01 - Empire in Chaos (35 page)

Grunwald saluted sharply and stepped into the circle of light. The elector
counts were the most powerful men in the Empire, and at their word armies
marched—they paid allegiance to the Emperor Karl Franz, an elector himself,
but on the whole their rule was autonomous. They held the power of life and
death, and the Elector of the Ostermark was said to be a hard and demanding,
though fair, ruler. He held out his hand, and Grunwald crossed the tent and
dropped to one knee before the man, lightly kissing the massive golden ring of
office.

“Rise.”

“How may I be of service, my lord?” said Grunwald. Though he had never been
comfortable around nobility, neither was he one to be cowed by any man, and his
voice was strong and confident.

“I understand that you travel with a girl. A true paragon of Sigmar, so it is
said.”

“So some would call her, my lord. She is in my charge.”

“The young preceptor here claims her to be quite the warrior,” said the
elector, nodding his head towards Karl. Grunwald followed his gaze and stared at
the knight for a moment, his face hard.

“And I have heard she has already made quite an impression with the
soldiers,” said the elector evenly.

Grunwald’s jaw twitched. “A misunderstanding, my lord.”

“Oh?” said the elector count. “How so?”

“She is not endorsed by the Temple of Sigmar,” he said, choosing his words
carefully. “She has not had any training, and is ill-equipped to act as Sigmar’s
emissary.”

The elector took a long swig from a silver goblet that would have cost more
money than Grunwald had ever seen. The noble savoured the drink, licking his
lips.

“Let me be open, witch hunter. We have no priests with us. The last of them
fell against the enemy. And now, the day before battle this girl appears.
The
Maiden of Sigmar,
I believe is what the men are calling her.”

Grunwald’s gaze flickered to Karl, who had the grace to flush and look down.

“She is but a simple farm girl. Nothing more,” said Grunwald.

“To be frank, I do not care if she is a copper-coin whore or the Queen of
Bretonnia. What I
do
care about is the fighting spirit of my soldiers.
And they see her as the Maiden of Sigmar, rightly or wrongly—it matters not to
me. All I care about is the men believing they can win the fight tomorrow, and
that Sigmar is with us.”

“I understand, my lord,” said Grunwald.

“Good. I am sure you will do the right thing, then. Ensure that the girl is
seen by the soldiers. Let her walk amongst them. Let them have hope. And
tomorrow on the field of battle, make sure she stands amongst the soldiers. Make
sure she stands firm against the enemy. Protect her well—I will give orders
that she is to be guarded as if she were the Emperor himself.”

“She has never stood on the field of battle before, my lord,” said Grunwald.

“That matters not at all—she doesn’t have to
fight
in the front
ranks. She just has to be seen,” said the elector. Then he sighed, and looked
hard into Grunwald’s eyes.

“You were a soldier before you became a witch hunter, is that not so?”

“That is so, my lord,” said Grunwald in reply.

“I too am a soldier. And I do not exaggerate when I say that if we falter
tomorrow, then the fate of the Empire hangs in the balance.”

“My lord?” said Grunwald, furrowing his brow, unable to see how this battle
would effect the outcome of the war.

“Talabecland is a state under siege, witch hunter. It is attacked
relentlessly from Ostland, which is under the control of the enemy. Our forces
there are almost overwhelmed as they are. If we fail here, then this army facing
us will march uncontested into Talabecland…”

“And strike against the rear of our forces already engaged there,” finished
Grunwald, understanding.

“Indeed,” said the elector. “Talabecland will not be able to sustain a war on
two fronts.”

Grunwald nodded his head, his face dark.

“I think you understand the importance of the girl now, witch hunter. If she
can strengthen the resolve of the soldiers, then we would be negligent, nay
seditious, not to make use of that.”

“I understand, my lord.”

“Good. That is all.” The elector returned to his discussion of troop
dispositions and enemy movements. Grunwald made no move to leave, and the guard
that had announced him tapped him on the shoulder, indicating for him to back
away. He ignored the man and cleared his throat, stroking his long,
silver-streaked moustache. The elector looked up, clearly surprised that he was
still here.

“Was there something else, witch hunter?”

“Yes, my lord. I spotted someone amongst the citizens today—I believe it
was an agent of the enemy, sir.”

There was muttering amongst the advisors. The elector raised a hand for silence.

“Explain yourself, witch hunter.”

“I saw the man only briefly, my lord, but I am certain that he was a witch—a
magos, a sorcerer.”

“And you were not able to… apprehend this individual?”

“No, sir. He disappeared into the press. I have been scouring the area for
any sign of him, but have thus far been unable to relocate him.”

The elector pinched the base of his nose between his eyes with his fingers as if trying to
alleviate a headache.

“I see,” he said finally. “Speak to Captain Heldemund there on your way out,”
he said, motioning towards the soldier at Grunwald’s side. “He will give you
whatever men you need. Find him, witch hunter. An enemy launching an attack from
within our camp is the last thing we need.”

Grunwald saluted and bowed low before retreating from the tent.

Stepping out into the cool air, he let out a long breath. He made his needs
clear to the captain, and organised to meet the men that would be at his
disposal in an hour’s time. Then, shaking his head and swearing quietly to
himself, he stamped back through the snow to find Annaliese.

He found her seated outside a tent, dipping bread into a thick broth.
Eldanair sat with her, though the elf did not touch any of the human food.
Soldiers whispered and stared at the girl, though she seemed oblivious to the
attention. She smiled at Grunwald as he approached, her cheeks stuffed with
food.

“You should try this,” she said after swallowing her mouthful. Grunwald
looked around, feeling prying eyes and ears all around him.

“Come with me,” he said harshly, and turned and stalked away through the
press. People scrambled out of his way, and he pushed away those that were too
slow for his liking. Annaliese ran after him, licking her fingers.

“What is it?” she said. The witch hunter ignored her, and walked into an open
tent. A soldier lying on his back upon a simple unrolled pallet looked up from
where he was in surprise.

“Get out,” Grunwald snarled. The soldier blinked, registering the witch
hunter’s dark garb, then scrambled to his feet and left the tent. Grunwald
pulled the tent flap down behind him.

“What is the matter with you?” said Annaliese.

“Your reputation proceeds you,” Grunwald said.

“I don’t understand.”

“The Maiden of Sigmar,” snarled Grunwald.

“It’s just something stupid that Karl has taken to calling me,” she said.

“Well, it has drawn the attention of the Elector Count of the Ostermark.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“It means,” said Grunwald, his voice low and dangerous, “that he wants you to
live up to the name. It means you are to become the religious talisman of his
army.”

“I know I am no priestess,” said Annaliese hotly. “And I have never claimed
to be one.”

“It doesn’t matter what you claim to be, girl!” he barked. “What matters is
what you
appear
to be! Tomorrow, the enemy will be upon us. And this army
believes that Sigmar is with you—and so long as you stand in the battle-lines,
their faith is strong. And so, you
will
stand in the battle lines, and
you will
not
falter.”

“Is this what Sigmar has sent me here to do?” she said, her face pale.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Grunwald. “You are here, and you now have a duty to
do.”

“Why are you so angry? I didn’t ask for this?”

“I am angry because you have never stepped foot on a true battlefield, but
now you must—and you must appear strong and confident.”

“You do not think I am ready for this.”

“I
know
you are not,” said Grunwald. “Priests of Sigmar train from
childhood to face the enemy without showing fear. Only the strongest are chosen
to represent Sigmar—if one of them allows fear to overcome him and he runs,
the morale of the men would be shattered.”

“You think I will run?”

“I would not blame you if you did. But that cannot now be allowed to happen.
And if for a second it looks like it will, I will kill you myself and claim that
you are a witch. Better that than let the soldiers see their
Maiden of Sigmar
run.”

Karl smiled as he saw Annaliese approach through the press of soldiers. He
had been dutifully oiling and shining his armour and weapons in anticipation of
the coming battle, enjoying the camaraderie of being back amongst his order. He
stood to greet the girl, his eyes lingering on her shapely form, and he shook
his head at her beauty.

“Annaliese, you are a vision…” he began. She interrupted him by smashing her
fist into his jaw, and his head rocked backwards from the sudden blow. Her eyes
were blazing with simmering anger as he stared at her in shock and surprise, and
not a small amount of pain. There was fear in her eyes as well, he noted.

“Why did you damn well come up with that stupid name?” she snarled.

He tongued the inside of his mouth, and spat blood onto the ground. The girl
could punch, he would give her that.

“What are you talking about?” he said, bemused.

“The Maiden of Sigmar!” she spat.

“Ah,” said Karl.

“You are a self-centred fool, Karl Heiden.” Bristling with anger, Annaliese
turned on her heel and stormed away from him. He rubbed at his jaw, and watched
her go. He felt the amused gaze of his knights around him, and he coughed
self-consciously. For a moment he stood immobile, caught between going after the
girl or leaving her be.

The sun was just beginning to set, and he opted for the latter. He had no
wish to be shamed by her again today.

Tomorrow I will seek her out and set things right, he thought. Tonight I will
drink.

Grunwald frowned deeply as he scanned the faces of the Empire citizens
arrayed before him. He stared at each in turn before he shook his head to the
sergeant, and the people were escorted away. With the men at his disposal he had
been rounding up the hundreds of dispossessed, desperate people all afternoon.
So far his search for the man he had seen amongst the crowd had proved
fruitless.

He sighed heavily. It was to be a long night then, for he would allow himself
no rest until the witch was discovered.

Hours later Annaliese found the preceptor. Everywhere she went she was hailed
by the soldiers who looked at her with hopeful eyes. She found it exhausting.

He was sitting away from his comrades, and it was clear he had been drinking.
She hesitated for a moment. She had wished to speak to him, but seeing him
morose and drunk, she decided against it, and turned away. Before she could slip
away he spotted her, and she cursed inwardly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words slurred. “You are right. I am a fool.”

“Yes you are,” she said, moving to sit down beside him. She pulled her legs
up to her chest, hugging herself for warmth and rested her chin on her knees,
staring into the fire.

He fumbled around, rising unsteadily and placed a blanket around her
shoulders. She smiled her thanks.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” she said at last.

Karl rubbed his jaw. “It was a fine punch,” he said with a grimace. She
laughed. He offered her his bottle but she got a whiff of the strong fumes and
pulled back from it. “How can you drink that poison?”

“A soldier takes what he can get,” he said, his voice heavy, and she suddenly
realised just how drunk he was. A warning bell inside her rang, and she decided
she wanted to get away.

“I think I will turn in,” she said. “Tomorrow will likely be a long day.”

“It will,” said the knight, staring into the smouldering flames.

“Don’t drink any more tonight, alright? Goodnight, Karl,” said Annaliese,
putting her hand lightly on his shoulder as she rose.

He grabbed her trailing hand and stood, his face flushed. With one hand
around her slim waist, he pulled her roughly in close to him, and kissed her
passionately. She struggled against him, and he held her tighter, until she
pushed back away from him violently, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Go to sleep, Karl. You’ve drunk too much,” she said softly, though there was
a hard edge to her words.

“Just the right amount,” he said, his words slurring slightly. She took
another step back and the knight’s face flushed with anger.

“Damn it woman! What’s the matter with you?” He stood over her, a full
head-and-a-half taller than her and easily twice her weight. He reached for her
again, and she punched him in the face, her fist cracking sharply against his
cheek.

He reeled backwards in shock and surprise, blinking his eyes. When his eyes
cleared, they were filled with anger and lust.

With a snarl he stepped in close, grabbing her wrists as she tried to strike
him once more. He held her as easily as a child, and he closed his eyes, the
smell of her hair intoxicating him.

The next moment he felt a sharp, cold point against his neck, and his eyes
flicked open. Eldanair stood at his side, the tip of his slim blade touching his
neck. A tiny bead of blood ran down the silver edge of the knife.

Karl let out a dry laugh, and pushed Annaliese away from him. The elf stepped
away from the knight, his blade still raised, stepping protectively towards
Annaliese.