Gatehammer Fantasy Battles (Warhammer Fantasy Battles/Gate- Thus the JSDF Fought There)

Fort Griffon, the Gateworld, known to the locals as Alnus Hill

Erhardt Franz Holswig Schliestein, fourth son of the Emperor, Karl Franz, surveyed the carnage from atop his horse. Already the carrion birds were feasting on the dead, paying no head if the fallen were dressed in either the scarlet and white of his native Reikland, or the strange armor of the locals.

He thanked Sigmar and Morr that the majority of the slain were of the latter, and not the former.

After four weeks of bloodshed, the Invader Army had finally backed off, no longer willing to throw their men into the meat grinder that were the Imperial Iron Companies. Erhardt had been in the thick of the fighting for most of the siege, and his formerly pristine armor, was dented, and covered in blood, both his enemies, and his own.

Erhardt was tall for a young man, and athletic, though he had yet to fill out in certain places. He had inherited the strong jaw of his father's family, and the aquiline nose of his mother. A scar in the corner of his mouth, earned in a fight against a drunken Estalian Prince, made it seem as if he was constantly smirking. He was dressed in black armor, decorated with symbols of both Sigmar and Morr. Many raised an eyebrow at his choice of patron deities, but he paid them no mind. Though it was in Sigmar's name he fought, he, like every other man, was destined for Morr's Garden.

As he continued to survey the field, his mind went back to the days before the Gate appeared, before an unknown foe had invaded the lands of his ancestors, burning and pillaging on a direct course to Ubersreik, before the Emperor Karl Franz and a coalition army of Empire Provinces had broken the invading army, scattered them to the four winds, and had themselves marched through the Gate.

On the other side, they had discovered a whole new world, one similar to, yet different from the Old World of their birth. The Gate was the only way to and from the Old World, and it was in the best interests of the Empire to insure that the invaders could not regain it. Therefore, the Emperor had ordered the construction of defenses all across the hill, and had shipped in expensive dwarfen builders to oversee the work. After a month of building, impressive wood and stone fortifications were erected on the hill, surrounding the Gate, allowing for only one way in or out.

No sooner had the fortifications been completed than the invaders came again.

The Empire army had the high ground, fortifications, and the might of the Iron Companies.

The enemy had numbers though, and for every Empire man, the foe had ten more.

What followed was the greatest industrialized slaughter of human beings that Erhardt had ever seen. He was no stranger to war; when one was a Prince of Altdorf, you had to fight beastmen, greenskins, the occasional undead, and all other manner of mutant and monsters.

Still though, the foe Erhardt was fighting were not monsters, mutants, corpse, or follower of the dark gods; they were simply men, and it seemed wrong to Erhardt that they had to kill one another.

However, they threatened his home, and for the defense of his ancestral homeland, he would kill as many of the invaders as necessary.

And he did. Following the orders of his superiors, he commanded a company of halberdiers, and with them, he fought on the walls, on the ground, the gatehouses, and, when the situation called for it, he mounted his horse, and charged into the enemy's ranks.

Finally, after four weeks of battle, the enemy left, having been bloodied to the point of near defeat.

It was thanks only to the Dawi's skill as builders, the Emperor's strategic brilliance, and the Empire's control of the Gate, allowing them to send fresh men and a stream of supplies that victory was achieved.

Now, Erhardt was put in charge of overseeing the recovery the Empire's dead from the field. He had spent the past weeks barely sleeping, constantly fighting, and it took all of his willpower to keep his body moving.

"My Prince!"

Erhardt turned his head to the left, and saw a knight of the Reiksguard ride up to him.

"Yes, what is it?" Erhardt asked, curtly.

"The Emperor demands your presence in the Keep, at once."

"Well, I would be a poor son to keep my father and emperor waiting." Erhardt said to the knight, before turning his gaze to his company, "Captain Klaus!"

"Yes My Lord?" a grizzled soldier, with a beard and an eyepatch over his left eye answered from a few yards away.

"The Emperor desires my presence in the Keep. You will take over our job in my stead until my return."

"Understood My Lord." Klaus nodded.

"Well then," Erhardt said, turning his horse around and making for the direction of the fort, "Let us see what my father wants."

 

From the original thread:

Spoiler: Original first chapter

Erhardt Franz Holswig Schliestein, fourth son of the Emperor, Karl Franz, surveyed the carnage from atop his horse. Already the carrion birds were feasting on the dead, Imperial and natives alike. He was glad to see that it was mostly the enemy that littered the bloody fields before him.

Erhardt was tall for a young man, and athletic, though he had yet to fill out in certain places. He had inherited the strong jaw of his father's family, and the aquiline nose of his mother. A scar in the corner of his mouth, earned in a fight against a drunken Estalian Prince, made it seem as if he was constantly smirking. He was dressed in black armor, decorated with symbols of both Sigmar and Morr. Many raised an eyebrow at his choice of patron deities, but he paid them no mind. Though it was in Sigmar's name he fought, he, like every other man, was destined for Morr's Garden.

Three months ago, a strange gate had opened in the middle of Reikland, birthplace of the Man God and Ur-Emperor, Sigmar Heldenhammer, as well as the current center of the Emperor's power. An army one hundred thousand strong poured out of the gate, burned several unsuspecting towns and pillaged the countryside. The foe had men in their ranks, but also many inhuman monsters.

The Emperor responded quickly, marshaling his regiments of state troops, mustering the knightly orders, and calling upon the neighboring Elector Counts in Wissenland, Middenland, and Talabecland to send their own armies.

Though vast, the enemy was unprepared for the dangers of the forests, and many of their soldiers fell before the savagery of a vast beastmen herd before they managed to fight the mutants off. Still licking their wounds, they were unprepared when the combined armies from four Counties surrounded them.

Fierce Ulricans from Middenheim tore into the invaders with fierce abandon. The Imperial Gunnery School had brought forth many cannons, and the enemy host was blasted with the full power of Nuln. The folk of Talabecland were at home in the woods almost as much as the fae, and led the Invader's on wild goose chases in the forest, frustrating the enemy, before catching them in traps. The brave men of Reiklan, Erhardt among them, under the command of the Emperor himself, and in the company of great heroes such as KUrt Helborg, Ludwig Schwarzhelm, Volkmar the Grim, and Balthazar Gelt, took to the field outside Ubersreik, and finally smashed the enemy, killing many, dispersing more, and taking more than a few hostage.

After several weeks of hunting down any stragglers, the Emperor raised more levies, and ordered them through the gate itself. On the other side was a place much like their home, and the Emperor was quick to set up fortifications on the hill that they had found themselves on, going to great expense to contract dwarf architects.

The dwarfs had set up walls of stone that surrounded the hill, and proceeded to construct wooden buildings to house the army. The quality of their work was matched only by their speed; the fort had taken only a week to build.

A good thing as well; for the natives of this land had mustered another army, one that rivaled the size of the force that had invaded Reikland to begin with. When the enemy had attacked, the Empire had responded with guns and rockets, killing scores of the foe before they even had a chance to reach the walls. There were too many of the foe for all of them to be killed with artillery though, and the bloody business of close quarters combat ensued upon the walls.

Erhardt was in command of a company of halberdiers, and fought tooth and nail against the attackers, coating his black armor red, and losing around half his men due to the sheer numbers they faced. Eventually though, the men of the Empire prevailed, and the foe was forced to retreat with heavy losses.

Now, Erhardt traversed the bloody fields, gazing upon the wide collection of species that the enemy had gathered together. The Cult of Sigmar had examined the non-humans, and had determined that, although strange to the eye, they were not touched by the Ruinous Powers. Interesting, but utterly pointless in the long run; they were still the enemy.

"Prince Erhardt!"

Erhardy turned around and saw a knight of the Reiksguard approaching him.

"Yes?" he responded.

"The Emperor has called an emergency war meeting. News from Nordland; a large fleet of Norscan raiders has crossed the Sea of Claws. The Empire's northern border requires his attention, and he has announced that he will leave this place for Nordland in a few days. Now he means to establish the mission of the Imperial Army that will remain here."

"I see." Erhardt replied, "Tell me Sir, what do you make of the rumors?"

"I put no stock in rumors Your Highness, only facts. Still, if they are true, a great many second and third sons will flock to this land."

'Fourth sons as well.' Erhardt thought to himself. The rumor was that the Emperor planned to take the invader's land in retaliation for their unprovoked acts of aggression, and would then divide it up amongst nobles, generals, and knights who had proven themselves on the field of battle (a very Bretonnian custom, not that the nobles would complain). Though Erhardt was a Prince of Reikland, he was a fourth son, and as such stood to inherit little, even from his father's vast holdings. That being said, the chance to be awarded land for deeds on the battlefield, even if it was a strange land through a gate, was too good an opportunity to pass up.

That is, if the rumor was true...

Spoiler: When a Blood Dragon helps a dragon problem

Gate/Warhammer Fantasy

===

Yao Haa Dushi scanned the entrance to cave once, twice, three times. She heard nothing. Mere minutes ago the sounds of the flames and the roar of the dragon had echoed throughout the tunnels of the mountain.

The flame dragon had forced her people, the Dushi, out of their ancestral homes in the Schwarz Forest, and into the mountains. She was tasked by the Elders to seek the assistance of the 'Men Beyond the Gate,' a power rivaling that of the Empire. When she had arrived at Alnus hill, or 'Castle Greif,' as they were calling it, she experienced a cold reception. Although a settlement of natives had sprung up around the castle, the Newcomers were highly suspicious of any 'Continentals,' (their name for the natives) and non-humans especially.

When she had enlisted the help of a translator, two guards had almost attempted to kill her upon introducing herself as a dark elf, muttering 'Druchii' under their breaths. As it turned out, they had dark elves in their world as well, and they were exceptionally vicious pirates and murderers. Only the quick talking of her translator had prevented bloodshed that day.

Pacified, but still wary, the guards agreed to pass on her request for assistance to the Markgraf, a young man named Erhardt Franz, but no promises.

A week passed, and nothing happened. Frustrated, Yao realized that he wouldn't see her, let alone offer her people assistance. She started planning ways to sneak inside the castle, meet him while he was alone, convince him to help. The Markgraf visited the makeshift town that had grown around his castle often, but he was always surrounded by stern looking men with great beards and mustaches, wielding huge greatswords. Every attempt she made to get close to him had failed, his bodyguards refusing to let her get close.

Then she wondered if she might get to Erhardt through those close to him. On his trips down to the settlement, he was accompanied by a small group Continentals; a underage mage girl, a siren, and a high elf. If Yao could get to any one of these three, she might have a chance.

Before she could enact her plan, she was approached by a man in red armor. He claimed to be a warrior, and was very interested in helping with her people's dragon problem. She scoffed at him; what could any one man, no matter how great a warrior, do against a dragon? The man was persistent though, and explained that he had slain dragons before, back in his world. He explained that even if she were to get close to the Markgraf, he would likely turn her down. He asked her to lead him to the dragon, and lacking any other options, she agreed.

She had done as he asked, and had led him to first her people, and then to the dragon's lair. The elders sent a small band of volunteers with them, but the stranger had instructed all of them to wait at the mouth of the cave while he scouted ahead. Though many of the young warriors bristled at having to stay behind, they obeyed the man, and he went inside.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then thirty.

Then hell broke loose.

The roaring of the dragon, and the trademark sounds of it's fiery breath came from deep within the cave. Everyone knew what had happened; the man was discovered. Some of the group had left immediately, believing he was already dead. The rest stayed, waiting for the sounds to stop.

They had stopped. Everything was quiet now. A hotblooded male had volunteered to go inside, see what had happened, but Yao snapped at him, ordering him to stay put. She was ready to leave when she heard the sounds of metal boots on stone, and something heavy being dragged behind it.

She peered into the cave and saw the man. His already red armor, decorated with gilded dragons and knights, was covered in hot blood. His weapon, a finely crafted yet deadly bastard sword, was by his side. With one hand, he was dragging something heavy behind him. Her eyes widened when she saw what it was;

The head of the flame dragon.

The other elves in her group all shuddered and mumbling broke out between them. The man had not only survived, but had killed the flame dragon, by himself, and had taken the damn thing's head for a trophy!

The man stopped before her, and let go of the head, looking pleased with himself.

"I told you that I could solve your dragon problem." he said smugly.

"How... you are not human." Yao exclaimed, "No human could kill a dragon by themselves, with only a sword. No human, hells, no one could, matter how strong!"

"You are welcome Yao Haa Dushi." he said, eyebrow raised at her rant.

"I... I apologize Sir. I forget my manners. You have our eternal thanks."

"That's more like it. We will take the head back to your elders, as proof of the victory you won here." the man explained.

"You do not wish credit?" Yao asked.

"I have no need for fame Yao Haa Dushi." he explained, "I live only for battle. Now that it is done, you shall never see me again."

Yao let those words sink in for a minute before she spoke again.

"If this is the last time we are to see one another then please Sir... tell me your name."

She did not know the man's name. He did not give it when asked, nor did he give any other title by which to be called. She had settled for 'Sir,' as that was what she had heard other newcomers call him.

He looked thoughtful for a while, debating with himself, before he turned and spoke to her;

"My name is Abhorash, of the Blood Dragons. Tell no one Yao Haa Dushi."

"I promise Sir." she agreed. Abhorash... it was a strange name, even by the standards of the newcomers. He was an unusual man though, so it suited him.

"I know you plan to leave Sir Abhorash, but if it pleases you, join us in our celebrations for the monster's end. Though the world need not know the truth, our people deserve to know who it was that delivered us from doom."

Abhorash smiled, "I would be delighted Yao Haa Dushi."

"Please... just Yao."

"Very well then, Yao."

She smiled. He had saved her people, and with Hardy as her witness, Yao Haa Dushi swore that she would serve him until the end of her days.

Spoiler: There is more than one...

The city burned. The roaring of the flames were so loud, the only thing that could drown them out were the screams of the inhabitants inside.

Centurion Pontus looked up from the ground. He spat out blood. They say that the fields around Alnus hill were horrifying to behold, from the sheer number of dead alone. He hadn't been there, but Pontus knew in hsi heart that whatever happened at Alnus was nothing compared to here.

His legion had been assigned to the northern territories to patrol against the petty lords who would think to take advantage of the Empire's weakened state. The Empire was caught in the midst of a civil war. After the good Emperor Molt was poisoned, his idiot son Zorzal tried to take power, killing and imprisoning those nobles who refused to accept his rule. The second son Diabo fled the capital, and those more inclined to fantasy claimed that he had fled through the Gate on Alnus, to seek allies on the other side. Bullshit all of it; more likely that Diabo sought support among the lords in the outer provinces, far away from Zorzal's influence, and would try to convince them to take the throne. Princess Pina, the daughter of the Emperor's favored concubine, had thrown her, and her Rose Order of Knight's lot in with the Invaders, who now fought those legions loyal to Zorzal. The rumor was she had opened her legs to the Invader Princeling, Markgrave something or other, and promised him her hand if he would make her Empress.

Three unworthy children, all spilling blood over the Imperial Throne. Pontus spit on all their names. They were all inadequate compared to Molt Sol Agustus. Zorzal would destroy the Empire by continuing the war with the Invaders, Diabo was useless, and when the fighting was done, and she proved victorious, Pina would hand over the smouldering remains of the Empire to the offworlders, so long as she was Empress of Ashes.

There wasn't much Pontus could do about these turns of events. He remained at his post, and guarded the north, to prove to the barbarians that though the nobles had forgotten their honor, the Men of the Legions were still their betters on the field of battle.

For some months he was stationed at the city of Ravvena, fighting the petty warlords, drinking half frozen ale, sleeping with half frozen women, and otherwise freezing his balls off.

Then they came...

A patrol hadn't reported back. Then a merchant caravan, scheduled to arrive later that day hadn't shown up. Fires burned on the horizon. At first he thought it was the tribes, but then more fires were lit, and more, and then more still, until it was so bright, when night came, it seemed as if the sun had not gone down. Pontus knew that something was wrong; all the northern tribes together did not have enough men, women, children, or animals to need that many fires, even if they all gathered together. This was the work of someone else.

A lone rider came to the city's gate. He was the sole survivor of the first patrol to go missing. He claimed that there was another Gate, and that a great horde of barbarian men and monsters emerged from the it, and now marched towards the city, and if they had any hope of salvation, it was to run, far and as fast as they could.

The general had executed the man for cowardice, and then rallied the legion for battle. They would defend the city with their lives.

The rider had neglected to mention just how truly massive the horde arrived, and they stretched on for miles, across the horizon, with no end in sight. At their head, a banner-bearer, featuring a circle with eight points.

They made no demands, no parlay was given. They simply attacked, with such ferocity that they put the infamous warrior rabbits to shame.

On ladders they scaled the walls. Strange and monstrous creatures battered down the gates. Horrible siege weapons knocked down the walls. Men, several heads taller than any man of the Empire, carved their way through the Legion, and once inside, made no distinction between soldier and civilian, killing, mutilating, and burning all they came across.

The general had been killed by a brute in massive blood red plate armor, and Pontus' century had been hacked to pieces by a band of near naked fanatics.

Now, Pontus was alone, bleeding to death on the snowy streets, and watching as the barbarians raped the city. He never liked Ravvena, or it's people, but he never wished this on them, not in a million years.

He glanced around the street, waiting to die... and then he saw HIM.

He rode a steed of blackest night, which breathed the fires of hell. Clad in armor more imposing than the others, and with eyes glowing bright yellow, Pontus knew that this... man, was the leader of this horde.

Pontus shuddered. This was a horde filled with barbarians, monsters, and other countless horrors. For one man to command them all was beyond belief.

Pontus do not know it, but he gazed upon Archaon Everchosen, the Three Eyed King, the Lord of the End Times. He was here, however reluctantly, on the wills and whims of the Gods; to burn the world laying beyond the Gate.

The Goddess of the Underworld, Hardy, had forged the Gates in a fit of boredom. She desired new things to pique her attention, and found them in the form of the world that the Gates led to.

The Gods of Chaos took that as a challenge, and as an opportunity. They directed Archaon, whose Grand Legion was poised to strike at the weaklings of the soft South, to direct his fury through the Gate, which had appeared in Norsca. Archaon obeyed, and now he and his followers poured out through the Gate, and into the land beyond, to burn and slay, to corrupt, and to claim in the name of the True Gods of the Universe. When this was done, then, and only then, could the Everchosen return his attention to his true purpose;

The destruction of the Empire, the mewling south, and the World in it's entirety.

Spoiler: When Bretonnia makes a deal with Diablo

"With all due respect Prince Diabo, why should we follow you over Zorzal? He is the eldest son, and you are merely the second."

"His army is also the largest on Falmart! Even with our hosts combined, we cannot overcome such a host!"

Diaobo suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. The old fools he had gathered together in this tent were the lords of the outer provinces, and their combined armies numbered 40,000 men. These were personal armies, not legion sworn to the Empire, and as such they had been spared the mauling that the Vassal Kingdoms and the first Expeditionary Force were subjected too at the hands of Empire of Sigmar. These lords were situated far away from Zorzal's sphere of influence, but they still feared him.

"My Lords, yes Zorzal is powerful, and his army is indeed large, but who is it that fights for him? Most of his army is raw recruits, and have never seen battle. Your forces are all seasoned in the fighting against the barbarians. Every one of your men is worth five of Zorzal's."

"That may be Prince Diabo, but Prince Zorzal has ten men for every one of ours. Then there is the matter of Princess Pina. Her new husband, the Invader Lord, has twenty thousand men at his disposal, as well as their powerful weapons. We also hear news of the Vassal Kingdoms swearing for her. I fear that if we should, by some miracle, overcome your brother, we would be overcome ourselves by your sister and her barbarian husband."

Diabo felt his blood go cold, and rage build in his heart.

"Is there not a single man among you?!" he raged, "Not a single man who will take up arms to defend the Empire, his fatherland?! Or are you all sheep, easily frightened by the wolves? Look around you! Our lives and liberties are at stake! Should Zorzal succeed, he will instigate a purge in the noble classes on such a scale that eve the gods will be shocked. Then he will destroy the Empire by warring with the Sigmarites. Should my sister become Empresses, it will be in name only, for it shall be her husband, and the Griffon Lords beyond the Gate that decides the fate of our countrymen, from lowest slave to highest lord! You are not stupid men, you know all of this. Yet you would cower behind your walls, and do nothing to save our Empire?"

Diabo then calmed himself, "It appears that this was a waste of time. Nevertheless, I will fight for the Empire, with or without you."

A dozen laughs erupted in unison.

"You intend to fight both your brother and sister oh Prince? With what? We will not give you our armies."

"I came here because I wanted to. Because I thought you were all brave men of the Empire, ready and willing to put the only right candidate on the throne.

"I did not come here because I needed your armies."

Before any of the assembled Lords could question what the Prince meant by that, the tent flap opened, and an armored man walked through.

The man was tall, standing a head above the tallest lord there, and over his chain mail armor was a tunic dyed blue and red, with an ornate cup design stitched into it. The man's face was neither young, nor old, but shone with a brightness that no one, human or other, possessed.

The Lords all looked at the man and they knew that he was no ordinary mortal.

"This is Sir Roland du Artois, a Grail Knight of Bretonnia, a mighty kingdom laying beyond the Gate."

"We had heard rumors that you went beyond the Gate Prince Diabo, but we thought them all to be just that; rumors."

:For once, the rumors are true. I did go beyond a Gate, not the one at Alnus Hill though. There is another, but it's location remains my secret. On my journey there, I found myself in Bretonnia, and through a series of fortunate events, found myself in the company of King Louen Leoncoeur, a mighty warrior and a just ruler. When I told him of the ills that had befallen my fatherland, he promised to aid me in ridding it of both Zorzal's bloodlust, and Pina's reckless ambition."

"The Prince speaks the truth." Roland spoke, and dear gods, even his voice was inhuman, "My King has declared an Errantry War, and over ten-thousand knights have answered the call, and they bring with them thirty thousand men-at-arms, and fifteen thousand mounted yeomen. More than enough to crush this foolish Prince Zorzal."

Diabo smirked at the stunned silence of the lords. He had convinced them that with the Bretonnian's support, he was now a viable alternative to his siblings, and not a lost cause. They didn't need to know just what he had to offer King Louen to secure his support (lands for the knights, which he could confiscate from Zorzal and Pina's followers, and an end to slavery), and they did not need to... at least, not until he was Emperor. Then they could complain all they liked.

"My Lords, I did not bring you here because I need your support. I brought you here because I want your support. When they write the histories about this day, what do you want them to write about you? That you helped Emperor Diabo claim his crown, or that you stayed at home, and shamed yourselves with your cowardice?"

Spoiler: Union of States

Pina looked out over the balcony and gazed at the cityscape of Altdorf, capital of the Invad- Empire of Man, and the birthplace of her new husband. It was a large city, just like Sadera back home. Unlike the beautiful city of marble and light, Altdorf was dark, gloomy, with a certain edge that the Empire's Capital lacked. Grim faced men worked the streets, and grim faced soldiers marched in the parade grounds. Even the statues of their gods were grim faced, especially those of the Heldenhammer, whose appearance was more like a barbarian king then a diety.

Marriage was still strange to her; not the concept itself, as a Princess of the Empire, it was expected that a husband was in her future, sooner or later. Her time as the leader of the Rose Knights merely delayed that fate, not prevented it. However, she had always expected to marry a noble son of the Empire, one of the high lords, and to live out her days in a palace.

Now though, she married one of the Invad-Reiklanders in a bid to use the same overwhelming strength that had already defeated two armies in order to claim the Imperial Throne of Falmart for herself, lest her brother Zorzal destroy her homeland in his mad scheme to conquer the Sigmarites.

It was not a popular decision back home. Though many in the Senate either wanted peace, or didn't want Zorzal as Emperor, they saw her marriage the Prince Ernhardt as an act of betrayal; of selling herself and her people out so she could wear the crown. They weren't exactly wrong either, but what choice did she have? It was either join with the Sigmarites and maintain some form of control over their own lands, or be rolled over and subjugated.

"It is considered bad manners for the bride to be absent from her own reception Princess."

Pina almost jumped when she heard the voice, but years of court etiquette lessons suppressed the instinct.

She turned around and came face to face with Karl Franz, Emperor, Grand Prince of Reikland, Prince of Altdorf, her new liege lord, and, most of all, her new father-in-law.

"I apologize Your Imperial Majesty," she said, curtsying, "I just wished to be alone with my thought."

Karl Franz smirked, "Don't we all. Do you mind if I join you?"

Do I have a choice? "Not at all Your Majesty."

Franz walked out to the balcony and rested his hands on the railing.

"I'm certain that this is all very strange to you Princess. Being involved with us. Rest assured you made the right choice in my son. He's a bit grim, all Morrites are, but his heart is in the right place. He'll treat you right, and help you claim your throne."

"I thank you Your Majesty."

"Come the morrow, we will have to discuss the support we'll be giving you. Wars are costly and expensive, and we're pressed on all sides by foes."

Pina kept a neutral face, but she absorbed every word her new father said. When she had first met the Reiklanders, they had seemed unstoppable, with devastating weapons.

Now she knew better.

Ernhardt and his army were small compared to the armies deployed here, in the 'Old World.' However, those armies were constantly marching from one incursion to the next, and the Empire really couldn't afford to be expansionists now. Though her lord husband had managed to intimidate a number of local towns and castles into accepting his rule, his army was little more than a glorified garrison, sent to guard the Gate against any and all foes, but not to conquer to her world.

At first a part of her felt cheated, deceived into believing that a paper tiger was the genuine thing. Then she saw them in action; her brother had sent a moderatly sized force to take Ernhardt's castle, and the power of the Reiklander's guns as well as their battle wizards laid waste to that army.

What they lacked in numbers, her husband's people made up for in strength.

Strength alone though could not help her overcome her brother, nor make the Empire hers. They needed more troops, otherwise they'd be on the defensive forever.

Thankfully, her new father-in-law was ready and willing to offer support.

"Talk of war can wait for one night though." Franz said, a warm smile on his face before he offered her his hand, "Shall we return to the party?"

She smiled, "Of course Your Majesty."

===

Upon returning to the immense ballroom of the Imperial Palace, the Emperor had taken his leave of her to dance with his wife. Ernhardt had taken her by the arm and proceeded to introduce her to the high nobility of the Empire of Man; his 'Aunt' Emmanulle von Liebowitz, Grand Baroness of Nuln and Wissenland (though Emmanulle had made a face upon hearing the name of her province), his Godfather, Marius Leitdorf, Grand Duke of Averland, and Boris Todbringer, Graf of Middenland and Middenheim.

Emmanulle had looked Pina over, praised her beauty, and declared that her and Ernhardt's children will be adorable, much to Pina's embarrassment. Marius abandoned all decorum and simply embraced both newlyweds in a bear hug, before chattering so fast that she could barely pick up every other word. The one thing she did hear was Marius inquiring if the rumor of all Falmart women being very attractive was true. Graf Todbringer merely kissed her hand, said some pleasantries, and walked off. Ernhardt explained to her that the Graf's sullenness was common for Middenlanders when they weren't in battle.

The festivities continued until well after midnight, afterwards they retired to the chambers the Emperor had gifted them.

"My father has given me a sizable warchest, with which I can hire several sellsword regiments in addition to the State Troops he'll be sending with us." Ernhardt said as his valet helped him to undress, "After we hire them, we'll have enough men to actually launch a campaign rather than hole up in Alnus."

"Men who fight for gold can't be trusted." Pina said as her page, Hamilton Uno Ror helped her get out of her immense wedding dress, "What assurances do we have that they won't turn on us, or worse, go over to my brother?"

While they were in seperate dressing rooms, the doors to both were open, allowing them to converse.

"We'll only hire reputable Tilean Companies; ones that have a reputation for sticking to their contracts."

Pina scoffed, "I've heard less than flattering things about Tileans in your father's court."

"They also say less than flattering things about Falmartans. That doesn't mean that they're true. The mercenaries will be there to fill out the ranks, it's not as if we're trusting them with our most closest guarded secrets. If your heart is set on not having Tileans, well, there's always the Grudgebringers."

"Who are they?"

"A famed and powerful mercenary company. My father has tasked them in the past with delicate missions. Their leader, Morgan Bernhardt, is a good man, with honor beyond question. Father said he's contacted Bernhardt already, and the good Commander is open to negotiations."

"Well, if your father vouches for him, then I will consent to attaching his army to ours."

"I am pleased that you trust my father's judgment."

"He is a wise man... and now he is my father as well."

He didn't respond to that. Instead he waved off his valet and walked over to the door leading to the bed.

"I have something to show you in here."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Come and see."

When Hamilton was done putting her nightgown on, Pina followed Ernhardt to the bedchamber.

Set up agaisnt a wall of the bedchamber was a man sized object under a white sheet. Ernhardt stood next to it, a light smile on his face.

"What's this then?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"My wedding present to you."

He grabbed the sheet and puled it off, revealing what laid underneath.

It was a full set of plate armor, forged from a metal she was unfamiliar with, but her soldier's eye recognized that it was finely made, constructed by a smith who was leagues beyond those back home.

"What is it?"

"Gromril, the greatest metal on the planet, and ten times more valuable then gold. It's not completely gromril, but the breastplate and shoulders are made of it, and the rest of the highest quality metal the dawi can make."

"You could have hired another mercenary company for the price it took to buy this."

"I could have, but you're my wife. I want to protect you, but at the same time you are a knight in your own right. I cannot forbid you from taking the field, so finding the best armor the dawi can make and that a Prince of Reikland can buy to be a fitting compromise. Besides, you're going to rule a continent; now you'll look the part."

Pina smiled.

What a thoughtful husband she had found herself.

Spoiler: The Northern Rabbit

Grace was a warrior, like the rest of her people. The rabbit peoples have been warriors for as long as anyone could remember, and beyond, lead into battle by their Pureblood Queens. Until the traitor Tyuule sold out her own kind... and then came the bad days, the days of slavery, of being the playthings of the Empire. Their culture was lost, their past, lost, and their future bleak, just one more race of demihumans ground under the heels of the Empire...

Then He came. The Three Eyed King, the Lord of the End Times, the Everchosen.

Archaon.

He brought with him a great horde of warriors; men who dwarfed those who called the Empire home. They were fierce, brave, and not unlike Grace's people had been in the past.

Archaon, the great warlord, had burned several of the Empire's northern towns and outposts, before returning to his homeland with his armies... but he left servants behind.

The man chosen to lead these servants was called Ivar, an Aesling Champion and a great warchief in Archaon's army. It was in Ivar's hands that Archaon tasked the destruction of Falmart's kingdoms. It was Ivar to be known as 'The Burning Maul' to the weakling humans, and it was Ivar who branded the Eight Pointed Star across the land.

To Grace however, Ivar was merely 'Father.'

The remains of her mother's, whose name was Katherin, tribe joined up with Ivar's Warband, and, impressed by her savagery, the Warlord took Katherin to wife, and fathered many daughters on her. His warriors followed his example, coupling with the rabbits and begetting daughters, and soon Katherin's tribe became large, adopting and merging the traditions of the Aeslings with their own.

When Ivar was defeated, his army was forced to flee into the traditional lands of the Warrior Rabbits, for the great gate that had brought the Everchosen's army into her world had closed, and the only other gate was in the Empire's hands, and lost to the champions of the Dark Gods.

There, in the lands of Katherin's ancestors, he constructed a great hall, Rauðahǫll, and declared his wife Queen, and himself King.

That was many years ago. Her parents held a grip on their power, killing all their rivals, as well as destroying any attempts by the Empire to uproot them. They were the unchallenged masters of these lands, and any outlander who dared enter did so at their own peril.

Grace had been conceived during the Great War, and her formative years were spent watching her parents consolidate their power. Her mother taught her how to fight like a Rabbit, and her father taught her how to kill like an Aesling.

Her many sisters looked to her for leadership, for she herself was a seasoned reaver, and had led many raids on the Empire, as well as those rabbit tribes who did not follow the Dark Gods.

Now, with their numbers larger than they had been in decades, her parents declared that now was the time to crush the Empire, once and for all. Grace would be given a position of command, and be sent out to slaughter in the name of Khorne.

Blood for the Blood God, Skulls for the Skull Throne

Spoiler: The Emperor's mistress

Within the playroom of the Imperial Palace, Maria had set up rows upon rows of the tin soldiers, brightly painted in in Reikland colors. They were from her father's collection, and he allowed her to play with them on the condition that she be careful. Not wanting to disappoint him, Maria had gingerly handled them, making sure not to scratch the paint.

"Well now, aren't you a bold commander?"

Maria looked up an her face split into a grin upon seeing the voice's owner.

"Big brother!"

She stood up and, faster than any human five year old, ran over to her brother, Luitpold Franz, Prince of Castle Reikguard, heir to Reikland and Altdorf, and, if he played his cards right, possibly the next Emperor.

Luitpold knelt down and held out his arms, "How's my little sister doing today?"

Maria practically lept into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Better now that you're here!"

"That's kind of you to say little one."

"I'm not little! I'm bigger now than I was a week ago, and I'm still bigger than Hilde, Anna, and Ada!"

"That's because you're older, and older siblings have that luxury... for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"Eventually, your siblings will be as big as you... bigger even."

"B-but that's not fair! I'm the big sister, I should stay bigger!"

"Life's not always fair Maria."

Luitpold and Maria tunred their heads towards the sound of the newcomer's voice. It was her mother Tyuule, dressed in a gown made of Cathayan silk and designed by a Tilean master, and Karl Franz, their father, drssed in a militeristic uniform, with the sleeves of the arms and legs colored in the Altdorf coat of arms, and the rest reminiscent of his black and gold gromril armor.

"Father." Luitpold said, nodding his head respectfully as he set Maria down. He turned towards Tyuule and made the same gesture of respect, "Lady Tyuule."

Tyuule mimicked the nod. Her relationships with Karl's sons and daughter from his marriage to Gerturde von Krone, a Reikland Baroness, was civil enough; more than she could say about her relationships with the rest of the Empire's nobility. Luitpold in particular extended every warm courtesy to her; she made his father happy after all, and that was good enough for him. That she was around his age didn't matter.

"It is good that you made it here so soon from Castle Reikguard my son. Come, we have things to discuss with the rest of the council."

"Right away father. I am sorry Maria, but now I have work to do. I'll come by later."

"Alright Big Brother. I love you!"

"I love you too."

===

"... and according to Voland, more and more greenskins are gathering to this Ironhide's banner. We'll have a full blown WAAAGH! on our hands, sooner, rather than later, and by all reports, they're heading for Blackfire Pass."

Tyuule grimaced. She had seen a WAAAGH! before; also at Blackfire Pass, when her man had slain the Warboss Vorgaz Ironjaw, the murderer of his friend Marius Leitdorf. The orcs of the Old World were by far more dangerous than the orcs of her homeworld.

The Imperial Council of Emperor Karl Franz met in a great chamber, seated at a great table of Drakwald oak, decorated with paintings of Emperors past, and of victories won. The newest painting, added to the room but a year ago, depicted the triumph of the Empire's armies over the Everchose at Nordland, with the famed, but missing, hero Valten, Chosen of Sigmar, driving Ghal Maraz into the breastplate of Archaon himself.

No one was paying attention to the art, however. Instead, a series of representatives from the Elector Counts read off reports of their home province's troubles; it was long and tedious, but only the very important matters were given any serious thought.

A WAAAGH! counted as an important matter.

"A full blown WAAAGH... just what we need. We're still recovering from the Gate Wars and the Chaos Incursion. A WAAAGH! is the last thing we need." Volkmar the Grim, Grand Theogonist of the Church of Sigmar, and Tuule's most outspoken critic, said.

"We can't rely on Averland; they still have no Grand Duke. We must send an army to deal with it." Tyuule said, and, to her pleasure, Karl nodded his agreement.

As the Emperor's mistress, Tyuule didn't really have an official place at the Council, but she was a seasoned warrior herself (though her style of war was different from the one the Empire used), and Karl had her sit at his left. She felt the envious glares that the other nobles and bureaucrats shot her; few were permitted this close to the Emperor, and that such a sought after place was taken by a mistress, a nonhuman mistress no less, was taken as a personal insult by some.

Tyuule did not care if she hurt their petty feelings. In fact, a small part of her enjoyed it; lording her position over humans. The more swords we have, the better."

"There's more, I am afraid." Stirland's ambassador, a cousin of that superstitious and poverty stricken province's Elector, spoke up, "Something stirs in Sylvannia... and it is not of the living."

The table descended into whispering and fearful looks. Tyuule knew that they had reason to be afraid; since she came to the Empire, and had shared the Emperor's bed, she took it upon herslef to learn the history of her man's people... it was grim and bloody, making Falmart's look relatively pleasant by comparison. One era, the Vampire Wars, stood out in particular; the Von Carsteins and their undead armies had almost brought the Old World to heel on more than one occasion, and as a result, Vampires were among the Empire's most hated enemies, and the name 'Von Carstein' was still whispered in fear, and in only the darkest corners of the realm.

For the Von Carsteins to return to Sylvannia was troubling, especially with a WAAAGH on the way.

"Dispatch Witch Hunters to Sylvannia; they will act with my authority on this matter." Karl said

"Finally, there's the final piece of business... Norscan raids have increased in Nordland, Ostland, and Kislev. They strike under the banners of the Everchosen."

"What?"

"That's impossible"

"Remnants, that's all-"

"He can't be back!"

"Can't he?"

All eyes stared at the Supreme Patriarch, Batlhasar Gelt, draped in his long golden robes, with his face covered by the metal mask, making his voice give off an echoing noise. Gelt was ambitious, always looking to increase his power; both in the magical arts, and the political arena. His latest venture was trying to bring the Falmart mages of Rondal into the College's sphere of influence, but he was being blocked by Empress Pina.

Gelt was also one of Tyuule's few allies on the council that wasn't related to Karl.

"The boy Valten said he smashed Ghal Maraz into the Everchosen's breastplate, but that a daemon prince scooped up Archaon's body and fled across the Sea of Claws. For all we know, Archaon is still alive, and merely biding his time. His incursion of several years ago was large... but it was nothing in comparison to the Great War Against Chaos of Magnus' time. I believe Archaon may have been testing our strength, and that he may still be alive."

Once more, the table descended into shouting. Tyuule paid them no heed. Instead, she placed her hand in Karl's and squeezed.

If Gelt was right... then she had to protect her children. Chaos Incursions were devastating in their brutality, despoiling the very land itself. It took generations for civilizations to recover from such events, and from all accounts, Archaon was far worse than Asavar Kul, the Everchosen Magnus defeated, ever was.

She needed to keep her children safe, away from the Legions of the Dark Gods, but where could she send them? Where in the world-

That's when it hit her; her world. Through the Gate.

That's where her children will be safe.

Spoiler: Dwarfs meet Dwarfs

When the Gate opened, the Empire Umgi rushed to confront their enemy. They won, no surprise, after all, they were only fighting other manlings. Then the Empire sent an army through the Gate, to pursue their foe, and upon their return, they brought tales of wonder; a new world, untouched by the dread powers of Chaos, of the stink of the mutant beastmen, of the Grobi. Men lived there, but so did elves, and even dwarfs.

We had to see it with our own eyes. The High King, Thorgrim Grudgebearer, sent an envoy to the Gate; he sent me, Thane Grong Mithralspear, and my bodyguard, through the Gate, with a singular purpose.

Not to see the Empire o Falmart, nor their Apostles, nor their elves, nor any of the other marvelous things, but with one purpose, and one purpose only;

To see if these Falmart dwarfs were Dawi.

Everything about Falmart was different; their humans were different, their orcs and goblins different, even their elves were different. We needed to be sure if those dwarfs were kin to us, and not merely something different that shares the same name.

I met some of these dwarfs on the other side; they were a cheerful lot, already a difference between us. Their arms and armor was of decent quality, but nothing that approached a true Dawi smith's work. They invited me back to their Hold, to speak with their king. At least there was that similarity between us.

They threw a feast in our honor. Fellow dwarf lords and kings also came to the feast, eager to meet dwarfs from beyond the Gate. During the feasting, they told stories of great battles, and other mirthful things. One of their youngbeards, a Prince of the hold, then asked me to tell a story of my people. So I did.

I told them of our great Empire in the past, and of our friendship with the elves, and how they betrayed that friendship, kicking off the War of Vengeance. I told them of how, though we were victorious, we were left weakened, and that the Grobi took advantage of this, and set upon us. How the greenskins took our hold from above, and butchered entire generations of Dawi. Of how the ratmen came from below, and feasted upon our slain kinsmen. I told them of Josef Bugman, of Karak Eight Peaks, of Clan Gunnison, and most of all, I told them of Dammaz Kron, the Great Book of Grudges, and how it still remains full.

I stopped speaking, and looked at the faces of my hosts.

They were enraged. Enraged that such wrongs had been visted upon my people, enraged at the Grobi, at the Ratmen, at the elves. Their King drew his axe, and swore upon it that he would kill a thousand greenskins for their constant insults, as if it had been committed against him and his kin. Soon, every dwarf in the room was doing the same, from the oldest longbeard to the youngest beardling. They swore oaths of vengeance against all enemies of the Dawi, and to strike every grudge from the Dammaz Kron.

I smiled then. Despite our differences, they were my people. They were Dawi.

And we will have vengeance upon all of our people's enemies.

Things that IRUn confirms:

Spoiler

• The Gate to the Chaos Waste is cut off after the Falmart gods realized this is a VERY bad idea.
• The Storm of Chaos ended with Archaon's death at the hands of Valten. The Dwarfs are on the upswing, and have retaken a hold. The greenskins are still a problem, but their numbers have been greatly reduced.Malekith is dead as well, including his cursed mother, slain in a huge war on Ulthuan. The Druuchi are in a state of civil war, and it's being taken advantage of by the High Elves. Finubar is still Phoenix King.
• The Falmart Empire forced Pina, Zorzal, and Diablo to fight together with the Empire of Man &Bretonnia against the Forces of Chaos. They succeed, but lots and lots of men in Falmart are dead. Zorzal is among those and his skull is mounted on Ivar's' attire after putting up a fight, which in turn caused the Warrior Rabbits to side with Chaos. Pina is the official Empress of the Falmart Empire and married to Erhardt (who is made Grand-Markgrave and later Elector of Falmart, but unable to become Emperor of the EoM), and therefore the Falmart Empire is technically subservient to the Empire of Man. Especially that so many noble men of Falmart are dead and the women are forced to enter into a political marriage with the Empire of Man (Examples include the Formal Family of Italica, the Tyueli Family, and the Moltose Family). Diablo is living in a villa in the lands that are annexed to the Kingdom of Bretonnia per according to their deal, and is somewhat content with what he has.
• The religions of the Old World is introduced to the Falmart and there are religious clashes among mortal men. The Cult of Sigmar is taking hold. Pina and Erhardt's son and heir, Julius Del Franz, follows the Falmart deity Deldort, God of Covenants, and Sigmar in equal measure. The Gods of both worlds don't care about the dispute, but Morr has become an enemy of Hardy, who is NOT happy about a guardian of the dead "stealing" her souls. Interestingly, there are wolf-men who are curious and wants to join the Church of Ulric, which is causing divisive reactions from the humans.
• The animal-people are still treated like crap (or worse than that) by the Empire of Man. After the EoM stopped their plans of killing anything that looks like a mutant despite they are not Chaos tainted, they are racially looked down. The EoM consider planning of "moving them" away from their holdings. Orcs are under "kill on sight" and the Falmart Empire tried to reason with the EoM about using them as cannon fodders rather than seeing an ounce of pity for them.
• The bulk of the Rabbit Tribes follow Chaos now, with only a fourth resisting. The Empire supports these tribes in their fight for survival, and has allowed many to immigrate into the Empire for protection.
• A group of vampire dark elves roam the continent, searching for worthy foes to slay.
• On Magic: Rondel is competing against the Colleges of Magic, who wants the city of mages under their control but Pina is trying to keep the city independent. Rondel is under Imperial protection from the Witchhunters. The Falmart mages in the astronomy department are benefiting greatly from learning about the Celestial Order.
• High Elves and Dwarfs of the Old World are trying to establish relations with their Falmart counterparts.
• Lelei is a high ranking mage in Rondel. She's made friends with a group of Wizards of the Celestial College, who keep her informed about changes within the Colleges.
• Tuka got married a traveling Silver Helm High Elf, who took her back to Ulthuan, where she's become sort of a minor celebrity (the elf from the other side of the gate!).
• Tyuule, in an unforeseen series of convoluted events, managed to make her way to Altdorf, and became Emperor Karl Franz' mistress, despite raised eyebrows from nobles and criticism from the Church of Sigmar. She's mellowed out some, and has four daughters now.
• Bozes started a relationship with a foreigner, in this case a thirty-something Demigryph Knight named Siegfried von Tempenhoff, one of Erhardt's closest companions. They married and live in the Capital, serving as their friends closest advisers. They have twins.
  
• Rory is an enemy of the Empire of Man because she served a god of chaos, but her bounty is dropped by the Witchhunters.
• The Rose Order serve as the Empress' personal guard, and their numbers have increased; all women because of the huge loss of life (among men) in the war against Chaos.

 

You missed the ones with Tyuule.

Edit:

Here they are

Spoiler: Tyuule at the Altdorf Zoo

Maria never liked to stay in one place for very long. Whenever she tried to brush the little rabbit girl's hair, Maria would always squirm, as if it was physically painful to sit still for too long.

She took after her mother's people in more ways than just looks.

Tyuule sighed as her eldest broke loose of her hand once more to stare at the marvelous creatures housed at Altdorf's Imperial Zoo. She was 'oooing' and 'aaaing' at a chimera when the former queen finally caught up to her.

"Maria," Tyuule began, placing a hand between her daughter's long ears, "Don't run off into a crowd. I don't want you getting lost."

"Yes mother." Maria said, not really paying attention as most of her focus was on the thundertusk pen in front of her.

Tyuule put a hand to her forehead; she was such a handful. Why couldn't she be as well behaved as her sisters?

She looked around the Zoo; it wasn't as if she was in any real danger. There were a dozen and a half Reiksguard Knights, charged with the protection of the Imperial Family, up to and including the Emperor's nonhuman bastards.

Tyuule felt the eyes upon her; she stood out. Not only was she a forginerer, she wasn't even human. The Empire of Man was a superstitious place to begin with, and had she been anyone but the Emperor's mistress, she might have been burned at the stake for being a mutant.

She grimaced at the memory of one particularly zealous Witch Hunter, who had infiltrated the summer estate she and her daughters had been staying two years back, with the intent to murder her family. She had gutted the woman herself, but didn't come out of it unscathed- there was a nasty scar on her left leg from where the rogue templar's pistol had grazed her.

"Look mother, it's Deathclaw!"

Tyuule snapped out of her memories and followed Maria over to the pen containing her... man's griffon mount, and the second most popular exhibit in the Zoo.

Maria stood close to the bars of the pen, and called out to her father's griffon, over and over. Deathclaw, who was curled up, sleepily raised his head and looked towards the direction his name was being called. When he saw Maria, he kept eye contact with the girl for a few seconds, before returning to his slumber.

"Mother, why isn't he coming over here? Why is he ignoring me?"

"Because he's a lazy griffon, who sleeps away the day and is rude to little girls."

"But father says that he rides Deathclaw into battle. That makes him a warrior too! How can a warrior be lazy?"

"Because he is part cat My Dear," Tyuule explained, "And we both know that cats sleep away the day."

The griffon raised his huge head, and Tyuule sore that the griffon was glaring at her.

Deathclaw... what a name. Karl Franz was many things, dignified and full of class among them. That being said, Tyuule wondered what had possessed her man to name his griffon something as ridiculous as 'Deathclaw.' When she questioned him on it, he merely replied 'We were all young once.'

Spoiler: War Room

Within the playroom of the Imperial Palace, Maria had set up rows upon rows of the tin soldiers, brightly painted in in Reikland colors. They were from her father's collection, and he allowed her to play with them on the condition that she be careful. Not wanting to disappoint him, Maria had gingerly handled them, making sure not to scratch the paint.

"Well now, aren't you a bold commander?"

Maria looked up an her face split into a grin upon seeing the voice's owner.

"Big brother!"

She stood up and, faster than any human five year old, ran over to her brother, Luitpold Franz, Prince of Castle Reikguard, heir to Reikland and Altdorf, and, if he played his cards right, possibly the next Emperor.

Luitpold knelt down and held out his arms, "How's my little sister doing today?"

Maria practically lept into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Better now that you're here!"

"That's kind of you to say little one."

"I'm not little! I'm bigger now than I was a week ago, and I'm still bigger than Hilde, Anna, and Ada!"

"That's because you're older, and older siblings have that luxury... for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"Eventually, your siblings will be as big as you... bigger even."

"B-but that's not fair! I'm the big sister, I should stay bigger!"

"Life's not always fair Maria."

Luitpold and Maria tunred their heads towards the sound of the newcomer's voice. It was her mother Tyuule, dressed in a gown made of Cathayan silk and designed by a Tilean master, and Karl Franz, their father, drssed in a militeristic uniform, with the sleeves of the arms and legs colored in the Altdorf coat of arms, and the rest reminiscent of his black and gold gromril armor.

"Father." Luitpold said, nodding his head respectfully as he set Maria down. He turned towards Tyuule and made the same gesture of respect, "Lady Tyuule."

Tyuule mimicked the nod. Her relationships with Karl's sons and daughter from his marriage to Gerturde von Krone, a Reikland Baroness, was civil enough; more than she could say about her relationships with the rest of the Empire's nobility. Luitpold in particular extended every warm courtesy to her; she made his father happy after all, and that was good enough for him. That she was around his age didn't matter.

"It is good that you made it here so soon from Castle Reikguard my son. Come, we have things to discuss with the rest of the council."

"Right away father. I am sorry Maria, but now I have work to do. I'll come by later."

"Alright Big Brother. I love you!"

"I love you too."

===

"... and according to Voland, more and more greenskins are gathering to this Ironhide's banner. We'll have a full blown WAAAGH! on our hands, sooner, rather than later, and by all reports, they're heading for Blackfire Pass."

Tyuule grimaced. She had seen a WAAAGH! before; also at Blackfire Pass, when her man had slain the Warboss Vorgaz Ironjaw, the murderer of his friend Marius Leitdorf. The orcs of the Old World were by far more dangerous than the orcs of her homeworld.

The Imperial Council of Emperor Karl Franz met in a great chamber, seated at a great table of Drakwald oak, decorated with paintings of Emperors past, and of victories won. The newest painting, added to the room but a year ago, depicted the triumph of the Empire's armies over the Everchose at Nordland, with the famed, but missing, hero Valten, Chosen of Sigmar, driving Ghal Maraz into the breastplate of Archaon himself.

No one was paying attention to the art, however. Instead, a series of representatives from the Elector Counts read off reports of their home province's troubles; it was long and tedious, but only the very important matters were given any serious thought.

A WAAAGH! counted as an important matter.

"A full blown WAAAGH... just what we need. We're still recovering from the Gate Wars and the Chaos Incursion. A WAAAGH! is the last thing we need." Volkmar the Grim, Grand Theogonist of the Church of Sigmar, and Tuule's most outspoken critic, said.

"We can't rely on Averland; they still have no Grand Duke. We must send an army to deal with it." Tyuule said, and, to her pleasure, Karl nodded his agreement.

As the Emperor's mistress, Tyuule didn't really have an official place at the Council, but she was a seasoned warrior herself (though her style of war was different from the one the Empire used), and Karl had her sit at his left. She felt the envious glares that the other nobles and bureaucrats shot her; few were permitted this close to the Emperor, and that such a sought after place was taken by a mistress, a nonhuman mistress no less, was taken as a personal insult by some.

Tyuule did not care if she hurt their petty feelings. In fact, a small part of her enjoyed it; lording her position over humans. The more swords we have, the better."

"There's more, I am afraid." Stirland's ambassador, a cousin of that superstitious and poverty stricken province's Elector, spoke up, "Something stirs in Sylvannia... and it is not of the living."

The table descended into whispering and fearful looks. Tyuule knew that they had reason to be afraid; since she came to the Empire, and had shared the Emperor's bed, she took it upon herslef to learn the history of her man's people... it was grim and bloody, making Falmart's look relatively pleasant by comparison. One era, the Vampire Wars, stood out in particular; the Von Carsteins and their undead armies had almost brought the Old World to heel on more than one occasion, and as a result, Vampires were among the Empire's most hated enemies, and the name 'Von Carstein' was still whispered in fear, and in only the darkest corners of the realm.

For the Von Carsteins to return to Sylvannia was troubling, especially with a WAAAGH on the way.

"Dispatch Witch Hunters to Sylvannia; they will act with my authority on this matter." Karl said

"Finally, there's the final piece of business... Norscan raids have increased in Nordland, Ostland, and Kislev. They strike under the banners of the Everchosen."

"What?"

"That's impossible"

"Remnants, that's all-"

"He can't be back!"

"Can't he?"

All eyes stared at the Supreme Patriarch, Batlhasar Gelt, draped in his long golden robes, with his face covered by the metal mask, making his voice give off an echoing noise. Gelt was ambitious, always looking to increase his power; both in the magical arts, and the political arena. His latest venture was trying to bring the Falmart mages of Rondal into the College's sphere of influence, but he was being blocked by Empress Pina.

Gelt was also one of Tyuule's few allies on the council that wasn't related to Karl.

"The boy Valten said he smashed Ghal Maraz into the Everchosen's breastplate, but that a daemon prince scooped up Archaon's body and fled across the Sea of Claws. For all we know, Archaon is still alive, and merely biding his time. His incursion of several years ago was large... but it was nothing in comparison to the Great War Against Chaos of Magnus' time. I believe Archaon may have been testing our strength, and that he may still be alive."

Once more, the table descended into shouting. Tyuule paid them no heed. Instead, she placed her hand in Karl's and squeezed.

If Gelt was right... then she had to protect her children. Chaos Incursions were devastating in their brutality, despoiling the very land itself. It took generations for civilizations to recover from such events, and from all accounts, Archaon was far worse than Asavar Kul, the Everchosen Magnus defeated, ever was.

She needed to keep her children safe, away from the Legions of the Dark Gods, but where could she send them? Where in the world-

That's when it hit her; her world. Through the Gate.

That's where her children will be safe.

 

The Keep of Fort Griffon was a wooden structure four stories high. The dawi carpenters made it highly defensible, crafted from Reikwald oak, and as solid as any stone structure built by human hands.

Outside the great doors of the Keep, Erhardt always took the time to admire the work put in by the mountain folk; their victory was due in no small part to the the sturdy construction of their fortifications. WIthout them, they would have been overrun weeks ago, guns or no guns.

"Erhardt, lad! There you are!" Erhardt turned his head and his eyes went wide as he saw the speaker walk up to him.

"Duke Marius!" he exclaimed, bowing his head, and trying to keep his surprise in check, "To what do I owe the honor?"

Marius Leitdorf, Grand Duke of Averland, Ruler of Averheim, and the most unhinged Elector Count since Magnus reunited the Empire.

He was also a close friend of the Emperor Karl Franz, despite the madness, and one of the finest duelists in the Empire.

The Grand Duke was dressed in a costume colored black and gold, with purple leggings and yellow shoes, and on top his head was a cap with a huge feather. One could describe his dress as comical, almost jesterlike, were it not for the Runefang, 'Mother's Ruin,' and the long dueling dagger strapped to his sides.

Marius was one of several Electors to take the fight to the invaders, and his mad charges and fearless offensives had driven terror into the hearts of the enemy who dared to take Sigmar's land for their own. He was also one of the first to suggest pursuing the enemy through the Gate, and during the four week long siege, had led several midnight raids into the enemy's camps, torching tents, murdering officers in their sleep, and making off with loot, horses, and the occasional severed head.

"Oh, don't be so formal lad; after all, I've seen your bottom when you were a little baby." Marius said, loudly, much to the young Prince's frustration, and to the amusement of several passing soldiers.

"I merely thought we could walk to your father's war council together." Marius explained, opening the doors, "And perhaps talk of some news that may have come to me."

"What sort of news?" the younger man asked hesitantly. You would never know what to expect from Leitdorf. There was always the chance that it could be important, but there was always the possibility that the Mad Duke was leading you on, setting you up to be a punchline in his joke.

"Well, now that the enemy has been defeated, driven from our lands, and this damn gate has been secured, many of the Electors who participated in this campaign wish to go home, and to take their armies with them. The mutants in the forests and the greeskins in the mountains won't wait for us to settle our affairs here after all."

"True enough I suppose Duke Marius," Erhardt replied as the two men walked through the halls, and pass the various soldiers, servants, and other fort staff, "But this gate still needs to be defended. We were outnumbered two to one in that last battle; should the other Electors pull their support now, the gate will be left severely undermanned."

"Too true, too true." Marius agreed, but did not seem to share the same sense of worry that Erhardt did, "That's why your father is calling this council; to decide what is to be done."

===

Several minutes later, they arrived at the grand chamber that Karl Franz had taken for his war council, and two knights of the Reiksguard opened the doors for them, and allowing them inside.

Inside the room was a massive table, carved from Drakwald oak. Seated at it were all the nobles and officers of the campaign, busy talking amongst themselves.

"Helborg!" Marius shouted upon catching sight of Kurt Helborg, the famed Reiksmarshal, Grand Master of the Reiksguard Knights, and the man you had the honor of squiring for several years ago.

"So glad to see that you survived the battle!" Marius said, "And I am even gladder to see that the hairy caterpillar upon your lip has not grown wings and flown off your face yet! I daresay that none of us would have been able to recognize you otherwise!"

"Grand Duke." was the only acknowledgement Marius got from Helborg, but the tightening of the Reiksmarshal's jaw was all the indication that one needed to know that Helborg was annoyed.

Helborg was not the only great hero of the Empire to be present; Boris Todbringer, the Graf of Middenheim, was seated at the table, his one good eye scanning the room.

Todbringer had once been the main rival of Erhardt's father for the position of Emperor, but years of fighting alongside one another had turned Todbringer from a rival into a loyal supporter. When the invaders had come through the Gate, Todbringer and his Ulrican wolves had come down from the north like an icy wind, and had torn the foe to pieces with their savage might.

Next to Todbringer was the Ar-Ulric, Emil Valegir, who had joined Tobringer on this campaign, and had personally slain several of the giant ogre like monsters that the invaders had brought with them. To Erhardt, the Ar-Ulric was an enigmatic, almost ethereal being, whom was always accompanied by a pair of giant wolves, and appeared to wear a crown of winter upon his brow.

Across from the Ulricans sat Balthasar Gelt, Gold Wizard, and Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic. The most powerful magister of the age, Gelt was known for his great ambitions, tempered only by his apparent patriotism for the Empire, and his allegiance to the Emperor. As a master over the Lore of Metal, Gelt had used the Winds of Magic to rain down molten gold upon the foe outside of Ubersreik, and had turned entire columns of the enemy into statues. What magic users the invader possessed paled in comparison to the overwhelming might of the Supreme Patriarch.

Next to Gelt was the Grand Theogonist, Volkmar the Grim, who was currently living up to his name by shooting glares at Marius. When news of the invaders had first reached Altdorf, Volkmar was among the first to respond, gathering the faithful together and riding out to meet the enemy. Atop his War Altar, Volkmar had brought down holy fire upon the foe, and put the fear of Sigmar into their hearts.

At the head of the table stood Ludwig Schwarzhelm, Champion of the Emperor, wielder of the Sword of Justice, and bearer of the Emperor's Standard. Ludwig had led the hunting parties into the Reikwald, where the invaders were fighting with the local beastmen warherds, and after waiting for both sides to bleed one another, had struck and defeated both. During the siege, Schwarzhelm held together the west wall, where the heaviest fighting took place, and had singlehandidly slain one of the dragon riders employed by the invaders.

Finally, sitting at the head of the table, was the Emperor Himself, Karl Franz Holswig Schliestein, Grand Prince of Reikland, Prince of Altdorf, Count of the West March, Emperor himself and Blood of Emperors, and Defier of the Dark. He wore the gromril armor of Emperors, forged, in part, from the armor of Magnus the Pious. Laying on the table in front of him was Ghal Maraz, the legendary warhammer of Sigmar Heldenhammer.

"Good," Karl Franz said evenly, and calmly, but in a tone that commanded respect, "Now that Marius and my son are here, we can begin.

"Since this war started, we have defeated two armies; one in the Empire, and another one here, in this new world. Unfortunately, we cannot stay here much longer. The beastmen, the greenskins, the Northmen, and the other forces of Old Night will not wait for us to settle things here before they attack us. We must return to the Empire, and defend our lands from those who wish to destroy us. Still, until we can discover a way to shut down the Gate, and prevent the invaders from crossing through ever again, we would be fools to abandon this position entirely.

"That is the purpose of this meeting; to determine who will stay behind."

 

Two months after the Gate opened, one before the siege of Alnus Hill

Pina Co Lada, only daughter of the Emperor, Molt Sol Agustus, watched as Remus Fla Lucius, General of the Gate Expeditionary Force, knelt in front of her father, he eyes on the floor, all the while trying to cover up the stump where his left hand used to be. Currently, the formerly distinguished general was attempting to explain his failures; being defeated in battle, being driven back through the Gate, and subsequently losing Alnus Hill to the Outsiders.

"My Emperor," he began, sounding and looking like a whipped dog, "All went well at first. We took a handful of towns, and claimed many slaves. Survivors of our victories fled into the woods, and I dispatched men to retrieve them. When they did not return, I dispatched a larger force into the woods. Only a handful survived, and when they returned to the main force, they told us of the monsters that dwell in those woods; huge beasts that walk like men, but fight with the ferocity of a raging bull. It took four men to put down one of these beasts-"

"Do you expect us to believe that trained legionaries could not put down a few mongrel subhumans?" Prince Zorzal sneered from the Emperor's right hand, "Or are you merely spinning yarns to cover for your embarrassment?"

Pina internally bristled. While he was a skilled general and soldier, Zorzal had always been a cruel man, and every time he opened his mouth was to belittle someone else, and any day that he did not brutalize one of his slaves was to be considered a wasted day. Thankfully, Pina never had to interact with him much these days, otherwise she'd have failed to resist the urge to put her sword in his gut.

"I do not lie my Prince!"Fla Lucius exclaimed, for not a day after the scouts returned, than the entire army was set upon by these beasts! Ten thousand men can attest to that. They butchered half a legion before we finally broke their ranks, and no sooner had the last of the subhumans retreated back into their dark forest than the enemy attacked us in full force.

"They struck at us from the west, the north and the east. They had weapons that shot fire and death, and many died before they could even reach the enemy's lines. Many of those who survived being struck by the fireshooters would lose limbs, or die mere days afterwards. Then there were the mages-"

"Now we know the general lies!" Zorzal shouted, his mouth twisted into a sneer, "For now he expects us to believe that the barbarians used magic against him, and that their magic was capable of being dangerous!"

"It is the truth!" the broken man shouted back, his anger overcoming court etiquette and the sense not to raise your voice at a Prince, "Their magic far surpassed our own mages, and scores of good legionaries were cut down by their sorceries! Faced with certain defeat, I did the only thing I could do, and retreated back through the Gate. If I did not, we would have been slaughtered to the last man!"

"Perhaps you should have been slaughtered," Zorzal said, "and spared us the sight of seeing your shame-"

"Zorzal, enough!" the Emperor shouted, "Lucius, your retreat back through the Gate has shamed you and your family, as well as allowed the barbarians to seize Alnus Hill for themselves. Even now, my scouts report that they build fortifications upon the hill, and around the Gate, denying it to us. This can not and will not stand! Therefore, I have tasked the Vassal Kingdoms to raise their banners, and to march upon the hill immediately. They will drive the outsiders back through the Gate, and reclaim it for the glory of the Empire."

Pina was surprised at that; why send the Vassal Kingdoms when the Empire still had a surplus of legions?

"Please my Emperor!" Lucius said as he stood up, still covering his stump, "Let me join the assault! Let me regain my honor!"

"No." Molt said, much Lucius' dismay, "You had your chance, and you failed. You will remain here in Sadera, and await further orders."

"I... I understand, My Emperor."

"Good. Now then, the Emperor has better things to do than to waste time with a failure like yourself Lucius." Zorzal said, "Now run along so that your betters can fix your mistakes."

Lucius said nothing, but bowed one more, before turning on his heel and leaving, ignoring the snickers and gossip of the Imperial Court. Pina was sympathetic to the general, but to express her feelings would not be wise, now that Lucius had fallen out of favor.

Now was not the time for that. Now was the time to press her own agenda.

"Father, if I may make a request?" Pina said as she stepped forward.

"Speak Pina." Molt said, smiling for the first time. Pina was Molt's favorite child, and the Princess had taken advantage of her status on more than one occasion.

"I would like for myself and the Rose Order to join the Vassal Kingdoms at Alnus. It would raise their morale to know that a member of the Imperial Royal House is fighting alongside them."

"Still trying to play at being soldier Pina?" Zorzal asked mockingly, "Leave it to the men dear sister; focus on more womanly pursuits better suited for one of your station."

"I was speaking to our father the Emperor," Pina said, not even sparing Zorzal a glance, "for he has the final word in the Empire. Not you brother."

"You watch your tone-"

"Silence Zorzal!" Molt shouted, and the Crown Prince immediately complied, bowing his head and taking a step back behind the throne, but is eyes were glaring at Pina.

"Daughter," Molt addressed the Princess, "This campaign is beneath you. It would be a shame for the Rose Order's first battle to be such an insignificant melee. Instead, I have another task for you. Cleos Pal Brutus has returned from his subjugation campaign in the north, and such a victory deserves a triumph. The Rose Order has been given the task of serving as Brutus' honor guard..."

Pina only paid attention to half of what her father was saying. It was the same excuse as always; just once she would like to hear him say what he really meant.

That she and the Rose Order were all silly highborn girls, playing at being soldiers, and it would be foolish to send them into battle, where they would all certainly die.

She and all members of her order were trained soldiers, the equal to and in some cases better than any man, but none would let them prove their worth i battle. Instead, it was merely one ceremonial role after the other, with the occasional foray into the countryside to remind the people of the Emperor's might.

Day and night, Pina prayed for a chance to prove her mettle. What good were her skills if she could not use them? She had hoped that the battle to retake Alnus Hill would be the chance she desired, only to have her hopes be dashed once more. She was used to disapointment though, so it did not sting as bad as the first time she was refused.

Still, from Lucius' reports on the other world, there was a surplus of land to conquer, and many foes to defeat. She would get her chance, sooner, rather than later.

 

The Shadowlands, Ulthuan

"When we heard the noise, we thought it was just more Druuchi. Then we saw the thing; an archway made in the style of a human realm, obviously magical in nature. Nothing's come through it as of yet save a few beasts. None of us dared to enter the damned thing either, prefering to wait for your arrival Master Mage."

"Your caution does you credit Shadow Warrior," Sholacrel, mage of the White Tower of Hoeth, said to the elf who had led him to the magical gateway, "Gods only know what the origin of this thing is, or what might have become of you."

"Whatever it is, it bodes ill for us all." spoke Prince Madir, "So if you could begin before we all become old, it would be greatly appreciated."

The elves were standing atop a cliff side looking down at the beach before them. The Shadow Warrior stood to the left of Sholacrel, who was attended to by his senior apprentices. Madir, dressed in his ithilmar mail, and surrounded by his bodyguard and senior officers. Soon, they would traverse down a path towards the shore, and towards the reason for their presence, the mysterious archway.

Several weeks ago, reports came to the White Tower from the Shadowlands, of magical structure appearing on the shores of their ruined kingdom. After securing the archway, and fighting off the Druuchi scouts who infested the Shadowlands for it, the Shadow Warriors had sent for magical expertise. The High Loremaster Teclis responded by sending Sholacrel, a senior Archmage, and his apprentices, to the Shadowlands, escorted by Swordmasters.

The Shadowlands were dangerous though, and the archway was a complete unknown. For additional security, Sholacrel had called in a favor from his first cousin, Prince Madir, originally from Caledor but now dwelling in Ellyion with the family of his wife, for more forces to supplement the Shadow Warriors. In addition to Madir's own bodyguard, the Prince had brought with him two regiments each of spearmen and archers, as well as a band of Silver Helm Knights.

Young Vanon was one of those Silver Helms. Already unusual for being from a family with multiple children, he was the youngest of his family, and as such, Vanon stood little in inherit. Therefore, he took up arms for his Kingdom, and joined the ranks of the Silver Helms, both for glory and for the guantee of a future away from the shadows of his far more accomplished siblings.

He had done well so far; fighting Dark Elf raids on the Outer Kingdoms, as well as incursions by the fierce Norscans. It was during one of these raids that Vanon had slain the Norscan Warleader, and earned a place at the side of his superior, Prince Madir. Therefore, it was only natural that Madir had brought Vanon along to this trip to the Shadowlands.

The trip was uneventful, but it would be foolish to drop their guard now; Druuchi savages known as 'Shades' littered the countryside of the Shadowlands, and there was continuous fighting here between the Shadow Warriors and the servants if the Witch King.

"Do not press me Cousin," Sholacrel snapped, "Do I tell you how to impale an elf with your lance? No, so leave the affairs of magic to me."

"Fine." Madir replied, turning to Vanon, "Speak with the Shadow Warriors concerning any Druuchi presence in the area. If they suspect a threat, I wish to know of it. Then report back to me. I'm going down there." The Prince then turned on his heal and began making his way back to his horse.

"At once My Prince." Vanon said, though the proud Caledorian could no longer hear him. The young elf then turned towards the Shadow Warrior, "I apologize for my Lord; he is Caledorian you see-"

"Say no more." she replied, "We know of the Dragon Prince's... pride. We also no better than to take offense."

"That is good. Now, about the Druuchi?"

"After the initial attack from the Shades, we haven't encountered any. The Shadow King Alith Anar hunts for them, but so far, none have been seen, which is highly unusual."

"Do you think they are preparing for an assault on the archway?" Vanon asked. Though they currently knew nothing about the archway, even a young, elf like Vanon knew that to let it fall into the hands of the Witch King and his accursed mother.

"Anything is possible with the druuchi involved." she stated, "My people will continue to scour the countryside. Your Prince will guard the archway. I will keep you informed."

"Very well, I will relay this to my Prince. Good hunting...forgive me, but I do not believe I caught your name."

"It is Ivake. May the Cadai watch over you Silver Helm."

 

Fort Griffon, Alnus Hill

"Then it is decided." Karl Franz announced, "As it lies within my Province, Reikland will shoulder the bulk responsibility of defending the Gate from the invaders. Ten thousand men Reiklanders will be posted here in Fort Griffon, under the command of a General of my choosing. In addition, three thousand men from another province will also be stationed here, with the Provincial army rotating regularly. All that is left is to decide which Province will be first."

"I volunteer." Graf Boris announced, "Let it not be said that the Sons of Ulric did not stand by while the Empire was threatened from within."

"Excellent. I thank you for your contribution Boris." Karl said, a ghost of a smile on his face, "Now then, that will be all. You are all dismissed."

If he were a weaker Emperor, the Electors would have never have stood for the tone Franz took with them, nor bore being 'dismissed' as if they were schoolchildren, such were their pride.

This was not a weak Emperor though; this was Karl Franz, the most accomplished Emperor since Magnus, and only a foolish Elector would openly defy him.

Erhardt stood up, and began to follow the other men out.

"Hold a moment Erhardt."

Erhardt stopped in his tracks. He turned around and faced his father.

"We must speak. Come with me."

Erhard said nothing, but lightly bowed his head, and followed his father to the rooms the Emperor had taken for his own personal chambers.

"I've heard that you distinguished yourself well during the battle." Karl said as he poured a glass of wine, "I'm pleased to know that I've successfully raised another warrior in the family."

"I merely did my duty Papa." Erhardt replied as he sank into a plush chair. Now that they were alone, they could drop the formality.

"I expect nothing less from one of my boys." Karl replied, passing the glass to Erhardt, who took it gingerly in his armored hands, "In the end, all we can hope for is that we did our duty; whether it's too Reikland, the Empire, or to our family. You've made remarkable progress since you received your first commission; and now I've selected you for an important task."

"What sort of task Papa?"

"I must find a general to command the garrison. It needs to be someone with both experience, loyal to the Empire, and one that I can trust."

Karl leveled his steely eyed gaze at Erhardt.

"I suppose in this case, two out of three will have to do."

"Wait, you're picking me?" Erhardt was so shocked he almost stuttered, "But I'm not even twenty. Surely someone with more experience would be more suited-"

"Tell me Erhardt, how many fourth sons inherit anything of worth?"

"I... what? I mean, little father. Fourth sons inherit little."

"Exactly. Luitpold is going to be Prince of Reikland and Altdorf and, if he plays his cards right, could become Emperor one day. Siegbald is going to come into a large castle along the West March, as well as several smaller ones, and Kurt will spend the rest of his days as the Lord of a handful of country estates. Which leaves you, Erhardt. The best a fourth son can hope for is money, which you will of course receive upon my death, but that's not enough for one of my sons. That's why I'm giving you this hill."

"The hill father? I thought I was to be general until Gelt and his Magisters can divine a way to close the Gate?"

"Gelt is not sure that such a feat is possible." Karl admitted as he looked out the window of his room, "He has confided in me that whomever it was that created this Gate, be they god, daemon, or mortal, they used incredibly powerful, and incredibly resilient magic. It may never be undone. In which case, this hill is now an Imperial march, which will make you a Margrave."

"I... am honored, Father." Erhardt said, "But do you think I am ready to rule?"

"Sigmar no." Karl answered bluntly, "When you were a child, we trained you how to be a soldier, not a ruler. That is why I will send far more experienced men to serve as your advisers. They will be intelligent individuals, and if you wish to succeed then you will heed their council in all things, even if they tell you things that you do not wish to hear... especially then."

"I understand Father."

"Good. In addition to these advisers, I will also be posting experienced generals to serve under you, as well as Priests and Mages for support. They will support you where you are weak, and from them, you will grow stronger in areas you are lacking. It is not an ideal situation, but it will suffice. Let it never be said that a member of our House could not learn."

"From this day to your last day, you will be the Margrave of the Alnus March, and when you die, your children will inherit your title, and their children after them."

"I accept this responsibility father."

"Good. As of now, you will be the Empire's first line of defense against the invaders. You are also charged with exploring the lands surrounding Alnus Hill, and see if you can not subvert them to our purposes."

"That's the second time you've said 'Alnus'. Why did you choose that name for this place?"

"I did not; according to the prisoners, Alnus this the name that the locals gave this place."

"The locals- someone learned how to speak their language?"

"Partly. The men who interegated the prisoners obtained a rough understanding of enough words to carry on part of a conversation, while more progress has been made in using less orthodox methods.

"If I may inquire Papa, who undertook these unorthodox methods?"

"A wizard of the Purple Order named Olga Kahler. She was able to acquire a basic understanding of the enemy's language."

"How did she-"

"Death magic. She called upon the souls of the fallen enemy soldiers, and, through speaking with them, " Karl said, and that was all the answer Erhardt wanted, afraid to pry deeper into a Wizard's affairs.

 

Destroyed Village, Unknown Lands

"Well, any survivors yet?" Vanon asked from the back of his horse.

"None so far Captain." answered a spearman, "Merely more bodies."

After several days of research, Sholacrel had discovered the true nature of the archway, and its ability to travel to an another world. No sooner had he finished explaining this than he had asked for volunteers to go through it, and see what was on the other side.

Sending the Shadow Warriors was the first, logical choice. They were the most elite scouts on Ulthuan after all. However, with the threat of Druchii still hanging in the air, the Shadow Warriors were needed to guard the archway, and to continue to hunt for the enemy.

Therefore, Prince Madir had volunteered Vanon and a small squad of bowmen and spearmen through the archway; to see what was on the other side, and to determine if anything remotely civilized lived there.

When they had stepped through the portal, they had been greeted to the sight of vast grassy plains.

For the past few days, they traveled east, hoping to come across something besides wild animals.

On the dawn of the third day, Vanon believed that only beasts actually inhabited this world.

Then, on the fourth day, his party saw a forest; the first change in scenery since their mission began.

Of course, the forest also happened to be on fire at the time, with, of all creatures, a dragon flying overhead.

They waited for the dragon to leave before they moved into the woods. If the dragons here were anything like the ones back home on Ulthuan, then they did not burn down forests for no reason. Something was the target of it's wrath, and Vanon was determined to find out what exactly it was.

So they had entered the woods, and had come across a small village... or what was left of it after the dragon had been through it. All that remained was a handful of half destroyed structures, and many skeletons, some whose bones were half melted by dragon fire.

Due to the sheer scale of the destruction, and that only bones remained, it was impossible to tell what had actually lived here. So far, this excursion into the woods had proven to be merely a dead end.

"Asuryan damn it." Vanon cursed under his breath as he dismounted and led his mount to the well, one of the few surviving structures in the smoking remains of the village, "Returning to Prince Madir empty handed sits poorly with me."

"With all due respect Captain, we've only a few days of supplies left." a bowman said frankly, "We must begin heading back to the archway."

"I know Urhac." Vanon admitted sadly to the bowman. One half of him upset that they had nothing to show for this expedition, while the other half was upset for the lack of survivors.

"Thanks the Cadai that this well still stands. At the very least we will not die of thirst. Begin refilling our flasks." Vanon ordered as he grabbed the well's bucket, still miraculously attached to a rope, and dropped it into the well.

Not even a second after he had dropped the bucket than he heard two things; one was the bucket hitting something, followed by a splash.

The bucket had hit something on it's way down to the water.

Vanon looked over the edge of the well and his eyes widened.

"I see someone down there!" he exclaimed, unbuckling his sword and taking off his helmet, "Whomever they are they're still breathing!

"Urhac, grab this rope! I may need some help getting back up! Syanoc, grab some more rope from the packs! If this one breaks then I'll be needing another way to get us out of that well. Lellehe, prepare your equipment; whomever is down there may need a healer."

And so, Vanon climbed down the well. Upon reaching the bottom, his eyes acclimated to the darkness, and he could see that the person at the bottom was both a young girl, and an elf!

Elves, here, in another world? How? When? Why? Were they Asur, Asrai, or, dare he think it, Druchii?

Questions for later.

Vanon lifted the girl over his shoulder and began the climb back up. He was strong for a young elf, and though it took some effort, he was able to both climb back up the well, as well as carry the unconscious elf girl.

Upon reaching the top, he handed the girl to Lellehe, the healer, who immediately began inspecting the girl's head.

Vanon took a closer look at the girl and was struck by her looks. All elves were beautiful, but this girl was a beauty even among their kind. Not quite as slender as his kin, but her face looked like she belonged at court in Avelorn with the Everqueen.

Most of all, Vanon was just happy that they had found a survivor.

"How is she Lellehe?" Vanon asked the healer.

"All things considering, not too bad." Lellehe replied, her attention on dressing the girl's injuries, "But I believe she could have done without you inflicting that head wound on her with that bucket."

Vanon said nothing, grunted involuntarily. It was not as if he meant to knock her out; he did not even know that anyone was down there!

"Thankfully, your weapon of choice did not do any real damage." Lellehe explained, "By some miracle it seems she completely survived the dragon's fire with nothing more than a few scratches and bruises. Nothing that cannot be healed with time."

"That's good to know." Vanon said, not once taking his eyes off the girl, "Very good to know."

"Captain?" Urhac asked, brining Vanon back to reality, "She's an elf."

"I know, Urhac." Vanon retorted, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the girl and to Urhac, "If she is an elf, then I believe it is safe to assume that this was an elf village."

"I concur Captain." Urhac said, looking around, "If there are elves here though, would there be other, familiar races here as well? Could there be humans, greenskins, or worse, dwarfs here as well?"

"I do not know Urhac." Vanon admitted, walking towards his horse, "Those are questions for later though. For now though, we move out as soon as Lellehe is finished tending to the girl. We move out of these woods, and then make camp for the night."

"What about the girl Captain?" Urhac asked, "Are we bringing her with us?"

"Of course." Vanon replied, "She'll ride with me."

"Of course Captain."

 

"Prince Erhardt, there's a caravan over there."

Erhardt rode his horse over to Siegfried and took the telescope from the knight's hands, and looked through it. Sure enough, there was a wagon train of locals.

"Do you believe them to be merchants?" Erhardt asked as he looked the caravan over.

"They're not a merchant caravan." Siegfried answered, tightening his hold on the reins of his horse, "They are refugees, more likely than not."

"I do believe, Sir Siegfried, that you are correct." Erhardt said, "They do in fact have the look of refugees."

When you live in Altdorf for as long as Erhardt had, you learned how to tell the difference between a normal traveler and one forced to flee for their lives. Beastmen, greenskins, undead, and any number of other terrors made refugees out of the Empires citizens, and made villagers who never traveled more than a few miles from the place of their birth to take the long journey to safety.

Many of those refugees inevitably ended up in Altdorf.

"If they are refugees," Father Wilhelm, a dour Warrior-Priest of Sigmar, said, balancing his hammer on his shoulder, "Then what are they fleeing from, and should we be concerned?"

One week ago, Erhardt had been made a General, and been given command of the Fort, just as his father said, and promised that the Margrave title would soon follow.

No sooner had he taken command than the Emperor had also sent him new soldiers, famed for their battlefield deeds, as well as experienced men to advise him.

Among the individuals that now made up his command staff included Siegfried von Tempenhoff, a first born son of a powerful Altdorf family, and a friend of Erhardt's. A former Reiksguard Knight, he was a veteran of many battles, and as such, was currently serving as Erhardt's second.

In addition to the career military men who now made up the young Prince's command staff, a group of battle wizards from the Colleges of Magic had also arrived. Ottmar, Magister of the Gold Order, the same as the current Supreme Patriarch, was the unofficial leader of the group. He was dressed in the golden robes of his order, but, in a departure of the current fashion of those who wield the Lore of Metal, did not hide himself with a mask, instead letting the whole world see his face. Three more wizards, Detlev of the Bright Order, Konrada of the Amber Order, and Markus of the Celestial Order, came with him.

No sooner had the Wizards stepped through the Gate than they immediately began recording everything. Apparently, this world was 'strange' to them in regards to magic, and they were determined to find out why. Erhardt was no scholar, lest of all in the arcane, but he allowed the wizards to go about their work regardless. He trusted their judgment, and their knowledge in such matters exceeded his own.

Father Wilhelm, the representative of the Church of SIgmar, was less than pleased by Erhardt allowing the wizards free reign. Like most members of the Priesthood, he had a great suspicion of magic, even when it was on his own side. Regardless though, he heeded Erhardt's command, but resolved to keep an eye on them anyway.

The good Father was not the only man watching the Wizards with sharp eyes; Wilhelm had brought along with him Victor Hausller, an... honored member of Holy Order of the Templars of Sigmar... a Witch Hunter. There was a hard man if Erhardt had ever seen one. This was a man who hunted heretics and monsters, burned both them, and the innocent at the stake, and probably slept easily in the night.

Erhardt had fought mutant beastmen, greenskins, and all the might of the Invaders.

Victor Hausller scared him more than any of those monsters did.

What was worse, Erhardt was fairly certain that Hausller knew it.

Right now, all of these individuals went with Erhardt into his excursions of the Invader's countryside, accompanied by a small group of Reiksguard Knights, and several companies of pistoliers.

They had been ready to turn around and return back to the fort when Siegfried had caught sight of the caravan.

"Well Prince?" Siegfried asked, "What shall we do with them? Let them pass or do we go down and say 'hello?'"

"We need more information on these lands my Prince." Ottmar said as he rode up next to Erhardt, "We have a brief understanding of their language, but we need local knowledge. Perhaps we could work out a deal with those folk-"

"Or we could put the fear of the Heldenhammer into them, Magister." Hausller interupted, "And force them to confess their knowledge."

"Enough, both of you." Erhardt commanded, trying to rein in his fear of the Witch Hunter "We will talk to these people. Heinrich?"

Erhardt's squire, a ten year old boy from a Duke's family, had his pony step forward.

"Yes M'Lord?"

"Do you have the Book?"

"Yes M'Lord."

'The Book' refered to the rough collection of everything that the Empire knew of the Invader's language. Without it, they had no hope of understanding what the locals would say.

"Hold a moment Prince Erhardt," Siegfried said, taking the telescope from the Prince's hands, "I see another group of people on the horizon."

"Are they the enemy?" Erhardt asked, "Or bandits?"

"No, no. I... I cannot believe that I am saying this, but I believe they are elves."

"Elves?" Erhardt repeated, a bit shocked, "So this land has elves as well as men. Fascinating."

"They are native to this land Prince Erhardt." Siegfried said with a shake of his head, "They fly colors from Ulthuan."

"The Asur?" Ottmar exclaimed, "Here? What are the Westerly folk doing-"

The mage was cut off by a distant roar. The men of the Empire turned their attention away from the Asur and back to the direction of the Caravan, which was currently under attack by a enormous flying monster, one that Erhardt had only seen once before, at the Imperial Zoo at Altdorf.

"Sigmar preserve us!" Wilhelm said, grasping his warhammer with both hands, "It's a Morr damned dragon!"

"A proper dragon at that." Seigfried added, "Not like those runts the Invaders rode."

The knight then turned to Erhardt, a serious look on his bearded face.

"My friend, we must leave before the beast notices us. We have no weapon that can stand before a dragon."

"On the contrary my good knight." Ottmar said, his fellow mages behind him, "You have four of the Winds of Magic at your disposal."

Erhardt looked skeptical before turning back to the dragon, unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," Ottmar started, "We must find out more about this land. That caravan is the only thing available to us right now. If we let that dragon kill them all, it may be some time fore we get another chance. In addition, the caravan will owe us their lives."

Erhardt said nothing for a second, before he nodded.

"Men!" he shouted, "Draw the attention of the dragon away from the caravan and the wizards. Ottmar and his fellows are going to kill that beast for us! Now ride, as if Khaine and all his hell were upon you!"

===

"Captain Vanon, it's the dragon again!" a bowman said.

"I can see it." Vanon replied, looking at the great beast as it attacked a human wagon train.

The young elf girl's wounds had been treated, but she was still unconscious. They could no longer afford to wait, so instead of riding with Vanon, the girl was instead placed upon a makeshift stretcher, and carried between two spearmen. After the refilled their water, the party had set out. A few hours into the march, they caught sight of the wagons. Vanon was going to ride over to greet them, before the dragon that had burned down the girl's village had appeared.

Now, they were witnessing more of the dragon's rampage unfurling before their very eyes.

"A poor way to go." Urhac commented, "Whatever those humans may or may not have done in their life, I would not wish death by dragonfire on my worst enemy."

"Not even if it was a Druchii?"

"Not even then."

Vanon grunted before he addressed the party, "We double back the way we came, and wait for the dragon to leave! No point in risking our lives-"

"Captain, humans on horseback are riding towards the dragon!" Urhac exclaimed.

Then they are brave, but nothing to do with us-"

"They bear banners of the Empire of Man!"

That got Vanon's attention. Empire humans, here?

"How in the name of the Cadai-" Vanon started.

"Captain!"

Vanon growled. He was becoming tired of being cut off mid sentence.

"What is it Lellehe?"

"It's the girl! She's awake!"

 

The girl was indeed awake, and already standing, and though her footing was uncertain, her eyes were sharp and alert looking at the dragon in the distance.

Vanon got off his horse and made his way to her. The girl saw Vanon and tried to take a step, only to stumble, forcing Lellehe to catch her.

"Are you alright?" Vanon asked the girl, "Can you tell us your name?"

The girl responded with a quick succession of gibberish.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Vanon asked, "Can you speak Eltharin?"

More panicked gibberish.

"I shall take that as a no." Vanon sighed.

The girl then pointed at the dragon before pointing at her eye, all the while saying the same word over and over again.

The meaning behind this dawned on Vanon.

"I think she's saying to attack the dragon in the eyes." Urhac said, "Must be it's only weak point."

"I agree." Vanon replied.

"Captain, we're not actually considering going up against a dragon are we?" a spearman asked, "Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but that is not our mission!"

"Our mission to to discover what lies on the other side of the archway." Vanon said, "Right now, the only lead we have is a young girl who doesn't speak our language, and a band of humans from the Empire, who is currently running headfirst into a hopless fight with a dragon. If we wish to discover anything about this world, then the Imperials are our best choice. That is, unless you wish to teach the girl Eltharin yourself?"

"No Captain."

"Then we save the humans from being killed by the dragon. Archers, aim for it's eyes! I'll draw it's attention! The success of our mission depends on keeping at least one of those humans alive!"

===

Erhardt didn't know how he was going to survive this. Put him in a fight against beastmen or greenskins, and he was calm and cool under pressure. A dragon though? Those great beasts that could fight a greater daemon one on one?

A voice in the back of his head kept screaming at him, accusing him of leading his people into certain death. Of being an embarrassment to his father and his house.

He silenced the voices. Self doubt now of all times would get him, and everyone else killed. Now was the time for focus.

"Pistoliers! Fire at will!" he ordered.

They obeyed, unloading rounds of lead at the fire breathing beast. It would not be enough to kill it, even one as unfamiliar with dragons as Erhardt was knew that. That was not the point of it though; they were trying to draw it's attention away from the caravan, who was already losing people to the overgrown flying lizard.

As expected, the pistols did not even scratch the armor like scales of the dragon. It did succeed in drawing it's attention away from the locals.

Erhardt could now see that the only the dragon's right eye was of any use to the beast; the other had an arrowshaft sticking out of it's left.

"Men of the EMpire!" Erhard shouted over the dragon's roars, "It is blinded in it's left eye! Attack from there!"

The dragon flapped it's wings and raised itself into the air. It then descended upon a trio of pistoliers, knocking them off their horses and skewering them on it's claws.

Another group of pistoliers were coming on it's left side, firing for the eye. The dragon turned it's head and opened it's mouth.

Erhardt's eyes widened.

"You fools!" he screamed, "It's going to breath fire on you! Scatter!"

If the men heard him, it wouldn't have mattered. The dragon's fire engulfed both horses and riders. All Erhardt could do was pray that they died quickly.

"Wizards!" he yelled, "Use your damned power!"

The dragon then turned to Erhardt, and made to open it's mouth. This time, however, a fireball hit it across it's snout.

"Come now you great lizard!" Detlev the Bright Wizard screamed, his hands holding an ever growing fireball, "Have a taste of true fire!"

The wizard cast another fiery spell at the dragon, but the beast did not seem to take notice of the attacks.

"You fool, that thing breaths fire!" Konrada of the Amber Order shouted, "You can't kill it with it's own weapon!"

"Then I need to use more fire!" Detlev shouted back, riding closer to the dragon, inhaling, and then exhaling an inferno into the dragon's face.

Erhardt was then sure that the Bright Wizard was insane.

The dragon roared and took flight once again; you don't know if Detlev was actually hurting the thing, but it was certainly making it uncomfortable enough to keep distance between itself and the mad magister.

"We must keep it grounded!" Erhardt shouted to his men, "Aim for the wings!"

Above him, Konrada the Amber Wizard had used her magic to transform her body into that of a giant eagle. She then used that form to attack the head of the dragon, using her superior speed and maneuverability to stay out of the range of the drago's snapping jaws.

"My Prince!" Ottmar, Gold Wizard, rode up to Erhardt, "Markus and I have a plan, but he requires time to cast it! I will bring the dragon down, but you and your men must keep it's focus away from Markus!"

"Do what you must Magister!" Erhardt stated, drawing his blade, "And we shall do what we must! For Sigmar and the Empire! Come men! Let us send this beast to Morr!"

Erhardt kicked his horse, and he charged alongside the Reiksguard Knights, drawing swords and aiming lances at the dragon.

The dragon turned around and, using it's wings like sails, created powerful gusts of wind to knock them all back. The winds forced some knights back, but knocked a few knights off their horses, such was the power of these gusts. Those who remained on horseback were forced to break off their charge.

Erhardt was one of these knights, knocked off his horse, and thrown to the ground. Then, to his horror, no sooner had he hit the ground then his horse fell on top of his legs. Erhardt roared in pain; perhaps one of his legs were broken. The horse then got up and ran off, leaving Erhardt on the ground.

Ottmar raised his staff, and began to draw the Gold Wind to him. After a few seconds of casting, he unleashed his power in the form of the spell known as 'Searing Doom,' causing molten metal to rain down from the sky like arrows.

The dragon's scales would protect it from most of the spell... but it's leathery wings were exposed, and vulnerable.

The Searing doom came down like rain, and hundreds of shards of razor shop and burning metal pieced it's wings, making dozens of holes, and tearing to shreds the once mighty wings, capable of bearing the dragon through the air, and forcing it to land.

Unfortunately, it landed right in front of Erhardt.

From it's one good eye, the dragon was staring right at him. Though it was in pain, it would use it's strength to kill him at the very least.

It moved forward, it's massive head low to the ground, and it's jaws coming closer and closer to the Prince.

Erhardt picked up his sword, a 'Griffon Claw' blade, and held it in front of himself. If he was to die, he would die defiant, and not show the fear that was gripping his soul.

"Sigmar, give me strength to face this." Erhardt prayed, "Morr, if you judge me good, let me join you at your side, and let my ancestors, all noble Princes of Reikland, welcome me with open arms. Shallya, have mercy on my father."

The dragon was getting closer when, suddenly, Erhardt heard the sound of a galloping horse coming from his right; the same direction as the dragon's blindspot.

A knight on horseback had ridden up to the horse, and stabbed a lance into it's left eye, causing it to scream in pain and rage.

The knight abandoned his lance in the great wrym's eye, and rode his horse over to Erhardt.

"Give me your hand man!" he said in accented Reikspiel.

Erhardt did as he was bade, and raised a hand. Somehow, with one hand, the knight was able to lift Erhardt, who wore plate armor, onto the back of his horse, without having his arm be pulled out of his socket.

The knight then sped off on his horse, as a rain of arrows began to fall upon the dragon. Erhardt looked to see where they were coming from, and saw a company of the High Elves they had spotted earlier on a hill, shooting at the dragon.

If they were High Elves, then that meant that the knight who rescued him was also an-

The dragon roared, and began breathing fire as a response to the pain it was feeling.

Far away, on another hill, the Celestial Wizard, Markus, was ready to cast his spell.

Let us end this!" he roared, before unleashing the power of the Blue Wind.

The spell he cast was the 'Comet of Cassandora,' a powerful spell that reached into the heavens, and pulled down on a meteorite to bring it to earth.

This time, the Comet was coming for the dragon.

Wounded, and with useless wings, even if the the dragon was aware of the incoming space rock, it could not move in time.

The comet hit it's target dead center, and when it struck true, a loud boom filled the region, and it kicked up a cloud of dust engulfed the area where the dragon was.

The knight rode a bit farther away before stopping next to the main gathering of the Empire's expedition.

"Take your Prince." he said, and they wasted no time in lifting Erhardt's body off of the Elven steed and onto the ground. Father Wilhelm began using his healing powers on Erhardt, and his squire Heinrich was pouring ale down his throat from a flask.

Erhardt looked up at the face of his rescuer. He was indeed an elf, wearing a silver helmet.

"I thank you noble Asur." Erhardt said, "For saving my life. Pray tell though, what are the children of Ulthuan doing here?"

"I am Captain Vanon of Ulthuan. As for why I am here, I could ask the same of you, sons of the Empire." came the response.

Before anyone could say anything else, a loud rumble filled the air. All looked towards the where the dragon was.

The dust had cleared, and all could see the dragon now. The Comet had struck true, and had broken the back of the dragon. It now lay on the ground, paralyzed from it's shattered spine. It was dying a slow and painful death.

It needed to be put out of it's misery.

"Wait here for a moment Imperial." Vanon said, and he directed his horse back towards the dragon.

Erhardt watched him go, and then looked around the collateral destruction of the battle. The field was on fire, and he had lost a little over a dozen men to this beast.

The caravan was still alive though. Right now, one of their wagons was making it's way towards them.

"Heinrich." Erhardt started, "Tell me you still have that book."

"Yes M'Lord."

"Good. Because in a few moments, we're going to need it."

===

Vanon rode his horse towards the dragon at a quick pace. Though it had been their enemy not too long ago, Vanon did not want the creature to suffer.

His path towards the dragon took him next to his soldiers, and the girl they had found. The girl ran up to his horse and launched into a stream of her native tongue, pointing at both herself and at the dragon.

Vanon did not understand the words, but he understood the meaning.

She wanted to come with him to see the dragon who had destroyed her village and killed her kin die with her own eyes.

Vanon reached down and lifted her up onto the horse. She was much thankfully much lighter than that young human lord, and therefore much easier to pull up (his arm was still mad at him for that stunt with the human). He placed her in front of him, and then began making his way towards the dragon once more.

A minute later, they were at the dragon, who was laying perfectly still, unable to even growl at them, only unleash short, distressing, noises.

Vanon dismounted first, and, since the girl had no idea how to dismount properly, lifted the girl bodily from the saddle. The pair of them then made their way to the crippled beast. The girl's stare was both fearful and hard at the same time. Vanon's sword was in his hand.

A few yards away from the dragon, and Vanon held up a finger, and the girl stopped moving forward. Vanon continued the rest of the way towards it until he was finally right next to the right side of it's head, with it's one good eye, which was now looking up at him.

Vanon raised his sword, and stabbed it into the dragon's head, between it's scales, dislodged from the magical comet, where it's brain would be. The dragon let out one final roar, and then fell silent.

Vanon's sword and armor was covered in the creature's blood. There was nothing he could do about the armor for the time being, but he knelt down and cleaned his sword upon the grass. He looked up at the girl, and saw that she was still standing; several tears were rolling down her face, but her eyes were hard.

He stood up and walked over to her, sheathing his sword and taking his helmet off. When he reached her, he became very aware of the difference in height between the two of them; he stood almost two heads taller than her.

She looked up at him, and with tearful eyes, brought a hand up to her chest and said, "Tuka... Tuka."

"Tuka." he repeated, "That must be your name."

"Vanon." he said, lightly pounding a clenched fist against his armor.

He gestured towards the horse, and Tuka nodded, but not before she walked closer tot he dragon and spat at it, before turning around and walked back towards his horse.

===

Across the grassy fields, a lone figure stood and watched the battle that had taken place before her.

"Well, well, it seems the world on the other side of the Gate has some very interesting people." Rory Mercury said as she balanced her giant axe against her shoulder, "Perhaps it wouldn't be a waste of time to check it out."