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| Durant's Yellow Jackets |
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| Episode Five: Storming the Gate of Vahlenburg |
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| Part One of Two “How long ago was it Karl?” asked Wilhelm. His horse, Silverhoof, trotted along at a stead speed along the main highway into Hochland. Karl Ulrich looked at Wilhelm with a scowl, then geed his horse to trot faster, and pulled ahead of the young mercenary. Wilhelm shrugged, and looked out over the fields of Hochland. The Yellow Jackets had enjoyed a smooth ride from Marienburg, a far more comfortable journey than the magical voyages of Arbach’s coins. After Wilhelm’s brush with a sacrificial death in Lustria, he was more than happy to stick to more homely climes. He looked ahead, and saw the mist-covered mountains several leagues distant. Somewhere in those foothills was the garrison town of Vahlenburg, the birthplace of Karl Ulrich. Wilhelm’s father had never told his son much about Karl’s history, though Wilhelm knew that the two men had fought alongside each other for many years. It seemed, however, that neither of the pair would help satisfy Wilhelm’s desire for information. He guided Silverhoof to the left, falling in step alongside Torval. “Torval, you’ve served with Karl for a long time, right?” asked Wilhelm. “Yeah, at least six years now.” “Do you know much about his background? I hear he came from this town.” “Vahlenburg? Yeah, that’s where Karl was born.” “Why did he leave?” This time Torval remained silent. “Come on Torval.” “You know Wilhelm, you should probably ask Karl if you want to know.” “But he won’t tell me. My fa-, I mean, Captain Durant won’t tell me either.” “Sorry Wilhelm, I don’t believe in revealing other folk’s secrets. If Karl wants you to know, then I’m sure he’ll tell you.” “But Torval, I-” “Wilhelm, best just drop it.” Torval’s face took on the same stern aspect as Karl’s, and Wilhelm decided that repeated questions would get him nowhere. He bit his tongue, shut his mouth and looked ahead sulkily. The Yellow Jackets passed a crudely drawn sign, attached to a lopsided wooden post: Vahlenburg, 8 miles Wilhelm decided that he might be able to get more answers from Karl’s former neighbours. In some ways, Vahlenburg was the same town he had left fifteen years ago. The market square and temple of Sigmar remained the central features. The pair of taverns were in the same location. The Starry Sea on the western side of the square, the Oxbow Inn on the southern edge. Both taverns looked considerably worse off than Karl remembered, they were in desperate need of some paint, some new timbers and above all, some customers. The streets were still narrow, the buildings still cramped and scattered in a seemingly random order. It wasn’t so much that the town had changed, but rather the people seemed different. The few townsfolk Karl had seen looked beaten down and bedraggled. They looked up at the passing mercenaries, riding well-groomed horses, equipped with fine armours and weapons, and above all else, well-fed. In stark contrast, the denizens of Vahlenburg looked wizened, frail and malnourished. The results of half year’s worth of tribes from the orc tribe living in the mountains nearby. The Yellow Jackets passed through the town, and looked on the fort which was supposed to protect the people of Vahlenburg. The fort had been constructed at the mouth of a steep-sided gully leading into the mountains. As long as the fort held, the people of Vahlenburg would be spared the worst ravages of the greenskin menace. Karl saw some soldiers on the walls, carrying spears and shields, but they were few and carried an air of being defeated. He rode with Captain Durant to the main entrance of the fort. They called up to the guards manning the walls for a parley, and waited for a response. Several minutes later, a pair of soldiers, in the state uniform of Hochland, came to the top of the gate. “Who are you?” said the shorter man, a stout fellow with a thick auburn beard. “Are you the reinforcements from Hochland?” “I’m Captain Durant, these men are the Yellow Jackets. We’ve been sent here to collect something on behalf of Franz Arbach of Marienburg.” “Marienburg,” the bearded man spat. “Nothing but a bunch of fat merchants and wannabe heroes.” “Then we’re the latter, working for the former,” replied Duran with a laugh. “Is there a Sergeant Rauchmann with you? We’d very much like to speak with him.” The bearded man conferred with the taller man for a few moments. The taller man turned and shouted into the fort. “Sergeant Rauchmann, report to the main gate.” Durant could hear the thump of running boots, then watched as moments later a third uniformed soldier came to the top of the gate. “Are you the men Arbach sent?” asked the newcomer. Durant detected a distinctive Marienburg twang in his voice. “Captain Durant of the Yellow Jackets. In the employ of Franz Arbach.” “Finally,” said Rauchmann, obviously relieved. “Now we can talk business.” The three men disappeared, and moments later, the gates of the fort swung open. Durant and his band of mercenaries rode in. They were greeted with nervous glances from men gripping their spears far too tightly. Karl noted, subconsciously at first, that the garrison appeared well below strength. Instead of a couple of hundred soldiers, there were barely half that number milling about. “Not much of a garrison,” murmured Wilhelm. “That’s what happens when orcs move in next door,” said Karl, as he shot an angry look at Wilhelm. Durant and Karl were ushered into the officers’ tent in the southwest corner of the fort. The bearded man, Lieutenant Ruhm, and Sergeant Rauchmann sat across the table from the mercenaries. Ruhm indicated for Durant and Karl to sit down. “Sorry I can’t offer you any wine or beer,” said Ruhm, with more than a hint of irony. “We haven’t had any for more than a month.” “That’s fine,” said Durant. “When did the attacks start?” “The first attack was two months ago. A few hundred orcs stormed down from the mountains, did some serious damage to the fort. They didn’t get through, but we lost some men.” “And that’s been happening every few days since then,” added Rauchmann. “We just don’t have the soldiers to replace the ones we lose. And these orcs don’t seem to be going anywhere.” “What about the town?” asked Karl. “A few manage to slip through the gaps, manage to steal a few cows and sheep every now and again, but mostly the fort holds them back.” “It’s a bad situation,” said Durant. “We can offer you some advice, maybe help you maximise your defences.” “But you can’t stay I take it,” said Ruhm. “We have a contract with Arbach, we have to collect an item for him. Then we’re going back to Marienburg. And according to our employer, Sergeant Rauchmann has the artefact we came for.” Attentions shifted to the blonde-haired Rauchmann, who shifted uneasily in his seat. Ruhm fixed him with a surprised glare. “Well, sergeant, do you have what these men are looking for?” asked Ruhm. “I’ve got it. Acquired it from some Kislev traders. How did Arbach know I had it? I haven’t sent him a letter in two years.” “You know Arbach well?” asked Karl. “He’s my uncle, on my mother’s side.” “I’m sorry,” said Durant with a smile. Rauchmann took the joke well. “But, regardless of how he found out, the fact is, you have the Disc. And Arbach sent us to get it from you.” “Alright. But it’s not going be cheap.” Durant allowed himself another smile, and reached into the pack slung across his shoulder. He took out a leather bag, and dropped it onto the table where it landed heavily with a loud clank. “One hundred should be enough, eh, nephew?” The glint in Rauchmann’s eye, accompanied by the flash of a smile gave Durant the distinct impression of Arbach. The sergeant was clearly related to the merchant. Rauchmann stood up and requested permission to leave. Lieutenant Ruhm waved him away and waited until Rauchmann had left the tent. Ruhm eyed the bag of coins greedily. “I had no idea he had such an artefact, so valuable that a Marienburg merchant would send a group of well-armed mercenaries to a backwater town like this one. What does it do Captain Durant?” “The Disc?” “Yes. Magical I take it?” “That it’s magical, I have little doubt. Our employer, Mr. Arbach, is something of a collector when it comes to magical items. This isn’t the first item we’ve acquired for him.” “And probably not the last,” added Karl. The big man seemed to be consciously avoiding the gaze of Ruhm. Finally, Ruhm looked at him directly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name. Your accent sounds like you’re from Hochland.” Karl looked away. “Yes, northern Hochland if I’m not mistaken. I hear that drawl every time I go into the town. It’s fairly distinctive.” Karl gripped the seat tightly, his knuckles whitening. Durant glanced down, afraid that Karl might lost his control, but at that moment, Rauchmann re-entered the tent. Attentions moved away from Karl, who relaxed his grip on the fragile chair. “I think this is what my uncle wants you to take back with you.” Rauchmann held up a silver disc, no bigger than the width of his palm, but an inch thick. In the centre there was an indentation, and carved lines radiating away from the middle. Rauchmann held the Disc out towards Durant, who carefully handled it. When Durant looked down at the mirrored surface, he saw his reflection swirl and scatter, and began to feel light-headed. “It’s best not to look at it for too long,” said Rauchmann. “It’s definitely full of magics I don’t understand. Powerful ones too, I reckon.” Durant forced his hand to lower the Disc, and he felt his mind slowly clearing. His vision returned to normal. He looked up to see Ruhm’s face twisted with rage. “What were you thinking Rauchmann, bringing that thing here?” asked Ruhm, his voice raised. “I was just going to sell it the next time I went on leave. I thought-” “Sergeant Rauchmann, you’d best be going now. I wouldn’t want you to miss your patrol duties.” Rauchmann turned to go. He stopped when Ruhm’s voice continued. “Oh, and you should take your money with you.” Rauchmann watched open-mouthed as Ruhm opened the bag on the table, took a single coin out and flicked it towards him. “But sir, what about the rest?” “Consider it taxes and duties.” “But-” “Dismissed, Sergeant Rauchmann.” Rauchmann hesitated a moment, his eyes lingering on the bag. Finally his shoulders dropped, and he walked out of the tent, clutching the single gold coin to his chest. Ruhm waited until Rauchmann had left, then took the bag off the table. “Well, if you’ve no further business,” said Ruhm. “You may as well leave.” “Certainly,” said Durant. “And please give my regards to your employer. Tell him I am most satisfied with our dealings. And do let him know I am terribly sorry for the miscommunication over who should be paid. No hard feelings towards his nephew of course.” Durant shrugged, and tucked the Disc away securely inside his clothes. “Mr. Arbach will be pleased that the money he sent got him the artefact. I’m not sure he’ll be too concerned over who received it. Thank you Lieutenant.” Durant stood up followed a moment later by Karl. “Good luck on your return journey.” “Lieutenant,” said Karl. “I think you’re the one who needs some luck.” A breathless Rauchmann burst suddenly into the tent. Three pairs of eyes turned towards him. “Sir, the orcs are back.” |
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| Part Two |
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