Warhammer Fantasy:Steel and gunpowder

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NachexenPfugzeit-31,2489 IC

"Well… I think it's time to retreat before more Bretonnian knights arrive and put us in a serious bind," I said to the assistant of the late general as I looked over the valley covered in bodies.

"What? But we're fine... we could advance, capture Monfort, and complete the general's plan," he replied, following me closely, visibly nervous.

"And then what?" I asked without stopping. "Do you really think the Bretonnians are going to sit idly by while we take one of their most important fortresses? As soon as we set foot inside, they'll harass us relentlessly. Day and night. Not to mention if we don't get reinforcements in time. They'll kill us by starvation, exhaustion, or sheer persistence."

"But if we manage to take it and consolidate, it's almost certain the Emperor will send Imperial regiments to reinforce the position… especially if the Bretonnian duchies start fighting each other over internal disputes," he insisted.

I stopped and looked at him sideways, raising an eyebrow."And why would they fight each other right now, when a foreign invader gives them the perfect reason to unite?"

"Because many of their nobles are tainted," he replied in a low voice. "Vampirism. Chaos influence. The corruption runs deep, more than we thought. Our collaborator, Sir Artrenic of Fandramanc, obtained concrete evidence. Documents, testimonies. Everything will be delivered to the Emperor. Once Monfort is under Imperial control, the clergy of Sigmar can declare a holy war. And if everything goes as expected… Bretonnia could fall from within."

I stayed silent for a few seconds, processing the weight of what I had just heard.

"So that's why Monfort was so important," I murmured. "Not for its walls per se,but for its routes… because from here we could exert pressure on the duchies while they tear each other apart searching for those bearing the stain."

"We have a big problem then..." I responded without taking my eyes off the hill. "How are we supposed to coordinate anything if we have cavalry charging at us while our men are busy looting corpses?"

The scene in front of us was clear: a group of Bretonnian knights was charging at full gallop, lances at the ready, directly toward the men who were scavenging the bodies from the field.

"We have to fight. They're not that many," replied the assistant.

The general's assistant nodded slowly.

"That's why we must continue. Now we have the chance to end this mockery of knights," he said with conviction, not taking his eyes off the battlefield.

"Well, then we have quite a big problem…" I said, watching as a new Bretonnian charge descended the hill, straight for the Imperial soldiers looting the bodies. "How are we supposed to coordinate anything if we don't even have control over our lines, and they're busy scavenging corpses?"

"They're not that many. We can face them," the assistant insisted, trying to sound confident.

"What, a thousand? A thousand two hundred?" I asked, without looking at him. "The Bretonnians are convinced that any disaster can be solved with bravery. They don't understand the concept of retreat or military logic."

"Are you going to do nothing?" he asked, almost incredulously, seeing how the knights began trampling the stragglers.

"Yes, yes, I'm going to save those nobles' asses," I said, walking toward my men.

Once under my command, I mobilized his men to the flank.

The Bretonnians were a reinforcement force, but poorly organized. They were probably sent by another duke who, for a change, only sent cavalry.

They pursued the looters without order, crossing hills, slopes, and clearings… until they ran straight into a natural trap: open ground with good visibility from where all our artillery could operate without obstacles.

No need to give many orders.

Cannon fire. Closed volleys. A storm of lead that consumed the Bretonnians.

The Bretonnian ranks broke. Many were trapped in crossfire. Those who survived the bombardment were struck by the noble troops who, seeing their loot in danger, finally regrouped.

The combat lasted just a few minutes. The remaining Bretonnians fled back to Monfort. Their attempt at reinforcement was a complete disaster.

I was surprised by how pathetic the reinforcement was… And to think the Duke of Monfort had at least managed to outnumber us... though, of course, using peasants with wooden spears.

The nobles followed the knights, and for the unfortunate Bretonnians, the defenders of Monfort didn't open the gates, so the defenders could only witness how the knights sent to their aid were massacred beneath their walls… well, they had archers, so they tried to help by harassing, but a peasant archer leaves much to be desired with their aim.

After the Bretonnian reinforcements were annihilated, an emergency meeting was called. All the nobles still alive were summoned to the central tent, the same one where the general used to impose his will without discussion.

The problem was simple, but serious: who would lead now?

If they chose some fanatic with delusions of glory, someone who insisted on continuing the siege of Monfort, we were doomed. If the siege lasted more than a week, with insufficient provisions and morale plummeting, we would wear ourselves out to collapse. On the other hand, retreating now was the safest option… but it also meant losing the best chance to severely weaken Bretonnia.

And more importantly: losing the opportunity to force the Bretonnian nobles to purge the highest ranks of their nobility, infested by the corruption of Chaos and vampirism. The simple fact that some knights had considered negotiating with us on that matter… said a lot about how rotten their kingdom was.

Luckily, there were no high-ranking nobles in the meeting. Most were lower-ranking knights with their personal forces or second sons without real voice. Everything indicated that the expedition had been funded almost exclusively by the general. That explained why the other nobles only brought a handful of men each. Either the truly important ones had died… or I was the only one with some weight that the general had managed to influence before he died.

With the chaos momentarily contained, I took advantage of the time. I used the little gold I had left from buying captured Bretonnian horses and, with that as collateral, I rehired the mercenary companies that had previously answered to the general. Now they answered to me. Around three thousand men, to whom I owed more than I could pay... for now.

I then moved among the captains of the state regiments. They were soldiers from Reikland, recruited by the general himself. I sat with them, promised generous pay, ample loot, and priority in the distribution, if they formally recognized me as the leader of the expedition. and It worked. I added another two thousand soldiers to my ranks.

I now had control of nearly half the army. And considering the recent losses, I could operate as if I commanded half of the original force. While the other nobles tried to bribe each other, making empty promises to win support... I had already won.

In the command tent, the atmosphere was a boiling cauldron. Everyone was talking at once, claiming legitimacy, demanding votes, pointing to lineages and rights.

"Alright, calm down! Calm down, everyone!" shouted the assistant of the late general, trying to impose some order.

I just watched.

Most of these men didn't have the resources or the backing to hold the command beyond this tent. But they knew Monfort was within reach. If we played our cards right, if we acted quickly, the city could fall.

Apparently, there were few defenders left inside the walls. The exterior battle had left them isolated, with the gates closed, unable to receive more help.

Taking it, looting it, emptying the duke's coffers, and leaving with gold and prestige... that was what truly interested me.

While the nobles kept arguing among themselves—fighting over who had the oldest lineage or which family had more influence—I simply looked at the general's assistant. I no longer had the patience to keep wasting time.

"ALRIGHT! Let's end this nonsense!" I shouted loudly, raising my voice over the commotion. The tent fell silent.

"While you've been throwing titles at each other's faces, while you've been counting how many generations you've carried a crest on your cloaks... I made sure to secure the only thing that matters: the military support of the soldiers."

I paused. Everyone looked at me.

"The situation is simple. I have the backing of the majority of the army. And if anyone has a complaint... we can settle it the way nobles do—with swords."

I unsheathed my runic sword and raised it calmly.

"Like the beating I gave to the Duke of Monfort when he challenged me. Does anyone else want to follow his example?" I said, looking at all the nobles.

Absolute silence. Only tense glances, some filled with hate, others with fear.

"No one... great?" I said, slowly sheathing my sword, scanning the faces of those present. All minor nobles. None important. None with the numbers to face me.

Then one spoke up. A man i knew he was vassal to the Margrave."You're just a child," he said with a hard look, as if his words were enough to intimidate me.

"Is that a yes to the duel?" I asked without changing my tone, locking eyes with him.

"You hide behind your runic sword," he replied. "Without it, you're nothing."

I smiled. Not kindly.

"I also have a runic chainmail," I said, raising an eyebrow. "But since we're here, tell me… was that a yes to the duel or are you going to swallow your words… like the damn coward you are?" I shouted with a firm voice, projecting every syllable like a slap.

The murmur in the tent disappeared completely. Some lowered their gazes. Others waited to see if the noble would stand up… or swallow his pride.

In the end, the noble who had challenged me decided it wasn't worth dying for pride. He lowered his head, swallowing his words in front of everyone.

"Anyone else opposed to me being the leader?" I asked, sweeping my gaze across the inside of the tent.

Total silence.

"No… great?" I said, smiling as I sheathed my runic sword.

With leadership secured by force and pressure, I wasted no time. I personally presented myself before the walls of Monfort with a white flag, while I ordered the camp to be set up right in front of the city. The soldiers drove stakes, dug trenches, aligned cannons. Everything as if we were truly planning a prolonged siege.

I went to offer them surrender with all the formality war demands. I assured them that, if they surrendered the city, we would release the captured duke and allow the local nobility to keep their dignity. It was a reasonable proposal.

Of course, they rejected it without hesitation.

The knights still inside, despite the massacre outside, were convinced they could hold out. They believed they were safe behind their five layers of walls and their towers, which were impossible to scale. They were waiting for reinforcements. Or simply clinging to the arrogance typical of their caste.

What they didn't know… was that I had already decided how I would enter.

That night, while the Bretonnians slept or attended to their wounded, I gathered my trusted troops. Not a single torch was lit. We moved in complete silence under the shadow of the walls.

It was, without a doubt, the greatest and most risky use of Chamon I had ever done.

Using my affinity with metal, I located the internal mechanisms of the drawbridge and the main gates. With extreme care, I activated the gears from the outside, shifting the levers with the minimum amount winds of chamon necessary. To the Imperial eyes accompanying me, I had kept my word: the Bretonnians had traitors within their ranks.

And to the Bretonnians' eyes… someone had betrayed them from within.

As we advanced through the first level of the city-fortress of Monfort, we encountered groups of men-at-arms emerging from houses, half-dressed, poorly armed, with faces that made it clear that, just moments ago, they had been asleep, unaware of what was happening.

I took a few steps forward, raised a hand in a slow gesture, and spoke with the best formal Bretonnian pronunciation my education could mimic.

"Brave warriors of Bretonnia," I said "I wish you no harm. Your leaders have surrendered the city. I ask you — in the name of honor — to lay down your weapons and surrender your armor. Fulfill the duty that your noble lords have already accepted. Let us not shed more unnecessary blood."

I presented myself elegantly, calmly, as if this were a ceremony and not an undercover conquest operation. The Bretonnians looked at each other, still groggy, unable to comprehend how Imperial soldiers could walk within their walls without signs of combat.

It didn't take long before they began dropping their swords to the ground.

First a few… then many more. Most were commoners. They had no instructions or context. They only knew to obey. And if someone in armor, with a firm voice and noble manners, told them that their superiors had surrendered, they didn't hesitate. They obeyed.

Thus, much of the resistance vanished without the need for violence.

Some groups didn't fall for the trap, of course. But they were isolated, poorly equipped, and surprised. Their response was pathetic. Shouts of confusion, a few weak arrows fired… nothing that stopped our advance.

As panic spread through their ranks, with no one knowing how the gates had opened or who had let us in, we continued level by level.

The garrison had made the classic mistake: concentrating almost all their strength on the first level of defense. And since almost everyone dropped their weapons, believing that the surrender was real... we took them by surprise.

We secured the lower level in minutes. We sealed all the exits. No one entered. No one left.

The upper levels, more residential and administrative, were nearly empty. They fell one after another like dominoes. There was no organized resistance. Just a few servants armed with splintered spears, and not a single competent officer attempting to regroup the troops.

Each floor taken was another step toward the keep.

There, as expected, the last stronghold: a small group of Bretonnian knights, entrenched, as stubborn as stones, refusing to surrender even with the city completely lost.

But they were few.

And the door to the keep — luckily for me — was wide open. Perhaps by confusion. Perhaps by desperation. Or perhaps… by my intervention minutes earlier.

We entered without the need for a siege. The combat was brief. A dozen knights against a hundred of mine, all well-armed and with a total advantage.

Monfort belonged to the Empire.

And its riches... were mine.

I took the precaution of not killing the captured duke. I kept him alive for a clear reason: if the Empire didn't send reinforcements, if things went awry and Bretonnians from other duchies managed to reclaim the city, I could always use him as a bargaining chip.

A quick negotiation, a convenient exchange… and I could leave Monfort with my pockets full of gold and my head still on my shoulders.

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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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