Wow.
So much information in one sentence. Firstly, our Silent One is probably from Ulthuan, not the depths of Athel Loren. That's good. High Elves are far more predictable creatures than their Wood Elf kin. Secondly, she wants to take me to the Tower of Hoeth. That's also mostly good. If I recall correctly, the magical elite of the High Elves, including the High Loremaster Teclis, hang out there. He is one of the most powerful living wizards and strongly dislikes Chaos.
On the other hand, her "obligated to deliver at any cost" phrase pleases me far less. Such phrasing suggests that my opinion on the matter doesn't particularly interest the pointy-ear. Alright. We'll talk, try diplomacy again; maybe we can find common ground.
— Alright, Liandra, — I nodded. — It's a pleasure to meet you. So, you're from Ulthuan? From the Kingdom of Saphery?
Thanks to Total War. Because of it, I remember where that tower should be located. The Elf reacted strangely to my words. She was either surprised or despairing. A grimace of torment flashed across her usually calm face.
— Yes… I lived there, studied, but not as a mage. I followed the path of the Swordmaster.
Aha. I remember those guys in the game too.
— A Swordmaster of Hoeth? I didn't know there were women among them.
— Sometimes, — she answered grimly. — An exception. But I didn't complete my path.
It was clearly difficult for her to talk about this. I felt the tension in the girl's voice.
— If you don't want to, don't say it.
— No, — Liandra objected. — I must cross this thin bridge to the end. Drag the fear into the light before it takes root too deeply.
She started speaking faster, reminding me of our first encounter. She's nervous.
— I can't tell you everything. I gave my word to keep the secret. We… My master, my brother, and many others set out to search for an object of great power. The underground expedition… It failed. We were unprepared. I…
As she spoke, Liandra paced back and forth. I noticed her left eye glistening with moisture. She was on the verge of a breakdown. Tears or hysteria were trying to break through the flimsy barriers of her mind.
— I fell into a magical trap. I was left alone.
— Were they Skaven?
— Rats? No. Entities much more dangerous. Guardians of ancient secrets. They couldn't kill me, but they condemned me to a terrible fate. Locked away, in the dark, year after year. I had to fight every second to preserve even fragments of my sanity.
Damn.
That explains the state we found her in. Skaven didn't capture Liandra. They only picked up an exhausted body, almost devoid of will. Who attacked her? Daemons? It seems very likely. Or some other malevolent spirits.
— When you rescued me… — the girl continued. — I thought it was just another illusion. A sophisticated torture of hope that would soon turn into an endless nightmare. A part of me is still convinced of it. Every second, every moment, I wait for the sun to go out, and the bright image around me to melt away like smoke. Only the endless darkness, full of whispers, will remain again.
Oh man. She needs to see a doctor and take some pills.
The girl finally vented. She closed her eyes and simply breathed for about a minute, folding her hands in a specific way. Probably some meditative technique to calm down faster. I looked around the clearing for a while. It was indeed picturesque. The idol of wood and stones did not seem ominous. It vaguely hinted at the features of a Sylvanian-like humanoid with a beard of dry leaves.
Opening her eyes, the Elf stated much more calmly:
— We will get to a major port city. Marienburg. I heard that name from our seafarers. There will be one of the Lothern merchant captains there.
— Excellent, — I nodded. — That's a good plan. We'll do that, but later.
The Elf frowned.
— Why later? Other humans won't help you. They are fragmented. Ignorant. They can barely defend their own borders.
In some ways, she was right, especially recalling the hospitality of Friedrichsburg. However, the typical racism of this world was also speaking through her. We are great, and everyone else is savage, mad, weak, a traitor (underline as appropriate).
I remembered Markus's words that the Empire of Sigmar is surrounded by enemies, but the people still haven't given up. That was true. And the final battle against Chaos cannot be won without the Empire.
I could completely entrust myself to Liandra's care right now. Take me away quickly, carry me beyond a hundred seas. That is a relatively safe route. To hide on Ulthuan, shifting all the problems onto the pointy-ears. However, no matter where you hide, the world will still fall, and very soon. So why not start fighting for its fate now?
I am still small and weak, but I can already do something. At least reflect magic. I managed to change the fates of dozens, if not hundreds, of people. Save some of the inhabitants of that village from Goblins, free the slaves. If it weren't for me, Liandra would very likely have ended her days as a test subject in Clan Moulder's laboratory. Now she is free again. Together with her, we finished off a squad of cultists. They won't be able to engage in any nastiness anymore.
It doesn't seem like many changes, but one should hope for at least a butterfly effect. The more I change, the higher the chances that I will trigger a salvational chain of events.
— Other humans won't help me, but I can help them. And besides…
A mind-blowing idea suddenly occurred to me. If the pointy-ear has prejudices against the mon-keigh…
— What makes you think I'm human?
This question stumped Liandra. She blinked for a few seconds, then frowned and asked:
— What are you talking about?
— I told you the truth, — well, almost the truth. — But I haven't told you one important thing yet. This body. This human, Jurgen… He is my new shell. I was someone else before. Another life in a completely dissimilar world. The magical power of the Ancients moved me here. It tied me to this body, but the soul remained the same. It is precisely my soul that helps me resist Chaos and any other magic. You've probably already noticed that I speak and act not quite like a human of my station, let alone my age?
The Elf nodded slowly. I literally felt in my gut how I grew in her eyes with every word.
— You must have heard about the King of the Wood Elves, Orion? He burns up and is reborn again in a new body. Something similar happened to me.
I died on a new sofa and woke up next to a smelly Goblin. However, I had to pronounce something more pompous aloud:
— My spirit left my former world and body to become a weapon against Chaos here.
— What were you in a past life? An Elf, a spirit?
— Neither. My race does not reside here. I'll tell you a little about my world now.
And I started embellishing. In principle, I could have recounted the lore of Star Wars to her. She wouldn't be able to verify it. My thoughts are protected from magic. However, I was generally speaking the truth, but I emphasized that my compatriots were not like the local humans, but a much more developed humanoid race. Which, by the way… unexpectedly, might turn out to be true.
Local humans have magical abilities, but unlike me, they are vulnerable to sorcery. Perhaps my resilience is just an adaptation to life in a world without the Winds. However, another theory arises: what if the Ancients didn't just settle this world with humans, but changed them for their own needs? Gave them magic, but thereby ruined their resistance to it and to the corruption of Chaos?
Perhaps this also affected the psyche of the local people. The history of my world also had its share of obscurantism and religious fanaticism. However, here, it feels like the scale is many times greater. We didn't have hordes of Flagellants or Hobbyhorse Pilgrims pretending to be a horse for a dead knight.
However, the people here live in a world with a lot of magic and a million dangers from all sides. It's no wonder that many people's sanity flies off to the heavens from such stress.
— Your people were incredibly lucky to live without neighbors from other races, — the pointy-ear declared, having listened to my brief overview of Earth's history. — To own the world without division? It sounds like an unattainable dream.
— In the absence of enemies from other races, we found them in our own. Conflicts between former kinsmen are often distinguished by particular cruelty. You Asur should know that. But let's return to our business. I must stay here and participate in the battle against Tamurkhan. I am sure that the forces of the Empire will win, but the question is at what cost.
— Humans breed quickly, — Liandra replied. — Any losses will be replenished in just twenty or thirty years.
— But we and the whole world don't have that time to spare.
Phew.
Now I didn't have to pretend to be a naive young man with her anymore.
— Let's agree on this—after the defeat of Tamurkhan's army, we will go to Ulthuan. It will be much easier to pull off when Chaos gangs stop prowling the roads. Until then, I will need your help. Not just protection. This shell should be prepared for battles. I understand that your fighting style differs from the human one, but surely you can teach me something?
At least how to kill enemies with one or two strikes, instead of creating a bloodbath every time.
The woman nodded.
— Of course, this conversation must remain between us for now.
And one dead toad.
— I understand. These creatures are not much smarter than small children.
How lovely. However, I decided to speak out in defense of the local kin from the position of authority as an invited guest from another world.
— Yes. Their minds are weak and tormented by doubts, but that makes their continued struggle all the more valuable. Think, Liandra. The lives of these people are simply awful. Dirty cities, no plumbing, constant squabbles, disease, hunger. And there are the Dark Gods of destruction, offering them gifts. Power, pleasure, potentially even immortality. Yet many of them continue to fight for their freedom, despite how powerful their enemy is.
I don't know how effective my eloquence was this time, but Liandra nodded meaningfully and even made something like a compliment:
— You possess a very flexible mind… Jurgen. But could you tell me your real name?
Oh, damn. Maxim doesn't fit. It's too human. Maxes and Maximilians are present in the Empire.
— I could, — I replied, to buy time.
What is the first suitable name that comes to mind… Dimetrius? No. Also too human. Darth Vader? It would be hard not to laugh.
— Guilliman, — I blurted out. — You can just call me Guill.
I don't know why I remembered that name in particular. Perhaps because I am now fair-haired and talking to an Elf. Associations at work.
— We have an agreement, Guill, — the pointy-ear nodded. — I will keep my word and will expect the same from you.
— Agreed.
Having resolved all the disputed issues, we headed back to the people. On the way, Liandra was silent again, but Loom-Pia lectured me incessantly. His speeches boiled down to one thing—don't trust the Elf. And in general, the mission is paramount for us, because of its special importance, any promises can be broken.
At the camp, Erik had already started cooking bean soup with beef offal in a large cauldron.
— We will meet and talk tomorrow, — Liandra whispered to me before leaving the camp again.
Perhaps she needed to digest the new information or just mentally rest. It's no wonder that after a long and solitary journey in the darkness, it is difficult for the girl to communicate.
While dinner was cooking, Erik recounted our misfortunes in Friedrichsburg to Markus and Adora. The girl demonstrated surprising awareness of the affairs of that nasty little town.
— You encountered Wolfgang Laemmel, — she stated. — Not a noble, but he comes from a rich family. Stables, a tavern, a couple of workshops, a portion of the surrounding forests, and a mill. His father has a lot of property.
— Where does this knowledge come from? — I inquired.
— I talked to the wounded soldiers and the Sisters of Shallya while helping them. Three people are now lying with broken bones after a fight against Laemmel's thugs.
— Why doesn't the Margrave protect his warriors! — Markus Schlossberg was indignant. — Just as Sigmar is a father to all of us, so too should a noble commander care for his soldiers as his own children!
Adora clearly suppressed a smile with difficulty.
— Margrave Hok does not want to quarrel too much with the locals, — she explained. — Cooperation is often more profitable than giving orders. Supply flows through Friedrichsburg, and many residents there are indebted to the Laemmel family.
Bad. We can only hope that Laemmel Sr. doesn't want another scandal. Otherwise, we'll have to flee to Ulthuan, escaping Imperial justice.
Alright. We can't do anything about them for now, so we'll wait for Margrave Hok.
Markus complained for some more time, promising to bring terrible punishments upon Wolfgang Laemmel by the will of Sigmar, but everyone was much more interested in dinner.
Erik, whose face was swollen from the beatings, continued to perform his culinary duty despite his injuries. Very soon, steam began to rise over the cauldron, and its aroma made my mouth water. Erik limped from the cauldron to his spice reserves and back. He threw bay leaf, dried pepper, and fresh vegetables that he managed to trade for in the soldiers' kitchen into the stew.
Half the cauldron went to Magg. The rest was distributed among the people. We sat right on the ground, spreading out rags, eating the fragrant hot soup.
Erik himself did not eat. He was already preparing a second portion with a slightly different recipe. Amazing dedication to his craft.
During the meal, Adora continued to share the information she had gathered:
— The army has been here for almost two months. The first was the hardest. Supply was not yet properly established, and then the long rains began. The roads were washed out. Soldiers' rations were cut. There were even attacks on locals, but Olger Koch quickly punished the culprits.
I hope they won't punish me quickly for attacking the locals.
After finishing the cooking, Erik told the others how the Silent One had rescued us from the scrape.
— We should go and break their legs! — Magg declared, gnawing on the bones left over from the soup. — Yeah!
He easily broke a large bone with approving cheers from several people in the squad.
— Magg, old friend… — Erik was acting as a peacemaker again. — Jurgen beat them up pretty good, and I added my share.
— I should go there, — the Ogre wouldn't stop. — Tell them that whoever touches my cook again—I will disfigure them. Cool word, right? — the Ogre said, no longer angry but cheerful, nudging me in the shoulder. — Disfigure!
I almost choked on the display of Ogre friendliness.
The rest of the day passed quietly. We either rested or walked around the vicinity, gathering firewood. The soldiers from the main camp treated us with sympathy. They even sometimes brought us various goodies like fresh vegetables or army bread. Perhaps the factor of having several women in our group was at work here.
Adora went to help the Sisters of Shallya again. Perhaps she was doing this not out of sympathy for the sick, but to gather information and raise her status in the eyes of important people. However, it was a good idea. The Sisters of Mercy visited our wounded as well. They even treated Erik's swollen face, draining blood from several particularly nasty hematomas.
In the evening, there were discussions about our future fate. Markus and about fifty other people were very much in favor of joining the army. Some saw this as a sacred duty to defend the Empire, others—as a way to get rations and save money for the journey home. Only a few women were openly afraid of new bloodshed. However, roles could be found for them too. Washing foot wraps, mending trousers bitten by Nurglings, helping Erik with the cooking.
— Jurgen should lead the detachment! — Markus proclaimed loudly. — He is our symbol. He was sent by Sigmar to lead us to the light.
Almost no one argued. Almost everyone here had already seen how active I was in combat. The only doubtful point was my age, but my body was changing. I already looked more solid than in the first days of fighting the Goblins. The noseless Halfling, the phantom toad, and a lot of physical activity had turned the boy who could be knocked over with a sneeze into a young but already sturdy lad.
Muscle definition became noticeable on my tanned forearms. In my past life, I had one large ball on my stomach, but now I had abs. My shoulders broadened. Even my first stubble began to sprout. I matured quickly.
The evening and night passed quickly, but in the morning…
— Who here is Jurgen!? — a loud commanding voice rang out over our tents.
A Witch Hunter, accompanied by five soldiers, approached the detachment.