Despite my very best efforts, it still took most of a day to gather enough forces to present a proper expeditionary force that could locate the enemy and take up a defensive position while reinforcements rushed to take over the main battle. Getting ranged auxiliary forces from the planet below was as simple as showing up and demanding that whatever city I arrived in, handed over half the garrison, sent messengers out to surrounding cities to do the same, and put the cities on lockdown until we returned their troops. I ordered the station's master of whispers to get me as much information on strange creatures being sighted, food stocks, materials, weapons missing, and strange green lights. The two first subjects were common enough, but the mention of green lights had the elderly, unassuming spymaster cock an eyebrow at me, but I stared him down until he relented his curiosity. It was not for him to know what I knew, only to get me the information I needed.

I knew he was going to try and dig deeper, but my own master of whispers had already gained a foothold within the ranks of the station. Many people didn't know it, but one of the keys to the success of so many rogue traders, was the master of whisper, their spies roaming far beyond the limitations of the ships and fleets of their employers, looking for information on anything that could aide the rogue trader, from resources left unattended and in need of "rescuing", precious knowledge, trade opportunities in markets lacking certain resources which inflated prices to the absurd, and everything in-between.

There was quite a bit of complaining about seeking out the enemy with no ranged weapons, but I was having none of it. I was not about to break Imperial decree while withholding what I could only guess would be classified as vital information, from the Imperium at large. My report to the Inquisition would have to be vague enough to feign ignorance, but specific enough to satisfy any initial questions, leaving the whole mess for whoever was to take over after I was done here

It took around 12 hours for me to get an initial report on the status of things down below, and I did not like what I was reading. Rodents were always a problem on feudal worlds, but the overall situation had been a steadily increasing problem over the past several years, with outlying villages reporting giant rats every so often. Green light was also reported, mostly centered around an abandoned mountain that had been mined out. This was not good, an empty mountain meant that the Skaven most likely had a fully grown undercity on their hands. Nothing short of obliterating it from orbit would secure total annihilation. So I guess this world was stuck with Skaven now. No matter, I still needed to initiate a purging process, or at least make the public aware of the threat.

When enough troops had been mustered from the merchant fleet, I made ready to leave the station with Trokk, his Ogryns, and the same honor guard that followed me to the planet below last time. I was slightly miffed that I still had no proper slab shields for the Ogryns, But there might be a solution on the planet down below, provided their smiths and artisans were not completely devoid of creative talent. I insisted on Idris taking the same lander as me when I left for the planet, as I wanted her to understand what we were headed for, and being surrounded by Ogryns who was spoiling for a fight tended to paint that picture in the most illustrious of ways. Their banter, shoving, pushing, and general eagerness to finally get to smash the enemies of the Emperor over the head with their mauls. Such marvelous, yet simple creatures. I only foresaw problems once it came time to get them down into the mines. The Ogryn's claustrophobic nature and fear of the dark were well known and well documented at this point, but I figured that with enough light and people around, we could coerce them into following down below. Once we made contact with the Skaven, they would care for little other than how much blood I would allow them to spill in their Emperor's name.

"Lord Trader, I really do not see the need for me to accompany you to the ground during this operation," Idris complained as the lander shook around us and the Ogryns huddled around Trokk for comfort. He was just as uncomfortable as the rest of them, but his size and neural enhancements also made him aware of his Ogryn charges' need for him to be the steady rock they could gather around right now. She looked, if possible, even more uncomfortable than the Ogryns as she spoke.

I allowed myself a small, but audible, laugh before I answered, "What's the matter, Captain? No stomach for fighting?"

"I would have become a fleet commander instead of a Chartist Captain if I did." She mumbled defiantly, "You already have the full support of my fleet. I fail to see the use you can have for me down here!"

"It's not about use, Captain. It's about preparing you for what is to come. Do you think the trade lanes of the Imperium are safe? Sure, you might have seen pirate attacks in the past, but what about heretics, traitor legions, and worse? Compared to the galaxy at large and the dangers it holds, this threat is relatively safe, if such a thing can be said about going into battle, but know this. To my knowledge, this enemy cannot yet travel to the stars, which gives us a single advantage. They are locked to the surface of this world. But after having found the things we did on the station, I have reason to believe they have successfully infiltrated ships going to and from the surface, so at this point, it is only a matter of time before they can reach the stars. And even the Orks won't be able to fight them off when that happens! They are as dangerous as the Tyranids, and the only thing that has prevented them from already taking over this planet, if my suspicions are correct, is their propensity for backstabbing and intrigue in a never-ending quest to rule the galaxy!" I was losing my self-control as my temper got the better of me, and I knew as soon as the words had left my mouth, that I had made a grave mistake. The look in Idris's eyes told me everything.

"...How do you know all of this, if the enemy you speak of cannot travel the stars." There was steel in her voice I had not heard before, and I saw her left hand creeping toward her hip where the naval pistol rested in a quickdraw holster. Merchant or not, she was still an Imperial. Violence was the quickest and safest course of action in the face of anything that didn't follow a very specific doctrine.

"I wouldn't reach for that, Idris. You are locked in a small ship with 4 Ogryns charged with my safety. How do you think they will react?" I gestured to the group of Ogryns with my head and noticed that they were observing the two of us with extreme attention. Among what I assumed were many talents, discretion was not one of Idris's virtues. "You won't have time to draw the weapon before 8 hands, each fully capable of ripping off your arm with disgusting ease, reach for you, after which whatever remains, will be shoved through the deck grating. I cannot tell you how I know what I know, beyond that the master of whispers aboard my ship is extremely talented. But I ask you to trust that what I do, I do for the Imperium's safety and well-being. You will understand once you face the enemy." A little white lie with a plausible explanation, combined with the Inquisition symbols she had seen on my armor earlier made her relent just enough in her suspicions to stay her hand.

"I will reserve the right to judge for myself whether you can be trusted. But for now, at least, I will follow you." She finally proclaimed, but her distrust was plain to see.

"Good, I only need your cooperation. The trust will come by itself once the fighting starts, be sure of that. Now, hide that naval gun, and let's put on our game faces for the native population." I Tried sending her a blinding smile but only got a weird look back.

"You are not going to disarm me?" She asked in surprise, still tense as a bowstring.

"If you shoot me, you will be dead before my body hits the ground. And since I understand how much you want to live and earn profit, I feel quite safe and secure. Besides, it might come in handy later, so stow and hide your weapon for the time being." With that, the rest of the trip took place in contemplative silence. When we landed, most of the troops gathered had already been transported to the surface and I almost had 500 guardsmen able and ready to move out. I had to admit, for a moment I wondered if Idris would order her soldiers to seize me, but she did not and we could get moving as soon as we disembarked. While still in regular uniforms, the armor of our scouting force had been replaced with metal plate counterparts, and they were under the strictest orders to not draw their las pistols under any circumstances, except a direct order from me. Only Idris, myself, and my bodyguards carried hidden firearms, 2 in my case. A las pistol and my stub cannon, just in case a rat ogre got too close for comfort. Trokk and his little group did not need such things, especially on a feudal world, Their size and brutality would see them through almost anything that could be thrown at us, and I had to admit it made me feel a lot safer.

The Skaven were technologically inferior, supposedly, but they were numberless and once their undercitites reached critical mass, they WOULD make it the business of the entire planet to expand their territory. And if they had access to warpstone, that meant grey seers, rat ogres, warp-infused blades and bullets, everything one could ask for if they desired bad times ahead. This reminded me, that I needed to check the cities for black dust dens, the infamous byproduct of warpstone usually sold off by open-minded and entrepreneuring Skaven that sought trade with morally bankrupt humans, The substance smoked like opium induced heavy euphoric dreaming and an immense sense of well-being. Unfortunately, those addicted to it would do literally anything to get another hit, putting them firmly under the control of whoever had control of the black dust. Finding these dens would make it a matter of waiting to get information on the Skaven, rather than searching. I doubted we would find them first, the criminal activities of the Imperum tended to be extremely proficient at staying hidden when they wanted to, and a figure of authority would be the last person they wanted inside one of their dens as long as said person was not already thoroughly addicted, or were prone to accept "donations" to the planetary coffers.

The forest clearing that served as a landing area for ships was brimming with troops, both natives and our own. Those among the feudal natives who were entrusted with the knowledge of the broader Imperium and the technological leap present between them and the rest of the galaxy were busy handing out maps to the squad leaders and commanders. Someone in ornate armor and an air of superiority approached Idris and I, along with a retinue of soldiers clad in heavy full plate armor from top to toe, and I had to admit that having a dozen men in full steel suits, carrying large greatswords all polished to a mirror shine, looked mighty impressive. But I also noticed the glances they kept making at Trokk and his Ogryns. It was nice to know that even the elite guard of this planet had a healthy amount of common sense. Enough to fear Ogryns, anyway.

The figure in ornate armor caught my interest though. The air around them seemed heavier, and denser, as if their mere presence was imposing itself on the world. I wanted to activate my witchsight, but if it was another psyker, of which I was almost certain, they would know me to be one as well, and we couldn't have that. The figure came to a stop in front of me and saluted. I raised an eyebrow and returned the gesture by making the Imperial Aquila, resulting in the armored person becoming flustered in their attempt to recreate the Aquila, only to be stopped short by their armor. I waved away the attempt and looked expectantly at the newcomer.

"My Lord, forgive me for demanding an explanation, but ordering such significant numbers of the local troops to assemble, armed and ready for battle, is an issue of great concern to the local leaders. I hope you understand the desire for clarity on this delicate matter." The voice was that of a woman of undetermined age, the armor and closed helmet completely covering her features. I turned slightly toward her to give her my full attention as I answered.

"I am afraid I do not understand. You have been given orders by those stationed above you and are expected to do as ordered. The Imperium requires bodies to protect you and your people. Speaking of, I wish to gather all the leaders, mayors, prefects, officials, and whoever else holds power over settlements and cities on the planet. Some things must be clarified, but I recognize this will take time. If you dispatch messengers now, I am certain they will have gathered once I return." It was an effort to keep my voice light and unbothered, but I like to think I succeeded. I didn't need already worried officials turning to panic over imagined problems. And ignorance was a virtue in this universe. Better to keep them ignorant for as long as possible.

"You plan to travel with the troops?" Despite being muffled by the helmet, the shock was clear in the voice of the, I assumed, highest-ranking battlefield commander.

"Of course. How else am I going to make a proper report on the conditions of things down here?" I said with a wide smile as the commander visibly wilted in front of me. "Now, gather up the men, and let's start heading for the Glowing Mountain."

"The Glowing Mountain? But those mineshafts were abandoned many decades ago. What could we hope to find there except dust and rocks, Lord?" Even her elite guards seemed amused if their body language was to be believed, and I could hear the slight laughter behind their helmets.

"If I'm right, which I know is a certainty, much more than we ever wanted." I retorted and my words gave them a slight pause. What could they expect to find if I was this confident in the danger that lay ahead? I knew what was ahead of us and I hated every step towards it. But it had to be done. I hated to admit, that my reason for doing this was not the good of mankind, not to protect the innocent, nor the interests of the Imperium. I did this purely because losing the planet after being appointed temporary planetary governor would see the Inquisition punish me in ways that even the chaos gods would find distasteful, before finding a way to punish me for the millenia to come for the failure. And if I had to be honest, I was not keen on having that be the end of my life. I had a goal in mind and it had it be attainable, it had to be! I wanted home and nothing and no one was going to stand in my way, not even the furry tide of death known as the Skaven.

When we started marching, I sent riders ahead with written orders to prepare any spare weapons and shields in the villages and single large city we would pass on our way to the mountain, so the soldiers I brought with me could be properly armed. There would be grumbling, there would be complaints from wealthy merchants, and there would be refusals. Which meant I either had to use my troops to bully the people, do it myself, or simply offer to pay up. I would most likely have to pay up, as 500 men and women in plain robes to cover their flak armor, did not make for an intimidating sight. Once they got armed with swords and axes, and were given shields to help protect them from the Skaven slings, crossbows, and warplock pistols*, they would look far better, but for now my treasury would have to do the speaking. Not that I was missing anything in that regard, being appointed temporary governor, I also had complete control over the planet's coffers, granting a not insignificant amount of wealth within the Imperium.

There was another problem though. Given the access to metal on the planet, and the amount of time the Skaven had been left unchecked, it was likely they even had warplock jezzails, the Skaven sniper teams carrying rifles longer than themselves. Such weapons would be able to punch through Astartes' power armor, meaning nothing on this planet, or the station above had the potential to protect against the dreaded sniper teams and their warpstone bullets.

The first few small towns and villages were more a collection of hovels than anything else, but each still had their own small militia with a surplus of service weapons and armor, kept in good working condition and my small expeditionary force soon enough began to resemble something of a fighting force. With pauldrons, shields, and blades, the robes made the armed troops look more like devoted warrior monks, than regular guardsmen. The sight of them woke memories of the orks I had fought back when I initially joined the PDF, and I suddenly felt a longing to get stuck in the shit with the troops again.

There was something equalizing about the fray of battle. Status, rank, wealth, age, it all melted away once battle was joined. On the frontline, everyone was equal. I missed that feeling, the feeling of belonging and camaraderie, of having complete and utter trust in the person next to you. That kind of trust vanished, the further up the metaphorical totem pole you climbed. As the old saying goes, it's cold and lonely at the top.

I had to promise payment to every village we came across, my robes having been modified with a small symbol of the Inquisition on top of the hood. This and my planetary governor status granted me enough goodwill with the common people in the small villages to be given what I needed, purely on promises alone. These promises I fully intended to keep, with a bonus to boot, their willingness to help me the moment they saw my robe spoke of true and loyal Imperial subjects that deserved a better lot in life. Of course, it could be fear, but I saw nothing of the sort in their eyes. Only adoration and joy, over having been blessed with a personal visit of one of the God Emperor's representatives.

The children stood wide-eyed and silent as we marched by, the differences on the faces of the soldiers from the various ships giving them plenty to stare at, but it was nothing compared to the pure awe they showed when they saw Trokk and the Ogryns, who for their part were absolutely delighted to see children. You could say a lot about Ogryns, but they were good people at heart. Simple, dim-witted, and in many ways childish, their simple minds gave them happiness and joy from the smallest of things. One of them stepped out of formation and was immediately rewarded by a solid punch to the improvised helmet We had a smith cobble together out of 3 regular helmets. Between the Ogryns, such a reaction was commonplace and it didn't carry any significant pain for them, it was merely a reminder to get back in line. But it had an unexpected side effect. When the Ogryn stepped back into line he rubbed the back of his head and grumbled to himself like one of the children standing on the side of the road would have done, and the sight of someone so tall and big, acting like one of them, was too much for the children who started a laughing to their heart's content. No one said anything or even acknowledged the incident, but I noticed that every time we passed a new village with new children watching us in awe, the same Ogryn would step out of line, receive a smack to the back of the head, and proceed to grumble and pout, much to the delight of the kids. Several of the soldiers around us had noticed as well if their smirks were any indicator, but no one stopped it and I saw no reason to spoil the fun. Soon enough, they would wish the peace had lasted longer

We didn't reach the mountain the first day. We barely reached the largest city on the way to the mountain, but there was little grumbling about a night under the stars. it was a feudal world, which meant low pollution and plenty of green nature to enjoy. most of the soldiers had not spent a peaceful night under the stars in years, the only time leaving their ships was for shore leave on some orbital station or spaceport. for many of them, this was the first time they saw this much green, let alone spend any significant time in it. This was a memory they would cling to in the darkest hours on the ship when the grease and oil were dripping from the walls around them during their 14-hour work shift. When your muscles were screaming for you to stop working, your thoughts became muddled and random due to exhaustion, and the only thing that kept you going was the very work that was exhausting you to the core. At that time, they would reminisce about these hours, dream themselves back to these times right here, sitting silently around their small fires, taking in every second of true peace.

It couldn't last, not in this universe. During the night, the posted sentries raised the alarm as several small crossbow bolts and square throwing discs came flying out of the night, killing several sleeping soldiers before enough light was produced, and enough troops had been woken up, that the attack stopped, but it confirmed my fears. The Skaven were bold enough to attack soldiers moving in force, albeit a rather small force, without any significant fear.

But it was not the attack itself that worried me, it was the fact that it happened to us specifically, so quickly after landing and making our way toward the mountain. Either they were better at stealth than I had assumed, and had listened in on my planning with Idris, or there were traitors among the ranks of the local population, which was by far the most likely scenario. Of course, it could have been a roaming band of raiders, but I highly doubted that. Perhaps a quick message to the Inquisition, once my business here was concluded, would do wonders to remind the people that certain acquaintances were not worth the potential trouble. After calming down the troops that wanted to set out into the darkness to take revenge, and giving strict orders that anyone leaving camp without a signed pass from me, was to be summarily executed in front of his or her squad, regardless of rank and/or status.

I ordered the dead bodies burned, there was no telling what foul poisons, concoctions, warpstone infusion, and other trickery they might have smeared on their weapons. I didn't feel like dealing with the mutated bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters. It would also rob the Skaven of a potential food source, as grim as that prospect was, but it was a truth that the Ratkin didn't much care for what they were eating, as long as they were eating, even members of their race was not an uncommon food source whenever other sources ran temporarily dry. Skaven slaves were never in short supply and could be bought by the dozen for a single warpstone token, the disc-like shapes of pure warpstone the Skaven used for currency. The whole ordeal cast a shadow over our expedition, but the rest of the night passed in peace and quiet. It was not even a raid. It was a warning.

Just who the hell did these overgrown rats think they were? Sending ME a message so bold that they might as well have marched up to me and told me in no uncertain terms to fuck right off, back to wherever I came from. We would see who held the power to tell anyone to fuck off from this planet. MY planet! One of Trokk's Ogryns had been lugging a vox caster in a backpack in case I needed to summon reinforcements, but now I had a different idea. I retrieved the backpack and grabbed one of the troopers able to operate the damnable thing with any degree of success and took off toward a nearby thicket of trees to communicate in peace and keep following the decree to shield the native population from advanced technology. A decree I would break in the future if my life depended on it. Dying for some Imperial decree, screw that noise. I was more valuable to the Imperium, alive, no matter which way you looked at it.

After my little comunicae on the Vox, I didn't even have time to return to the now roused group of soldiers, having packed up the temporary camp, before I noticed the first lander touching down in the far distance, near our destination at the mountain, followed soon by more landing all around the mountain. Troops from the merchant fleet would locate mine entrances, both human-made and otherwise, seal them up with barricades, and then reinforce those barricades a dozen times over. Another would be conscripting the locals into a makeshift militia that would patrol the barricades, preferably manning them full-time, if we gathered the numbers. We should be able to, the Imperial officers were very efficient at press-ganging civilians into military service. The fact that this would be very short-term, and kept planetside, only made it easier to "persuade" the unwilling to become willing. I didn't need a professional army to be raised, I needed enough bows and arrows raining down on anything that, against all odds, might find the smallest of ways out of the barricades that would be erected, to make it too costly an effort to make it out.

I had taken care to stress the fact that I wanted at least 300 feet of clear ground between the mountain entrances, and the barricades. Even with a fresh supply of wood nearby, provided by the vast forests surrounding the towns, villages, and pockets of cultivated farmland, it would take days to see my orders finished, and days more to reinforce the barricades to the point where I would be satisfied. But that was fine, I didn't mind at all. I wanted the Skaven to see what was happening to their home. They had been bold enough to challenge the Imperium. Well, the Imperium had arrived and was stepping up to the challenge in the same way the Imperium always did. Slow, ceaseless, grinding, gear of war being churned at slowly increasing speed, pouring lives, materiel, and death into the problem until it was either resolved or had become so expensive that it was cheaper to just glass the planet and be done with it. I wanted them to see doom approach their beloved Undercity, and send the message that I was here to level the entire damn mountain around their ears if that was what it took to secure Imperial victory.

By blocking off all but one of the entrances with large kill zones and enclosing barricades, I forced the Skaven to either make a move on the one open entrance, spend energy making a new entrance that would get discovered by roaming scouts, and close off like the others, or hold up in the mountain, giving me the upper hand on account of having gained the full momentum and forcing them on the defensive. They would most likely go for the third option, trying to scheme their way out of things. Fine by me if they did, it would give me time to plan my attack on the Undercity.

As for the entrance, I was leading my ground troops toward, I wanted layered defensive fortifications, at least 4 trench lines deep. If the Skaven made a push out of the mountain, we needed to consider the possibility that their numbers would be overwhelming. There was also the matter of their grey seers and their magic. Everything I knew of it, made it out to be unpredictable and immensely powerful. I had nothing to counter it, no proper psykers, and no one able to use the same magic along the lines of the Skaven. I simply had firepower and bodies, though I suspected that technology at the level I was comfortable with, would most likely seem like magic to the overwhelming majority of people on this planet. It took another half day to arrive, but when we did, we found a small army of people working on making materials for barricades, setting up temporary shelters, setting up foraging parties, and marking the area where the defenses would be built. Trenches, spikes, watchtowers, thick wooden walls, fall pits, kill zones designed into the architecture, allowing for maximum exposure with minimal opportunity of cover during an advance.

Contrary to the expectations of most people gathered, the local leader and Idris included, I happily grabbed a hammer to the nearest improvised smithy and made myself useful in cleaning, sharpening, and repairing the tools of the workers. It was strange, picking up work I used to do back home before I was whisked away to what I thought would be the ultimate dream life. I missed this work, the smell of hot iron, the sizzle of the water when you cooled the metal, the flying sparks when the hammer struck true. My mind started wandering as I worked like it always did when the hands took over in completing familiar tasks, and my eyes fell upon one of the crossbows used by the professional archers of the local militia. The biggest drawback of the weapon had always been its reload time, but in my world, they had found ways around that. Maybe I could do some of the same without breaking the decree of the Imperium? I left the work to someone else and found myself one of the crossbows. I turned it over in my hands as I studied the craftsmanship. Solid wood that had been worked with care, iron fittings carefully placed and secured to create a sturdy weapon, a finely woven and perfectly taught bowstring, and a nicely carved wooden bolt tipped with gleaming steel.

The only way I saw it working was with gravity, so I found an artisan who was working on barricades and ordered him to get to work building the top modification that would hold the bolts in place, and the crank that would operate the bowstring and move the magazine on top of the crossbow to make the next bolt fall into place in the grove I went with the chinese design from back home which, granted, had the drawback of low accuracy, in favor of high rate of fire. Per my instructions, the artisan created 2 magazines, capable of holding 7 and 15 bolts respectively. The work on the repeating crossbow took almost 2 days, but once a working prototype was made, it was as simple as copying the mechanism to the existing crossbows. There was a lot of mumbling from the local soldiers, their annoyance with my tinkering with a good weapon was almost enough to warrant a proper protest by some of the veteran archers, but once I was ready to show off the repeating crossbow, they still gathered around to watch the spectacle, no doubt ready to throw some scorn my way, if the expected failure showed itself.

I asked the veteran archers with the most sour faces how fast a silled crossbowman could send bolts downrage, and how fast a skilled archer could do the same. The answer came back as 1-3 bolts and 8-10 arrows respectively. When I claimed to be able to send 15 crossbow bolts downrange, reload, and repeat the process at the same time, all I got in return was a snort. To prove my point, I asked for the most inexperienced archer to show me how the design worked. A large boy was quickly pushed to the front where pale and sweating with terror, he quickly made his way over to me and presented a very stiff and formal Aquila that drew a smile from me.

"Relax, son. Consider this as you helping me and me owing you a small favor." I said quietly so only the kid could hear me, and he tried putting on a brave face. I quickly went through how the new design worked, sending a single bolt downrange and reloading it, so he could see how it worked. Then I handed him 15 extra bolts in a small quiver and told him to hit the target, a dead old tree placed around 50 meters away, as fast as possible. The first 2 shots were somewhat hesitant, but as he understood what was happening, he gained confidence and thereby speed. In less than 20 seconds he had emptied the clip and immediately started reloading, the little training he had received taking over and he stuffed the bolts into the top of the magazine and started unloading on the target gain, this time a little slower but far more accurately. He was still within the given minute when he finished the second clip of bolts and he stood, staring down at the weapon in his hand like he was holding a great relic of war, bestowed upon him by some heretical god.

The veterans who had been skeptical and vocal about my misuse of a weapon were silent, mouths hanging open and eyes threatening to bulge out of their heads as they stared in awe at the impossible feat that had taken place in front of them. As one, the entire camp started clamoring for the artisans present to get to work on the same modifications for any crossbows there was to be found. While it brought me a lot of respect from the troops, I didn't care about that. All I cared about was increasing my odds of survival. I had not been lying when I claimed this to be dangerous, but to invade Skaven undercity was borderline insanity, just short of suicide by an external force. But with the new modification proving itself and the artisans working overtime to copy it to any weapon delivered to them, it had taken almost 9 days from the order was given, until the mountain was encircled, closed off, and ready for me to begin the second phase of my plan.

on the morning of the 10th day, I gave the order to assemble in front of the mine entrance. With the workers functioning as a makeshift militia to man the defensive lines stretching out from the entrance, I could bring all 500 of my expeditionary forces with me, but I was not keen on that. 500 men and women would stumble around in the dark, killing each other as much as the enemy. No, we needed to be smart about it. I made small teams of 2 archers and 3 melee fighters to function as scouting teams, but once they started stripping off their armor, I stopped them and ordered them to armor up instead. They complained that they wouldn't be able to outrun any enemies they ran into, but I countered with the fact that they could not outrun this enemy. If they encountered them, their best chance lay in a fighting retreat while one of them ran to get back up. Their objective was to map out the entrance, and the surrounding tunnels, and find a cavern large enough to accommodate all of us, as close to the entrance as possible. That would be our forward operating base, taking the fight inside the mountain and forcing the Skaven to react to our presence. No self-respecting Skaven would tolerate what they considered to be invaders on their territory, to stay in said territory.

I could have sent the troops from the merchant fleet with vox beads and data slate maps. But again, this damned decree surrounding the planet. No matter, I would do it if the initial plan didn't work, My need for a forward base superseded any Imperial decree. If I did not have a defensive location inside the mountain, I could send people into the meatgrinder for decades and accomplish less than nothing, since the dead people would provide the Skaven with food from the dead bodies, and materials from the weapons and clothes.

It took almost half a day, and I received 2 reports of giant rats making the exploration difficult, but nothing on the Ratkin. This was bad, if they were hanging back and letting the Clan Moulder creations take care of harassing my scouts, that meant that whenever they chose to attack, they would pour everything into it. We didn't have much time to prepare, and we had an enormous amount of work ahead of us. They did find a cavern big enough to accommodate a thousand people rather comfortably, and so the order was given to make way for the cavern, posting detachments of guards every 15 meters in the tunnel. I wanted them within eyesight of each other, a few moments alone was all a Skaven assassin in the dark needed to turn a guard into a corpse. It took almost 10 minutes to reach the cavern, but once there, my soldiers spread out, covered the entrances, and sent runners back to inform the workers that the way was clear for carts with building materials to be moved into the cavern where work would begin to create a small but more permanent fortification for us to occupy.

There was not much I could do until the fortification was complete, so I started wandering the cavern, taking in the atmosphere and smells. It smelled foul in here, like a mix of old urine, rotting food, unpleasant musk, and death. They had been here, if not recently, then at least fairly often, and in significant numbers. I had been bugged by a steady blinking in the side of my vision and I knew the system wanted my attention badly. I have seen many color blips throughout this past week and a half. I wanted to check it out, but there always seemed to be something that got in the way and left me precious little time to do anything other than work and sleep. Since arriving back on this cursed planet, this was the first time that I had nothing to do and nothing to fill my time with. But right now was not the time to do so, as sitting around with a blank expression could not be good for my image. I needed privacy, but in these tunnels and anywhere near this mountain, solitude meant danger. So it would have to wait a little while yet. Perhaps when everyone was asleep I could get away with it. I would have to wait and see.