The company tavern was small, only made to accommodate the guard and the laborers in alternating shifts. Luckily, while spartan, it was well run. The barman had a plethora of kegs lined up with a nice, if predictable, selection. Marius had been to a few alehouses like this before, where the taproom was moderately well stocked but regulated to keep the price of providing well-stacked in the books. A few rough looking guardsmen and some laborers sat in ubiquitous seats. One man, a one-eyed guardsman with the plumed hat of a halberdier glanced his way and glared sullenly.

"I don't like this," Marius said under his breathe.

"Da, someting dos naut smeel right." Natasha said, taking a seat like a panther that had just decided she had found a nice place to lounge.

Marius had initially meant the ill-looks of some of the 'employees', but he also had to concur on his companion's meaning. "Er, yes. Quite strange." He remarked, taking his seat across from her, setting down her drink for her and taking his own flagon in his hands. They had been given small tokens so as to receive complimentary drinks, but the way Wilbrecht had smiled when he had given it, Marius thought the man trying to butter them up for some reason. "What reason would Grunson have to lie to us? We're just simple customers. Why send us out here to have us find out he was feeding us a false narrative?"

Natasha had deigned to drink her entire cup as Marius spoke, the merchant only seeing her drain it on the very last bit of his questions. He looked at his drink, and then sighed. No, he would just drink it like a normal person. He smiled, thinking of how Grunson would handle an irate Marius and a pissed off Natasha. And then his thoughts turned to how weird it was this woman saved his life and now here he was with her, yet again, in a tavern with strong drinks and another problem to deal with.

"Vat ah you tinking?" She asked him.

"The look on his face when we get back and you punch him in the face." He said. Natasha smiled, and then raised her fist as if she could see it happening before her eyes.

"The Face? Ha! I go lower."

Marius started snickering. She blinked, her brain whirring to meet her own words. "Hey! No innuwendo!" She declared, slamming her fist on the table.

"Wouldn't think of it." He said, hiding his chuckles in his drink.

It was too late in the day to return to Wolfenburg, by road because of the danger of beastmen, and by barge due to the threat of rocks and logs in the night. Instead they were given bunks in the barracks which served transient workers. Men who worked at Gunstadt usually began in the barracks and then built their own cottages and shacks as time and wages allowed. It was a draughty building of cracked timbers and mouldering thatch but it at least kept the rain off. Natasha dreamed of riding along a great plain while the sky screamed with unnatural lights. She woke to find lightning crashing outside as the storm intensified. For a moment she lay awake breathing deeply, lightning flashed again and this time there was a siloutte of a man a few feet away.

"Marius, go beyk to..." Natasha began and then chocked off as a hand clamped down over her mouth, choking off her shout before it could begin. Something flashed in the dark and Natasha instinctively drove up with her knee. She let out a muffled scream of pain as the point of the blade, aimed at her belly, glanced off a rib. A second man, unseen in the darkness cursed and grabbed at her leg. She rolled hard, dragging the blade along her skin as she fell from the bed and thumped on the ground. Lightning flashed again and illuminated her two attackers. She kicked out and connected with the shin of the knifeman. He cursed again, but without her boots it wasn't the crippling blow it might have been.

"Fucking stick her already!" the second man growled.

Lightning pierced the skies, heavy rain thudding onto the roof as Marius awoke with a start. He felt he had been falling, but he supposed that was a silly notion. Beastmen were within a days ride and he was here, checking on a a falsified report of a ransacked silo with a barbarous woman, but Marius would never be dumb enough to get that close to a cliff. Ugh, now that he was awake, he felt he needed to take a piss. The Wissenlander cleared his throat and slid off the bed, making his way down the hall to the lavatory. Passing by Natasha's room, he heard some sort of noise and froze, and a muffled cry of what sounded like a moan coming from behind the door. Some bumps were audible, and he chuckled softly.

He supposed life was short and winter was long, as they say. Natasha moved fast though, probably bedding some guard while she had the chance. He wasn't sure if he was uncomfortable with the thought or not, but decided to brush it away and continue to the privy.

Once he felt better, he strode down the same hall, scratching his wild head of hair and yawning. Another noise erupted from the wound, but this time it was a bit more high pitched, and then a man speaking.

"Fucking stick her already!" Came the voice.

Alright, that could also be indicative of some sort of sensual act, but it didn't sound like it. He paused, looking at the door, wondering what to do and coming to terms with the fact he had already decided he needed to burst through now dawning on his sleep addled mind. Sigmar, he hoped he was right! He grabbed the knob and opened the door, stepping into the room and seeing a standing figure, naked steel glinting in the soft light of a lightning bolt crashing into the earth outside. Another two figures were wrestling on the bed, and though he had only been in the act a few times, he was certain they were doing it poorly.

With a growl, Marius hurled himself at the figure watching. He was a broad shouldered thug of a man, and the merchant felt it was the kind of fellow who he would rather hire than fight. But with the element of surprise, Marius managed to get him off his feet and crash into the desk, knocking aside an unlit candle and a glass of half-supped water. Wildly, Marius grabbed the man's head and shoved it into the wall, knocking it against the timber like a hammer. The would-be assassin elbowed Marius, but the Nulner was holding on for dear life, trying to keep the man's blade from being realigned in his other hand for a better strike. Wven with no breath in his lungs, Marius bludgeoned him. He smashed the man's head into the wall again and again, and soon the blade fell out of his fingers and the man slumped, wet, warm blood on Marius' fingers.

"Faucker!" Natasha cried out, kicking her assailant who had just managed to draw a blade. Marius furiously grabbed the backsword on the ground and held it up, shaking but pressing to the man's side.

"Unhand her or I'll kill you where you stand, cur!" He cried with fear and anger.

The surviving man lifted Natasha by the shirtfront, ignoring her clawing fingernails as she raked at his arms and threw her bodily at Marius. The went down in a pile of arms and legs, Natasha yowling in pain from the cut along her chest. The thug used his opportunity to pull out a heavy horse pistol and thumb back the hammer. Natasha rolled, hit the foot of the bed and grabbed the nearest object she could find and threw it with all her might. The boot knocked the pistol from the thugs hand and it fell to the floor, bounced once, then went off with a crash that seemed flat compared to the thunder outside. The report momentarily lit the face of the surprised thug, who turned and ran through the door and out into the night. The sound of the storm roaring as he threw open the door and vanished into the rain, the sudden blast of chill wind drawing curses from those in other rooms who had been unmoved by struggle or gunfire.

"Irsan Bawls," Natasha groaned as Marius got to his feet. He recovered the pistol and used the flint to light one of the oil lamps, filling the room with golden light. The thug on the floor was unconscious or dead though judging from the blood streaming from his ear, the latter was more likely. Natasha's cotton night shirt was soaked with blood from the armpits down.

"Are you hurt," Marius demanded.

"Nyet, jist bleeding for show," Natasha responded sourly. She peeled up her shirt and made a half hearted effort to brush away the blood. For a moment a long cut was visible stretching from her lower fibs down to her hip bone. Welling blood quickly concealed it again.

"Well it's quite a show," Marius responded nervously.

"Kit myself varse shaaving," Natasha responded, reaching over and pulling the bedclothes from the bed. She wadded up the blanket and pushed it against the wound, attempting to staunch the blood loss.

"May need... a fyaw steeches," she conceded breathlessly.

Marius placed his hand on the bedclothes, telling her to relax as he helped stall the bloodflow. She was making light of the wound, but she wasn't entirely wrong either. It was a big cut, but not too deep. The blood would stop shortly if they simply kept the pressure up. Natasha winced, but didn't complain about the pain. At least, not that Marius could tell. She was muttering in her native tongue and looking at the corpse on the ground. A corpse he had put there himself.

Marius Schwarz, the murderer.

Killing beastmen was one thing. Something one might even call heroic, no matter the context. But this? Should he have gone as far as he had? Would people believe him when he said it was in defense of his friend? Was she a friend? He supposed she was, but everything else still churned his stomach. The blood, the death, the predicament. Natasha seemed more annoyed than anything, which he couldn't fathom but at least someone had their head on straight.

Slowly, the pattering of the rain grew louder, until Marius realized it was a separate sound. Boots thudded across the hallway floor, announcing two company guards with chestplates and puffed up hats, one with a pistol out and the other with a sword. The gun-wielder looked aghast at the scene, looking from the body to Natasha and the thoroughly bloodied sheet at her side. The other man looked cooler, as if he had expected some sort of trouble.

"What happened here?"

"I'll tell you." The swordsman said, shaking his head. "We invite these two into our silo and provide lodging and they kill one of our own. Shoot them!"

"What?" The other one asked incredulously.

Marius stared, wondering for all the world what should be done. Thankfully, his tongue found the right path even in such a hard situation as this. "My companion is hurt and we're in her room. Do you think if we were to go and kill your men we would take them in here and do it?" He asked, letting his voice carry. "I was asleep when two men attacked her. I heard a noise and got up, and one of them has escaped. You've got a murderer on the loose but it's not us!"

"Shut your lying tongue!" The swordsman said, his beard catching the flickering light of the lamp as it bobbed up and down with his words.

"No. No, he makes sense Junter. There wouldn't be cause for them to do this. We would catch them no matter what. Why do it here?" He asked aloud. "This other man, did you get a good look at him?"

Even as the pistolier asked, Marius watched in horror as his fellow guardsman lifted his sword and pierced the man through the neck with his blade. Even Natasha was surprised beyond words. Marius drew himself up, pressing his hands to his chest as if he might have an extra pistol on him, but of course he didn't. The killer unsheathed his blade from the flesh of his former comrade and looked at Marius darkly.

"There's a lot of money to be gained here. It's nothing personal." He told him, and stepped forward.

A hole bloomed and bloodied goblets exploded out of the man as a gunshot roared like the thunder outdoors. The would-be assassin looked down at his chest and saw a sundered area near the weaker part of the plate, just at his kidney. He idly felt at the wound, but could only pull his bloodied hand back and look in shock before he too, fell to the floor. Marius whipped his head to the side to see Natasha holding her smoking carbine.

"Peyerheps we shuld leaf." She said, lowering the stock and reloading her weapon.

"Once the rain subsides, I'm with you. For now, let's lock the doors, yeah?"

Natasha was forced to let Marius handle the fortifications. Cursing up a storm she managed to cut her blanket into strips and apply something like a bandage. Her hands were crusted with dried blood by the time she had finished and it still hurt like the Daemons of the North were gnawing on it. Mechanically she reloaded her carbine and then managed to pull on her mail and gamberson. Lightning struck outside to reveal several men cloaked against weather mulling around. They tried the door, rattling and banging against it, but Marius had wisely pushed a heavy table across the entry way.

"Open up!" of them shouted against the storm, rain slicking off his cloak and making his voice sound reedy and weak.

"Vat do you vant. I ez traying to slayep!" Natasha shouted back.

"We just want to talk!" her interlocutor shouted back, cupping his hands to make a trumpet.

"Ve are talking no da?" Natasha called back. There was a few moments of consultation between the assembled group outside.

"We have word that you are dangerous criminals, there is a bounty for you dead or alive," the leader bellowed.

"You are shet at talcking," Natasha observed. "How much did that Grinvold bisterd offer you?"

"What?!" the leader called back in obvious confusion, his own Riekspiel not sufficient to the task.

"Grinvold, how mach he pays you to keel as?" she rephrased.

"More than enough," the leader growled. "Open the doors and make it easy on yourself!"

"Nyet, I dont zink ve does zat," Natasha replied, she pulled herself to the window, lifted the shutter and fired. One of the men screamed and grabbed the side of his head, part of his ear taken off by the musket ball. Two of them produced pistols and tried to return fire but their powder was too wet. Natasha closed the window and sat down, beginning to reload the weapon. Before she could finish Marius returned.

"All the doors and ground floor windows are locked and barred," he reported, the horse pistol in his hand. "we should be safe now?" The merchant looked a little green around the gills, though for what reason Natasha wasn't certain. She reached over and shuttered the lantern, no point letting the enemy know where they were.

"Nyet, not safe," Natasha contradicted.

"Eveentually they get brains gods gave ass. Knock hole in walls weeth heemers, syet fears in timbers ayend barn us out. Maybee use piwder and blow hole," she explained.

"That ... dosen't sound good," Marius replied in a troubled tone.

"Not gut," she agreed.

"Bestmeen outside, assholes inside," she elaborated. "Vy does Grinvold vant us deed? Could have jist tald us had no piwder. I buy fram ather mirchents."

"No... he already sold the powder to someone else, sold more than he had probably, word gets out he isn't good for it and he will be ruined," Marius replied, clearly happy to be able to move to more familiar ground than being burned out of a besieged building.

"How seal more piwder than he has?" Natasha asked in puzzlement.

"Imagine you told a boyar you would sell him ten horses, he pays you..." Marius began.

"Vy vould he pay me vithout seeing hearses?" Natasha objected.

"He is buying them on credit," Marius explained.

"No beyar vould bee hearses he dydint exeeman," Natasha objected again. Marius ground his teeth trying to find words she would understand.

"Fine, imagine a merchant tells you he will come back next year and buy ten horses, you take some of his money to provide the horses but then a boyar comes and offers you ten times the amount and you sell him the horses, thinking you will have time to get ten more before the merchant comes back." Natasha frowned, struggling mightily to follow the logic.

"And if you cant provide the horses no one else will do business with you and you will be ruined. So rather than default where people can see, when the merchant returns the next year, you have him killed. That way no one can accuse you of breaking your word," Marius rushed. Natasha was almost cross eyed by this point.

"Sounds veery cimplicated," she admitted.

"Welcome to the Empire," Marius sighed. A shot rang out from the darkness and one of the windows shattered into fragments, letting in the storm outside.

Marius's explanation of loaning etiquette was something he could handle. This miniature siege he felt wholly inadequate to perform admirably in. As soon as the window was broken, Marius fired his horse pistol and the guardsman's pistol into the din, sending smoke and the stench of powder wafting through the hall.

"Doon't feyer unless you hef a shoot." Natasha cautioned with a cool tone. It irked Marius how collected the woman was. In the midst of his furious reloading, he managed to glimpse her slowly placing her chin on her carbine, inhaling and slowly exhaling as she took a shot. A strangled cry went up in the din, and she smirked.

"Good job," He admitted, breathlessly. She gave him a wink, but before he could share a moment with her, something hit Marius's shoulder and sent him flying back against the side of the corridor. He found himself pinioned to the wall by something sticking into the cloth of his cloak and vest, just beside his neck. He pulled himself off the wall, ripping his top but luckily the merchant found he was uninjured.

"Sheet! They haf crussboos." She said, ducking just as a quarrel broke through another window, embedding into the wood above her head. Marius could guess why that was a problem. They might not have the punch of a musket ball, but they were quiet, with good range, and they didn't need powder. Natasha rolled forward and knelt before Marius, taking one of his pistols to help reload. "Gif me thet."

The two reloaded together as more quarrels and a few scattered gunshots splintered the wood around them. Marius fumbled the powder, but managed to catch it before it was fully spent and continued to pour it in. Just as they were finishing, there was a large knock just downstairs, followed by another, and then a third.

"Theh ar tekking ex to duur." She said, getting to her feet in a flash. Marius reached out to grab her hand, surprising even himself. "No, wait! You stay up here. I have an idea."

She looked at him incredulously, but nodded. Marius took his pistols and turned the corner, hurrying downstairs as quietly as he could. He ran past the barred front door, even then seeing an axe head chip through and rustle the chairs stacked against the timber. He ignored it, heading into the kitchen. This wasn't the most clever idea, but it was something. He opened the cabinet, pulling out flour and jugs of spices, then searching the doors to the counter. He scrambled to the table and shoved it aside, finding nothing underneath.

"If I were greedy guards, where would I keep the bloody alcohol?" He asked aloud, his thoughts having only the chopping in the next hall for company. Swiftly, it dawned on him. Marius knelt and whisked away the carpet in the kitchen, revealing a small door. He grabbed the iron ring and yanked the portal back to reveal a stairway leading into the darkness. Marius coughed at the sudden stuffiness but climbed down anyway, reaching the bottom of the cellar and finding three well stocked shelves of varying brews. To his utter disbelief, he also saw a sliver of light across the cellar.

"Sigmar's mercy..."

Marius grabbed all of the alcohol he could, pouring it over the door and the hallway as more shots rang out.

"Marioos! Waut ar yuu doing?!"

"One moment!" He called up, spreading the rest of the powder on the floor to add a bit of kick to his plan. Once four bottled were empty, he felt it was an adequate amount of flammable material, and he sprinted up the stairs to Natasha, who shot once more through the window. There was another strangled yell even as Marius grabbed her arm.

"Come with me, I know a way out." He told her.

"A wey oot?" She asked, confused.

"Yes, come on!"

The two grabbed their belongings and weapons and hurried downstairs just as the door was about to give way. Gun barrels were shoved through the holes and gunshots rang through the hall, whizzing by the two companions and they fled across the corridor to the kitchen Once they were there, Marius pointed to the cellar. "Get in fraulien. There's a door that leads outside. As soon as I give the signal, you need to go and run for the horses."

"Tha seegnal?"

"You'll know it!" He told her, urging her to go. She nodded, not understanding but knowing he had a plan and dropped down into the dimness. Once her black haired head disappeared, Marius gave a small prayer to Sigmar, his hands holding the two pistol barrels against his forehead. Sweat beaded down his brow, and he realized with embarrassment he felt very close to soiling himself.

He let out a yelp when the door to the main hall burst open, and loud voices rose as big men shouldered their way through. Marius turned the corner in the far doorway to the kitchen, poking his head around to see five guardsmen wearing Grunson colors marching in with axes and guns, one holding a readied crossbow pointed up. Their eyes swiveled to him as soon as they saw movement, and they hefted their weapons as one cried. "Give it up and it'll be painless!"

"Unfortunately for both my father and you gentlemen, I don't give up." Marius remarked theatrically, lowering his pistol at the gathered pile of blackpowder just a few paces away and exhaling as he pulled the trigger.

Things seemed to move in slow motion after that. Even knowing what was coming, Marius was taken aback by the explosive force. A concussive shockwave hit him even as he yanked himself around the corner, and he saw a glimpse of the guards faces just as the fire leaped up. One of them had the wits to look horrified, but the rest still looked either confused or simply angered. Of course, they were very dead now, but it was a snapshot he would remember for a long time. Heat billowed into the kitchen as Marius slid across the floor from the blast, flames leaping into sight. Screams outside showed that there had been more men hot on their heels. His ears rang and his head swam, but true to his previous statement, this Wissenland merchant was as stubborn as any Ostland bull. He pulled himself over to the cellar door and unceremoniously fell inside like a fallen rock. He coughed and felt ill, but light streamed from the left, and he heard a horse whinny. Marius pulled himself up and staggered across the cellar, holding his evidently damaged shoulder, bruised or harmed likely from having hit the ground so hard.

"Marioos!" He heard her voice.

Marius burst into the light.

Natasha cursed and ran across to where Marius lay moaning. She was slighter than he was but whipcord strong and well practiced with getting drunken kossars into the saddle. She half lifted, half tossed him over Dagbhert’s back. Marius screamed in pain as he landed on his shoulder. Fortunately there was now a lot of screaming. Somewhere an alarm bell was beginning to ring and men were rushing out into the rain to see what was the matter. Fire and explosions were never taken lightly in a powder milling town, where a stray spark could annihilate the whole village in a heartbeat. Even in the sheeting rain the tavern was burning brightly, hissing and spitting as those portions of the flame not covered by the roof were slashed with rain.



“There they are!” someone shouted, lantern lights appearing at the end of the alley. A crossbow bolt streaked past Natasha’s ear and buried itself into hitching post with a musical thunk. She glanced up anxiously at Marius, wondering if she had time to tie him in the saddle, but the merchant was upright, gripping his reins in his good hand, white as a sheet in the uncertain light.



“Teem to go,” she called, swinging up into Konya’s saddle and grabbing Dagbhert’s in her free hand. She touched her boots to her mares flank and the horses leaped into a gallop, careening down the narrow street, powerful hooves throwing up great clots of mud behind them. They burst out of the street and onto the docks that fronted the river.



“Wait what is the…” Marius shouted but his words were drowned out by the thump of hooves on wooden boards as both warhorses charged headlong towards the raging river. Natasha let out a high pitched warcry as Konya and Dagbhert both leaped from the docks into the water. They hit with great sheets of water, sinking to their necks before their natural buoyancy lifed them. Cold water soaked both riders instantly.



“Hya! Hya!” Natasha urged and both warhorses began to frantically paddle. The river was swollen with the storms rain, a dark gray thing lit by the occasional flashes of lightning above. The horses swam for all they were worth, the current sweeping them down river at an alarming rate. It seemed certain they must drown but Natasha kept both horses swimming hard across the current. Konya was beginning to whinny in panic and Natasha feared she might have misjudged when suddenly she felt land beneath the horse’s hooves. The river was very broad with rain, but the portion beyond its normal banks was not deep. Both horses emerged, shivering into the knee deep overflow, shaking vigorously against the damp and the cold. If there were pursers on the other side of the river they were invisible against the gray black curtain of the rain.



Both Natasha and Marius were shivering when the horses reached solid ground. They trotted into the thin woodland, gaining a measure of cover from the enervating wind. Natasha unbuckled her saddlebag and pulled out a horse blanket which she tossed to Marius, her own quilted armor doing a somewhat better job of keeping her from freezing.



“Where are we going?” Marius asked through chattering teeth.



“Gowing? Not so much gowing ayeny place, as gowing avay from reever,” she explained, though this wasn’t entirely true. After about ten minutes of riding the forest was growing thicker, though the rocky soil permitted nothing like the impenetrable tangle of the Drakwald and other great forests of the Empire. Finding a rise Natasha dismounted briefly and climbed it, then returned and adjusted their course slightly. Ten minutes later a ruin came into view. It was an old stone mill, mostly tumbled down now, with the skeletal arms of its sails collapsed save for sad looking stubs. A trail of sorts lead to it and Natasha guided the weary horses up the rise. One of the upper floors was still partially intact providing a roof of sorts, and there was a shallow basement. Natasha dismounted and tethered the horses in a corner where they could press together under the horse blanket for warmth, then descended into the basement and gathered up the age rotted wood and a few handfuls of stray straw. It was dry enough under the shelter of the stone and after a few tries she managed to spark the flint of her carbine and get a small fire going.



“Are you ok?” she asked Marius as he sank to a makeshift seat on an ancient barrel.



“My shoulder,” he groaned. Natasha crossed over and examined it, then put one hand on his arm and the other on his torso. With a brutal shove she popped the joint back into place. Marius shrieked in agony.



“Beater?” she asked solicitously.

"Quite." He strained, shaking from the pain and weakly gripping his arm. He had very little left in his emotional reserves, and so he rested his laurels on his usual snark. "W-why did not I think of that?"

It was plain from his voice he was ghastly tired and had nearly passed out from the pain. Even now his eyes were listless and half closed, the merchant's breathing ragged. He nearly pitched over onto the ground, but Natasha caught him by his shoulders and helped lower him to the ground. He did his best not to yelp and actually managed it for the duration of her aid. Where they were, he couldn't say. It wasn't dreadfully cold, but the rain hadn't helped and he felt goosebumps on his limbs from the lack of heat. Marius must have passed out for a few moments, because one moment he saw Natasha looked at him and the next moment she had teleported a few feet to the left, now laying down a bundle of relatively dry sticks to start a fire. He groaned, pressing his good shoulder against the barrel to help him sit up a bit straighter.

"What next?" He asked her sluggishly.

"Now we make fiyer." She told him, pragmatic as ever. The woman had pulled out a box of tinder and flint and began to chip it together, small sparks flying into the dead limbs. Seconds passed and she cursed, evidently unsatisfied with how it was going. Lazily he looked away from her slender form to around the rundown stone bower they found themselves in. The windows no longer held glass, but despite the cold he found he liked the scent of the rain. Small bits of dirt and leaves had been strewn across the ground, likely from the winds, and huge cobwebs formed along the ceiling and the corners that met the walls. A sizeable and strangely shaped shadow clung on the opposite end of the room, colored slightly darker than the drab stone. He squinted, and realized to his horror it was no shadow. It was a bloody spider the size of a hound!

"N-Natasha!" He stammered, and pointed at it when he had her attention. She swung her eyes to the corner and uttered something in her native language, followed by "shit!" The woman grabbed her carbine, knelt on a knee and aimed right at its center thorax, before firing. There was a large squelching sound, followed by an alien scream as purple ichor oozed out of the wound. Only then did the spider begin to move, scuttling across the wall with an uneasy gait due to the wound. Natasha unsheathed her sword, but another gunshot rang out. She looked back at the merchant, Marius dropping his smoking pistol to clatter to the floor. The bullet had hit the beast but had still failed to kill it. The spider had fallen to the ground, now on its back, its multitude of legs furiously gnashing all around it as it made a terrible whine.

Natasha didn't let it right itself, leaping over to the monster and piercing it between each of its set of eyes with her saber. It shuddered in its death throws before closing up into a ball and remaining very still. She stabbed it again for good measure, but it made no moves or sounds after she pulled out her sword.

"I'm not eating that thing," Marius told her, coughing. He felt ill, though whether from the cold or just a side effect of his wounds, he couldn't say.

"Too bed, I maek meen spider stew." She quipped, wiping her blade on a handcloth she had ready. He smiled despite himself. The woman was starting to grow on him. She was as tough as any ostland halberdier and could drink a dwarf to a stand still, but past her rustic nature, she was clever. Not to mention she had saved his life multiple times by now.

"What I meant earlier was, 'what do we do once we make it back'?" Marius corrected, wincing at a small jab of pain that flared up. Even after an hour of riding in the rain, he couldn't get the smell of smoke and burning human flesh out of his nostrils. It was quite dreadful. "But I think I know. Pay that bastard back for trying to get us killed."

Natasha collected a handful of twigs and stacked them in a square before adding some larger sticks. She crouched down beside the timber and began to spark the flint of her carbine, sending showers of sparks down over the tinder. It stubbonly refused to catch despite her best efforts. The powder in her pouch was no help, having been soaked to slurry during the river crossing. She bent down and blew, coaxing a few whisps of smoke from the pile, then cursed and sat up straight, pushing her hand to her side.

"Are you alright?" Marius asked.

"Da, ze vound opened," she hissed, feeling the warm dribble of blood run down her ribs.

"Here let me..." Marius said, making his way awkwardly towards her. Natasha suddenly looked alarmed.

"Stop!" she hissed. The merchant made a dimissive sound and kept coming towards her, reaching out with a hand in comfort.

"Stop!" Natasha repeated, more urgently.

"Seriously, you'd rather bleed than let me take a look? I promised you its nothing I haven't seen back in Altdorf..." he cut off as Natasha lurched across the cellar and clamped a gloved had across his mouth. Marius struggled for a moment and then stilled as a sound came from outside. Natasha held up a finger in front of her lips and, when she was certain he wouldn't make a sound, let him go. She pulled herself up to the lip of the cellar and peered over the ancient stonework. The rain was still coming down in sheets, but at the edge of the scrubby wood were a trio of figures. They were humanoid but they weren't human. All three were covered with fur and mixed the aspects of humans and beasts. One of them had gnarled antlers protruding from his skull, another cloven hoofs and backward jointed knees. All three carried weapons that had once been farm impliments but had been hammered into crude polearms by the most basic of methods.

"Beyest meen," Natasha hissed. The beastmen picked their way along the treeline. Suddenly one paused and snuffled at the air in a disturbingly cannine way before braying at its fellows. Their eyes turned towards the ruins of the mill.

"Can they smell the horses?" Marius whispered.

"I thynk eet is my blood," Natasha replied. Under normal circumstances the scent would have drawn them in moments but the rain was obviously providing them some cover. After a few minutes they lurched off down the hill and away.

"Soo mich for fyr," Natasha breathed in relief.

"You could have given me more warning than that," Marius said after they both slumped back into ruin. They seemed to have fled for now, but he still felt a calamitous thundering in his breast. He didn't mean to be stand-offish but they were both so tired, every words they sound had a tired quality to it that could sound snippish. Her eyes had a steely edge to them for a moment, before she gripped her stomach from the wound and sat down and became a bit less severe.

"Eyen citee, toulking is wvat can safe your liyaf. In woods, silence. You should liyasten to me until vwe get bak." She said. Marius' lips thinned as he looked at her, disagreement blossoming within him, but he just realized how much of it was from their trying circumstances than any sort of willingness to argue. The idea made him very tired, and he sat down.

"Fair enough, fraulien. Now let me take a look at that wound." He said, rolling up his sleeves. She didn't seem enthused by the prospect, but she capitulated and Marius got to work. His hands were soft like a man born to the desk, but they knew their business. Within a scant few minutes, she was patched up with as little pain as possible. He took his leave and sat down, amazed at how muscled and slim her stomach was. He couldn't fathom how much hard riding and sword training it had taken to have the physique of a blade.

"Tank you," she remarked, pulling her top back down over her bandaged waist.

"We're partners," He said, and the woman looked up at that pronouncement. Marius gave her a smile, and it was contagious because she returned the favor. The camraderie was short lived, unfortunately. A crude arrow flew in from outside to strike a barrel, thumping on impact and quivering from the sudden halt of momentum. The two shared looks, and once again they climbed atop a stack of crates to see through the window in the stone. There were seven beastman on the treeline, and different one fired a second arrow as the first nocked another.

"By the balls of sigmar and the tits of myrmida, are we not going to catch a fucking break!?" Marius lamented.

"Can we fort up and hold them off?" Marius asked as a pair of arrows clattered of the dilapidated stone work, sparking there crude head against rock. Natasha muttered a vile Kislivite oath. There was a well armed and provisioned fortress on the other side of the river, but even if they reached it they would be murdered because of some southern nonsense she didn't understand.

"Meybe if piwdeer not soyaked," she complained, though it was likely enough that this was a scouting party and they had already sent for more of their foul kind. More arrows curvetted through the air though they were far to poorly aimed to be any threat. They needed time to rest the horses but there was no chance of that now.

"Ivan vould be insuuferible," Natsaha grimaced.

"What?" Marius asked.

"Always..." she put on a gruff masculine voice which made her even harder to understand in mockery of her uncle Ivan, "Tasha, a bow vill navar jam, Tasha you can yis a bow in the ryain, Tasha if you mess vith arrow you don't have to buy new..." The volume of braying was increasing by the moment, and a dozen more beasts had appeared to join the first wave. They must have misjudged the number of humans sheltering in the mill given they hadn't simply charged the place. That wasn't far off though as they were clearly working themselves up into a frenzy. Natasha looked up at the ruins of the old mill.

"Geyet hirses ready to ride," she instructed and launched herself upwards, catching onto a rotting beam and hauling herself upwards to the next tier of the mill.

"What are you doing?" Marius demanded but she didn't have time to describe it. Instead she climbed the crumbling stone until she reached the ancient and rusted pin that secured the skeletal blades. She braced herself against the rock and kicked, sending up a shower of rusted metal. Grunting with effort she kicked again, and then a third time. The pin gave with a crash and the sails dropped, landing on the slope and beginning to tumble. The sound was colossal, like a shipwreck Natasha imagined, as the old rotten wood turned end over end partially shattering with each turn as it tumbled down the hill towards the milling beastmen. It was disintegrating as it went but it had enough momentum that it carried itself down hill in showers of splinters. The braying beasts broke and ran for the safety of the woods, squealing in apparent terror as the blades truck the treeline with an almighty crash that shook dust from every poorly motared joint of the old mill. Natasha slithered down and climbed into the saddle. Marius had already led the beasts behind the mill so their escape, although in the wrong direction to reach Wolfenburg was at least shielded by the mouldering pile of rubble. They spurred off into the rain, heading down the hill and into the darkness, leaving pursuit, for now, behind them.

"I'll have words with Valmir von Raukov himself!" Marius yelled furiously. He pointed up at the city watchman who had ordered them to leave. "I'll have you know I know his bastard! I'll get Boris von Raukov and I'll go back to Nuln and have him marching back here with the entire 4th! I'll have you strung up! I'll..." He stopped to catch his breath.

The day had been spent in the cold and wet, without rest or even a moment of respite to eat. The two had ridden hard back to Wolfenburg to escape any chance of being waylaid by beastmen or accosted by those fucking Grunwald bastards. The horses were near collapsed, and even Natasha looked a bit weathered and irritable. By the hammer, she must have been made of steel. All that riding and fighting and explosions and even if he was well rested he knew she could knock him out with a well-placed punch. Regardless, the blonde would-be merchant and the boyarina were in the middle of a throng of the helpless and the destitute, trying to make it into the city. Something had happened while they were gone, evidently. Something that was driving all the nearby villagers or local laborers to find protection in Wolfenburg's walls, and just their luck they had arrived right when the gates had been closed for the day.

"Meyebie vwe can finte some food and bed in vone of the abandoned villages, da?" Natasha wondered. Marius had heard life was hard in troll country, and some of the more remote tribes still raided and pillaged one another as a matter of life and material. Taking someone's home while they were begging at the gate looked pretty tame compared to that, likely. Marius was tired enough to consider it. But some fool clutching a babe elbowed him, trying to get past the merchant at the front, and he felt a new surge of anger sweep over him.

"No! We must get into the city!" He told her. "I'll have words with Grunwald and squeeze him for all he's worth, and I can't think without the knowledge I'll not be set upon tonight. A keen mind needs some security and I'm tired of beastmen."

He felt like he was complaining like a petulant child, but Natasha heroically decided to stand upon her horse so as to get the watchman's attention. A few of the men above ceased their shouting to go home and turned to look at this warrior woman out of the wild north.

"I am Natasha Andropolovskya, dughter of de march warden of troll kuntry! I hef come for busyness! Will you let me and paratner stay out of city?"

It sounded like a very wild claim, and the men were silent for a moment. They looked at one another, and the entire thing made Marius unreasonably angry. He could usually talk himself through any situation. If this worked, he would be jealous, though he knew it was his exhaustion making him so. He did have to admit Natasha looked every inch what she claimed to be.

"Bold claim! How do we know you are who you say you are?" A broad-faced man asked from under his helm. His question ended in a very unmanly squeak as a spear sailed over his head with incredible speed and struck the small ceiling above the archway to keep the elements off the guards. It quivered there, and crossbows and guns were drawn on Natasha. It was like she had reversed the polarity of her own magnetism, as men and women surged away from her position automatically. Marius was too dumbfounded to even move.

"De seejul of my house is awn lance, and it is made from the Koroskinya tree. Only in de mountains aboof praag keyen you get it." She said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow in a superior look. "I expect lance beck vwen we get in."

Marius's mouth dropped to the floor when the door was opened and left slightly ajar, with ostland halberdiers marching out and lowering their weapons to keep the crowd from rampaging through. None really had the heart to, however, and both Marius and Natasha were escorted inside the walls by a retinue of wolfenburg's finest. As stupified as he was, Marius did have the frame of mind to ask one of the soldiers. "Herr Halberdier, what has led all these refugees to the city?"

The large man, his winged goatee as red as an early morning sun, looked at Marius incredulously. He huffed a small laugh and said. "I don't know where you've been sir, but the Norscans are invading Nordland. Almost a hundred thousand of the bastards, with their accursed monsters to boot."

"So you think this Grunwald tried to have you killed over ... some kind of gunpowder insurance plot?" The Captain of the Guard was a battered looking man in late middle age. He wore a breast and backplate but eschewed a helm that would have concealed his thinning brown hair and the long scar that disfigured his cheek.

"Vat ez theenk? I know," Natasha grumbled.

"Well how do I know?" the Captain asked.

"I am tealing you da?" Natasha snapped, drumming her fingers on the table. They were in a guardhouse that obviously hadn't been used in some while. It had clearly been put into service when the news of the Norscan invasion broke. It still smelled of mildew, though with a strong scent of the vinegar that the guard was using to scrub the walls.

"Do you have any proof of this?" the Captain asked. Natasha seized the bottom of her tunic and yanked it up revealing the long livid cut that streaked up her ribs. The captain's eyes buldged at the sight of her bare chest, and several guardsmen dropped weapons and tools with a clatter.

"Well..." the Captain stammered, clearly at a loss for her to proceed.

"We are in danger of imminent attack madam and this is a civil matter," the Captain managed.

"You may file a complaint with a magistrate... If you can find one. I think they probably all lit off south when they heard a hundred thousand Norscans were on their way," the Captain admitted. Natasha made a disgusted sound and stood up.

"Neevar myind, ve vill take keer of it," Natasha promised. The Captain gave her a sharp look.

"I caution you about taking the law into your own hands madam," The Captain said, steel in his voice.

"I vouldn't vant you to have to ceel a migestreet," she sneered.