More detailed reunitings will be available in coming updates.
- A lot of the Eonir lore here does come from WFRP 4e, but not all of it will be exactly as it appears there, and that doesn't mean that everything from 4e is quest canon. Looking at you, Sudenland.

 

[Boney]

Spoiler: Voting results

Tally

[*] Yes

As he was in the Karag anyway today for a meeting with Francesco Caravello, King Belegar comes to you for the post-Expedition debrief, and you set your sitting room up with the appropriate maps and with a few other reference materials that would cover tangents the discussion might head in. With a nod from him the Hammerers accept your offer of a fresh keg for them to split out on the balcony, so you and the King can talk in private of some rather sensitive topics. From the notes you had sent over to him yesterday and the circulation of gossip between the Dwarven Holds, he knows the broad strokes of what's happened, it's only the details that he needs to be brought up to date on.

"First off, Karag Dum," you begin. "I'm still much lighter on details than I would like to be, but they've bound or tricked or reached an accord with the current incarnation of Cor-Dum as well as a number of its followers. The full details are in the notes I had sent over, but the main point is that Borek's reaction and comments seem to indicate that however they did it, it's a possibility that he was already aware of and felt the rest of the Karaz Ankor would disapprove of. The observations that I and the other Wizards were able to make line up with what we saw, so I don't think it's any kind of trickery or illusion - Cor-Dum really is there and so are a number of Beastmen, though he appeared to have his aura of mutation suppressed until it was unleashed while it was being attacked by some Kurgan."

"So the Kurgan were opposed to the Beastmen?" Belegar asks, his brow furrowed.

"It seemed more like some sort of initiation or feat of bravery than a full-blown attack, there were many more horsemen watching than were trying to press the attack. They broke off as soon as one of them was mutated by exposure to Cor-Dum, which they seemed pleased with."

"So it can't really be taken as indication that they're still opposed to Chaos."

"That's my interpretation," you reply with a nod. "They were also maintaining the flow of energy southwards, but I don't know if they had any way to know that it had been hijacked to keep Karak Vlag trapped in the Aethyr, so that can't really be taken as proof one way or the other, either."

Belegar considers that. "There's been communication flowing back and forth with gyrocopter messengers among the Kings of the Karaz Ankor, and the growing consensus seems to be that they've either completely fallen or they've turned to methods so radical that their fall is merely a matter of time. Do you have any insight that might contradict this?" You consider it, and shake your head. "Then so be it. That they seem to have no desire to explain themselves strikes me as the strongest indication that they're no longer to be trusted. Either whatever they've done is unforgivable, or they're so far gone that they no longer care what the rest of the Karaz Ankor thinks of them. It might be best to write them off and let them fade from history. They can do no more damage from where they are than the rest of the Chaos Wastes do already."

You nod. "Especially with High Pass once more in friendly hands." You recount your discovery of the defences behind the magic keeping it sealed in the Warp, and the events that followed.

"Fallen Slayers," he says heavily. "I never would have thought it possible, but I suppose what takes place in the Aethyr has no obligation to possibility. Who knows what sort of torments and trickery the Dark Gods would be capable of in the heart of their own realms."

"I don't know how many survived-"

"According to word from Karaz-a-Karak, two thirds, give or take," Belegar interrupts. "Twenty thousand."

You take a moment to process that, then smile. "I'm glad so many did. That supports my suspicion that they were keeping the pressure high and casualties low to 'harvest' as many of the Dwarves as they can, whether their intention was to turn them into shock troops or just for their own amusement. If all they wanted was to wipe out the Karak, it would have been trivial for them to do so once it had been pulled into their realm."

Belegar nods. "I shudder to think what ten thousand fallen Slayers would have done to Dwarven morale if they had come as a surprise during the next Great War. Our fallen kin in the east have already taught us that it's not impossible, but we've had plenty of time to grow used to them. Being suddenly confronted with an entirely new twisting of who we are could have been devastating."

"There might still be thousands in the service of the Chaos Gods. Hopefully once they've adapted to their return, Karak Vlag should be able to give us some idea how many extant fallen there might be, and how many of their missing numbers died in the Karak's defence."

"With the element of surprise gone, they're largely defanged," Belegar says confidently. "Their appearance on a battlefield now will only serve to spur us to greater heights."

You consider the best way to segue into the next matter. "Do you know when Karaz-a-Karak learned how many of the survivors there were?"

"At least a month ago. Thorgrim supposedly went there himself to coax them out from behind their defences."

"And the conclave's announcement was dated shortly after that."

"Ancestors forbid he acknowledges the good done by an Umgi," he says with a frown. "Much better to announce some drivel about Dwarven souls in Umgi bodies."

Not quite how you'd word it, but it matches your own suspicions about the announcement. "From my understanding of Dwarves, that's not an announcement that would have come quickly."

"Likely not. He must have called them in the moment he heard Karak Vlag had returned. A gyrocopter from High Pass, I assumed."

You shake your head. "We had originally planned to have a gyrocopter with the Expedition, but we ended up using that deck space for Asarnil and Deathfang. We sent a Knight back to have a letter sent through the post from Praag."

He frowns, and bends over the table to peer at the map, measuring distances with his fingers. "Kislev's horses are supposed to be exceptional," he says suspiciously, "but not quite that exceptional."

"And that only would have got the message halfway," you confirm. "From there it would have been the Empire's Roadwardens."

"So Thorgrim knew before he got the message?"

"The timetable doesn't make sense otherwise."

He considers that, and his frown deepens. "The flow of stolen energy resuming?"

"I checked before we left High Pass, and it had resumed. So that seems to be the most likely explanation."

"If true, that would prove that he knows of it. It's not some forgotten Golden Age relic still turning in the darkness."

"Additionally, Borek knew of that flow of energy, and seemed surprised that I did." You double check your notes. "'Did Ulthuan tell your Order, or did King Belegar inherit secrets', is what he asked."

"He was speaking Khazalid?" You nod. "Inherit secrets..." You've already gone through the thought process that Belegar is, though he might be able to extract something new from it. He speaks Khazalid natively and has done for many times your age, after all. Kalangromthit thindrongazgalak - no connotations of subterfuge as might be present in a Reikspiel translation. It was hidden in the sense that a vault might be hidden, as the proper protection for something valuable.

"He believed that's why the High King did not contribute more to the Expedition, as he would have concluded that both northern Karaks had fallen due to the cutting off of their energy flow."

He considers that. "From what I've been told by Dwarves that lived through it, the Karaz Ankor's ability to project power was all but crippled by the losses during the Great War. That's why Thorgrim was able to get the Engineers Guild to accept the crash-development of the Everpeak Aircorps, because it was that or nothing for decades. But it's true that he contributed more to the Karak Eight Peaks Expedition than to the Karag Dum one - that was mostly Zhufbar and Karak Kadrin."

"'Karag Dum remembers much that others have forgotten, even when some might prefer we didn't. Even when we might prefer we didn't.' In hindsight, I think that last bit was a reference to whatever he feared Karag Dum had resorted to in his absence, which turned out to be correct."

"'Some might prefer we didn't'," Belegar echoes. Umdawal sarbrynak binmhornak. That he used 'umdawal' for the 'some' might indicate that they're Dwarves, but it might not - Khazalid doesn't really have a race-neutral collective noun, so 'daw' is often defaulted to even when it isn't technically correct. So it could be taken as a general reference to secrets that the Marauder Tribes might prefer be forgotten, like the engineering, metalwork, and Runecraft that they had used to strike them down for generations. "Blast him for speaking in riddles." You nod firmly. You'd thought similar many times over the past few weeks. "Still. Karag Dum knew about it. If it was entirely to Karaz-a-Karak's benefit, they could have used that to pressure Karaz-a-Karak into supporting them - they'd called for aid a number of times in the lead-up to the Great War."

"Thorek once spoke of a rift in the Runesmiths Guild between Karag Dum and the rest of them, as they'd insisted the true threat was north while everyone else was concerned with Ulthuan's movements in Bretonnia."

"How bad did it get?"

You remember Thorek's promise to tear the Guild asunder if his suspicions proved correct. "Bad," you say bleakly.

"Would Karag Dum have been willing to resort to blackmail?"

"They resorted to Cor-Dum as a bodyguard. I think they very much would have preferred blackmail, if it was an option."

"And yet Borek ran around the Karaz Ankor for eighteen decades and never got more than accommodation and half an ear from Thorgrim." Belegar frowns as he processes that. "So either Karag Dum benefited or was complicit in some way..."

"Or there's more to it than Karaz-a-Karak benefitting at the expense of the other Dwarfholds," you finish.

Belegar scowls as he considers it further. "I'll have to give this matter more thought," he finally concedes.

"The other matter I wanted to discuss-"

He sighs. "Did you pull some other bizarre miracle on your way back?"

You recall your visit to Kraka Ravnvake. "Not for lack of trying. No, this is a more in general sort of thing. I'm wondering what the future duties of Loremaster Weber would be."

He nods. "The Karak is a lot more secure and orderly than it was when the Council was formed, and the same can't be said for the entire Karaz Ankor. The position is yours for as long as you want it and I'd be more than happy to keep you in reserve for when the next disaster comes knocking on our gates, but if you want to go further afield there's all sorts of ways you could be useful by building goodwill amongst the other Karaks. There was a time when every Karak lived as Karak Azul once did, where other Karaks were some theoretical thing that you heard from a few times a decade, but in this age of gyrocopters we're much more a united people, and that's on the verge of becoming more so with the canals. I want Karak Eight Peaks to retake its place at the forefront of the Karaz Ankor, and you could be a big part of that."

"Do you have anything specific in mind?" you ask curiously.

"I'm sure Karak Vlag could use assistance in making sense of the world they've returned to." He thinks for a moment more. "Zhufbar has a nest of Fire Dragons in one of their upper halls that has resisted every conventional attempt to evict them. Karak Norn always has strange and mystical troubles of one sort or another. Barak Varr has some sort of plan for Sartosa, which was an outpost of theirs long ago, but in modern times has proven able to resist any conventional assault - and there's also talk about something in the Border Princes to stamp out the pirate problems, you might be able to help with whatever that turns out to be. Karaz-a-Karak might be meaning to take a poke at Mount Silverspear - when I met with the Grey Mountains Clans they let slip that they're apparently also in talks with Karaz-a-Karak. If that's the case, they'd probably need something novel to avoid it going the same way as the Silver Road Wars. The current Emperor is asking for Dwarven assistance in securing under-Ubersreik... and undoubtedly there's plenty more that I'd hear word of once the Karaz Ankor realizes that you'd be available to help out."

You nod thoughtfully. "That does sound interesting. I'll give it some thought over the next few months. Speaking of, what did you want me doing now that I'm back?"

He smiles. "On top of recovering Karak Vlag and ending the uncertainty around Karag Dum? You were mining the seam from both ends in the lead-up to the Expedition. If you're absolutely desperate for something to keep your hands busy then the Lhune Depths could use poking around in, but don't feel obliged if you need to spend some time recovering. As much as you do your best to prove otherwise, I know humans aren't quite as sturdy as Dwarves."

---

Pfaffbach's central keep isn't anywhere near the size of Eagle Castle, but its furnishings are much more luxurious than its modern size would lead one to expect. You suppose it's only natural, as this was once the holiday home of the current Empress in her previous guise. You're not sure if Roswita has grown used to them as the deserved trappings of a Grand Countess or is overlooking them entirely in favour of seeing this as the most central point to oversee the final Sylvanian holdouts.

"I've been hearing that the siege is on the verge of ending for years now," you say as you slip into the room.

"So have I," she says distractedly, staring broodingly down at a map. "But each year they get measurably weaker, and I can't justify putting my own impatience over needless Stirlandian deaths. I'm currently thinking I might use their soon-to-be-vacated titles to bring in more assistance. Siegfriedhof seems to thrive under the Black Guard, after all. Maybe another Order could follow their example."

"Or you might lure in a Lord Magister," you say lightly.

"Or that. I was wondering how long it would take you to get that letter. How was the Chaos Wastes?"

"Plenty of chaos, but I wouldn't call the trip a waste."

"So I hear. Do you really have the soul of a Dwarf?"

You shrug. "That's what the Dwarven Conclave says. I don't really know enough about souls to say one way or the other with any confidence."

She considers that, then nods. "It's out of my area of expertise too. I might have more to work with if it was out terrorizing the countryside. So you're here to talk about a title?"

"I'm open to the possibility. Of Markgräfin, specifically."

"Right." She taps the map forcefully. "Settling the matter of Sylvania is why I took the title of Grand Countess, but the oath I swore when I became it was to Stirland, not Sylvania, and I'm neglecting that oath with every season spent here. One way to resolve that is..." She frowns, considering her words. "Despite my misgivings when we first met, you've proven beyond any reasonable doubt that you're worthy of absolute trust. If you became Markgräfin of Sylvania, I could turn my full attention to Stirland without concerns."

"And what would that entail, exactly?"

"You would operate out of the County of Drakenhof, which would include Regrakhof and Teufelheim-"

"Teufelheim is part of Drakenhof?"

She nods. "On paper everything south of the South Stir is part of the County, even if it hasn't been enforced for Gods know how long. I'd make it clear to whoever become the Barons and Counts that they're to follow your lead and if there's any that I'm even a little unsure of I'll leave you with signed arrest orders for them, just in case. Your main priority is rooting out the remaining Vampires and Necromancers, and I'm sure there'd be plenty. We'll be levying taxes right from the start because it'll give us justification for digging through financials, but they'd be nominal and you'll have broad powers to waive them wherever necessary to secure cooperation. I don't care if Stirland doesn't see a penny from Sylvania for the next century, I just want to make sure it doesn't see a Vampire from it."

You nod. "Have the locals been causing trouble so far?"

"No, but that's with the entire Army of Stirland marching around the place. There's going to be true believer Vampire Cultists out there, whether or not there's any Vampires left to pull their strings. Those in power lived very comfortably in Sylvania when they were able to pay their taxes in other people's blood, and they won't give that up without a fight, and it's going to be the sort of fight fought by Witch Hunters and Grey Wizards, not the sort fought by the Army of Stirland."

"Ah. Yes. Speaking of which..."

She hesitates. "My preference would be the Holy Order of the Templars of Sigmar, but I'd understand if you'd rather bring in another organization to assist with that. The Longshanks have expressed an interest, as have Zhufbar's Order of the Stone Wall, which you'd probably get along with. There's already the Black Guard and the Dreamwalkers here, so I don't think the Fellowship would be a good fit. Priory of the Spear, maybe? Helhunten's? I hear the current Andanti is fairly skilled, or the Knights of Everlasting Light... it'd be entirely in your hands."

"What of the matter of religion?"

She leans back in her chair and sighs. "There's never been any sort of success trying to ram Sigmar down the throat of the Sylvanians, though I've been hearing from plenty who are eager to make another attempt. So, Rhya maybe? Verena? Myrmidia? Kasmir has some ideas involving old local Gods, and truth be told I don't care who they pray to as long as it's not a Vampire or a forbidden God - I'm sure there'll be plenty rushing to fill any vacuum."

"That's a lot of latitude," you note.

"Sylvania's not going to be brought to heel by someone shackled by micromanagement. You'd have full power to do whatever it takes to make sure that when one of the von Carsteins wakes back up, Sylvania doesn't immediately revert to their control."

"And the duration?"

"As long as it takes, as decided by yourself. Even if you become another Elspeth von Draken, if you feel the job's not done, then you can be delivering reports to my great grandchildren."

"That's a lot of trust."

She runs a hand over her face. "If I'd given it to you earlier, I'd already be done here. I like to think that I don't make the same mistakes twice."

---

The citizens of Altdorf take pride in cultivating an air of indifference to Wizards doing Wizard things, so it's something of a surprise when your arrival in Nuln gets a similar lack of reaction. It takes you a moment to remember that Nuln has been home to a much more formidable figure for generations, and your entrance can't come close to comparing to that of a Carmine Dragon.

Nuln is a city of castles. There's the hilltop Palace that once used to be the home of the Emperor, of course, but Nuln's Cathedral of Sigmar was where the worship of Sigmar was born and is built as an expression of martial might, rather than more traditional piety. Nuln is the capital of Myrmidia's worship within the Empire, and the Temple of Myrmidia is the size of a city block and as fortified as one would expect of the Goddess of War. The College of Engineering, little-known would-be rival to the Imperial Gunnery School, is a demonstration of the art it promises to teach its students, and the Imperial Gunnery School is much more sprawling but also much more bristling with every kind of artillery imaginable. And around the entire city are twenty-foot walls patrolled by the 'Blue Heron' mercenary band, who were originally Tilean but have been on retainer in Nuln for so long that it would take quite some searching to find a Tilean accent among them.

You wonder how much defence it all would prove against attack from below.

You need wait only a minute before you're shown into the dining hall of Nuln's Palace, where Grand Count Konstantin von Liebwitz has half the table filled with food and the other with paperwork. "Pull up a chair," he says as you approach. "Grab a drumstick if you've a mind to. You're here about the Spymaster job?"

"Yes, your Grace."

"Kazrik raves about you, and from how you played the rats against each other under Eight Peaks, I can understand why. We tried something similar here, and, well," he waves a hand missing three fingers at you. "Got off lightly, too. And from what I understand, they're not the sort to forgive and forget."

"That's one way to put it," you agree.

"Now, I understand that you Grey Wizards aren't allowed to play politics, and if you take the job I won't be pointing you anywhere outside of Wissenland's borders, it'd be entirely about the rats." He frowns and considers. "Maybe Cults and Beastmen and that sort of thing too if they pop up while you're here, but you get what I mean. Enemies of the Empire." He drains his tankard and then puts it down and taps it, then looks up and frowns. "Right, I sent them out. Rats are a secret, after all. What's that about? Nobody can give me a straight answer."

"They call it the 'Conspiracy of Silence'. The theory is if they think we don't know about them, then they'll feel safe enough to fight amongst themselves rather than uniting against humanity."

"Does it work?"

You shrug. "Seems to. As far as I know, we haven't lost an Emperor to them since Mandred Skavenslayer."

"I always thought he was a story for children, chasing the rats through the street with his hammer. Anyway, apparently we've got Clan Skab under us, whatever that means."

You're glad you checked your books before setting out. "The nine most powerful Skaven Clans have a seat on their ruling Council. Clan Skab is one of them. They produce an inordinate amount of Stormvermin, the black-furred warrior caste, and train them to a higher standard than other Clans, and a lot of their wealth and influence comes from selling their services as bodyguards."

"So, none of the tricks with monsters and strange guns?"

"They probably do have them. That'd be what they'd spend their wealth and influence acquiring."

"Damn. Anyway, that's the score. You're good at killing rats, and we've got a lot of rats that need killing. You'll have all the resources of Wissenland behind you, and if you're like the Dark Lady and want to build a creepy tower, you can have the Iron Isle - it's the size of a city block but the Dwarves get annoyed if we try to do anything with it, but they like you, right?"

"Why do they care?"

"Used to be part of some old fortress of theirs, they say."

"Kazad Kro?"

He shrugs. "Maybe? I thought they were just screwing with us. Dwarves build in mountains, after all."

"Things were different, once." From your recent readings on the War of Vengeance, you know that Kazad Kro was the wealthiest of the Dwarven cities built in the Reik basin. The so-called 'Hill Dwarves' of the lowlands took the brunt of Elven attacks before the war swung in favour of the Dwarves, and most of them either returned to the mountains or started new lives amongst the human tribes of the Belthani that lived in the forests. In time the ancestors of the Empire arrived and conquered or assimilated the Belthani, and those Dwarves became the first of the Imperial Dwarves, and some of their descendants probably call Nuln home once more. No wonder they'd be touchy about the home of their fallen glory.

"This is why Wissenland needs you. Put an enemy in front of me and I'll fight them. Put a politician in front of me and I'll yell at them. But secret underground rat bases? Ancient Dwarven history? I need someone who can sort that out, and when I asked people who know about this sort of thing, your name kept coming up. I'll pay well, I'll give you whatever support you need, and if you want to get up to creepy Wizard stuff in your off hours, Nuln is used to that sort of thing."

---

The Laurel's Rest is one of the most expensive and exclusive hostels in Altdorf, and one would expect that even a Lord Magister would have to marshal some resources to finagle their way in. If the ladies-in-waiting who accompany the Empress everywhere are harbouring any sort of grudge that you'd somehow managed to slip effortlessly into the position of the Empress' confidante, they might have expected that this is where you'd get your comeuppance. If so, they shall have to live with disappointment, as the Greatsword bodyguard are used to you, the doorman is trivial to slip by, and when your presence is noticed, it's by the Halfling kitchen overseers who take it in turns to shake you by the hand and bombard you with questions about goings-on in Karak Eight Peaks, where they apparently have kin. When you manage to extricate yourself, you slip into a chair across from Heidi and conceal a smirk as the hangers-on are dismissed to the other side of the room.

"He has been insufferable," is the first thing she says to you. "You're a bad influence on Him. He never fought other Gods until you entered the picture."

"This time was His idea," you say, smiling. "He wanted to make nice with Kislev."

"Do you know what's up with that? He keeps being smugly mysterious about it all."

"Something to do with Him getting the Ancient Widow's siblings killed, apparently."

She frowns. "Siblings? I mean, husband would make sense, because I assume She had to have one once. But I didn't really see Her as the sibling type."

"The Ice Witches seem to think that Ursun and Dazh and Tor are Her brothers," you say with a shrug.

She considers that, then waves a hand dismissively. "Someone else's problem. Maybe your problem, actually. Is that why you're here?"

"No, I was curious about the 'bodyguard' thing."

"And you're not talking to the Chamberlain?" You give her a flat look, and she smiles. "Yes, it's my idea. For now he's a bit young to be tutored in your sort of thing, but nobody's too young to be assassinated. I won't waste you on day-to-day bodyguarding, but there's a few occasions a year that are too public for my liking that I'd like you there for, and I want you to sort out his day-to-day bodyguards - recruit, vet, and equip. We've got Greatswords, but they're a blunt instrument. From what I've heard, you saw for yourself how easily they can be bypassed when you were a mere Journeywoman."

You nod thoughtfully. "And the rest of the time?"

"Politics, my dear. I went and looked up those Articles of yours, and as long as I get my darling Luitpold to make it an order, you wouldn't be restricted by the Grey Order's rules. He comes second, they come fourth."

You mentally review Article 1 and nod. 'Laws and ideals of their Order' comes after 'he who is rightfully elected Emperor of Sigmar's Holy Empire'. "What did you have in mind, specifically?"

"Luitpold isn't a young man, and Emperor's a job where many never have the chance to grow old. If something happens to him, Gods forbid, then it needs to be Mandred that's next. Electors don't like child Emperors, and I want to be able to count on their support should the worst happen. If there was a vote tomorrow, it'd almost certainly be Grand Duke Feuerbach of Talabecland. Failing that, Hertwig or van Hal."

You take a moment to process that. "You think Roswita could be Empress?"

"Of course. She's all but conquered Sylvania, she's cozy with the Cult of Sigmar, and she still has a marriage that could seal the right alliance. Great compromise candidate. Point is, it will take work to get things sorted out so that Mandred can get the votes instead, and there's no better or more trustworthy instrument for those sorts of games than your very own self."

"What sort of games do you have in mind?" you ask cautiously.

"Nothing drastic. Just the right conversations with the right people, and maybe the right favours to secure the right allies. Everyone has outstanding bugbears that need slaying, they always do. Middenland and Nordland have each other, Wissenland has the rats, Stirland has Sylvania, Ostermark has Mordheim, you get the picture. Hopefully it will all be wasted effort and Luitpold will live to see Mandred grow up to be a dashing young man, but if it isn't, then I - and our mutual friend - would be very much in your debt."

You recall something Heideck once said to you: 'Many die in debt to Ranald, but very few die with Ranald in debt to them.' In your experience, Ranald tends to pay his debts quite extravagantly. Being the one that saved his long-term gamble on a future Emperor would be a very advantageous position to be in. "Interesting," you say. "I've got some other possibilities to follow up on-"

She snorts. "Swamp Town?" You frown at her until she elaborates. "I hear that the worst part of being the Chancellor of the Imperial Treasury is finding some poor bastard to trick into taking the job, and even if they succeed they've got to find a new one in a few years after the last dies of lizards. Everyone that reaches Lord Magister gets that offer, as do half the graduates of Diesdorf and Bergo." She considers it. "Maybe you'd have a better chance than most, but honestly, it's a hovel trapped between jungle and an ocean, just waiting for the lizards from one side or the pirates from the other to wipe it out. And then a new shipful of bright-eyed colonists arrive to do it all again."

"I'll keep that in mind," you say dryly. But you're here in Altdorf, so you might as well hear the Chancellor out.

---

An oft-repeated joke by the more tedious sort of politician is that the Reiksmarshal is the Imperial Fist, but the Chancellor is the Imperial Fisc. This doesn't bring you any useful insight, but it's difficult to put the pun from your mind as you enter the offices of the Chancellor. An example of the power of access, Chancellor Friedrich von Schlafebild is from an old but destitute family that expended the last of its influence on securing him the position of Kammerjunker in a last-ditch gamble that has paid handsome dividends. "Lady Magister," he says as you are shown into his office. "How may I be of service?"

"Your invitation garnered my curiosity," you say with a thin smile.

"My-" puzzlement flashes across his face, then realization seems to strike with a wince. "Er. Yes. I suppose it- yes. Governor-General of the New World territories. Or Governess-General, I suppose." He shuffles the papers in front of him. "What was it you wanted to know?"

"What troubles does Swamp Town face that would require my calibre of oversight?"

"It's a very lucrative colony," he says almost defensively, "even discounting the trade in gold and jade. There are many herbs and spices only known to grow there that are in great demand in the Old World, and the utility of having a friendly harbour in the New World cannot be overstated. But the challenges are significant. Port Reaver and Skeggi, of course, as well as the pirates of the Vampire Coast. And the local inhabitants, lizards larger than men wielding spears and clubs that are still formidable despite being made of stone. Communicating with them seems to be extremely difficult, while offending them seems extremely easy. The garrison is understaffed and there's next to no static defences." He seems to perk up. "All that said, it seems to be a very attractive destination to the more adventurous sort of Wizard."

"How so?"

"Strange magics, strange creatures, strange plants, strange cities. The Elves seem to believe that whoever built those cities are older than even they, though I suppose they must have fallen to those lizards. If you're interested in it as a College-endorsed study, you'd have a very free hand to investigate the secrets of the New World. We'd also be able to offer you a crewed Wolfship, both to transport you there and to protect the harbour against raiders. Any prizes it seizes would be split between yourself and the treasury, as there's no Admiral of the New World to claim a share."

"Any friendly outposts in the area?"

"Santa Magritta and Nuevo Luccini nearby, as well as the ruins of Cadavo and Dalmark Town. There's rumours Bretonnia is interested in founding a colony as well, and there's an outpost of the Sea Elves nearby up the coast called Arnheim. Patrols from there regularly do their best to suppress piracy in the region."

You consider that. It's pretty clear that it's an unwanted position, but that does mean you'll be able to barter for all sorts of concessions if you intend to take it. That far from the Empire you'd have free rein to run Swamp Town as you see fit, to investigate the mysteries of the New World, to claim a share of some extremely lucrative trade goods, and to essentially operate as a privateer against hostile naval forces in the area. Perhaps not the best career move, but it would absolutely be an adventure. "Thank you for satisfying my curiousity," you say. "I'll let you know if I decide the offer appeals to me."

"Thank you for your consideration, Lady Magister," he says with a nervous smile.

---

Once more you journey from Altdorf to Karak Eight Peaks with your mind on your future, but this time it's much better equipped with knowledge and ready to make a permanent decision. A lot of doors have opened to you with your newly-acquired promotion, but tragically you can only go through one.


Select the opportunity or opportunities that most appeal to you. The one with the most votes will be the course Mathilde embarks upon.

[ ] Loremaster Sinecure
[ ] Loremaster-at-Large of Karak Eight Peaks
[ ] The Waystone Project
[ ] Markgraf of Eastern Stirland
[ ] Count of Sylvania
[ ] Spymaster of Wissenland
[ ] Ambassador-at-Large to the Karaz Ankor
[ ] Bodyguard and Tutor to Prince Mandred
[ ] Governor-General of Swamp Town
[ ] Ranaldian High Priest of Kislev
[ ] Border Princess of the Howling River
[ ] Nagarythe
[ ] Research Sabbatical



- Due to the amount of impact the vote will have on the future of the quest, there will be a twenty-four hour moratorium so everyone has a chance to engage in discussion, whatever their time zone or daily schedule happens to be.
- There are no wrong answers here. Mathilde has earned the freedom to choose her own path in life, and it's entirely valid for her to pick something interesting over something responsible. Other competent people exist in the world, and will take the jobs that Mathilde doesn't.
- Do not choose Research Sabbatical if there's just one or two things you want to finish off. There will be time to wrap things up before Mathilde moves on to her next position. Also keep in mind that while finishing off your research queue might be the responsible thing to do, it also has the potential to be achingly dull, and not all the same opportunities will be available once she's done.
- I've seen some people talking up the Elfcation as it would be 'short'. That might be the case in in-universe time elapsed, but the Karag Dum Expedition was just as 'short' and look how much IRL time that took us. Don't vote for it just to get it 'out of the way'.
- Mathilde has several logistical options available to her that will allow her to maintain her home and friends in Karak Eight Peaks while working elsewhere, unless that elsewhere is Swamp Town.
- The next vote will decide on expenditures of Boons and Great Deeds, so they can be selected while knowing what Mathilde's next position will be.
- Yes, Mathilde could select an opportunity that she did not investigate. Perhaps she feels lucky.
- If you have further questions about any of the opportunities Mathilde investigates, ask and I'll answer, and I might edit the response into the above.
- The exact details of how a position will work will be negotiated with whoever oversees it once a decision is made, and the thread will be able to vote on what concessions are most desired.

 

[Boney]

Spoiler: Voting results

Tally

[*] The Waystone Project

Though you've so far managed to keep them from being too divided, you are a woman of many loyalties: to the Grey Order, to the Empire, to Stirland, to Karak Eight Peaks, and to Ranald. At this crossroads in your life, you were pulled in very different directions by many of them. To further support your adoptive home of Karak Eight Peaks by continuing as Loremaster and burnishing the good name of King Belegar among the Karaz Ankor; to finish the job you began seventeen years ago and bring Sylvania properly under control of Stirland and the Empire; to further the machinations of your God by ensuring his imperial gambit comes to fruition with the future ascension of Emperor Mandred II to the throne. But there's one path that has the potential to serve all those you feel loyal to, and indeed all of the Civilized Realms: the Waystone Project. Though you realize your idle daydreams of being able to fully replicate the masterworks of Ulthuan and the Karaz Ankor at their respective heights is unlikely, a better understanding of the Waystones would allow them to be better protected and might allow for bolstering them in some way. They and the Great Vortex are what make life possible on this world, as otherwise the magic constantly pouring in from the poles would accumulate indefinitely and allow Daemons to freely walk the world once more, and the forces of Chaos are very aware of this and often seek to corrupt or destroy them. Before his departure, Teclis charged the Colleges to protect the Waystones of the Old World at all costs, a duty that is all too easy to neglect when one is forced to choose between protecting the lives of innocents and protecting oversized rocks in overgrown forests.

All well and good, but much easier said than done. The reason you have any hope at all of succeeding where so many have failed is that you have the opportunity to bring together many sources of information, with a strong foundation of the Eonir, the Karaz Ankor, and the Colleges. But that comes with one major question: though you're counting on the cooperation of all three, under whose aegis will the actual project be? To make this choice, you've brought yourself once more to Altdorf to meet with a living legend of the Grey College: Provost Kurtis Krammovitch, possibly the most suborned man in the history of espionage.

His life story is extremely classified, but also common knowledge amongst the Grey Order - such is often the case amongst the greatest of Grey Wizards. He was born to parents who were members of the Hedgefolk, an organization dedicated to a form of magic known as Hedgecraft, involving potions, talismans, and a form of magic centered around The Hedge, the conceptual border between wilderness and civilization, and between the material and the spiritual. Not to be confused with 'Hedge Magic', which is a catch-all for any form of non-Teclisean, non-Dark magic. Not quite an Order, not quite a Cult, but a powerful and ancient organization nonetheless. It's said that they date back to man's first arrival in the Reik basin, and that Sigmar was assisted by the Hedgewise during His mortal days. But with power and respect comes enemies, as the Sigmarites resent any suggestion that their God had magical assistance, the Taalites brook no competition for the conceptual territory of the wilderness, and the Ulricans oppose them because Middenlander Hedgefolk worship Ranald, whom many Ulricans despise. By the late 2200s they were almost on their last legs, and when Teclis formed the Colleges he may have sealed the fate of the Hedgefolk, as in a single stroke he poached some of their most powerful and knowledgeable magic-users as founders of the Grey Order and created a new entity that was charged with hunting the Hedgefolk as unauthorized magic-users.

All this set the stage for Kurtis' formative tragedy, as when he was barely more than a baby his parents were burned as witches, some say by a Bright Wizard. He was raised by his uncle, also a member of the Hedgefolk, and developed the gift of magic at the shockingly tender age of eight. At the age of nineteen, he was a master at Hedgecraft and had pretensions of being a master of espionage, and attempted to infiltrate the Grey Order by pretending to be a newly-developed talent where a Grey Wizard could see him, and allowed himself to be brought to Altdorf to be taught as a Grey Wizard. Somewhere along the way he was either found out or developed actual loyalty to the Grey Order - the stories vary - and was flipped to being the Grey Order's spy on the Hedgefolk, as Article 13 requires the Grey Order to do. There are many parts of the world where the Colleges have no sway but the Hedgefolk are greatly respected, and thanks to Kurtis' influence many budding magical talents who proved unsuited to Hedgecraft were funnelled to the Colleges, where previously they would have been left to their own devices, and such stories rarely end well. But after one of these recruits came to a nasty end at the hands of the Magisters Vigilant - deservedly or otherwise, as once again different versions of the story exist - Kurtis changed allegiances once more, and became the agent of the Hedgefolk inside the Grey Order. In these years the Hedgefolk got their hands on many secrets and spells that the Colleges would prefer they not have.

(Or not, as some versions of the story posit that spreading Teclisean teachings amongst the Hedgefolk would be in line with College doctrine. Was this a ploy by the Grey Order, to feed Teclisean teachings to the Hedgefolk in the hopes that one day they might be absorbed entirely into the Grey Order? Was Kurtis an unwilling dupe whose 'betrayal' was orchestrated by another, or did he merely pretend to be suborned in cooperation with the Grey Order's plot?)

The next change in allegiance came shortly after Kurtis' promotion to Lord Magister, as disaster struck the Hedgefolk in a way that highlighted the disadvantages of such a splintered and varied organization. The Ostland Hedgefolk were almost entirely wiped out in a skirmish with a necromancer in the Forest of Shadows, and the few survivors refused (and, as far as you know, still refuse) any assistance in restoring their numbers as the 'foreign' Hedgefolk were not dedicated to their patron Goddess Halétha, which all but guarantees that the Hedgefolk will go extinct in Ostland within a generation or two. It's said he went to the newly-promoted Algard and confessed his actions expecting to be burned or Pacified, but instead he was promoted to Provost, enshrining his twin loyalties in his job description. It is hoped that one day the Colleges of Magic will have enough manpower and influence to cover the entirety of the Empire from the largest city to the smallest and most remote hamlet, but until that day the Hedgefolk were a lesser evil in a very long list of some very evil evils, so it was in the interest of the Empire and the Colleges that the Hedgefolk benefit from a blind eye and a backchannel. The argument being that Article 15's exhortation to oppose 'destructive and anti-Imperial machinations, practices, peoples, and creatures' does describe itself as the 'prime concern and purpose of the Colleges, their Orders and the Magisters belonging to them', and thus assisting the Hedgefolk in poaching magic-users in remote areas that might otherwise be recruited by practitioners of Forbidden Lores is in accordance with the Articles, even if in a vacuum it could be considered to breach Article 13.

Of course, many would not see it that way, which is why that is Lord Magister Krammovitch's unofficial responsibility. His official one as Provost is to maintain the Grey Order's official relations with organizations both inside and outside the Empire, and it's to that end you've sought him out today. He more than anyone will be aware of the possibilities and pitfalls that your Waystone Project might encounter as it tries to make the transition from an idea existing entirely in your own head to an actual formal organization.

You meet him within the Tempelgarten, a tranquil and charming park taking up a significant amount of space in one of Altdorf's wealthiest districts that nonetheless manages to fend off any attempts to build over it thanks to the combined efforts of the Taalites and Rhyans, the Jade College, and a particularly touchy resident spirit. Lord Magister Kurtis is sitting on a lakeside bench and subjecting the ducks to careful scrutiny, and you take the opportunity to subject him to the same. Many elder Wizards are able to maintain an appearance that you once heard described as 'old enough that you should respect me, young enough that I can still thump you over the head if you don't', and Kurtis slots firmly into the elder end of that bracket, with grey hair and deep lines on his leathery face.

"Lady Magister," he says without turning as you approach.

"Lord Magister," you reply. "Ducks behaving themselves?"

"I've got a colleague in the Amber Brotherhood that keeps them in line." You're not sure if he's joking or not, so you simply nod as you take a seat next to him. "So. Waystones, is it?"

You nod. "The Eonir reached out through the Cult of Ulric, they're interested in working with me and the Dwarves of Karak Eight Peaks on the matter."

"Algard nearly had kittens over that. Not a lot of good reasons for the Cult of Ulric to single out a specific Grey Wizard and ask for a meet. We came up with a lot of guesses and none of them came close to the mark in the end."

"That whole business took a lot of people by surprise, from what I've heard."

"In hindsight, it shouldn't have. Nordland's been ratcheting up the pressure for centuries, whether they intended to or not. Where they see prime shipbuilding timber, the Eonir sees a residential district. Something was going to give eventually. But that's a headache for the Emperor to sort out. You want to know what official framing to give your project."

"I suppose the easiest solution would be to just have it be a joint project between-"

"No," he interrupts. "Definitely not. You inherit the baggage and enemies of all of them and don't garner enough gratitude from each individually to make up for it."

You nod. "What are my options, then?"

"Most obviously, you keep it in-house. A project of a Lord Magister of the Grey Order. That's the easiest and will mean it doesn't get as much attention, for good or ill - anyone that holds opinions about us will already hold those opinions about you for being one of us. It'll mean you'll be under Algard's jurisdiction and would make for easy relations with the other Colleges. It does mean you'll be tied to Imperial politics if that's an issue. Or if you use some of the influence you've been accumulating to found an institute or branch of some sort, it'd put you directly under Dragomas instead of Algard, but it would mean that you're starting from zero with the other Colleges. Both of these would mean that you'd be operating under the laws of the Empire, including the Articles, so you won't be able to employ foreign magic-users - it would bring them under Imperial authority, which would oblige you to recruit them into an Order, report them to the Witch Hunters, or destroy them."

"But I could still work with them, right? I've seen foreign magic-users at College events."

He sighs. "That's a can of worms. Legally, Damsels and Ice Witches are considered clergy under Imperial law, rather than magic-users. Properly accredited Arabyan and Tilean magic-users are overlooked by the Templars for diplomatic reasons, rather than legal ones. Same with the Ulthuan diplomats when they've been from Saphery. I doubt you have to worry about anyone trying to claim that Runesmiths should be recognized as magic-users, but technically every magic-using Eonir in Laurelorn is in violation of the Empire's laws. Anyone daft enough to try to enforce it has never emerged from Laurelorn, but it could be an ugly mess if you go that route and end up getting the wrong sort of attention." He gives a significant glance to the bulk of the Cathedral of Sigmar, visible over the trees.

"If I did, how would that turn out?"

"Indefinite legal limbo as it turns into one more reason for the Sigmarites and Ulricans to yell at each other, probably. So you won't end up burned over it, but it would be a headache to deal with. Though that does remind me - you could also have it under Middenland authority, they're eager to build goodwill with their new 'converts' so they'd jump at the chance. That'd mean you're under the aegis of the Graf and the Ar-Ulric, rather than Dragomas, and does mean that Middenland and the Cult of Ulric will be on your side. But, again, the Sigmarites would be likely to be a headache."

"For the sake of argument, what are my options outside Imperial law?"

"Firstly, Karak Eight Peaks, of course - much the same as you are already. You'd be under Dwarven law, which I assume you already know the pros and cons of. This would leave you free to bring in any magic-users recognized by them - Imperial Wizards, Ice Witches, Damsels, Tileans, Tempelwijk... not sure about Arabyan ones, you'd have to check. The Eonir ones might be a problem, though. War of the Ancients and all that."

"I've looked into that, at least legally the Eonir are free from that baggage. In the lead-up to the War they were on the brink of open rebellion against Ulthuan's authority, and after the fifth Phoenix King withdrew his armies from the Old World, the Eonir declared independence."

He nods. "Much the same as the Asrai, then. I've been meaning to read up on all of that, but there's always something that needs doing and at least so far nobody's dragged the Colleges into that whole mess. Being under Dwarven authority won't bring you any enemies you shouldn't have already, except perhaps Marienburg. It would mean you should be able to bludgeon the Cult of Sigmar with their 'aid Dwarf-folk' scripture to get them to cooperate, which would be a rare advantage for a magical research project to have. And the other side of the coin, under Eonir authority. I can't really tell you much of how that would operate - they're not exactly open about their society - but it would put you under their law and authority. But it would mean you'd be able to approach Marienburg without any of the baggage of current politics, and it might mean you'd be able to make overtures to Ulthuan - Finubar has been building bridges with the Asrai and Eonir ever since the Asur returned to the Old World."

You nod, taking mental notes. "Those are my options?"

"The ones that seem relevant to me. You could approach any province or any nation, I suppose." He shrugs and smiles. "You could always go to the Border Princes. Wouldn't be the first research project to do so, not even the first this decade. But it does mean the Witch Hunters would start sniffing around, and from what I gather the neighbours there are often unfriendly, even when they aren't green."

You smile. "I've heard the same. Thank you for your insight."

"It was my duty to provide it. Let me know if you need any further help, whether it be making introductions or hashing out the details. Algard's very interested in this project of yours, and after your successes so far, he's willing to give you quite a lot of leeway to make it happen."

You leave the park with a smile on your face from that last tidbit, and begin to collate your mental notes, adding on to the possibilities that Kurtis touched on with a few of your own, ranging from the obvious to the outright fanciful. Roswita seemed like she'd be happy to have you close at hand, so Stirland is one possibility. You got along well with Ljiljana and Ranald is up to something up north, so Kislev might be another - it might be nice for the Fire Spire to rule Praag's skyline once more. And while you're spitballing, your good name amongst the Dwarves could get you in the door at Tobaro in Tilea. And you've heard that Karak Norn has been working well with Carcassonne lately, so they might be a possibility too, and might open the door to working with the Damsels. And with all this talk of Marienburg... well, there's one way you could bypass the current political tension.

Fully compiled, the list looks something like:


Grey Order
Jurisdiction: The Empire
Superiors: Emperor Luitpold, Supreme Patriarch Dragomas, Magister Patriarch Algard
Natural Allies: Colleges of Magic, Reikland, Hedgewise?
Relevent Opposers: Marienburg

Research Institute
Jurisdiction: The Empire
Superiors: Emperor Luitpold, Supreme Patriarch Dragomas
Natural Allies: Reikland
Relevant Opposers: Marienburg

Karak Eight Peaks
Jurisdiction: Karaz Ankor
Superiors: High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer, King Belegar Ironhammer
Natural Allies: Dwarven Kingdoms, Cult of Sigmar
Relevant Opposers: Marienburg

Laurelorn
Jurisdiction: The Eonir
Superiors: Queen Marrisith, Vicereine Cadaeth?
Natural Allies: Middenland, Cult of Ulric, Eonir, Ulthuan?
Relevant Opposers: Cult of Sigmar, Nordland

Middenland
Jurisdiction: The Empire
Superiors: Emperor Luitpold, Graf Boris X Todbringer, Ar-Ulric Carl Valgeir
Natural Allies: Middenland, Cult of Ulric, Eonir
Relevant Opposers: Marienburg, Cult of Sigmar, Nordland

Stirland
Jurisdiction: The Empire
Superiors: Emperor Luitpold, Grand Countess Roswita Van Hal
Natural Allies: Stirland, Zhufbar
Relevant Opposers: None

Marienburg
Jurisdiction: Marienburg
Superiors: The Directorate
Natural Allies: Marienburg, Baron Henryk's College of Navigation and Sea Magicks, Great Library of Verena, Ulthuan?
Relevant Opposers: None?

Praag
Jurisdiction: Kislev
Superiors: Tzar Vladimir Bokha, Z'ra of Praag
Natural Allies: Kislev, Ice Witches, Karak Vlag
Relevant Opposers: None

Carcassonne
Jurisdiction: Bretonnia
Superiors: King Phillippe V, Duke Huebald, Morgiana le Fay?
Natural Allies: Carcassonne, Damsels?, Asrai?
Relevant Opposers: None

Tobaro
Jurisdiction: Tobaro
Superiors: Prince Angelo de Vela
Natural Allies: Tobaro, Estalia
Relevant Opposers: Tilean City-States

Border Princes
Jurisdiction: None
Superiors: None
Natural Allies: Barak Varr
Relevant Opposers: Witch Hunters, Greenskins, other Border Princes


You won't make a decision here and now, of course. For most of them you'd have to do some research and probably meet a few key figures and discuss how a theoretical agreement might work. Now is the time to start carving down the list of possibilities to a few solid possibilities that you'll investigate further - and if they all turn out to be duds, there's always doing it as part of the Grey Order to fall back on.


Vote for as many possibilities as appeal to you. Mathilde will seek further details of the winning four and the final decision will be made amongst those four plus 'Grey Order', which is the 'default' position and has no further details to seek. Anything that does not make the final four cut-off will not be a possibility for the final vote.

[ ] Research Institute
[ ] Karak Eight Peaks
[ ] Laurelorn
[ ] Middenland
[ ] Stirland
[ ] Marienburg
[ ] Praag
[ ] Carcassone
[ ] Tobaro
[ ] Border Princes


- There will be a three hour moratorium.
- If you have an idea for another host - that is, somewhere that would bring an advantage that nowhere already present has, not 'I want to see if Boney will add Kleinkleckersdorf to the list' - please let me know.
- Stirland does not mean being Markgraf, Praag does not mean being High Priestess, and Border Princes does not mean being Barak Varr's nation-builder. It would be happening on the side and getting involved in it would be an option, but someone else would be in charge of it.
- Research Institute would not necessarily require Mathilde to expend a Great Deed or a Boon - she has the resources to make it happen with money and favour, though doing so would be expensive. If that option wins, Mathilde would explore the possible expenditures to make it happen.
- Don't just consider who will be the most friendly landlord. Authority over the project is a big card you can only place once, and it can open doors that would otherwise remain closed.
- Yes, Carcassonne is misspelled in the voting options. It wasn't brought to my attention until voting had already begun. The correct spelling will be used in the future.

 

[Boney]

Spoiler: Voting results

Tally

[*] Karak Eight Peaks
[*] Laurelorn
[*] Carcassone
[*] Praag

"Right," King Belegar says as you approach him in Karag Lhune's council chamber, where he's locked in battle with teetering stacks of books, scrolls, and letters in his attempts to find ways to lure Clans to Karak Eight Peaks. "You wanted to talk about setting up the Waystone project here?" You nod. "You'll have my backing wherever you end up doing this, of course, but all the resources and influence of the Karak are concentrated here. You're already familiar with the advantages of the Karak - decent wealth and influence, access to Dwarven resources and expertise, Gyrocarriages, and the like. The complicated part is the Runesmiths. Operating out of Karak Eight Peaks would mean you'll have easy access to Kragg and Thorek if you can convince them to get involved, as well as making it easier to recruit any other Runesmiths you think might be able to contribute. The Cult of Thungni is very leery about outsiders getting their hands on their secrets, and being under Dwarven authority would make them more comfortable with the situation and might help sway any that are unsure.

"Of course, the reason they'd be more comfortable is that the Cult of Thungni has a lot of law, precedent, and tradition backing them up when it comes to keeping their secrets. They're not going to get anywhere trying to claim the Waystones themselves as secrets of Runesmithing because they were created in conjunction with the Elves, but they might stick their nose in if they think you're getting too close to what they consider theirs. It might be easier to perform your investigation far from their reach with an open-minded Runesmith than to do it right under their nose - I trust you to keep any secrets you stumble across to yourself, but the Cult of Thungni may not."

You nod as you absorb this. "Whose jurisdiction would I technically be under in that regard? Karak Eight Peaks doesn't have a Runesmiths Guild."

"Not for lack of trying on my part. If there's something that needs to become official, then the Ironbrows of Karak Azul would argue that it should fall to them, while the Thungnissons of Karaz-a-Karak would undoubtedly do the same. The Redbeards of Barak Varr might end up a compromise candidate. But whoever it is, I assume it wouldn't help to have a suspicious Runesmith looking over your shoulder and glaring at the Elves."

"Probably not," you admit.

"The other complicating factor would be Waystones themselves. I'd ask that you not try to experiment with the Karags, and I don't know where the next nearest ones would be, whether you might be able to find some in the Badlands or the Border Princes or might have to travel all the way to the Empire. You'd have access to the Gyrocarriages for that, of course, but that seems like it would still present an inconvenience."

"It may, depending on what it would actually look like once we get to the in-person study and experimentation." You frown as you consider it further. Do greenskins habitually interfere with the Waystones? Would Strygos have? What about the many, many different holders of the Border Princes over the years? It might actually come down to having to go all the way to the southern Empire for the nearest working Waystone.

"We're certainly not short of places you could set up," Belegar continues. "You could expand further down into Karag Nar, or if you need somewhere away from bystanders, Kvinn-Wyr or Karag Zilfin are mostly empty. Or the Lhune Depths, or the Silver Tower, or... well, it might be quicker to list the areas that aren't available. You get the idea."

"What about the matter of politics? If I'm under your authority, then technically I'm also under that of the High King."

"And if the Karak-Waystones are being used to benefit Karaz-a-Karak alone, then he could use that authority to try to interfere with attempts to inspect the Waystones. That's true, but if he does do so it would confirm my suspicion and give me an excellent reason to broach the topic with the other Kings. While the letter of the law gives the High King a great deal of power, most of it hasn't been exercised since the shattering of the Underway. Four millennia of tradition carry a lot of weight." You nod while you resist the urge to frown. While that confirmation might be very useful to King Belegar, it could also grind the project to a halt as it gets bogged down within a larger conflict within the Karaz Ankor. You've got greater ambitions for it than being a diplomatic tripwire. "Out of curiosity, where are the other candidates? Altdorf and Laurelorn, I assume?"

"Those two, plus Carcassonne and Praag."

"I've been hearing good things of Carcassonne of late from Karak Norn and Karak Izor. I'd been hoping that manlings would take note of the Dalaz Kron business after the reclamation, and wondering if word of it spread that far afield, or if they've got some other reason to align with the Grey Mountain Dwarves. As for Praag... well, few places would welcome what you hope to provide more than they, I'm sure."

---

That Laurelorn is far from the worst forest on the continent to walk into unannounced and unescorted says more about the continent than it does about Laurelorn. So you have Lord Magister Krammovitch send a message to his counterpart in the Gold Order, who sends a message to the Wizards and Alchemists Guild in Middenheim, who send a message to the Graf's diplomat, who presumably sends a message to someone of the Eonir. The reply you get has you travelling north to Middenheim to collect a letter of transit, then further north to Nordland's capital of Salzenmund. Built at the confluence of the headwaters of the Salz in the Silver Hills, Salzenmund is known as a bustling and prosperous city built upon carpentry and silversmithing. But that was before the Eonir began to enforce their territorial claims and now Salzenmund abuts the border with a foreign power, and in stark contrast to its reputation the city you find is quiet, tense, and full of soldiers, and the western wall is bristling with cannon. The phrase 'Wizard business' and a stern look gets the gate raised for you, and it slams shut behind you as you cross the bridge across the Salz, into Laurelorn proper.

The road is sturdy and well-made but no longer maintained, and questing roots and bold saplings have begun to lever apart the stones. To each side young trees fill areas that had once been felled clear, and overhead the canopy seems to deliberately stretch out to fill as much of the sky as it can, leaving only a thin sliver of daylight above. Despite its darkness the forest is filled with life and the air with birdsong, and you catch many glimpses of flitting birds and darting rodents. But despite all that you catch barely a glimpse of ambient magic, and it takes close examination to see a shimmer of Ghyran afterglow in the trees. From experience you know that woods like this are usually thick with magic, but it seems the Laurelorn is an exception.

It's not immediately obvious when you reach Oldenlitz, as only a drop in the quality of the road and a thinning of the canopy overhead are immediately obvious. Closer examination finds a great deal of rubble half-buried in the leaf litter and flagstones shattered so that a sapling can rise defiantly through what was once a stone floor. And the saplings themselves prove of interest, as you can feel a faint tug upon the pool of Ulgu within you as you approach, and a wisp of magical energy you release is drawn into the wood and sinks downwards and out of sight.

"Lornalim ithil," says a familiar voice, and you refuse to jump.

"Vicereine Cadaeth," you say as you straighten up. "You're looking very different than when we last met."

She smiles as she approaches, brushing imaginary dirt off her outfit of leather and scale, with what looks like bark standing in for steel. "I was an envoy seeking to charm, where I am now a mother standing vigil over her children." She runs a fond hand over the leaves of the nearest sapling as she passes.

"Lornalim ithil... I thought the Silver Wood was west of the Demst?"

"The Verdan Ithil was once more than a few well-guarded glades. You could once find groves of the two varieties of lornalim throughout the entirety of Laurelorn and beyond, before the men of Nordland discovered their names were quite literal. They learned that if they see veins of silver or gold in the trees, they will find the same if they dig down."

You watch as a second wisp of Ulgu is greedily drunk by the tree. "They're natural Waystones."

"Yes, for a certain definition of 'natural'. Tributaries to the leyline-streams. But quite dependent on the metals they take their name from, and given a choice between material wealth and the continued existence of life on this world, your kind has a distressing tendency to choose wealth."

You think again of Salzenmund's twin industries of silversmithing and carpentry and wince. "Ah," you say.

"Our long resistance against Drakwald sapped both our and their strength, until they fell to Beastmen and we nearly with them. So when Nordland began to encroach, we measured what lornalim losses we could sustain without our forests becoming thick with stagnant magic and swarming with Beastmen, and for a time we achieved peace with the Nordlanders. But every new generation and each new Grand Baron wanted more, and when more was not given, they took anyway. We were faced with a slow extinction by Beastman predation, or a fast extinction by a new war. Until we encountered an army of Middenland while fighting the slow extinction, and found a third way forward. One that required only a few villages to die." She kneels down and runs a finger along a barely-visible vein of silver along a sapling's trunk. "If we had waited just a few more years, we would have felt the reactivation of Karak Eight Peaks ripple through the leylines and known that there may be a fourth way, a way not so steeped in blood. History seems to delight in making fools of us all."

"This is why you wanted to meet me here? To make a point about the history between Empire and Eonir?"

"Partly." She gives a sudden smile, almost managing to dispel the mood she's crafted. "And because curiosity is a powerful motivator. Though we will contribute no matter where it is that you will pool the efforts of Elf and Dwarf, we will not show you the wonders of Tor Lithanel unless it plays host to the work in question."

"What wonders would those be?" you can't help but ask.

"The towers and jewels of Tor Lithanel have captured the soul of many an artist, but I suspect most relevant to you would be the Library of Mournings, twice the age of your Teclis' White Tower. It contains scrolls that predate the Elven race, and scrolls written in the hands of Caledor, Astarielle, Maruviel, and Yvraine. Access to such a library would be of great benefit to the project, don't you think?"

You take a breath. "It would," you say with incredible understatement, trying not to show how tempted you are. "So you would allow the project to be located within Tor Lithanel? Including all its associates?"

"Dwarves and all. They never managed to reach Tor Lithanel in the turmoil of their War of Vengeance, and with the extinction of House Elywn at the Battle of the Schadensumpf, we have no more major houses from Kor Immarmor. So the High Council is now quite unanimous in letting bygones be bygones. We'll also be a lot freer to contribute our expertise to a local project - we have mages that will travel to contribute, but the Grey Lords prefer not to leave their forests, as do some of the more esoteric beings that contribute to our society." She gives an artful little smile and cocks a hip. "Myself included, if you've grown fond of my company."

"I'll keep that in mind," you say simply. Though to your mundane sight she's simply standing there talking, you've watched the bulk of her soul flow from tree to tree like a nurturing mother bird, and you're quite sure you have only a fraction of her full attention. Part of you finds that intriguing, but another part is reminded that you're still not sure if you could identify her species with any confidence.

"Please do. We've no intention of being the mirror to our cousins of Ulthuan, who always seek to control and only ever grant the meagrest of morsels. We want to build a lasting partnership, and a lasting peace, with the institutions of the Empire, so we can live in peace in our forest. Considering the beings that would be all too eager to fill the void if we passed from this world, isn't that in everyone's best interest?"

She's certainly easier on the eyes than the Beastmen. You promise her that you'll have an answer for her soon before parting ways once more. You've got two possible hosts left to check, and a lot of hours airborne ahead of you.

 

[Boney]

Carcassonne is a Bretonnian state with an unusual reputation. For one, its position abutting the greenskin-infested Irrana Mountains and the rough, hilly terrain means its society is heavily militarized, but that does not seem to have infected its spirit and turned the people hard and joyless. Instead they take pride in being the bulwark for their more tranquil northern neighbours, and enjoy a close relationship with the neighbouring and famously beautiful duchy of Brionne. Secondly is a reputation that takes you some time to finagle out of Soizic: that they are quite relentlessly practical, and quite adept at finding ways around chivalry's more troublesome requirements without outright breaching them. This is best embodied in the traditions of Carcassone's shepherds. Chivalry states that peasants cannot be trusted to fight independently, but nobody can deny that shepherds need to be able to protect their flock from predators, and there's no harm in giving the peasants the training and equipment to do so effectively. As such the history of the duchy is littered with examples of shepherds banding together to fend off Orcish warbands without Knightly instruction. A step further than this is their use of mercenaries, which is of course very unchivalrous. But chivalry has nothing to say on the topic of hiring foreigners as shepherds, or on happening to lose a bag of gold while hiring them, or on having large bands of hired shepherds guard a single sheep that just happens to be in the path of a Waaagh.

This is enough to get you open to the possibility of working with them, especially when combined with their recent good relations with Karak Norn and Karak Izor. Apart from a few minor Holds in the northern Grey Mountains, Bretonnia doesn't really border any Dwarfholds, but you suppose this would mean they maintain their view of Dwarves as distant legendary weaponsmiths instead of having to live with the day-to-day of touchy neighbours that still have it written down somewhere that three thousand years ago your ancestors sold them mouldy grain. So you're hopeful that the promise of even better relations with the Dwarves and the runic weapons that might come with that could be bartered for good terms with the Bretonnians. A message is sent through the Empire's diplomatic apparatus, and the eventual response has you travelling further west than you ever have previously, your gyrocopter from Karak Norn cautiously skirting Athel Loren and following the rivers until you finally reach the Duchy's unimaginatively-named capital of Castle Carcassonne. It's a shockingly large castle that takes up the entirety of a large island in the River Songez, with a shockingly small town clustered along the river bank. Near the center of the castle a single slender tower of pure white rises from the grey stone: the Tower of the Enchantress, one of the homes of the Fay Enchantress, the seemingly immortal manifestation of the Lady's will. Her word is paramount in Bretonnia, taking precedence over the authority of any Duke or King, and at her decree armies have ridden and Kings have been banished.

To the stares of a gathering crowd you touch down in the jousting lists inside the walls, and you badger onlookers until you find one that speaks Reikspiel and send them off to let the Duke know that his appointment has arrived. Before long you're led into the heart of the castle through drab and utilitarian rooms lined with trophies and weapons until you reach the cabinet of Duke Huebald d'Carcassonne, a small, wiry, and dour-looking young man in a simple tabard flanked by a tall, plump, and pretty young woman in a red and blue dress. Both seem to be studiously ignoring you, which you begin to frown at until a steward sidles up to you. "What is the preferred address for madam?" he asks in a stage whisper.

"Lady Magister Weber will be fine," you reply.

"Lady Magister Weber," Duke Huebald says in greeting, only now seeming to notice you. "I am Duke Huebald d'Carcassonne of Carcassonne, and this is my wife, Duchess Schermilde, who will translate for me," he says in heavily accented but still intelligible Bretonnian. The Bretonni came into the Reik basin with the tribes that eventually gave rise to the Empire, and their language has not yet drifted so far as to be unintelligible to you - at least, not among the upper classes. The accent and variations become stronger as you go further down in social class, with the peasantry completely omitting the past tense from their speech and using future tense in its place for reasons you cannot begin to fathom.

"A pleasure," Duchess Schermilde says with a curtsy, making no attempt to translate.

"Likewise," you reply.

The Duke gestures, and the steward and the man who led you here depart from the room. "You have a plan," he says leadingly.

"The Grey College of the Empire, the Eonir of Laurelorn, and the Dwarves of Karak Eight Peaks seek to enter into a research project together to investigate the Waystones. There's debate as to where the research should be performed, and some feel it would avoid problems if it is located outside all three. So we look to our allies in the west."

"We've been reading up on these Eonir," Schermilde says. "Fascinating people. Dangerous, of course, but only when provoked."

"Bretonnia does not need monuments to banish evils. But there are many innocents we cannot protect, and Dwarves are good friends to have. We are willing to help."

"Morgiana is too, our upstairs neighbour. She's a busy woman, but she says she's willing to give you a nudge or two in the right direction, and to have one of her helpers join your number."

You raise your eyebrows at that. "A generous offer."

Duke Huebald frowns, and exchanges a look with his wife, who nods. "We shall speak unrelatedly of other matters that we are pressed with, but nonetheless able to overcome with thanks to the Lady, so we need no mystical assistance with," she says. "To demonstrate the truth of our chivalrous nature, and so how worthy partners we would be."

"Iron Orcs," the Duke says. "Like Black Orcs, but with the armour set into their skin, bearing runes of the Dark Gods. They come from the mountains in greater numbers every year." You grimace at that. Though the greenskins almost always stay true to their native Gods of Gork and Mork, that 'almost' covers more than enough nasty examples to give any ruler cause for concern, and motivation to seek esoteric answers - even if their societal rules prevent them from saying so outright.

"You'll find few places as secure as Castle Carcassonne," Schermilde says, "and we do have some of these stones your letter described in the area, I visited one myself to confirm. And don't worry about supplies - by river we are joined to Quenelles and Brionne, and from Brionne by sea to the world. Though little is made here, anything can be brought here. Morgiana certainly imports plenty of equipment for her experiments."

You nod. The Bretonnian navy does not consider itself bound by the Lady's prohibition against gunpowder, and as such their Galleons possess a formidable cannon broadside that is more than able to secure the Bretonnian coastline. "There is the question of status. I understand that Bretonnia has different ideas to the Empire about who can hold power..."

"Most know better than to gainsay any magic-wielding women," Schermilde says with a smile. "And besides, you are a Knight of your Realm. Anyone that would not respect either of those is a cur that deserves whatever punishment you deem fitting." The Duke nods firmly. "Oh, and there is another thing. Morgiana said, what was it... 'your friend can visit with you as long as he makes no plans to stay'. Something about a colleague of yours, I suppose?"

"I understand what she means," you say with a nod. You'd heard that Ranald is outright proscribed in Bretonnia, but you didn't have any plans to broadcast your faith of Him so didn't think it would cause problems. But it is nice to have that outright confirmed. "Thank you for meeting with me. I'll let you know as soon as I can where the project will be based out of. Even if it's not in Bretonnia, if it bears fruit we'll do our best to spread the benefits as widely as possible."

"Good intentions have a way of fading with distance," Schermilde replies, her smile a little strained. "Do think it over."

---

Getting in touch with Kislev seemed like it would be surprisingly easy: Kazrik spoke to Karak Kadrin who spoke directly to Kislev, since they've been working closely with them to try to reintegrate the newly-returned Karak Vlag. But after enough time had elapsed for you to get miffed, you sent word directly to the Ice Witches through Lord Magister Krammovitch's unofficial channels to see what was going on, and only then did you get a response through the official Dwarven ones. Slightly mollified, you make your way through the Gyrocarriage relay up the mountains towards Kislev City and your appointment in the Bokha Palace. At your arrival, a steward comes running to greet you and guide you through the long and winding path through the crumbling marble of the ancient palace. The layout is greatly confusing, partly because of the countless times it has been rebuilt and expanded over the years but mostly because the Ice Witches are always quite insistent on marrying into the Tzar's family, and every few generations this produces a throwback to the Khan-Queen that raises a new wing to the palace from ice that inevitably melts after her death. Impractical, perhaps, but it's the sort of thing that definitely leaves an impression.

You're finally led into what you're told is the West Hall, an oak-panelled room with an enormous roaring fire dominating one wall and the others dotted with innumerable candles, battle flags, shields, and weapons. In the center of the room a very large young man with a very impressive moustache is sparring with a member of the Kreml Guard, saber clashing against axe as the guard is pushed back by an onslaught of blows that begin to wind down as the combatants notice your entry.

"Dobry. Do widzenia, Kovnik," the young man says, before turning to you. "Atamanka Ved'ma Weber, yha?" The steward nods, and withdraws from the room along with the Kreml Guard at a jerk of the man's head. "Tsarevich Boris Bokha. My father left this matter to me, as it does not involve killing or eating. My friends who are your friends say it is important, and they would know. You have rocks that push back the Dewastacja?"

"Yes. When they work properly, they form channels that would allow it to flow away to where it will not bother anybody."

"Where is that place that it flows to?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Ulthuan. They have a magical vortex there that dumps it back into where it came from."

He laughs. "Better answer than I expect. The sea-elves are annoying, but they know what they are doing. They still tell stories of Yrtle's final battle." Boris grabs a pair of chairs and drags them over to the fire with a grinding of wood on wood. "Sit. Talk. Tell me of this."

You take a seat and marshal your thoughts. "Long ago, when magic first came to the world, there was so much of it that Daemons could walk freely. The Elves created the Great Vortex to drain most of it away, and built Waystones throughout the Old World and beyond to channel magic towards the Vortex."

Boris nods. "Yha, there is one below the dungeons, glows white during blizzards. Always wondered what it was for."

"But that was many years ago. They built them with the help of the Dwarves, who later became their enemy. Now nobody knows how to build them, and Cultists and Necromancers and Vampires seek to deactivate or destroy them, so there are always less. But there are Elves who are not of Ulthuan called the Eonir, and they are willing to work with the Dwarves of Karak Eight Peaks to try to understand them once more. So we can reactivate the ones that are dormant, and protect those that remain. Maybe even to build new ones."

"And now everyone wants to be in charge, yha?"

"Something like that."

"And everyone comes running with promises. Well, here is Kislev's promise. You say there might be ways to push back Dewastacja? Restore Praag? Push back Troll Country? I say: to make this happen, all of Kislev will move mountains. You need gold? Kislev has gold. You need Ice Witch? They want make friends with me after father ignores them, they want me to take Ice Witch wife, I can make them cooperate. The Hag Witches? The kossars know they are mine, you can have Hag Witches. Ursun knows me, His priests will cooperate. If Elves in Erengrad want to stay in Erengrad, they must help. There is nothing I would not make happen if it means more Kislev and less Za. Do you understand?" You nod. "Good. I have gone to the returned Dwarves, spoken to them of you. You tore them from the grip of the Za after all had given up on them. After they had given up on them. Do the same for Kislev, and there would be no reward too great."

---

You try to put your reeling thoughts back in order as you make your way back out of the palace. Rather a forceful personality on the Tsarevich, and he seems to have gotten a perhaps oversized idea of what the project might accomplish. You put a hand to your neck and feel the cord that Ranald's Coin dangles from, and sigh. The worst part is, you'd gotten exactly what you'd hoped for: full credit for the rescue of a Dwarfhold. You'd just hadn't really expected how dramatic that rescue ended up being, and now people have a great deal of expectations for you that you may not be able to live up to. But whatever trouble those expectations might bring you at some nebulous point in the future, right now they're opening doors. Laurelorn is waving a truly ancient library under your nose, Carcassonne will give full cooperation and a free hand as well as the input of the Fay Enchantress and her hand-picked representative, and Kislev will do just about anything in the hopes that it could lead to an encore of Karak Vlag, including browbeating their local magical traditions and possibly even the Elves into cooperation.

Are these temptations worth the weight of expectations and the added complication of having to operate under their authority? Or would it be best to remain in the familiar territory of the Colleges or the Karak, under superiors with a much clearer view of the possibilities, who you're already practiced in managing? You're not entirely sure, and you may never be entirely sure, but you have to make the decision anyway.


Who will Mathilde found the Waystone Project under the authority of?

[ ] The Grey College
[ ] Karak Eight Peaks
[ ] Laurelorn
[ ] Carcassonne
[ ] Kislev


- There will be a 24-hour moratorium.
- The winner of this vote will not only determine the setting of the next arc of the quest, it will also determine my new forum avatar.
- Wherever it is set, Mathilde will be able to maintain her home and relationships in Karak Eight Peaks. Gyrocarriages are wonderful things.
- I won't do a 'canonical' list of benefits and detriments for each option, because it would be based on Mathilde's best guesses but would be treated as WoQM. I encourage the thread to build one (or several) of its own; if any complete misunderstandings take hold I'll step in to dispel them.

 

[Boney]

Spoiler: Voting results

Tally

[*] Laurelorn

Over the years, combing and braiding your hair in the morning has become part of your daily rituals, a meditative focus that works better for you than any number of more formal methods and mantras. You've recently learned that having someone else do it for you is drastically less good at gathering your focus, but as a trade-off is astoundingly better at putting you in a calm and relaxed state of mind.

"There's a lot of rumours floating around about the Karak Vlag business," Panoramia says as she runs the brush through your hair.

"Oh?" you murmur, doing your best to focus on her words instead of the hypnotic quality of her voice, which still contains a trace of half-asleep huskiness.

"One of the most common elements is that they're saying you succeeded where Teclis failed. I know you're very Windsight-oriented, but I didn't realize it was to that extent."

"Oh, I've no doubt Teclis could run circles around me in every Arcane discipline, including Windsight," you say with a smile. "But when he visited High Pass, it was in the direct aftermath of an expansion of the Chaos Wastes, and it was a path that had recently been trodden by an Everchosen and his partly-daemonic hordes. I doubt any mortal being could have spotted the trace of Karak Vlag under those circumstances."

"Ah. Still, it's a very big deal..."

"Oh, absolutely. Just because I don't think I'm the only one who could have done it doesn't mean I won't take the credit for being the one that actually did. They've sent a few letters through the Karaz-a-Karak notables that are trying to coax them out. Once they're fully convinced that all this is all real, there's little they wouldn't do to repay what they see as their saviour." You lift a hand to touch Ranald's Coin through your nightshirt. The letters from Karak Vlag made it quite clear that Ranald's Protector aspect had somehow informed them that you were responsible for their return to reality, and the complete certainty they apparently had in that was frankly disconcerting. Sometimes you need to remind yourself that Ranald is no less a major God than any of the Old World pantheon.

"Going to bring them in on this Waystone thing?" she asks.

"I'm thinking about it. There's other debts I could call in - from here, of course, but also a couple from back in the Empire, one from business in Sylvania and another from the War Below. And from the Karaz-a-Karak Metalsmiths Guild from the Monitor rescue."

There's an extended silence from Panoramia. "I looked up that spell you used on the sunken Monitor in your library. Substance of Shadow? There was an entire chapter on how it can go wrong."

You wince. "It's a finicky and temperamental spell, yes. But it was risking one life to save, what was it... three hundred and twelve. I couldn't not."

She squeezes your shoulder, and you place your hand atop hers. You sit like that for a long moment before the brushing resumes.

"So, Waystones," she says, and you untense as the topic is firmly changed back. "You think you can get anywhere with it?"

"I know that wiser and more experienced Wizards have taken their best swing at the topic, but all of them were working within the Colleges. The Dwarves and the Elves each have their own pieces of the puzzle, and I don't think anyone in the Colleges have ever been in a better position to bring both together."

"Mmm," she hums in agreement. "There's..." she hesitates. "Well, I..."

"Jade secrets?" you guess, to a silence that speaks volumes. "And if there were, you wouldn't be able to confirm or deny their existence?"

"And I wouldn't be able to confirm or deny if I was able to confirm or deny," she says with a forced laugh.

"I won't put you on the spot. If I try to bring the Jades aboard, it'll be through official channels. I've got a feeling that if I dig deep enough I'll find pieces in all of the precursors to the Colleges."

"I know the Shamans know more than they let on," she says thoughtfully.

"Hinting that you know more than you let on is the favourite pastime of the Colleges," you say with a smile.

---

As you look over the fields of the Karak from your balcony as sunlight creeps over them, you consider the matter further. The Expedition itself is still never far from your thoughts as you continue to process it. There's still a sense of lingering frustration that you never got to the bottom of the Karag Dum mystery, but the rescue of Karak Vlag makes it impossible to consider the Expedition as a whole any type of failure. There's a lot of different lessons that could be taken away from the entire business, but you have to assign a great deal of the credit to diplomatic matters, which is possibly your weakest area. There are countless ways to divide up the Expedition - four intelligent species, eight types of magic users, five religious orders, seven different polities, and that's just off the top of your head - and success relied on the cooperation between these very different groups. And you're at least part of the reason that it all worked. That, more than anything else, is what your mind comes back to as you go over the journey.

Mathilde will decide on two major themes to take away from the Expedition as a whole: one diplomatic, and one not. Vote for as many as you like from the list below, and one from each with the most votes will win. The exact mechanical effects will be revealed only for the winners.


Strengthened Diplomatic Abilities:

[ ] DIPLO: Collegiate
How independent the Colleges are from each other depends a great deal on your perspective. There can be a lot of value in bridging those gaps.

[ ] DIPLO: Dawri
You've lived along Dwarves for long enough that your Wizard robes and Arcane Marks are often the only things preventing you from being mistaken for one. But you could immerse yourself even deeper in Dwarven culture and become able to navigate it like a native.

[ ] DIPLO: Draconic Fascination
You've only really spent time with two Dragons, but both have been thoroughly fascinating individuals.

[ ] DIPLO: Interfaith Dialogue
Ranald isn't the most accepted of Gods, but you're growing adept at finding common ground with the other faiths of the Old World.

[ ] DIPLO: Knight
You bear the title of Knight, and you've worked alongside Knightly Orders multiple times now.

[ ] DIPLO: Mentor
Though you've never taken an Apprentice of your own, you have spent quite a bit of time taking less-experienced Wizards under your wing.

[ ] DIPLO: Polyglot
If you had been unable to use Khazalid as a bridging language, there were many encounters that could have gone quite badly. There's a great deal of potential benefits to further expanding your linguistic lexicon.

[ ] DIPLO: Trucemaker
Sometimes the best battle is one you never fight. Every life not spent fighting lesser evils can be turned against the greater ones.


Other Lessons Learned:

[ ] LESSON: Cartographer
Being able to explore, record, and subsequently navigate unfriendly territory is an incredibly useful and often underrated skill.

[ ] LESSON: Dhar Insight
You've seen Daemons, the Chaos Wastes, the Windfall. You're reaching as thorough an understanding of the fel energies of Dark Magic as can be attained without actually wielding them.

[ ] LESSON: Leader
Despite not seeking it, once more you found yourself in military command. Perhaps this tendency is something to be embraced.

[ ] LESSON: Light Fingers
It's not theft, it's espionage. The enemies of the Empire and the Karaz Ankor have all sorts of interesting and portable items that would do a lot of good in friendly hands, from supplies to devices to paperwork.

[ ] LESSON: Logistician
Warriors win battles, logistics wins wars. Being able to get what you need to where you need it is halfway to victory.

[ ] LESSON: Mystic
Some mysteries should be embraced, rather than unravelled. You might not fully understand the Gods this way, but you are much more likely to get along with Them.

[ ] LESSON: Poker Face
Acting like you always know what's going on has gone from a source of personal amusement to a vital diplomatic first line of defence.

[ ] LESSON: Syncretic
Ranald will likely always be your primary God, but you are branching out into a healthy and respectful understanding of some of the other Gods of the Old World, both human and Dwarven.

[ ] LESSON: Theologian
You have a breadth of experience with the Divine that would put many Priests to shame, and are starting to build tentative overarching theories of the Divine that many might consider heretical.


- There will be a two hour moratorium.
- No, there is no Windsight trait. As Windherder taught us, it gets treated as an autopick even when it's a sidegrade, and Mathilde is already near the peak of what is considered possible.
- Similarly, there is no 'chain casting' trait. I'm considering introducing a mechanic where it can be learned individually for each spell, but it will always retain some danger and the most sensible path will almost always be to find another way to do whatever needs doing.
- Deed / Boon Expenditure is pencilled in for the next update.
- 'four intelligent species, eight types of magic users, five religious orders, seven different polities' - Human / Dwarf / Elf / Dragon, seven Colleges plus Ljiljana, Morgrim / Grimnir / Ulric / Taal / Ancient Widow, Empire / Kislev / Ulrikadrin / Karak Eight Peaks / Karak Kadrin / Zhufbar / Karak Vlag (sort of, via the Rangers of High Pass).
- Yes, wrapping up the Expedition while also setting up the next project has been a bit of a mess. While it would be preferable to have it neater, it also feels 'real' to have it be a bit of a mess as Mathilde closes one chapter of her life at the same time as trying to open the next.
- Say hello to the new avatar, courtesy of the Eonir of Laurelorn (via Total Warhammer).
- For the record, anyone wanting to Trucemake between Elves and Dwarves is four thousand and eighty-five years late. That war ended with the death of Caledor II.