Our losses at the ruined city of Apuovia had been relatively light. My headlong charge backed up by the Liberators, who had appointed themselves as my Shield Brothers had slowed the Sylvaneth assault. Not for long as their numbers were too great but long enough for my scattered troops to flee the city and make their escape to the hills to the North of Apuovia, with just a handful of casualties.
The next few days were trying and uncomfortable, my hopes of assistance in my quest from the Sylvaneth were left as naught but ashes and a bitter taste in my mouth. We found limited shelter in the hills but concerned about possible pursuit or discovery by another of the inimical forces roaming Concendia I ordered that no fires be lit. There was some grumbling that first night as our meal was served cold, and I must admit I struggled with mine as it seemed to be more gristle than meat.
We worked our way through the hills and valleys as stealthily as possible and succeeded in avoiding any further engagements, however this caution came at a price and our supplies started to run low. The grumbling now came from the hungry stomachs of my men and women as I had to order our food rationed. In this period Mink and Ermine proved their worth to me a thousand times over, they were truly a gift from the God-King, cheering troops with jokes and jolly tomfoolery, working tirelessly covering our tracks, scouting the lands around us. They even managed to bring back such game as they could catch and kill quietly whist on the move. In the evenings that they were with us in camp I sought their advice and insights as we tried to understand what was happening on Concendia.
On those nights that I tried sleeping I was tormented by nightmares of such grotesqueries that I feared my next turn on the Anvil of Apotheosis would require that all my memories be hammered into oblivion. Yet one morning, maybe a week or so after the Apuovian set-back, I awoke refreshed. I had slept undisturbed for the first time that I could recall since reaching the shores of Concendia and in the dim, early morning light I felt at peace. I had learned over the course of my lives to treasure such moments and it was well that I did for it did not last long. Raised voices from the camp outside my makeshift tent got me onto my feet and moving with cat-like grace out of the tent my Questor Warblade drawn.
Ermine and Mink were racing toward me through the camp crashing over people still rolled up in their blankets trying to steal a few more moments of sleep.
“An army my Lord!” Cried Mink, and the camp erupted into pandemonium as my troops started to gird themselves for battle. Sylvaneth? Soulblight? Beastherd? Worse?
“Who?” I asked sheathing my sword, my feeling of peace shattered.
“We didn’t get too close my Lord, but they were men, Knights, blocks of pikes, some handgunners. They march under many banners but from what we saw are not necessarily Chaos-touched. They do outnumber us greatly though.” Ermine reached up and patted my arm reassuringly. “They could be allies my Lord, perhaps some of Sigmar’s children? We should march out and meet them. Prepare for a fight, yes, but be ready to accept the hand of friendship if offered.”
Truly I had been blessed by Sigmar when I met these resourceful and sage halflings, they had made such a difference to my existence that I could not recall what it had been like on my quest without them. “So be it!” I was resolved, no more skulking in the hills and the edges of Concendia’s forests trying to work out what was happening. It was time to put ourselves centre stage and to take control of the situation, I looked over as my small force struck camp and prepared for battle and those whose eyes met mine seemed to glow with pride. I had been too concerned with preserving their lives, but I was here to fight and take in the name of the God-King, everyone who was with me had sworn to the same cause of their own volition, my caution had held me back, but no more. “If my quest is to end here then Sigmar knows I will have done all that I can. Let us meet these men and take their measure, and if they be false or foul we will chastise them with steel and our righteous fury.”
With a deep throated cheer we marched out, perhaps to our doom but a doom of our choosing if so. Mink had made note of a place that we could intercept these strangers, a large clearing in the woods and we made our way there swiftly, eschewing stealth for speed. Having the advantage of arriving first and being aware of the approaching men I chose my ground with both parlay or a scrap in mind. I stood with my Liberator brethren in the centre of the clearing along with Mink and Ermine who refused to leave my side for the safety of the treeline. Our archers were concealed from view in the trees on our flanks ready to fire at my word. Fifty yards to my rear stood my spears, veteran men and women of many battles fought in Sigmar’s name. They were further along on the track that ran through the clearing, positioned at the top of a small incline where the trees drew close to the path and I judged their chances of fending off cavalry best.
It was not long before the strangers came trotting into the clearing, their armour gleaming and pennants snapping in the light breeze. They rode with confidence which I was surprised at given they didn’t seem to have had scouts out, but on sighting us they slowed their horses and eventually drew rein halting just inside the edge of the clearing. As we watched, careful to make no move that could be taken as aggression the advance guard parted to let a small group pass through. Advancing under a flag of truce, they were led by a tall, broad shouldered warrior in richly adorned armour. I did not recognise the sigils on his shield and muttered a query to the halflings who were extremely well travelled for men with such little legs. They also did not recognise them so we were still in the dark regarding the identity of this army but I was feeling more confident. They at least appeared to respect a flag of truce and that was rare in the minions of the Ruinous powers, they might not necessarily be allies but I felt that we could at least avoid being outright enemies.
The Lord, perhaps even King, dismounted with a fluid grace and stepped forward towards us, shadowed by two advisors and an apparent bodyguard that matched my own (in number at least, they were no comparison in size). A broad, open and friendly face met my gaze, a neat beard with just a slight trace of grey jutted from a strong jawline. Eyes of intense green watched us closely, kind eyes I judged, but with a sadness and a hint of steel, not a man to be crossed lightly. We stepped forward to meet him in the centre of the clearing and were suddenly struck by the majesty of the man. It was like an aura of power around him, his charisma overwhelming, I could not recall ever meeting any mortal so impressive and behind me I heard my Liberator shield brothers and halfling advisors fall to their knees. Standing before him, I felt my own knees quaver for a moment but I resisted, I bowed to the God-King alone.
He was truly a remarkable man, the picture of a perfect noble Lord, wise and kind, strong and just, ready to take up his sword to defend the innocent from the wicked. Still fighting the urge to kneel, I inclined my head to him politely and he returned the gesture with the faintest hint of an amused smile. Enough! I chided myself and tried to gather my senses.
“I am Leofolat Grymbane, a Chosen Soul and Sigmar’s Knight Questor.” Saying it out loud was reassuring, it reminded me of my own soul’s glorious nobility and I found the strength to meet his gaze. The pressure to kneel seemed to recede, as well it should, for was I not the equal, if not better, of any man or woman who walked the Mortal Realms? Had I not been chosen by Sigmar not just once, but twice? Once to be Reforged and then again to be elevated to Knight Questor. “I and my companions have come to Concendia to defend it from the Ruinous Powers and all who seek to thwart Sigmar.”
“Sir Leofolat, with a glad heart I greet thee and call thee brother! For I can see that we are indeed cut from the same cloth. By thy presence in this, Concendia’s most troubled time, and mine own arrival I see that the righteous enemies of disorder and foul Chaos do marshal to fight the evil that seeks to consume this blessed isle.” A brief flicker as this glorious Lord greeted me formally distracted me, as one of his advisors seemed to change in some way that I couldn’t quite define. Before I could look more closely he stepped close and shook my hand. “Welcome to my court Sir Knight, welcome to the Court of King Alfonso del Fonte Ribeiro. ‘Tis a little early yet, but the joy of meeting new friends cannot be ignored. Come, let us break bread with one another and become better acquainted. Call your men forward, we shall all feast!”
The next few days were a whirlwind of feasting, hunting and the occasional skirmish with the vicious enemies of Concendia. King Alfonso’s court was one of much merriment and good humour, remarkably so given the risks they had taken to come to Concendia and wrestle for its soul. Alfonso and I were swift to become fast friends and shared a similar outlook on everything we thought to talk of. He was a man of such perfection that I had no doubt he would one day ascend to Azyr to become a great Lord of a Stormhost.
Mink and Ermine were less enamoured of him. I fear my little friends were perhaps jealous of the sense of brotherhood I shared with Alfonso and felt excluded. Certainly in this period I couldn’t turn around without stumbling over not one but both of them. They seemed to have appointed themselves as my shadows and followed me wherever they could, saying little to me, muttering to each other and seeming very tense. They even refused to eat at the feasts insisting that they had eaten earlier and were attending only in case I needed them to run an errand. I began to wonder if they too could see the occasional strange things that I had noticed once or twice. I swear that at times I turned to speak to Alfonso and when I turned back someone was different, wearing a different coloured doublet, or their hair arranged differently, sometimes the change was so subtle I couldn’t identify exactly what had altered. Eventually I put it down to lack of sleep, my increasingly poor memory or perhaps a quirk of my latest Reforging, when I had broached the matter with the halflings they denied noticing anything so I tried to ignore it.
I was regaling Alfonso with tales of my adventures across the Mortal Realms one afternoon when Lord Kristan Glimmerspear brought the King a message. Whilst his court was a merry and joyous place, when it came to the battle for Concendia King Alfonso was all business, so my tale of the swine herd, Nurgle daemon and Vandus Hammerhand went unfinished. I remained silent observing the strain on my friend Alfonso’s face as he read the missive brought to him.
“Grave tidings Leofolat. Grave indeed. The Lawgiver Amondenora has sent word, her spies report that the Soulblight forces of Delarosa have infiltrated the lands under our protection to the East and established a foothold there centred around a derelict watch tower. If I had known of its presence I would have had a garrison there but apparently it’s so small it was not on any maps. The Beasts are also preparing to make their move, it seems Grolghur Festerhorn has recovered from his whipping at Apuovia and they look to be moving in force. I must be ready to counter his foul Herd but cannot leave the Soulblitten free rein.” He paused and looked at me with the weary eyes of a ruler making the best of nothing but bad choices. “I cannot command you my friend, as I fear that the task I would ask of you is difficult indeed and perhaps too much for you and your soldiers.”
I cheerily raised my wineglass to him. “Tush, my dearest friend! You need not even ask Alfonso. Are we not friends? Allies? Tell me what you need and I will see it done unto the last breath in my body.” I had come to know him so well by now, this picture of kingly virtue, that the flicker of relief in his green eyes were as noticeable as a shout of relief.
“Dearest friends indeed, noble Leofolat. Thank you. Concendia will one day look back to this conversation as the day their salvation was wrought.”
Lord Glimmerspear was sent to gather the King’s closest advisors and whilst they were assembling, Alfonso and I made plans and then our farewells. It was hard, far harder than I had imagined preparing to leave his company. I had found a kindred spirit, closer to my own soul than even my Liberator shield brothers but my quest remained and in completing the task Alfonso needed me to perform I could assist him and possibly, who knew, it may even bring me closer to completing Sigmar’s quest?
Ermine and Mink were delighted that we were moving out, and even the idea of tangling with the Soulblitten did little to dampen their enthusiasm. Once we were on our way they quickly slipped into their old roles as scouts and for the first time in many days I was without Alfonso or my halfling’s company. I pondered the task that lay ahead of me and I worried that I may let Alfonso down. I was not a commander of troops, I was a Knight Questor, my skill lay in fighting, not planning strategy and tactics, but I had promised to do my utmost and that I could certainly guarantee.
Spirits were high in amongst my freeguilders, the time spent at the Court of King Alfonso had been as good as a tonic. Well rested and well fed we marched out to take Sigmar’s wrath to the vile, undead creatures of Nagash. We got our chance far sooner than we had anticipated. We were no more than two days from Alfonso’s court when the halflings brought word that there was a force of deathrattle skeletons marching towards us. It seems that by luck we were in place to block an exploratory probe by the Soulblight forces and I thanked Sigmar for the chance to hit something so soon after leaving Alfonso’s Court.
Even more interesting, they were accompanying what sounded like a necromancer. An opportunity presented itself, if we could get ahold of the foul bone-stirrer we could perhaps squeeze some useful intelligence out of them, either for our small campaign, or to aid Alfonso. Mink reported that they were following a narrow foot trail through the woods and moving at speed, perhaps up to something more subtle than an outright attack.
They marched themselves neatly into our ambush, thanks to the halflings warning we were well placed to strike, and the first they knew of our presence was when the arrows started hissing their way through the forest into their close-knit ranks. They did but little damage to the armoured bone walkers but provided enough of a distraction for my Liberators and I to race almost up to their rear before being noticed, but too late! We were upon them, their eyeless skulls unable to express any emotion but the terror on the face of the necromancer cowering in the middle of his bodyguard was quite satisfying.
I felt curiously unhappy fighting the undead, hacking off bony limbs with my blade and caving in silent skulls with my Celestial Warhammer, was lacklustre. I felt that I’d have preferred screams and gouting blood.
The grizzled veteran sergeant I had put in command of my spears led them forward, and the deathrattle were assailed both front and rear. The necromancer was casting furiously, hauling bodies back to their feet almost before they had fallen to the ground, mewling in terror his eyes met mine and I smiled in anticipation. Soon I would have this foul creature in my grasp. I and my Liberators made sure of any deathrattle that we felled by stamping across the bony remains making sure that all we left were shards of bone in our wake.
And then he vanished from view, struck down it seemed and I roared my fury. We needed him alive, at least for a while. I swept aside the remaining skeleton warriors between me and the necromancer only to find a grinning Mink sat on their chest hefting his handgun. Knocked unconscious and now our prisoner. The fighting was over and my freeguilders were cheering, celebrating their first solo victory under my command in Concendia and it felt glorious. We had lost more men than I would have liked but the deathrattle had fought hard to protect their necromancer. I hoped that whatever information he may have would be worth the cost.
“We must get out of the area my Lord, if there are any other Soulblit nearby we could be in trouble.” I nodded at him.
“Yes, we’ll take our dead with us until we can find somewhere suitable to lay them to rest. Scatter the bones of the deathrattle as far from the track as possible. Bind the prisoner and gag him. We keep moving until dark and then we can have a little talk with him.”
Mink grinned disturbingly at me whilst patting a sheathed knife. “He’ll talk my Lord, I’ll make sure he spills all of his secrets to you.” Then he and Ermine laughed in a manner that was strangely chilling coming from such genial faces. They shared a look of triumph that I felt excluded me, leaving me briefly uncomfortable and feeling as though someone had just tugged on a string fixed to my soul.
