The camp on the Slaanesh front reeked of blood and smoke, as Kislev's artillery bombarded the Chaos encampment. The intoxicated and exhausted Chaos warriors were blown apart in the explosions, their desire for novelty ironically satisfied as they were hurled skyward.
Amidst the chaos, a Kurgan chieftain under Prince Sigvald's command groggily opened his eyes, his head pounding. The Kurgan warlord attempted to stand, but his weakened legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto the hard ground. He had overindulged in drink and spent himself on a poor mule six times last night, leaving him barely able to move.
The chieftain's condition mirrored that of the entire camp. As Kislev's cannon fire tore through the flimsy wooden barricades, Marshal Konev led the charge with his Ursun-blessed Bear Cavalry. These mighty bears, symbols of the god Ursun, roared with fury, crashing through the Kurgan's feeble resistance. The Winged Lancers followed, and behind them marched the Kossar Warriors and Kreml Guard, their axes carving through the stunned Chaos forces.
"Ready!" The Tsarist Sharpshooters lined up, their Imperial-imported muskets aimed at the Kurgan ranks. The hail of bullets ripped through the Kurgan warriors, and even the heavily armored Chaos knights fell before the onslaught. One squad of Chaos knights attempted to close in on the sharpshooters, but they were met with the cold, unflinching resolve of Kislev's sons, who fired directly at the knights' horses. In seconds, the once-imposing warriors were thrown from their mounts, and the sharpshooters swiftly holstered their muskets, drawing axes to finish the fallen knights.
Elsewhere in the camp, the Kurgan chieftain staggered outside, trying to rally his troops. Before he could shout an order, a bear's massive paw struck him down, leaving deep claw marks across his face. He groaned, cursing in his native tongue, and tried to rise, but it was too late. A Kreml Guard, his face set with merciless resolve, swung his two-handed axe in a brutal arc, splitting the chieftain open.
Seeing their leader fall, the Kurgan warriors broke, retreating in terror as Kislev's relentless forces pressed their attack. Within moments, Konev's assault corps had shattered the entire Kurgan encampment, scattering the surviving warriors in disarray.
"Forward, men! For Kislev! For Ursun! For Tsarina Katarin!" Konev's voice boomed as he rode his massive bear at the forefront, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight as he waved the bear-emblazoned Kislev banner.
The Kislevite forces surged forward, a gray and brown tide washing over the Slaanesh encampment. Driven by a fierce desire to avenge their homeland, they cut down every Chaos soldier in their path. The Kreml Guard, despite their corruption, proved invaluable on the battlefield. These fearsome soldiers wielded two-handed axes with devastating precision, following closely behind the bear cavalry to cleave through any Chaos warriors who dared stand their ground.
Taken completely by surprise, the Chaos warriors struggled to form a defense. Here and there, scattered groups of marauders and Chaos warriors tried to regroup, but Kislev's forces quickly circumvented or overwhelmed these pockets of resistance.
Konev reined in his bear to survey the battlefield. The shattered remnants of the Slaanesh army and the burning tents of the encampment testified to their success. If Rokossovsky and his light cavalry could now divide and shatter Sigvald's forces, their plan would be complete.
As the Kislevites pushed deeper into the camp, Konev spotted a cluster of Hellcannons on the far side of the field. "Petrovich! Take your men and neutralize those Hellcannons!" he ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Winged Lancer General Petrovich lifted his banner. "Follow me, men!"
A group of Kislevite lancers splintered off from the main force, charging towards the Chaos artillery. The Chaos Dwarfs, still groggy and struggling to reload the cannons, were no match for the onslaught. The Winged Lancers overpowered them, driving their lances through the dwarfs' armor and scattering the Hellcannon crew. Meanwhile, explosives and hand grenades from the Imperial arsenal were hurled at the Hellcannons, sending each monstrous device skyward in a brilliant explosion.
Yet not all went smoothly. The Chaos Dwarfs managed to activate a magma cannon, releasing a 20-meter jet of molten lava that incinerated half a dozen lancers in seconds. Then, the Chaos Sorcerer Fistajacks entered the fray, launching fireballs that tore through Kislev's ranks, incinerating Petrovich and his horse in a fiery explosion.
Soon, the unmistakable blaring of horns sounded from the west. Sigvald's Dark Desire Knights and two hundred marauder cavalry charged onto the field, heading straight for the lancers.
"Form up!" shouted Winged Lancer Colonel Ushakov, as the Kislevite riders swiftly regrouped, splitting into two groups to dodge the oncoming charge. Circling around, they struck at the marauders' flanks, leaving a trail of Chaos corpses in their wake, though many of their own also fell on the icy ground of Kislev.
"Push forward! Aim for the Slaanesh champion's camp!" Konev shouted, urging his men onward.
Deep within the encampment, Sigvald the Magnificent awoke from his slumber, slowly readying himself as concubines fastened his shimmering armor. He took his time, shaving his face with a beast tooth razor and human-fat soap, oblivious to the chaos outside.
Midway through his morning routine, a Kislevite cannonball tore into his tent, forcing him to block the missile with a deft flick of his enchanted sword. "What a nuisance," he sneered. "These filthy southerners have no manners. I'll teach them respect!"
As he stepped out, the sight that met Sigvald's gaze left him seething. Nearly a third of his camp lay in ruins, smoke and fire rising in columns across the field. His Slaanesh warriors were scattered and demoralized, struggling to regroup against the unrelenting Kislevite assault.
"Idiots! Form up!" Sigvald shouted. "Hold the line and block these savages!"
Under his command, Slaanesh's chosen warriors hastily reformed into a shield wall, gradually halting Konev's advance. Tsarist sharpshooters opened fire, but their bullets merely glanced off the armored shields of the Chaos warriors. Only the two-handed axes of the Kreml Guard or the curved blades of the bear riders could breach the shield wall, creating a stalemate as both sides fought savagely.
At that moment, the blaring of horns echoed from the southwest.
Rokossovsky and his light cavalry—bear riders, winged lancers, and thousands of Ugol horse archers—charged onto the field. The bloodstained Bear Cavalry Marshal, wielding a broken sabre, led the attack with a thunderous roar. Despite the losses his forces had sustained, their arrival reignited the Kislevite spirits, striking fear into the Slaanesh ranks.
"Advance!" Rokossovsky's voice carried across the battlefield as his forces attacked Sigvald's army from the flank. The Chaos warriors found themselves caught between two merciless Kislevite forces.
Seeing the tide turn, Sigvald's fury turned to desperation. "What is Festus doing? Am I fighting all of Kislev alone? I need reinforcements now!"
Suddenly, the Daemon Prince Azazel appeared, grinning maliciously. "My dear prince of the dark gods, perhaps you should consider… retreating?"
"Never!" Sigvald spat, before catching a glimpse of Azazel's mocking expression. The memory of past failures flashed in Azazel's eyes. Realizing the futility, Sigvald grudgingly ordered a retreat. "Fine. All forces fall back to the hills! Abandon the camp!"
With heavy casualties, the Slaanesh forces withdrew, leaving behind the weakest among them as they moved to establish a new defensive line on a nearby hill.
After five hours of brutal fighting, the Kislevites surged into the abandoned Chaos camp, planting the Kislevite bear banner atop Sigvald's personal tent. The battlefield rang with victorious cheers.
"The camp is ours! Long live Tsarina Katarin! Long live Kislev!"
"Ursun be praised! Long live Katarin!"
The triumphant news quickly reached Zedvika, where Tsarina Katarin watched through her spyglass, her satisfaction palpable. Turning to her Ice Guard Captain, she called, "My Captain?"
"I am here, Majesty!" replied Captain Alexei, shivering in the cold as he struggled with his coat.
"Send word to Kislev immediately," Katarin commanded, her voice brimming with pride. "Tell them… tell everyone! What time is it?"
"It's 11:37 a.m., Your Majesty!" shouted the Captain.
"Excellent! Inform them that by 12:30 this day, we have crushed all the Chaos forces and won the Battle of Zedvika. In fact, we have already won this war against Chaos! And we did it alone—without any aid from the Empire or Bretonnia!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!" The Captain dashed off.
"And what news from the eastern front, with Fedosev and Zayev's central regiment?" Katarin
asked eagerly.
"Fedosev's forces are now engaged with the Nurgle army! Zayev's regiment as well!" reported a scout.
"Good! Prepare to deliver the final blow to Chaos!"
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