Warhammer Fantasy:Steel and gunpowder

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Sommerzeit 1th ,2488 IC

Over the past few weeks, I have dedicated myself entirely to my training in magic. I've become much more sensitive to it, now able to detect the winds—something I couldn't do before. Until recently, I could barely use them, and always clumsily, with almost no control at all. But my good magical master made sure I read several grimoires—most of them focused on the process of containing magic within oneself—reducing my magical signature as much as possible. According to him, this would make it much harder for a priest to detect me as a magic user.

However, the first thing Hieronymus wanted to teach me was how to shut my mind against divination, even before sharing any truly important knowledge with me. He never explained why, but he insisted that I had to learn to block any possibility of being seen by wizards or demons capable of predicting the future.

After that, I taught him the full process for producing my blue pigment. While I studied from grimoires, he took charge of the pigment production, using the magic of Chamon to compensate for the lack of his arm while handling acids and grinding certain ingredients. I had no complaints: I had someone teaching me magic and, at the same time, producing large amounts of pigment effortlessly. He was far more productive than I was. he spent several hours perfecting scrolls, attempting to enchant some of my alchemical tools to make them more efficient, and using the pigment as a reagent.

As for the problem with the margrave, a small detachment was spotted on the roads with clear intentions of seizing Reinsfeld in a swift attack. But the attempt didn't go unnoticed. When they encountered my pikemen in formation, with their pikes braced to halt the knights' charge, they realized the vast difference in numbers… and retreated the way they came. Since then, no more forces from the margrave have been seen. Perhaps he's too busy dealing with orcs, bandits, or the Bretonnians to invest in a direct fight against someone more powerful than he originally thought.

Through Rutger, I've already made contact with the Altdorf lawyers' guild, hiring a good number of them to focus solely on finding jurisprudence, forgotten laws, or any legal loophole that might help my case. At the same time, I've sent multiple gifts to the judges: silk, jewels, chests full of gold—all delivered as gestures of goodwill. Let them understand that I support their legal careers and that

And with the arrival of the alchemical equipment from Marienburg, my small laboratory was starting to run out of space. Between the two of us, we nearly tripled the previous weekly output, and each week it seemed more and more people were buying our pigments. Apparently, they were much easier to obtain than waiting for a caravan from Cathay to travel all the way to the Empire, or dealing with dwarfs who sold their product at an absurdly high price.

Added to this was the constant—uninterrupted—progress of my city's construction and the ever-increasing migration. For some reason, people from all over the Empire kept arriving. At this point, even with the Elector Counts already warned of this "opportunity," it should have stopped long ago. But something—I don't know what—keeps drawing the masses. And if this continues, soon Reiklanders might become a minority in their own land. Discontent was already brewing: complaints were rising in the taverns, where people spoke of my administration's "favoritism" toward foreigners—building them houses, giving them tools, food, even making them the first to benefit from the sewer system.

It hasn't turned into a revolt yet, but the complaints are frequent. We'll have to keep an eye on that. Still, crime hasn't increased. In fact, we haven't arrested anyone in over two months. So, at least for now, I suppose everything remains under control.

The bell in my office rang, pulling me out of the numbers. I rang the reply bell, and soon one of my vanguard men entered, bowing his head.

"My lord… your vassals Rudolf and Hanzel have arrived. They bring with them a force of men-at-arms," the guard informed me.

"A rebellion?" I asked as I reached for my arquebus and matchlock pistol.

"No… no, my lord. This is the time of year when your father organized the great beastman hunt, to clear the forests and prevent them from gathering near the farmlands… Your vassals come to fulfill the orders of the late baron," said the guard quickly, trying to prevent me from making a mistake.

"Ah… right. Well, it wouldn't hurt to calm the peasants' fears about the mutants. A quick campaign against the beastmen might help ease tensions," I murmured, now more thoughtful.

I immediately went down to the courtyard and authorized my knights to bring in their men.

Around seventy showed up. As expected, the quality of their equipment varied greatly. Chainmail was the most common; few had breastplates or more complete armor. At the very least, my own troops were already showing a clear difference, with better gear directly funded by me. But by feudal rights, I had little authority to impose standards on my vassals' equipment.

"Rudolf… I'm glad you came," I said in a friendly tone, extending my hand.

"It is my duty, my lord baron. Just as I served your father, so too shall I serve you, in all that I can," replied the knight, bowing his head.

"I see you've purchased a better suit of armor, haven't you?" I said, noting the steel breastplate and finer gauntlets than I remembered.

"I've been saving for this, my lord. One never knows when a good piece of steel might be needed between oneself and an enemy," he replied with a slight smile.

"I suppose you're Hanzel, correct?" I asked, turning to a man with a still-youthful face who stepped forward and immediately knelt.

"Don't you think it's a bit late to come swear fealty?" I asked, watching him closely.

"My apologies, my lord… News of your father's death reached me late. I only learned of what happened recently. My deepest condolences… but due to the lack of communication, I only found out when a merchant from your lands passed through mine," he said, with a tone that seemed sincere.

There was a clear difference in wealth between both knights. Hanzel wore little more than a leather cuirass reinforced with iron. I watched him for a few more seconds, then nodded.

"Don't worry too much… it's not your fault, I suppose. Very well. I have a short campaign in mind this year against the beastmen. As I hope you're aware, I'm currently in conflict with the margrave, and he even attempted an attack. We can't stray too far from the castle, or we might run into trouble if the margrave decides to try something… amusing," I said, observing their reactions closely.

Both knights clearly looked surprised.

"I'll summon three hundred of my men. That should be enough for a decent purge this year."

"Ah… my lord, but… wouldn't that leave the town defenseless? Reinsfeld has only four hundred guards, if I recall correctly," Rudolf said with some concern.

"Then you recall wrong. I increased the number recently. We now have fourteen hundred, and I'm considering raising it further," I replied, staring straight into his eyes.

"How?" said Rudolf, incredulous.

"Let's not waste time with idle talk. I found a way to obtain gold, and now I have enough… for the time being. That's why I'm still alive. If I hadn't hired more men, the margrave would already have me locked up in Helmgart," I answered firmly.

"I see," murmured Rudolf, and Hanzel nodded silently.

"Very well. We leave in an hour. I'll gather supplies, and we'll head into the woods."

With that, I began organizing the essentials: we loaded carts with grain, bought salted meat, baked bread, and other provisions from the local market to feed the troops joining me on this campaign.

To the north of my lands stretched an immense forest. It was said to harbor a sizeable beastman population that constantly harassed my villages. I imagine my father made their lives miserable, given his reputation as a bloodhound when it came to hunting those creatures.

Once supplies were ready, I chose the guards who would accompany me: a mix of veterans who had served under my father and soldiers from my own regiment. While many were trained to fight in formation with pikes, this forest campaign would serve to teach them how to fight in rough terrain, where the long reach of their weapons could become more a burden than an advantage.

We entered the northern forest, where recent logging had opened a narrow wound into the sea of trees. We began our search, hoping to stumble across a beastman patrol… or with luck, an entire camp.

We moved for several minutes through roots, branches, and underbrush. I carried my dwarven spear in one hand, my arquebus in the other, and the pistol secured tightly on my chest, alert to any movement. But the hunt was proving… frustrating. During all that time, we found only one of the beasts, and it was alone.

Compared to the margrave's forests, this was a pathetic catch. It seemed I hadn't inherited my father's nose for mutant tracking.

"Wait… yes, I have," I muttered to myself with a grin.

I let the winds flow through my senses and began searching using my amplified abilities to detect iron—specifically the rough, jagged scraps that beastmen used as improvised weapons or armor.

When I felt the vibration of corrupted iron, I turned my head.

"There they are," I said quietly, looking toward a denser patch of trees. I hadn't seen the beastmen yet, but I had sensed their weapons and metal gear.

"What is it, my lord?" Rudolf asked, riding beside me.

"We move that way… I think I saw tracks," I said, pointing at the ground.

The knight nodded without question.

We advanced through the forest, dodging branches and roots, cautiously approaching the camp. I could feel the vibration of all the metal they carried. The beastmen had caught our scent and were preparing to ambush us.

"Ready yourselves," I murmured, gripping the matchlock pistol firmly.

My men began looking around in all directions, tense, while the knights' men-at-arms closed ranks into formation.

A gor came roaring from behind a tree, raising its axe in a savage fury. But I was already waiting. I had the pistol aimed right where it appeared. I fired without hesitation.

The lead bullet tore through its neck with a dry crack, leaving a hole so large you could see clean through to the other side of its torn flesh.

Controlling my mare after the recoil, I grabbed the arquebus and aimed at a tall bush. There I sensed another chunk of iron… a machete.

A moment later, an ungor leapt from the foliage, only to take a shot square in the chest. The lead smashed through its heart and dropped it instantly.

With both weapons spent, I pulled back and let my men engage the next wave of beastmen charging toward our position. I watched as many of the creatures impaled themselves directly on the pikes, making no effort to avoid them. The ambush they had planned became their downfall.

The terrain made it impossible to form a continuous pike line as in open field, but many were positioned in pairs or trios, and that was enough to stop the wild assault. The men-at-arms fought with determination, and the crossbowmen had already begun firing from the rear, turning the forest into a slaughterhouse of mutant blood and corpses.

I kept firing whenever I could, making sure to keep my men informed of any presence of iron I sensed around us.

"Beastmen to the rear!" I shouted, detecting the unmistakable vibration of metal approaching from behind.

Many of my men turned, seeing only trees and brush, but I ordered them to prepare regardless. We shifted several pikes to the new front and placed men-at-arms ready to intercept whatever was coming. Pistol in hand, I waited.

Then they emerged. Another group of gors and ungors burst from the undergrowth, roaring furiously—once again failing in their attempt to ambush us.

Wasting no time, I blasted the brains out of one of the larger beastmen with a clean shot, the echo rumbling through the trees. The chaos didn't last long. I kept giving clear orders, maintaining discipline while my troops repelled the assault.

The mutants fell in droves. The pikes pierced their bodies easily, and the crossbow bolts tore them apart before they could even reach the lines. Every time I sensed a new metallic presence, I shouted its direction, allowing my men to maneuver swiftly.

The forest, once quiet, had become a killing ground for the creatures of Chaos.

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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.

Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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