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Nachgeheim -16-25-2493
Khorne's host had been utterly destroyed. Every one of them chose a glorious death over retreat—their widows had said as much—making our task all the easier. It didn't take long to encircle them and cut them down to the last, ending the battle swiftly.
The Blood God's followers honored him like brainless beasts. They abandoned the safety of the Kislevite fortress, using it instead to store their captives: a mix of slaves, local Ungols and Gospodar they had taken, along with many trolls locked in cages.
The priests of the Orthodoxy took charge of purifying the place and disposing of the countless dead.
Once it was over and victory was ours, I gathered my fallen and made arrangents for their return. They would be buried in Morr's Garden, after receiving the basic rites to keep their souls from being left defenseless before daemons—no doubt so still lingered here, considering Khorne's gaze had been upon this place.
I pitched my tent and lay down to rest. My damned face throbbed as if I'd been struck by a daemon itself. Once the adrenaline faded, every blow the champion of Khorne had landed ca crashing back on . My right eye was swollen shut; I could barely see.
For long minutes I sat in silence, hearing only the wind's breath and the crackle of the fire as I sipped a potion of Shallya that dulled the pain a little.
At last I heard the steps of my n, the bustle of breaking camp. It seed the winds had cald, or perhaps the witches had regained their strength. Once Khorne's cursed armor had lost its anti-magic hold, they had been able to drive off the storm and snow again.
"By Ursun… what in the abyss happened to leave you like this?" said Tsar Boris, stepping into my tent and fixing with his stare, the one eye I could still use eting his.
"I went toe to toe with a damned champion of Chaos… what else could it have been? Those knights barely withstood my blows, but that bastard outmatched in every way. Looked like his dark god lent him a hand—he broke out of an iron prison I'd trapped him in, and this is how he left ," I said, glancing at the tsar.
"I'd heard you fought one of the knights and died. But it seems that was just nonsense, for a pack of boyars were already scheming over my daughter and how your n would be divided up…" Boris muttered.
"Give their nas. Once I recover, I'll smash their faces for daring to covet my soldiers before I'm even dead," I snapped, sitting up on the cot.
"I've already seen to their punishnt; don't trouble yourself with it. Fools, thinking Imperials would remain here without their lord's leadership—especially with no coin to pay them. One question, though: are you certain it was a true champion of Chaos?" the tsar asked.
"Of course I am. The brute towered over , a head taller, clad in cursed armor, wielding damned weapons. No matter how I struck him, nothing worked. It was a bloody miracle I ca out alive," I replied, taking another sip of Shallya's potion.
"Bad news for you, good news for Kislev. When one of their champions falls, many try to claim the mantle. They are called northward—to where, I know not. But it always happens. And when it does, the raiders and tribes march away, hoping to be chosen as the next champion," said the tsar.
"Good news then, I suppose… What about the fortress? Usable, or too corrupted?" I asked, warming water in the brazier and tossing in so bandages to sterilize.
"Yes. Apart from the poor souls inside, and the dozens of trolls they had penned there. Seems they were feeding on troll flesh. You know the absurd regeneration of those beasts—must have been their way of keeping food: prisoners who were useless for other purposes," said Boris.
"Those worshippers sure know how to survive," I muttered, holding my hands closer to the fire.
"That's cannibalism with extra steps. But I think we fought the bulk of the forces here. There may be stragglers, but I believe we can press on and retake all the forts," Boris replied.
"That's truly good news… makes it worth getting smashed so badly. My face, my chest—they're wrecked. You've no idea how those damned axes hurt, and the strength he had was monstrous," I said, lowering myself back onto the cot.
"This battle secures the north. All that remains is to march. We go tomorrow, so rest. You've earned it with rit: when we return, we'll celebrate with the finest kvass," said Boris, giving a pat on the back before leaving.
I clenched my lips at the pain still burning through my ribs and watched him step out.
"Blood for the…" the whisper ca again in my head.
"To hell with you," I muttered, raising my middle finger to the empty air.
Finally, I pulled the bandages from the boiling water and let them cool in the steam outside the tent. I pressed snow to my swollen eye to numb it a little and lay back to rest.
The sounds of my n finally died down; I felt the cold bandage on my face as I rested after a battle that had pushed to my physical limit.I slept with relative ease, only hearing the breathing of Princess, curled up inside her mountain of furs —the very ones she had hunted— when I sensed, through my arcane hearing, a presence approaching, followed by more footsteps.
''What do you want, Katarin?'' I said, recognizing the armor she wore thanks to my arcane gift.
''How do you know who it is if your eyes aren't even open?'' asked Katarin as she ca closer.
''I'm lucky… Tell what you need. I'm a bit indisposed after being that Chaos champion's opponent,'' I replied, still with my eyelids shut.
''I only wanted to know how you were, father told that you were badly beaten… so the fight must have been very hard,'' said Katarin, gently touching the swelling around my eye.
''Yes, it was a hard fight… but soon we'll march again. We must see if we can reclaim all the forts: everything suggested they were preparing for sothing larger, and now that their champion is dead, with no clear leader, perhaps they'll turn on each other. Your father believes they'll retreat north —every ti a champion falls, they start fighting over succession—,'' I said, relaxing a bit at the cold sensation against my inflad wounds.
''If this helps Kislev regain its borders and defend itself from constant raids, we'll be closer. But there are still many battles ahead; this doesn't end with a single clash. We still must fight for the Motherland to prosper again,'' said Katarin, her voice softer than her usual icy tone.
''I know. I'm not deluded: facing the ruinous powers ans expecting resistance everywhere. But if we can secure a strong enough fortress and reach out to the dawi Karaks of the region, we can stop incursions through the northern pass,'' I replied, showing a faint smile.
''Exactly. I ca to talk about that. Father trusts you: you know how to deal with the dwarfs and many respect you —so even consider you a reliable ally—. That's why I want to ask you to act as ambassador to the local dawi clans: perhaps we can settle our frictions, forge an alliance, and gain help for the fortification works,'' explained Katarin.
''I can do it. I'll be ambassador with the dawi to see what can be done. But if I present it as purely Kislevite diplomacy, they'll likely kill : the grievances run deep. Better I go as a diator in my own na,'' I replied.
''Thank you… it will be of great help,'' she said, taking my hand.
''Don't ntion it… Let's just hope the march north is quick and, with luck, without more Chaos champions,'' I said.
''Let's hope so,'' she said, squeezing my hand firmly; I felt the cold pressure on my cheek an she pulled away.
Curiosity gnawed at as the night went on.
''Wait a second… those bruises are blood pooled under the skin,'' I muttered, sitting up and beginning to practice my magic.I concentrated the winds of Chamon within and began to draw the stagnant blood from the bruises, slowly pulling it out of the skin. I felt the viscous flow shift and slide out in fine threads.
''Good… it works. For now, it works… I should try it on mice or rabbits… maybe it could even serve as my own teacher, now that I'm stepping more into the sphere of Ghyran,'' I said as I continued extracting blood from the wounds.
I kept using my magic to try and speed regeneration, but Chamon wasn't the ideal school for healing: what I did was closer to a leech sucking out clotted blood and moving things internally. Even so, any aid was welco on that frozen night.
I stopped thinking within the bubble of the arcane and began drawing instead on what I truly knew: biology, the periodic table, and how the body processes nutrients.
I found a piece of beef with several bones still attached and used it as an experint. I ground the bones to consu them along with the at, even subrging them in water to boil before swallowing. I let my stomach acids do their work, breaking everything down into basic components I could manipulate with Chamon. Calcium, iron, zinc, phosphorus, magnesium… each mineral I isolated and guided with magic, forcing my body to process it faster and direct it where it was most needed.At the sa ti, I drew the clotted blood from my bruises and sped up nutrient absorption, repairing damaged tissue and aiding regeneration.
''If only I had a mage of Ghyran, I could heal completely… I might even try controlling the cellular functions of my own body. But of course… how do I manage that without the Lore of Life? Difficult…'' I murmured, still using my magic to better nourish my body and expel the old blood from the wounds.
The swelling in my eye faded, and I regained normal sight. I made a ntal note that, once I returned to Altdorf, I must seek out a mage of Ghyran to continue this research. Carefully, of course: I had no desire to repeat my forr master's mistakes. But if I perfected this, we could be looking at a significant leap forward in the art of healing.
After doing all I could with my body, I went back to sleep. The next day we resud the march: Fort Ostrosk had been retaken, and several thousand n were left to rebuild it and stock it with supplies, ensuring its resilience against future attacks. Many of the Tsar's forces split to recover other forts, while we continued pushing north.
On the way we kept finding resistance: bands of Chaos raiders still prowling villages and forests in the region. Yet the main forts were nearly abandoned; everything suggested they had belonged to the warband of the Khorne champion we had slain, and without their leader many warriors had already vanished, retreating north.
Boris had been right: when a champion fell, the hosts of Chaos splintered, and the lesser warbands sought the next warlord in the north. That gave us breathing room.
The days passed in a relentless routine of marches, skirmishes, and repairs until finally all the fortresses the Tsar had set out to recover were once more in Kislev's hands. Boris was visibly satisfied; in his eyes burned the pride of a monarch who, at last, saw part of his promises to his people fulfilled.
It didn't take long for the boyars to arrive. Many crowded around him, whispering in his ear, suggesting he distribute those fortresses and their lands among their dynasties, to administer them as atamans. The greed in their voices was clear: troll hunting in those regions had beco a lucrative trade, and all wanted their share. The hides served as hardy coats, the fangs sold as trophies or talismans, and the blood, apparently, was sought after by alchemists and ice witches for its unusual properties.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let know.
Leave a comnt; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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