Chapter 39
The road to Nuln was difficult, unpleasant, and oppressive, yet completely devoid of danger—especially compared to the horrors we had to leave behind in the burning ruins of Pfeildorf.
After crossing the river, the remnants of Olger Hoch's army began to flee across the rugged terrain. Some units of militia or groups of refugees gave in to panic, which often cost them their lives. Bands of beastmen, flocks of harpies, wolf-packs of hobgoblins, and Norscan horse patrols hunted the roads.
However, those units that retreated in relative order easily repelled the enemy's skirmishes. The Garbage Reiksguard joined just such an organized fragment of the army under the leadership of Rudolf Hoch. Fifteen knights, three hundred soldiers from various companies, thirty-odd artillerymen without their guns, fifty militiamen, three wizards, and our own Reiksguard. Not a massive force, but enough to fend off raiders.
Parallel to us marched another detachment led by Baron Otto von Krause. The aristocrat was the master of a war griffon, and we frequently observed his flights in the overcast skies. Ideally, the two detachments should have merged, but Hoch and von Krause managed to fall out so spectacularly they nearly came to blows on the very first day of the retreat.
Old Baron Otto told the young knight that it was beneath his status to command. Rudolf responded that he held von Krause's status in very low regard—specifically mentioning a certain organ. The Baron did not remain in his debt, sharing many intimate details regarding the private life of Hoch's late mother. After this exchange of pleasantries, the aristocrats were ready to set upon each other like rabid dogs, but their comrades pulled them apart. Eventually, the baron and the knight agreed with their logic, deciding to postpone the duel to a more suitable time.
The cause of the conflict was simple enough. Rudolf believed von Krause had turned coward in battle and abandoned his uncle to be torn apart by monsters. The Baron, however, admitted no guilt. He was also understandable; had he charged Tamurkhan's horde, he likely would have perished pointlessly just as Hoch had. Nevertheless, Rudolf clearly wanted a scapegoat to blame for his kinsman's death.
I, however, couldn't have cared less about the squabbles of the nobility. My goal was to reach Nuln in one piece, and preferably unharmed.
Out of the 59 men in our unit, 57 survived. Out of the 17 women, all were safe. An incredible result, considering how other units of the army had been decimated. We were very lucky to have the Magister of the Jade Order with us. Gerard saved many of us from grievous wounds. The rest was not luck, but the result of a desperate struggle. Liandra, Mugg, Erik, the artillerymen, the wizards, and I myself did our best. Our only heavy loss was Sergeant Max.
Such luck raised some suspicions. A few soldiers even tried to voice complaints, but the artillerymen who fought alongside us explained that the battle for Pfeildorf had been no easy stroll for the Garbage Reiksguard.
We marched to Nuln half-starved and with almost no proper rest. We tried to find a village or, at the very least, an inn. There, the same play was enacted every time. Rudolf Hoch would announce to the inhabitants that Pfeildorf had fallen, that Chaosites were coming, and that they needed to flee as quickly as possible. The locals would gasp and pray to Sigmar, but the bad news didn't end there. Next, Rudolf would write a paper, swearing on his honor to reimburse all expenses at some later date. Then the knight would hand the unfortunates a small sum in silver, and our detachment, like a swarm of hungry locusts, would descend upon the locals' supplies.
Eat it now so the enemy gets nothing—or if they do, let it be only in the form of soldier's dung along the roadsides.
Such raids on villages slowed us down, but they were the only way to eat our fill. In addition to food, these raids provided me with new clothes and boots to replace those burned in the hellfire. The miraculous absence of burns on my body didn't raise questions. Marcus and his Sigmarite circle simply received further confirmation of my sanctity. Others attributed the healing to the presence of Magister Gerard. Though the Jade Wizard didn't inflict as many casualties on the enemy as the Bright Wizard, he saved dozens, if not hundreds, of people from an unenviable fate.
My head was now as bald as a billiard ball. Not even a short stubble had grown back in a couple of days. To keep the sun from beating down on me and to ward off mosquitoes, I now wore a short-brimmed leather hat. I sorely missed my helmet and cuirass. I had only just acquired armor, and now I was back to square one.
No actual battles occurred on the road to the city. A few times we were overtaken by hobgoblins or Norscans, but met with crossbow bolts and arquebus fire, they immediately scurried away, much to Mugg's delight, leaving their dead behind.
— I don't like cooking wolf meat, — Erik admitted. — The meat can be good, but it requires time and a specially prepared marinade. Two parts salt, one part sugar, pepper, bay leaf, three cloves of garlic, four onions, dill, and parsley.
— Eh… — Mugg sighed sadly, finishing a wolf tail. — Don't tease my stomach, Er. I don't mind raw meat, but I miss our sit-downs. To spend a day cooking and a couple of days eating… This constant rush is a disgrace!
The further we traveled, the less frequently we encountered pursuers. Soon, we were visited by a few riders from Baron von Krause's detachment, which was marching along another road. They shared in secret that aerial reconnaissance had found no large enemy units on the roads. It seemed Tamurkhan's horde had remained in Pfeildorf.
With this knowledge, we continued our journey much more calmly. Rivers, forests, fields, and then…
Before us lay a vast city, surrounded by a military camp that was almost larger. Nuln—the steel heart of the Empire. Like Pfeildorf, it was located at the confluence of two rivers. Part of the city was on one bank, part on the other, and another piece on a third. Behind the city walls and powerful bastions rose towers, spires, and chimneys, likely belonging to the armories. While not vastly larger than Pfeildorf in size, Nuln seemed much more fortified and technologically sophisticated. I was even pleasantly surprised. I hadn't expected to see such multi-story structures in the lands of the local humans.
Around the city, tents and horse pens crowded in rows or in total disarray. Thousands of grimy men labored on the construction of fortification lines. Redoubts, ramparts, ditches, abatis. Everything used to defend Pfeildorf, but on a much grander scale. Boats, rafts, and even ships could be seen on the rivers.
— Perhaps Sigmar will grant us a successful defense, — sighed a weary artillery sergeant with whom we had fought for the redoubt near Pfeildorf.
Liandra looked gloomily from under her hood. On the road to Nuln, she had several times suggested that I leave everything immediately and head to Marienburg to get to Ulthuan from there. Part of me wanted to agree with her. I had fought for the Empire, improved the army's situation; why not take a vacation and focus on leveling up in a calmer environment?
In the end, I suggested that Liandra decide once we were at the city. We could assess Nuln's defensive capabilities and the troops gathered by the province. We had seen Tamurkhan's horde. We could try to estimate how well the Imperials were prepared for a new clash with the Maggot Lord.
There were definitely more troops at Nuln, but I had yet to evaluate the full scale of the defense.
Handfuls and units of surviving soldiers approached the city, accompanied by crowds of refugees. We were met by local officials, priests of Sigmar, and citizen volunteers helping the destitute find temporary shelter. Naturally, they also checked us for Chaos Marks. Just in case cultists or mutants were hiding among the refugees. And curiously enough—they were. Or at least, so it seemed to the priests conducting the filtering. Some refugees and even a couple of soldiers were led away by guards. Otherwise, everything went smoothly.
After the filtering, Rudolf Hoch called me over.
— The provincial soldiers will just be scattered among new companies. We knights have our own path. But the mercenary units must renew their contracts. Here. Take this. A letter of recommendation from me.
The knight handed me a sealed scroll.
— Thank you.
— I've sent my squire to the city hall, where the army headquarters has been set up. They'll send for you soon.
The rest of the day we settled into provided tents on the edge of the vast camp. Toward evening, a young official began walking among the tents, unsuccessfully trying not to step in the mud. He carried a stack of papers. He read out various names and unit titles, looking for commanders and handing them messages.
— Captain Jurgen! Captain Jurgen of the… Garbage Reiksguard?!
This cry was met with bursts of laughter from some of the units.
— A regiment of Reiksguard arrived recently! They got quite garbagy on the road!
Accompanied by Liandra and Marcus, I hurried to the official, introduced myself, and presented the contract signed by Olger Hoch.
— Very well, Captain Jurgen, — the official said, measuring me with a gaze full of doubt and surprise. — Proceed to the city hall to re-sign your contract. You need room number eight.
— Can you show us the way?
— My apologies, Herr Captain. I still have a pile of documents to deliver. The hall isn't hard to find. I'll explain…
The official briefly explained which building we needed to look for in Nuln and gave us a paper to present first to the guards at the gate, then at the hall itself.
Half an hour later, Liandra and I were beneath the very walls of the city. I wanted to get the new contract as soon as possible so we would be put on the state payroll. I specifically asked what time the hall closed. It turned out that due to the emergency, city officials had been switched to twenty-four-hour shifts. The young clerk delivering the papers explained this in such a tragic tone that I couldn't help but feel guilty before him. What were the exploits of soldiers and artillerymen? Officials! They were the ones bearing the main burdens of the war!
We were let into the city almost without issue. We just had to defend our right to carry weapons for a bit. Soldiers and mercenaries in provincial service were permitted this. However, our position was now ambiguous. We had a contract, but the employer was no longer among the living. In the end, they let us into the city while armed.
We entered a fairly decent-looking district called Kaufmann. As I understood it, it was inhabited by middle-class merchants and professional craftsmen. Not the city's absolute elite, but people close to them.
Around us, one could observe a riot of architectural styles: traditional Imperial houses reminiscent of medieval Germany from my home world, facades with columns suggesting something Tilean, and monolithic stone fortress-buildings of the Dwarfs. Some dwellings were decorated with religious symbols, others with frivolous statues or intricate weather vanes. But one thing united all the buildings—soot covering the roof tiles and windowsills.
When the wind blew our way, it brought with it smoke from chimneys, fine ash, and the heavy smell of acrid burning, nothing like the aroma of a campfire. I'm sure the commoners who couldn't afford magical treatment had very significant lung problems here.
Despite it being late evening, there were a lot of people on the streets. Citizens, soldiers, mercenaries, merchants. Even street newsmongers were found, loudly shouting the latest news:
— Pfeildorf has fallen! Interview with soldiers of the retreating army!
— The Count of Stirland has given battle to vampires on his land! Learn the details of the terrible massacre!
— The Arch-Lector's address to the faithful! Read how to resist the diseases and charms of heretics!
I'll have to buy a newspaper once I'm done with the paperwork. It's a way to find out the latest news and indulge in a bit of nostalgia. It's been a while since I read the press.
Due to the crowding on the streets, the search for the city hall took some time.
— This city is like a poor man's clothes bursting at the seams, barely pulled over a constantly growing human tribe, — Liandra said.
— I agree. I think the city is experiencing an influx of soldiers and refugees, but even before this, it was already overcrowded. I'm not very used to the tightness myself. The cities of my distant homeland stretch for dozens of kilometers. Even if the center is densely built up, the outskirts have space for courtyards, squares, and parks.
— You don't surround your cities with walls? — the elf guessed. — Or do you have enough warriors to guard even such a large perimeter?
— Most often we don't. Our art of war is very different from here, and there are far fewer nasty things in the forests.
The elf suddenly stopped and took my shoulder.
— We are being followed, — she whispered softly, turning me toward a secluded alley.
There sat a homeless or just a beggar man with a cataract in his right eye. Noticing that I saw him, the observer retreated deep into the alleyway. We followed him. We quickly shoved aside the townspeople who got in our way and reached the mouth of the alley. It was a narrow passage between the wall of one estate and the fence of another. About five meters in, the alley curved. Nothing could be seen around the bend.
We stepped forward. It smelled of rot and urine. The central streets of the city's decent quarters were apparently cleaned from time to time, but complete lack of sanitation reigned in the alleys. Fish bones, shards of broken pottery, broken cheap pipes made of white clay, peelings, scraps, and who knows what other trash. Any self-respecting cultist of Nurgle would have happily settled here. Fat gray rats scuttled through the refuse, watching us warily.
— Someone is there, — Liandra nodded toward the depth of the alley.
— How many? — I asked, relying on the elf's sharp hearing.
— That man and some others, but the others are acting… unusually. Hiding their presence. I can't say exactly how many there are.
Well, look at that! It looks like an ambush. But whose? I doubt ordinary brigands from thousands of people around would have chosen us—a pair of armed mercenaries. Regardless, I didn't feel like finding out the details right now.
— Shall we go in? — the pointed-eared one asked.
— Why? — I noted reasonably. — I don't think this alley is worth fighting for and shedding blood over. If someone is hunting us, it's better to meet them outside the city in the army camp. We have a whole detachment of allies there. Let's go to the hall. Let's finish our business quickly and leave the city.
We returned to the street and continued our path. This situation didn't bother me much. They follow, so they follow. I was only slightly troubled that Liandra couldn't determine the number of opponents in the ambush.
However, whoever was hiding there, I highly doubted they would attack us right on the streets. There were plenty of soldiers, guards, and witnesses here. Raise a cry and an entire army would arrive in a minute.
From the merchant quarter, we approached Alding—a part of the old city where palaces and estates were located on a hilltop. However, we didn't have to go into the very heart of the elite district. The city hall was right on the border. It was like a link between power and the rabble. Huge queues of people circled the porch in several loops. Damn, I'm afraid I won't be able to settle my business quickly here. But at that moment, I heard the voice of an official from the porch:
— Nobles, officers, wizards, and mercenary captains out of turn! I repeat: officers, wizards, and mercenary captains out of turn!
The official's voice was hoarse. He had apparently been shouting here for hours. Liandra and I pushed through the queue, catching gazes full of hatred and envy. There were guards at the doors. Two guards and an official.
— On what matter?
— Jurgen, mercenary captain. Fought in Olger Hoch's army. I want to renew my contract. It says here I need room number eight.
I showed all the papers. The official looked at me with a squint, nodded, and said:
— Proceed, Captain. Second floor for you, — he cleared the way for me but blocked the elf. — No. No. Only the captain.
— She is with me, — I tried to intervene.
— No and again no. Only captains pass. The guard waits outside. It's already packed in there.
I didn't really want to part with Liandra, but the city hall's rules were understandable.
— I will wait, — the pointed-eared one said, stepping away from the porch.
Beyond the door lay a wide hallway where citizens crowded and made noise. The search for room eight didn't take long. I knocked on the door, and a heavy male voice answered from the other side:
— Enter.
Opening the door, I found myself in a fairly spacious room. The space was filled with several office cabinets and screens of unclear purpose. I closed the door and immediately felt a sharp blade touch my throat.
— Don't move, — someone hissed right in my ear.
Two people were hiding behind the door. One held a dagger to my neck, the other grabbed my right hand, preventing me from drawing my sword. An ambush… What the hell?!
— So we meet again, Captain Jurgen, — a familiar voice said.
The pair of thugs turned me around. From behind a screen, accompanied by two more followers, stepped a man whose half-face was covered by a bloody bandage. He had likely only recently lost his left eye. Several long scratches crossed his forehead. The inflamed skin around them bore whitish traces of pus. The man was pale, except for a feverish flush on his cheeks. The wounds had slightly altered his appearance, but I easily recognized the organizer of the ambush. It was another survivor of the battle for Pfeildorf. Waldemar. The Witch Hunter.