Deep beneath the World'd Edge Mountains, a thousand-meter-deep gigantic cavern was filled with a putrid stench.
Luminous moss covered the damp rock walls, its pale green light illuminating the ceaselessly moving Skaven—slave rats carried wicker baskets full of ore, running hunched over through the narrow tunnels, as the overseers' whips periodically lashed their backs, leaving bloody marks; clanrats held short knives, patrolling back and forth at every cave entrance, vigilantly watching every ratman who passed; meanwhile, Stormvermin stood in formation in the center of the cavern, their heavy iron plate armor gleaming coldly under the moss light, like a group of silent killing machines.
In the deepest part of the cavern, a palace built of bones and rock stood abruptly.
The palace pillars were made from the leg bones of giant creatures, with glowing emeralds embedded in their tops; the walls were covered with dried Skaven corpses, like bizarre decorations; in the center of the palace, a half-man-tall statue of the great horned rat was perched on a stone platform—the statue was carved from obsidian, the rat head bore spiraling giant horns, its scarlet eyes were two polished rubies, its claws were razor-sharp, and the base was covered with twisted skaven runes, emitting an unsettling aura.
Clan Leader Longtail of the Squeak Clan was sitting on the bone throne in front of the statue.
He was a head taller than an average Stormvermin, his long silver-gray tail swung loosely behind him, the bone spike at the tip glinting coldly; he wore armor crafted from Chaos beast hide and refined iron, the plates engraved with dense protective runes; he gripped a scepter topped with a ratman skull, his scarlet eyes filled with malice and greed, as he stared coldly at Snitch, who was kneeling below the dais.
"Go-go on, tell-speak," the Clan Leader rasped, his voice scraping like rusted iron on stone.
"You took-led more than a thousand Skaven out-there, yes-yes—and you lose-lose most of our elite Stormvermin!"
"No loot-treasure worth keeping brought back, not even one shiny-good thing."
He leaned forward, eyes burning.
"Tell me now—what use-worth do I have for you, hmm?"
Snitch knelt on the cold stone floor, trembling all over. His intact hand tightly gripped the gravel on the ground, and his green fur was still stained with mud and blood from the bottom of the pit.
"Cl-Clan Leader… this operation… not… not without results, yes-yes! Didn't we plan to thin the surplus slave-rats before we went? This time… yes-yes, this time we dealt with all those useless weaklings, and the tribe's food… it will drop by thirty percent, yes-yes!"
"Dealt with?" the Clan Leader hissed, claws tapping lightly on the stone platform, the statue of the Great Horned Rat seeming to twitch in approval—or mockery.
"You fed a thousand Skaven to the stunties, and you call that 'dealt with'? Heh-heh… I think you fed your own brains to those fools instead!"
Snitch shuddered violently, dropping to his knees with a squeal of fear, voice choking on tears:
"Mercy… mercy, Clan Leader! I… I truly found something! Though Katushir eluded us, we discovered… a greenskin tribe! Yes-yes, a tribe near the Khyprian Road, in the Forest of Gloom… they even built a blue-brick city wall, taller than twenty meters! If we hadn't run into the stunties, we… we would have uncovered all their secrets, yes-yes!"
"A greenskin tribe?" The Clan Leader's rasp carried a hint of curiosity, his bone-spike tail tapping the armrest of the throne with deliberate patience.
"Fighting-crazed idiots… what secrets could they possibly hide?"
"You don't understand!" Snitch squeaked, forcing his gaze upward, greed glinting in his eyes.
"Greenskins that can raise a brick wall over twenty meters… they must be rich, yes-yes! Think—so many bricks, so much labor! Ordinary greenskin tribes can't even build a proper wooden palisade… but this? This wall… they must hoard iron-ore, grain, maybe even treasures stolen from humans and stunties!"
He swallowed hard, shivering as he remembered the gleaming heavy armor of Kadrin.
"We also saw a dwarf unit… the stunties had the best iron armor and firearms, clearly from Gezhik. The fact that the greenskins could make the stunties come themselves proves… proves they possess something valuable. This tribe is… not simple. No, not simple at all, yes-yes!"
The Clan Leader fell silent, his scarlet eyes fixed on the statue of the great horned rat, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the ratman skull on the scepter. He knew clearly that what the skaven needed most to develop was iron ore and grain.
If that greenskin tribe was truly as wealthy as Snitch claimed, it might bring huge benefits to the Squeak Clan; even if the greenskins had no treasure, controlling the trade route of the Khyprian road would allow them to profit greatly from human and dwarf caravans.
"Father, let me—let me go!" A loud voice suddenly came from the palace side door.
A tall Stormvermin strode in. He was even stronger than the Clan Leader, wearing a set of shining silver refined iron armor with sharp serrations carved onto the plates. Two poisoned short axes hung from his waist, and a dark green gem was inlaid on his shoulder pad. This was the Clan Leader's son, the Squeak Clan's most elite warrior, Iuka.
Iuka walked to the dais, knelt on one knee, his voice full of confidence: "Father, let me take the troops to investigate that greenskin tribe! If they truly have treasure, I will kill all the greenskins in the entire tribe and bring back the wealth; if they are just putting on a show, I will tear down that city wall, chop off the greenskins' heads, and offer them to the great horned rat!"
The Clan Leader looked at his son, a trace of satisfaction in his eyes.
Iuka was not only formidable in combat but also meticulous, far more reliable than Snitch, that opportunistic fool.
"Since you-you found-smelled this greenskin tribe," he rasped, "you will go-go with Iuka."His voice dropped, thin and lethal."Dare-play tricks, dare-ruin this matter, and I will throw-cast you into the rat-pit. Let the starving slave-rats gnaw-eat you until only clean bones remain, yes-yes!"
Snitch dropped instantly, knees cracking against the stone, tail pressed flat in submission.
"Thank-thank you, Clan Leader!" he squealed, relief flooding his voice."Thank you, Lord Iuka! I guide-lead well, yes-yes—no tricks, no lies, I swear-swear!"
Iuka cast Snitch a sideways glance, eyes cold with contempt. The sight of the green-furred rat displeased him—but a guide who knew the tunnels and surface paths would save much effort. He said nothing.
Rising, Iuka turned and bowed deeply before the throne.
"Father," he said smoothly, "I will gather-muster the warriors now. We march-set out at first light tomorrow."
"Go," the Clan Leader waved a claw dismissively, sinking back into the bone throne, his gaze drifting once more to the towering statue of the Great Horned Rat.
"Remember-heed this: first watch-study the greenskins' strength and wall-defenses. Do not rush-charge like a fool.""If they are truly strong-powerful, return-report first. Then we scheme-plan our next strike, yes-yes."
"I understand-obey," Iuka replied, turning and striding from the chamber.
Behind him, Snitch scrambled to his feet and scurried after, claws clicking hurriedly against the stone, fear and ambition gnawing together in his chest.
Silence returned to the palace, leaving only the Clan Leader's breathing and the faint tapping of his scepter on the ground.
He looked at the statue of the great horned rat, a greedy light flashing in his scarlet eyes—if that greenskin tribe was truly as wealthy as Snitch claimed, it might allow the Squeak Clan to instantly become the most powerful ratman clan in the Edge World.
By then, he would not only control the Khyprian road trade route but also be able to unite other ratman clans to attack human and dwarf city-states, spreading the glory of the great horned rat throughout the entire Underworld.
Meanwhile, in the cavern outside the palace, Iuka was busy gathering his troops.
He selected two hundred of the most elite Stormvermin, each equipped with newly forged iron plate armor and poisoned short axes; five hundred clanrats, all battle-hardened veterans holding sharp short knives and dwarf crossbows; and a thousand slave rats, to serve as cannon fodder for the charge and laborers for transporting supplies.
Snitch followed behind Iuka, looking at the elite ratman forces before him, his heart filled with complexity—he hoped to gain benefits from the greenskin tribe and prove his worth to the Clan Leader, yet he feared encountering formidable dwarves like Kadrin again, and worried that the greenskin tribe capable of building such a massive city wall might possess even more terrifying combat strength.
But he had no choice.
He could only follow Iuka, once again setting out on the road toward the Forest of Gloom, and this time, what awaited them would be the true might of the Blackrock Clan.
As night deepened, the sounds of ratman footsteps, roars, and clashing weapons mingled in the underground caverns of the Edge World mountains.