Warhammer Fantasy:Steel and gunpowder

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NachexenPfugzeit-32,2489 IC

"Deus Sigmar blessed... how many ingots are here!" exclaimed one of my bodyguards, jaw slack as he surveyed the treasure room.

The entire room was saturated with gold. Not figuratively. Literally saturated. There was so much Chamon in the air that I couldn't ignore it. I could feel the energy of the metal vibrating beneath my feet, trembling with every breath. I refused to wait. I needed to go to court to see the courtiers waiting to know who I had as a hostage, but I couldn't resist the call of Chamon and entered the treasury.

Ingots. Piles of gold ingots stacked one on top of the other. Piles and piles, as if someone had organized them to build a wall. Wooden boxes filled to the brim with Bretonnian coins, many sealed with royal seals. There were open chests, barrels of silver counted by the hundreds.

"The damn duke was obscenely rich… damn… and here I thought I was already rich," I muttered, slowly spinning on my heels, looking all around.

The silence of my men spoke volumes. They were frozen. Some with glazed eyes, others with nervous smiles, as if they expected all of this to be a dream.

I approached them and placed my hands on their shoulders, one by one.

"If we get home alive… boys, we're all going to have enough to spend freely. I promise you," I said with a smile I couldn't hide.

I knew some of my men would die before returning home. I accepted it with the same certainty that I knew, to maintain Monfort, I was going to need a series of miracles.

The Bretonnian tide wouldn't be long in coming.

With a bit of luck, the five messengers I sent to Altdorf would make it without issues. If they succeed, if the bureaucrats move at the speed of war instead of the slowness of a court, we might get reinforcements soon. Because defending this citadel with only thirteen thousand men—state regiments, mercenaries, and personal troops—would be problematic.

Very problematic.

Luckily, we have the sturdy walls of Monfort. Unlike its former owner, I won't make the mistake of leaving the walls behind to seek a glorious fight in the field. I won't underestimate anyone.

Finally, after soaking in the aura of Chamon that filled the treasury, I forced myself to leave.

I climbed the stairs leading to the fourth floor, toward the duke's court.

It was a grand hall, decorated with stained glass, tapestries of ancient campaigns, and the heraldry of Bretonnian noble houses. There, the courtiers awaited me. Dozens of them. Many were young women, well-dressed ladies adorned with necklaces, rings, silks...

The few men present were barely boys, squires, or young men who hadn't yet wielded a lance outside the training yard. The true knights of Monfort were all out of action: either dead, riddled with imperial lead, or locked in some cell, waiting for their surname to be worth more alive than dead.

My eyes stopped on the throne.

It was surrounded by a woman of firm bearing, with the Monfort House crest on her chest. Around her, several children, all well-dressed, all silent. Some hid behind her when they saw me enter. Others circled her as if she could protect them from the inevitable.

All eyes were on me as I walked through the hall, alone, with no escort, like a judge entering a courtroom where the verdict had already been delivered.

The woman looked at me with a mixture of fear and poorly concealed hatred.

"Are you… the imperial general?" she asked in a poorly pronounced Reikspiel, barely understandable due to her heavy accent.

"Yes," I replied calmly, smiling slightly. "We can speak your language if you understand me. I express myself quite fluently in your tongue," I added in clean French, without an imperial accent.

"My husband… the Duke of Monfort…" she said, swallowing hard. "He didn't return from the battlefield. Is he… alive?"

"Yes," I responded calmly. "Though stubborn as a mule, he tried to die in battle. It'll take him a while to admit it for the moment."

"What happened to him?" she asked, unable to hide the fear beginning to weigh in her voice.

"He challenged a young imperial who didn't even have a knight's title," I said as I walked toward the throne with slow, measured steps. "And well… they broke his face to pieces."

I sat in the throne as if it were mine by right, without ceremony. I settled comfortably, as if I had always belonged there.

"My husband would never do something so dishonorable as to challenge someone incapable of defending himself," the woman said, clearly offended, with clenched fists and pursed lips.

"My dear lady," I replied, resting an elbow on the throne's armrest and my chin on my hand, relaxed. "Before you stands the young imperial who broke your husband's face. With this very gauntlet, I broke his nose. With these hands, I shattered his arm. And no matter how many times I offered him surrender, again and again, he refused."

The entire room fell silent.

"So, if you think about it... your husband seemed very determined to die that day. You can consider me a benefactor. I saved his life." I said with a smile.

The woman parted her lips, closed her eyes, and breathed heavily.

"I know that now your family has no way of paying his ransom, but we'll talk about that later, my lady," I said, not getting up from the throne, my voice calm but firm. "As for the rest… I want each of you, if you belong to a noble house, to give me in writing how much your relatives paid — or would pay — for your release."

I paused, letting the words sink into the silence.

"Bring one of your servants, if you have any left. I'll use them to send the ransom messages. Once the gold is received… I will release them as it's rightfully due."

The nobles moved instantly. Some clumsily. Others resigned. They asked for pen and parchment. They began writing. The sound of quills on paper filled the room for a moment, as if each stroke were a reminder of their new condition.

I read each sheet attentively. Name by name, figure by figure. No sign of a ducal house. No important heirs. A shame. I would have loved to have one of the dukes' children.

When I finished, I looked up.

"Who among you handles the Duke's finances?" I asked, without raising my voice.

Three men raised their hands. From their clothes, they weren't nobles. Commoners, probably administrators. Well-fed. With clean hands. Exactly the kind of men who count coins.

I gestured for them to approach.

"Start counting all the gold and silver in the treasury. Ingot by ingot, chest by chest. I want to know the exact size of my new fortune."

"Keep an eye on them," I ordered one of my bodyguards, stationed at the entrance. He met my gaze and nodded.

I turned toward the Duke's wife.

"My lady," I said with a minimal bow. "I will assign you a task. With the help of my men, you will gather all the valuable items from your house: family relics, historical goods, emblems from generations. I don't care if they are sacred or sentimental. I want them identified and classified."

She opened her mouth, but said nothing.

"And if there are items from the Cult of the Lady… they will be respected under the right of conquest. I won't touch them, but I request your cooperation to avoid future problems. Because all indications are that I'll be here for quite some time."

I began to walk toward the exit of the throne room.

The woman didn't respond.

I gestured to two of my bodyguards to "motivate" her to cooperate. They approached her silently.

With the noble hostages under control, I turned my attention to my real business: the city and the army.

I issued precise orders to all the men under my command, focusing on vigilance. I met with the remnants of the Duke's men-at-arms. Many were downhearted, wounded, or simply confused. But they responded honestly. They pointed out how patrols were organized, shifts, vulnerable points. Useful details. At least the Bretonnians were honest in that regard. Even when defeated.

Next, I spoke with some prisoners among the reinforcements who had arrived too late.

That's when I received some rather… amusing news.

Apparently, my metal traps had worked.

When the Duke of Parravon led his reinforcement charge toward Monfort, proudly riding his pegasus, he himself stepped on one of the caltrops hidden in the field. And he wasn't the only one. Dozens of horses stepped on the traps at the same time. At full speed. The chaos was absolute. Horses falling, riders crushed, wild animals colliding with each other. No one could react.

The charge disintegrated before they even saw the enemy.

The Duke of Parravon survived… with a broken arm, a shattered leg, and his pride shattered. He had to return to his castle, escorted by most of the reinforcements that were supposed to save Monfort.

I couldn't help but laugh.

The same ones who came to lift the siege ended up fleeing without having drawn a single sword.

I coordinated many of my troops to begin setting up guard shifts and fortifying the obvious points of containment, trying to protect our escape routes as much as possible. I ordered some bridges connecting Monfort to the rest of Bretonnia to be burned and established a forward base at Juinard and Hochpoint with some troops to prevent the Bretonnians from trying to cut off our communication with the Empire by attacking messengers.

I also sent patrols to attempt to take the local castles of Monfort, which should be almost defenseless after sending most of their troops to this battle. I especially wanted to secure the gold mines, as much of the Duke's income came from that source, along with trade. As long as I control this place, even temporarily, I'll squeeze everything I can out of it before the Bretonnians manage to form an army to reclaim it, which should take a month or two, if we're lucky.

With much more luck, the Emperor will send reinforcements. But until then, there's nothing to do but wait. As much as I'd like to run off with all that's already on my hands, the issue is how the hell to move all the gold and silver here without needing more than one trip.

Because yes, I absolutely had to go personally to Helmgart to make sure they let us pass. I wouldn't doubt for a second that the Margrave would try to play me and seize the gold. This amount of wealth is enough to change lives… I could spend gold on so many things I've always wanted, but since I spend at the same rate I earn, I can only afford a few projects at a time. So I can't afford the luxury of slowly withdrawing it, only to be surprised by the Margrave already requisitioning it all.

"Well… I'll see what else I can steal that isn't nailed to the ground… the peasants," I said with a smile.

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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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