A dwarf messenger finally managed to use the underground river built by the Norscan dwarves over centuries to deliver urgent military information to Erengrad. Situated on the eastern coast of the Sea of Claws, Erengrad is Kislev's second-largest city, a bustling trade and industrial hub with a deepwater port.
The underground river built by the Norscan dwarves connects the Giant Mountains to the Sea of Claws and exits through a hidden coastal outlet beneath a seaside cliff. This secret route enables the Norscan dwarves to relay messages to Kislev or the Empire without traversing the entire Norscan coast.
The order from Thorgard the Crimson, the Norscan Dwarf Lord, was exceptionally timely. About thirty minutes after the dwarf messenger departed, the entire city of Mount Durak found itself surrounded by a massive force of over a hundred thousand Chaos warriors, cutting off any chance of further communication.
The initial assault on Mount Durak came from the Norscan Supreme King, Wamir Esling, the Chaos Chosen of the Four Gods, leading the Norscan Mountain Legion. This force comprised more than fifty thousand barbarian warriors, including three thousand barbarian champions, over two thousand Chaos warriors, numerous monster warbands, and other monstrous creatures.
The Norscan Mountain Legion quickly launched an assault on Mount Durak.
But Thorgard the Crimson was ready. Mount Durak had ten layers of defensive fortifications, with hundreds of war machines and over a hundred cannons firing in unison, casting an endless rain of bolts from thousands of dwarf crossbows. The city's thirty thousand dwarf residents had all been mobilized to defend their home.
The battle was brutally fierce. Wamir Esling, ranking even higher than Egil Red-Eye, was the latest Supreme King of Norsca after Erik Bloodaxe (who had been killed by the High Elf warlord Tyrion on Ulthuan about fifty years prior). No one knows Wamir Esling's exact age, but he was already one of Norsca's most powerful Chaos champions when the second Everchosen descended south. He survived the battle at Fasha and returned to Norsca to restore his tribe. By the time he allied with Morkar, Wamir had already proclaimed himself "Chaos Emperor" and "Supreme King of Norsca," reaching the pinnacle of Saint-level power, ever ready to bring ruin and death to the weak southerners.
However, the resilience of Mount Durak's defenses far exceeded the Chaos army's expectations. After five days and nights of relentless assault, the first defensive line finally fell, but nine more lines of defense awaited them in the deep mountains. The Chaos forces left over thirteen hundred corpses behind, while the Norscan dwarves lost fewer than thirty men.
The barbarian tribes and Chaos warriors grew increasingly restless, and a severe blizzard soon interrupted their attacks. The Norscan dwarves retreated to the second line, where they fortified their defenses even further, with towering walls, hundreds of gun emplacements, and narrow pathways that frustrated the barbarians.
In the aftermath of the Great Holy War, the Norscans had besieged Mount Durak for 35 years, ultimately failing. The city was capable of self-sufficiency and could secretly obtain supplies through underground river routes unknown to the barbarians.
Wamir Esling's fury only grew as he realized that continuing to attack Mount Durak would require them to venture further into the deep mountains, where their monstrous warbands would be of little use. After consulting with his Chaos champions and Norscan leaders, Wamir decided to leave a small force to besiege Mount Durak and lead the remaining forty-five thousand troops south to attack the Empire's Nordland directly from the Sea of Claws.
The Norscan dwarves, through their valiant defense, had bought the southern humans an extra week. But now, they found themselves encircled by barbarian forces, cut off from any contact with the outside world.
In the snowy peaks, Thorgard the Crimson stood at a hidden mountain lookout, peering out with his telescope.
"The Chaos filth seem to have temporarily given up," he sighed, watching the Chaos army bypass Mount Durak's peaks. The endless dark tide of destruction stretched across the landscape like an ocean. Thorgard exhaled deeply, saying, "Let's hope our efforts buy the southern humans and our allies enough time to prepare."
A terrifying dragon's roar echoed across the sky. A Chaos dragon, its once-noble form now covered in tumors and growths, flew overhead, its twisted power augmented by the forces of Chaos.
"The Chaos dragon Skulex the Mighty," Thorgard muttered grimly, putting down his telescope. "The scale of this Chaos invasion may be the largest since the Great Holy War."
"Do the southern humans know of this threat?"
"We received the Norscan dwarves' message, General Voroshilov." In the palace of Erengrad, an attendant delivered a report to Voroshilov, Erengrad's current Duma representative. Voroshilov, who had suffered severe losses in the Winter War, had been demoted from Marshal of the Bear Cavalry to General.
Following the heavy losses of the Winter War, Voroshilov had clearly lost Tsarina Katarin's trust. However, as an experienced and discreet officer loyal to the Tsarina, he had always been careful not to offend her. Known for his modest habits, such as the occasional drink, he was a skilled politician, willing to adapt to changing circumstances. During the war's aftermath, he had humbly donned rough fur clothing, showing his age and white hair to garner sympathy and avoid further punishment. Thus, he had only been demoted and assigned to Erengrad as a Duma representative, effectively retiring him from active command.
Despite skepticism from most, the dwarves' message detailing a significant Chaos force gathering north of the Weeping Mountains had reached Voroshilov.
In his noble residence in Erengrad, Voroshilov sat comfortably by the fireplace, dressed in a large bear-skin coat and rocking in his chair. Half-finished cream of mushroom soup and a hamburger steak lay on the table before him. He had just finished writing an article praising Tsarina Katarin for her diligent governance, which had brought about a rare bumper harvest. He was tired yet content.
With Kislev's millennium celebration just a month away, it would mark a thousand years since the first Tsarina, Empress Miska the Ice Witch, had led her people from the tainted Kurgan plains to settle in what became Kislev. Time had flown by in those thousand years.
In the past two years, Kislev had finally seen some stability. The Empire resumed food aid, and trade routes established by Belia's "gray livestock trade" and connections with Mount Durak had enriched Kislev's coffers. The snow-bound kingdom had managed to stave off the brink of collapse, allowing Voroshilov to eagerly praise what he called the dawn of a "Katarin era."
His timing coincided with an unprecedented bumper harvest. With Katarin's favorable response, Voroshilov believed that his return to Marshal rank and reassignment to Kislev City might not be far off.
"General, here's the message from the Norscan dwarves," an attendant handed Voroshilov the report. The old general adjusted his reading glasses and carefully studied it.
After a few minutes, he set down his glasses. "Is this information reliable?"
"It seems so, but the boyars and other generals think it's outdated information. They're certain those barbarians are targeting the Dark Elves," the attendant replied.
"Hmm…" Voroshilov had seen dozens of similar reports recently. The intelligence came from Norscan spies, barbarian traders, northern fortress posts, and even the Empire and the dwarves. All conflicting, all unreliable.
While he was ready to set the report aside, a thought struck him: this could be his chance to re-enter the Tsarina's favor.
"Arrange a transport. I'll deliver this report to the Tsarina personally!"
"Yes, sir!"
A week later, Voroshilov reached Kislev City and entered Bokaha Palace.
Kremlin guards barred his way, informing him, "General, you cannot enter right now."
"What's going on in there?" Voroshilov tried to peer inside.
Inside the grand hall, the boyar nobles, Kislev generals, and Ice Witches sat around Tsarina Katarin, who was perched upon her throne, her voice cold and displeased. "We have recently repelled the Bersomin tribe to the far side of the Weeping Mountains, and the southern fortress of Gakova now faces a greenskin assault," she said.
"I've ruled for over twenty years, striving for this brief peace and harvest!" Katarin sat surrounded by the Ice Witches, who fixed the Duma representatives with equally icy stares. "Everything I've done has been for Kislev's prosperity. What else would I do this for?"
The hall fell silent. No one dared speak, not even a pin drop could be heard. Seeing the tense atmosphere, Voroshilov knew he had come at a bad time and waited outside.
Soon, a tall, handsome officer approached. Voroshilov recognized him as Alexei, commander of the Kislev Palace Guard.
"Greetings, General. What brings you here?" Alexei began.
"Ah, just waiting. What's happening inside?" Voroshilov whispered. Alexei had regular access to court meetings.
"Oh, just the usual nonsense," Alexei sighed, rolling his eyes. "I keep telling them—this is Kislev's millennium celebration! Why shouldn't we raise some taxes for a grand event? We've had a bumper harvest this year! Shouldn't people show their gratitude to the
Tsarina?"
Before he could finish, the conversation inside resumed.
"Take this millennium celebration," Katarin continued. "It's been a thousand years since Empress Miska led our people from the Kurgan plains. It's time we held a grand event worthy of this kingdom. Some people may call it extravagance, but I know the rumors—they've been reported by Yerov and Cheka. Isn't this celebration for Kislev's image?"
After a moment's hesitation, the General of the Bear Cavalry, Rokossovsky, cautiously replied, "Your Majesty, we're not against holding a millennium celebration, but the timing may not be right."
"And why not?" Katarin's voice grew colder. "The Empire held twelve-day celebrations after its northern expedition. Bretonnia celebrated for twelve and five days after their campaigns! Our millennium only comes once!"
She cast her gaze across the assembly. "Any objections to the celebration?"
But no one dared voice a dissenting opinion.
As the meeting concluded, Tsarina Katarin's gaze fell on the waiting Voroshilov. She called, "Voroshilov, what news do you bring?"
"I bring my congratulations for our millennium celebration and a new ode in your honor, Majesty," Voroshilov began, sensing her irritation. When her expression softened, he added quietly, "And also, Lord Thorgard the Crimson reports a Chaos force of at least 150,000 gathering north of the Weeping Mountains."
"I already know. No need to repeat it," Katarin said calmly. "Their aim is likely the Dark Elves, not us."
"Understood." Voroshilov nodded.
"And for the millennium, make sure the front-line soldiers receive two bottles of vodka, three loaves of black bread, and a slice of smoked meat each," Katarin instructed.
Thus, the heart of the snow-bound kingdom began to beat in earnest, ready to greet the millennium with fervor and anticipation.
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