A man wore his cloak which covered his face and passed by the many alleys and streets of Middenheim. He strode past numerous dwarven carts and carriages and snaked through the marketplace and stopped briefly; to see the High Temple of Ulric sitting upon the Ulricsberg mountain. With dozens of large wolf-like statues carrying enormous axes, imbuing the likeness of Ulric, scattered across the edges of the hollowed-out mountain. Spotting his intended destination, he carefully lowered his hood and knocked at the door and waited for someone to respond.

“Graf Teuntberg – “

“Don’t say my name and my title, you idiot,” Teuntberg then quickly put on his hood again and cautiously looked around. “You never know who’s listening in.” He said in a relieved hush and stepped in the ramshackle house only to be met with luxurious carpets imported from Cathay lining the floor and with several Arabyan ivory statuettes crowding the walls. “If a thief managed to get in here, they would’ve had their dreams come true. They wouldn’t even need to steal or work for the rest of their life!” He marvelled at the porcelain plates. “No matter how much I come here, I’m always so impressed. How have you managed Herr Yobburg? For a peasant you seem quite resourceful.”

“Like I said before, I have many friends around the world that owe me favours. Favours that I’m always willing to call back. From plundered treasures to hiring mercenaries. And I think we know each other for far too long. You can call me Dieter and I shall call you…” He said with a hint of rudeness but was dismissed and ignored by Teuntberg.

“Lutz. Lutz von Teuntberg.” Lutz looked around and pointed at the raven missive. “That missive looks like it was crushed. What’s it about?” He picked up the piece of paper and looked at his counterpart for a confirmation and started reading it. Panic overcame him and he nearly spluttered his first meal on the ground. “T-the invasion was… Foiled? But the ogres! We hired dozens of them! What happened?”

“Apparently the southerners are smarter than they look. They were spotted by random watchtowers along the coastline. They weren’t able to steer towards deeper waters due to the fluctuation of Chaos causing maelstroms and storms…” Dieter rubbed his forehead and gritted his teeth and snatched the missive and burnt it at his fireplace.

“H-have we been caught?”

“No. Thankfully. My Sartosan friend was able to completely wipe our involvement.” He then stared at the young Lord and asked him a few pointed questions. “My side is spotless. Even if they were to interrogate those poor fools, they wouldn’t know of my involvement. Now… It’s your turn. Have you informed Lord Todbringer and the Ar Ulric of our scheme?”

“No, I haven’t. I was tempted… But Boris was too busy fighting that beastman, Khazrak One Eye… I think that’s the name of that foul creature. The Ar Ulric accompanied him and led the Knights of the White Wolf in a goose chase across the Drakwald.”

“You were going to tell them!?” Dieter said with his eyes bulging.

Lutz slightly flinched and stepped back but gathered his wits, “L-listen here peasant. You don’t talk to a lord like that… But to answer your question, I would’ve told them. They deserve to know! After all, we’re doing this to install an Ulrican and a Middenlander to a position of Emperor!”

“Lutz… You don’t get it! The position of the Emperor is set for life. Unless that boy-king proves to be incompetent, then we can start thinking of replacing him. And what made you think that our Lord was going to allow us to kill fellow imperials. They may have been southerners and Reiklander to boot, but they’re still our ‘fellow’ imperials.” Dieter spat with such vitriol. He was fed up with the south’s dominance in the Empire’s politics and would constantly undermine the efforts to clear the Drakwald of mutants and beastmen. He lost hundreds of his caravans travelling through that forest and several loyal guardsmen. Yet the southerners don’t bother. They don’t care about the plight of their northern neighbours, busy loitering and lavishing within their safe and fertile lands instead.

“I-I did what I think was right – “

“It was stupid.”

Lutz carried on and ignored that remark, “The plan was to make Karl Franz look incompetent. If a city were to be razed by a random roving mercenary company, who would be blamed? The Emperor! He was the one that levied our taxes to fund this doomed expedition.”

“It’s no longer a doomed expedition… Trade there is flourishing. Promises of loot that you can sell and be wealthy for the rest of your life has propagated throughout the Empire. The plan was to discredit the Emper- Franz. Never refer to him as the Emperor in my presence.” Yobburg paused to hide his growing irritation. “But that’s not enough. We have to convince the other Elector Counts that funding the colonial efforts would be a waste of money. Now that would make that Sigmarite look incompetent.”

“But how is that going to depose Karl Franz!? How is that supposed to help the Ulrican cause in the Empire?”

“It will eventually… We just need to be patient. Maybe attack the colony again when they’re at their weakest. I heard some interesting rumours of lizard-like beastman prowling the hinterlands of Lustria… Mayhap we can coordinate another attack when that Reiklander colony gets preoccupied with those mutant lizards…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ernst opened his carriage window and noticed that he passed by the gatehouse that he helped build many years ago. He turned his head back towards the growing city and marvelled at the sight. I can’t believe it. It was just a city of tents eight years ago. Now it’s probably bigger than most chartered towns in the Empire.

“Ouch! Mel’ promised to be gentle with the spanking!” A boy who sat opposite Ernst rubbed his bottom and complained. “I’m not baking any more cake for her!”

“Perhaps, you should’ve been more careful with the money that Lord Hanoschaft has been saving up.” Ernst snidely glanced at him and covered his laugh.

“I was careful! The investments I’ve made are going to give my family a huge boost in income and fame!”

“Your father doesn’t think so, Reinhard. That’s why he sent me to audit and guide you when checking up on your ‘investments’. Speaking of that, Lord Hervig hasn’t really given me any information besides, ‘look after my son and teach him some common sense’.”

Reinhard pouted at that and blushed, “I already have common sense! I don’t need it taught to me.” He said petulantly. “Now… We’ve already exited the south gate… Our first visit should be in this quaint town called ‘Maltdorf’. Founded by an adventurer who decided to settle down after hearing Dunbar’s message. According to the census that pappa keeps, it should have around six-hundred people living there. With the new crop that some of the farmers have found and started growing, hopefully the population should surge as we sell it or even better, process to make it better!”

“You’ve mentioned this new crop… I think it’s called ‘bitterbean’. It’s not a flattering name to call that. I don’t know how you think something, that’s called ‘bitterbean’, can sell.”

“It will sell Ernst. Trust me. We just need lots of it and experimentations to make it better. I’m just tagging along to see if it’s one those bitterbeans with ‘buttery’ substance inside it. Or one those that you can drink when dissolved in water.”

Shaking his head, Ernst corrected him, “That’s where the problem lies, little Rein. Your experiments tend to be full of failures and failures tend to be very expensive. As you should’ve already known.” He looked at his sore bottom and chuckled.

The boy of eight kept on ranting and defending his choices for hours as Ernst rebuked him along the way. Eventually they reached the town and stepped out of their carriage and were greeted by dozens of lightly armoured outriders.

“Pappa is too overbearing. Do we really need this many outriders as bodyguards?”

“Lord Hervig is not overbearing. He’s just… Cautiously protective. You already know this, but he got attacked by those ‘Cold Ones’ when in route to Nahrstadt. This is his way of protecting you. We may be attacked by those lizard savages anytime and anywhere.” He said and frowned and looked to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry.”

A burly ageing man with whitening brown hair noticed the large group of well-armed travellers and carefully approached and warned them, “Hey! What are yous doin’ here! This is Imperial territory and raidin’ this place will get you all killed!” He unsheathed his bastard sword and pointed it towards them.

Ernst noticed the Hanoschaft guards lifting their handguns in alarm and rapidly walked in between them, “We are representatives of House Hanoschaft. We’re here to see a person by the name of ‘Malt’.”

The old man slowly sheathed his sword at that but still glared warily towards the horsemen. “Yer lookin’ at ‘im. Me name is Malt! But please tell those guards of yers to lower their guns down.” Ernst quickly ordered them, and they all complied. “Good. I think I’m the appointed mayor here. Only makes sense ‘cause I risked me life buildin’ this village. Ye must be that treasurer’s son that has accepted me deal with those bitterbeans we are growin’. Kind of ya to do so. We need more money to survive this deep in Lustria.”

With widening eyes full of confusion, Ernst looked back towards Reinhard and noticed him holding back a roar of laughter. “I-I’m not Lord Hervig’s son, Herr Malt. I’m simply here as a trusted assistant to his son.” He gestured towards the boy of eight years old.

Reinhard stepped forward with confidence towards the man who towered over him and nodded at him and held out his hand. “You must be Herr Malt. It’s nice to meet you in person.” He said quickly but politely; hoping to steer away his look of incredulity of talking to someone who’s age is similar to his grandchildren.

Malt silently shook his hand in a confused daze. “So, yer the one I’ve been writin’ to?”

“That’s right. I was the one that persuaded father to grant you about twelve hundred golden marks. Hope you spent those correctly because my father desperately wants an update.” The boy slightly raised his voice in the end and used his father to intimidate the former adventurer, so he won’t belittle him.

“Yer father is a smart man. Investin’ this early, on this new crop that could rival milk-made butter!” The man said excitedly and but swiftly realised his mistake. “Oh! Sorry for me bad manners kid- Lord…”

“Reinhard is fine, Herr Malt.”

“Lord Reinhard. Ye all must be tired from the journey. The roads out here haven’t been properly paved yet. Just a muddy and bumpy mess. So, join me for lunch back at me house.” Malt pointed over the wooden walls and towards the slight hill with a modest keep sat upon it. “It may not be the splendour you probably lived back in New Altdorf, but I assure you that it’s comfortable. Better than the village’s taverns. Now come along. There’s a stable and a barracks near me house. It should house the lot of you!”

Walking through the village’s gatehouse, Ernst couldn’t help but be impressed. It may have been made of wood, but it was intricately made with dozens of murder holes and an iron portcullis. Reinhard said what he was thinking. “Herr Malt, this is a very impressive village you have here. How long have you spent in here?”

“Thank you for that kid- Reinhard. I’ve settled here seven years ago. Was one of the first colonists to get here and I spent a year explorin’ this area. Sold a few trinkets here and there and, was plannin’ to head back to the Empire and retire in peace but the High Priest inspired me to settle here. Lucky for me, I got here first and made me house in that hill. Since then a few people decided to settle here. I should thank yer father for not taxing us. But…” Ernst noticed the old man eyeing him suspiciously. “But I’m sure he’s gonna change his mind when we get rich.”

“My father is a fair man and Lord Stanhelm listens to his councillors. I’m sure the taxes that you pay would contribute towards Maltdorf’s safety in forms of stationing a few state troops here.”

Nicely deflected Rein! You’re just like Lord Hervig. He may have accidentally whispered something in the end, judging by the pompous looks Reinhard gave him.

Reinhard then carried on, “I’m curious about these bitterbeans. You can turn them into butter?”

“That’s right, lordling. It requires a lot of back breaking labour to do so because you need to crush the beans after lightly heatin’ ‘im. Me farmers have been doin’ that when they discovered it in one of the trees. Since then they’ve planted a few saplings of those same trees.”

“How does it taste?”

Their conversation was suddenly halted by a group of rough looking men with tattered clothing. A few blood stains here and there but nothing too serious. “Oy lads! Why are some of ye bleedin’?” Malt bellowed in concern.

One of the men stepped forward with a bandage covering his forehead and pulled out a head. A foreign looking head with gem like skin, coloured in a bright spectacle. The shocked group slightly stepped backwards but Reinhard eagerly did the opposite which prompted Ernst to push him back. “What’s that!?” Reinhard shouted in a high pitch tone full of childish charisma.

“Who’s this kid, boss?” The bandaged man frowned and examined the boy with a scrutinising glance which was stopped by Malt.

“This is the Treasurer’s son, Thijmen.” He nervously smiled towards the wounded man. “The one that approved of givin’ us money for those bitterbeans. Ye know that time when I invited all of yous out on a drink? That was to celebrate his father being so generous.”

Ernst rolled his eyes at the unnecessary flattery but was careful at hiding it. Unfortunately for you Malt, that flowery language does not work well with Reinhard.

As if to contradict him, Reinhard’s eyes brightened at the flattery. “Thanks for your kind words, Herr Malt. My father can be so generous. He just needs loyal and reliable people to work for him!” He beamed at all of them before focusing his gaze on the head. “Now, what is that? It looks like a skink. It has those huge eyes,” He paused to imitate their large eyes which lifted the men’s spirits and a few of them slightly chuckled. “But those colours…”

“They weren’t full of colours when we killed ‘em. They were completely invisible when they started shootin’ us with those dart arrows!” Thijmen spat and looked towards his comrades. “It’s all thanks to Taal, for givin’ us guidance in the jungle and for givin’ us heightened senses to spot those damn lizards! If it weren’t for the god of nature, we would’ve had our necks bleedin’ from their darts!” The rest of the group gave a firm and grave nod at that.

“They?!” Malt said and was clearly alarmed.

“A dozen of ‘em started shootin’ us from the top of the trees! We managed to kill a few of ‘em but we only managed to behead this one.”

“That’s a cause of concern! Lizards with the ability of turnin’ invisible would act as good scouts! You lot may have killed their scouts!” The mayor of Maltdorf yelled intentionally and caused a few of the farmers around the area to turn their heads towards him. “Send a raven to New Altdorf! They must be informed of this! And rally the militia, we could be attacked any minute now!” His deep baritone voice seemed to travel across the walled village in an instant as a hush of activity erupted within the sleepy community. Dozens donned their steel chestplate and some hurriedly strapped a sabaton in their legs whilst holding a spear in the ground. Archers ran towards the barracks and enthusiastically grabbed their bows with a couple of arrows.

Ernst gulped and looked at the captain of the outriders. “You’re Martin, right?”

“That would be me Lord Draven.” He said whilst dismounting his horse and placed his handgun on his shoulder and shook his head. “If there really is going to be a siege then it would be better for us to be outside the walls. But…” The Captain stared at the curious boy poking at the head of a lizard. “But Lord Hervig specifically ordered me to protect his son and me and my men will do our best to protect him. So, don’t worry Lord Draven. We will protect him.”

Breathing a sigh of relief and quickly looking back at Reinhard, he thanked the captain’s loyalty. “You’ve saved Lord Hervig. Now you’re going to save his son. I don’t know who’s blessing the Hanoschaft’s with your presence, Captain.”

“They’ve blessed me, and my men far more than those gods did, my lord. I owe the Hanoschafts my loyalty after what they’ve given us.”

“Those are reassuring words, Captain Martin. You’re the one that pappa keeps talking about. The one who saved him right?” Reinhard sneaked towards them and earnestly smiled. “I’m a bit embarrassed that I didn’t even know who you are until now…”

“Don’t worry little Lord.” Martin patted his brown hair. “I’m often not in New Altdorf, but in the countryside patrolling. Fighting pirates, bandits and rare groups of lizardmen.” He shifted slightly. “So, it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t know me.”

“I-I was going to ask one of your men to gallop back towards a nearby outpost to send a message, but I see that’s unnecessary.” Ernst stared at a few black ravens soaring to the sky and heading towards New Altdorf. “I’m surprised that the raven network expanded this deep in Lustria.”

“It didn’t. It was in the contract for them to build a nest for trained ravens. Those birds should be going to our house instead of the patrol watchtower.” The boy said whilst puffing his chest. “Those ravens were kind of expensive. But they should be far faster compared to a galloping horse. We could pessimistically expect reinforcements in six hours. We just need to hold out. So, tell Malt that. He’s clearly quite shocked and embarrassed that he’s been writing to a child so I should probably stop talking to him for a while.”

The old man will get used to it. He’ll get used to you. But it may take a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crawling on top of the trees and occasionally swinging through the vines of the Lustrian jungle, Tarultax suddenly spotted a group of warm-blooded creatures carrying axes in his peripheral view. Immediately, he clung on to one of the branches and camouflaged his skin. He watched them swinging their axes and cutting dozens of trees at a time.

The boldest of them trespassed the breeding grounds and hunted the feral stegadons and bastiladons. Hundreds of work and effort carried by his fellow skinks have been rendered naught with just a couple of arrows and their foul smelling blowtube weapons.

At first it wasn’t a problem. The Mage-Priest Slann of Tlaxtlan said that these invaders were too warm-blooded to survive the great heat of Lustria. That they would fall and faint and drown in their own ‘sweat’. Whatever sweat was. He along with his fellow lizardmen heeded his advice to not interfere with them. ‘They’re interested in the coasts!’ he remembered him shouting.

Some of the bravest and foolish saurus disagreed. Especially the youngest of the Oldbloods. Mere centuries old with nothing to their name and eager to prove themselves. The chameleon skink silently hissed in disgust when thinking of Chicahua’s failed attempt to drive the warmbloods out. Hundreds were slaughtered due to his incompetence. Many of those were his friends. Unfortunately, we’re all skinks. Lowest of the lizardmen. Our job is to serve. For that is our destiny according to the Great Plan.

He still remembered watching the humiliating procession as the pompous saurus led his poorly equipped army. His fellow saurus had nothing but stone weapons. No armour and equipped with wooden shields. They all looked like savages not befitting the most ancient and powerful race created by the Old Ones.

After his doomed expedition, rumours swelled about the warmblood’s weapons. Magic so foul that it couldn’t have been normal magic. Fire magic that would emit nothing but smoke but still hit their intended target from dozens of carnosaur steps away. Along with that defeat the warmbloods have become braver. Some venturing deeper into the hinterlands and ransacking abandoned cities and holy sites of the dead. Now they're cutting down hundreds of trees and using it to build their hovels and walls. They used the fertile Lustrian land to make their farms. As if they were encouraged by their victory. Thinking that pathetic army was representative of the entire Lizardmen Empire.

Little did they know that the lizardmen may have been weakened, but their strength grows stronger. Magic has returned with full force on Lustria and reviving many spawning pools across the continent. Long extinct races of the lizardmen have been revived. A sign from the Old Ones and he was a living proof. Perhaps this is part of the Great Plan to push these unwanted visitors back towards the sea.

Patiently, he sat and observed them and noticed that they were scraping the beans off one of the trees. When he spotted a couple of his comrades around him, knowingly nodding at each other, he knew it was time to attack. Hopefully, the Slann wouldn’t mind us showing these warmbloods the strength of lizardmen.

One of his fellow chameleons threw a dart characterised by the whistling, and suddenly all of them loosed their poisoned darts towards the unsuspecting humans. Yet none of them collapsed. Not one of them drowned in their own blood as the darts pierced their necks. Not one of them convulsed and vomited as their skin turned a sickly blue and green colour.

A powerful, magical green aura surrounded them and deflected most of their darts with some barely hitting them in their shoulders. They have a mage?!

Several of the warmbloods ran back to their tents and came out with wooden slings and tube-like weapons. A crack split the air as it echoed across the jungle and saw several of his cloaked comrades falling down. Some having a dart-like object sticking out of them and some having no visible injuries whatsoever. Tarultax panicked and tried to get away. Maybe those foul-smelling weapons inflict curses! I must tell this to the Slann!

Another crack and he noticed a sudden force from his back. He thought that it was just a mosquito biting him and kept on running. Then he noticed his muscles won’t respond to him. His legs simply froze, and he fell down off the tree and landed near the warmbloods. What… What happened. He rolled over and touched his back where the bite was but noticed blue blood seeping out of it, along with a horrible pain suddenly paralysing him.

“Lads! Have you seen that?! Taal was with us!” Tarultax heard nothing but garbled nonsense and he laid there hissing with pain until one of the warmbloods pointed a small tube-like weapon at him. The last thing the chameleon saw was a bright inferno covering his face.