In the early days of the year 2521 of the Imperial Calendar, in the Old World, within the Empire, in the province of Middenland, in the city of Middenheim.
A luxurious carriage, escorted personally by the Knights of the White Wolf, arrived at the Royal Academy of Music in the White Wolf City.
At this moment, two young and beautiful female students from the academy were already waiting at the entrance.
Both were locals of Middenheim, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and strikingly beautiful yet not overly flamboyant appearances. One held an accordion, while the other carried a marimba.
Klaus Stauffenberg, a senior member of the Knights of the White Wolf, a member of the Teutonic Order, and the leader of the elite military organization in Middenland known as the Axe Brotherhood, stepped down from the carriage. This Teutonic guard, now in his fifties and having served for nearly forty years, smiled politely at the two young women: "Good day. His Lordship was very pleased with your last performance, so he has requested your presence once again to play for him."
"Yes!" The two young women could barely contain their excitement.
Both hailed from noble families of Middenheim. It was now common knowledge that Anne, the second wife of Elector Count Boris Todbringer, had "passed away from illness." Recently, the Elector himself had become deeply despondent, withdrawing from political affairs and isolating himself. The court officials of Middenheim, on one hand, seized the opportunity to consolidate military and political power for their own benefit, while on the other hand, they discussed the need to find a new wife for the Elector. Thus, they actively selected noble ladies to present to Elector Count Boris, hoping he would choose a new consort.
Although Elector Count Boris was now nearly eighty years old, and there were reliable reports that he had "abstained from carnal pleasures" after the age of fifty-five, recent news confirmed that, with the help of Wood Elf medicine and the consumption of the Elixir of Life, Boris had successfully "regained his vigor."
The two young women naturally harbored a deep desire to become the Elector's official wife, which would mean becoming the mistress of half of White Wolf City. Moreover, Boris now had only two sons and one daughter. His eldest son, Heinrich, was a bastard—though skilled in military and political affairs, he was not of legitimate birth. His second son, Stefan, was the legitimate heir but was known for his violent tendencies, erratic behavior, and congenital illnesses. His daughter, Katy, was exceptional in many ways but was also a bastard. If they could marry Elector Count Boris and bear him a son...
"Please," Klaus Stauffenberg gestured for the two young women to board the carriage.
Meanwhile, at the Elector's Palace in Middenheim, the Charlottenburg Palace.
Elector Count Boris, who had not been seen in public for some time, strode into the inner chambers, led by his godson, the Banner Bearer of Middenland and White Wolf City, the Captain of the Teutonic Guard, and a White Wolf Paladin, von Tugenheim.
The room was simply furnished: a long table, a few chairs, a wolfskin rug on the floor, and tapestries on the walls depicting the image of the White Wolf God Ulric, the glorious history of past Wolf Emperors, and famous battles of Middenland.
Also present were Boris's eldest son, Heinrich, the Marshal of Middenheim, and his second son, Stefan, the Baron of Middenheim.
"Sit, everyone, sit." Boris indeed appeared to have aged, though this aging was not physical but rather a weariness of the spirit. After all, the revelation that his wife of many years had been a follower of Slaanesh had deeply shaken him. The investigation's conclusion was particularly brutal—Anne had not initially been a Slaaneshi cultist. It was Boris's own neglect, his preoccupation with internal affairs and military campaigns, that had left her lonely and seeking solace, eventually leading her to the Slaaneshi cult.
"Where are Klaus and Goethe? Why haven't they arrived yet?" Boris asked casually.
"They should be on their way, Father. I'll go check," Heinrich stood up.
"No need, let's wait a bit longer." Boris gestured for Tugenheim to pour the wine. On the table was a bottle of the finest wine from the Old World, imported from the Duchy of Bretonnia's region of Quenelles. The Elector leaned back in his chair and asked casually, "How is Drakwald faring?"
"The situation is dire. One-Eyed Kazak is too cunning. That beast keeps harassing our towns along the border, killing everyone and looting everything in sight. Whenever we mobilize our forces, Kazak retreats deep into the Black Forest," Marshal Heinrich said helplessly. "Father, if this continues, we'll be worn down to nothing."
"Then burn the forest! Set it all ablaze! Or send out lumberjacks to cut it all down!" Baron Stefan said angrily. "I refuse to believe the beastmen can do anything without the forest!"
Boris, Tugenheim, and Heinrich all looked at the heir with expressions of disbelief.
Our Baron still hadn't grasped the fact that the Empire's territories weren't just surrounded by the Black Forest—they were situated within it! Did he intend to burn down Middenland along with the forest?
With the influence of Chaos, the Black Forest could regenerate within a few years. But towns and populations? Could they recover just as quickly?
As for cutting down the trees, that was even more absurd. Would the beastmen simply stand by and watch as lumberjacks worked? If they sent troops to protect the lumberjacks, the cost of maintaining such a force would bankrupt the province.
The current effective strategy was to establish settlements along the forest's edge, build roads, and gradually create villages and outposts, slowly encroaching on the Black Forest. This had been working, but recently, the beastmen seemed to have gone mad, pouring out of the forest in endless numbers. If it weren't for the fact that the Three Emperors' War had wiped out most of the beastmen's elite forces, the situation in Middenland would be even worse.
"Dozens more villages have been destroyed," Heinrich shook his head. "If we don't find a solution soon, the beastmen will eventually reach our towns—maybe even our cities."
"Enough, there's no point discussing this now. I'll eventually gouge out Kazak's remaining eye," Boris seemed uninterested in continuing the conversation. The Elector heard footsteps outside. "Ah, they're here!"
Outside the room, Teutonic Guard Klaus gave the two young women final instructions: "Remember, no matter what His Lordship says, act as if you didn't hear it. Unless he directly addresses you, do not attempt to join the conversation."
"Understood," the two music academy students nodded.
The door opened, and upon seeing the two young women, Tugenheim nodded. "Please, take your seats."
Klaus, the Teutonic Guard, did not join the table, stating that he would stand guard outside. Then Goethe, Boris's intelligence minister, entered and took his seat.
Goethe was a tall, thin, bald gentleman who had served as Boris's intelligence minister for several years and was deeply trusted.
"You're quite beautiful. What's your name?" Boris gestured for the two young women to sit beside him. He noticed that one of them was particularly striking, with a delicate, fragile beauty that could stir any man's protective instincts.
"My name is Louise von August," the young woman nodded. "I'm... eighteen years old."
"Ah, I heard your performance last time. It was excellent, so I invited you back," Boris leaned back in his chair.
The banquet continued, and the group raised their glasses.
The two music academy students began playing the famous Middenheim military march, "The Glory of Ulric." As Boris had said, their skill was exceptional, and soon everyone was clapping along to the rhythm.
Boris Todbringer tapped his hand to the beat, swaying his head as he reminisced about his life.
He was a son of Middenheim, a cub of Ulric's wolf.
He had once been the fiercest warrior in White Wolf City, with the loudest voice and the greatest capacity for drink.
He had once led in the elections and nearly become the Emperor of the Empire.
He had once deeply questioned the rule of Karl Franz and had repeatedly considered declaring himself the Wolf Emperor.
But Boris was, at his core, a man who respected order and rules. Now, the Elector's voice grew hoarser, the passion for battle fading from his body. He felt tired and old. Two wives had passed away, and his repeated battles with the beastmen had yielded little success, leaving Boris increasingly disheartened.
To make matters worse, his heir, Stefan, was arrogant, self-important, obsessed with violence, and prone to heavy drinking. Boris couldn't help but glance at Stefan, his son. He was deeply disappointed in him and had more than once considered replacing him with Heinrich. But each time, he was dissuaded by the nobles' counsel and his love for his first wife.
As the Elector drifted in thought, Tugenheim, the Banner Bearer, White Wolf Paladin, and Boris's godson, noticed that the intelligence minister, Goethe, seemed distracted. He poured himself a glass of wine and smiled at Goethe. "What's wrong, Minister Goethe? Are you feeling unwell?"
"Nothing," the intelligence minister shook his head and stood up. "I've had too much to drink. I need to wash my hands."
"Very well."
The intelligence minister left the room. Outside the Elector's palace, in a library, several nobles and bureaucrats were waiting. "How goes the plan?"
Goethe spoke gravely, "Proceed as planned!"
"The time draws near. We shall cast off the shadows and roam freely!"
"Chaos shall envelop the land, and only the faithful shall receive the blessings of the gods!"
"Praise the Changer of Ways, Tzeentch!"
"Praise the Changer of Ways, Tzeentch!"
The group produced a white cloth bearing a dark purple handprint. Two finely crafted, short-barreled pistols were hidden within the intelligence minister's coat.
When he returned to the room, the song had changed. The two female singers were now performing an ancient Middenland love song, "I Love You."
"I love you~ I love you from the bottom of my heart~"
"But you left me~"
"I don't know how many tears I've shed for you~"
Boris was entranced. The Elector thought of his two late wives and couldn't hold back his tears. Tugenheim remembered his father, a courtier of Ferlangen who had died in battle against One-Eyed Kazak. Heinrich thought of his mother, who had been of low birth and had passed away from illness long ago.
"Yea yea yea~ Yea yea yea yea yea~"
"Yea yea yea~ Yea yea yea yea yea~"
Goethe's heart raced. He stealthily reached for the pistol hidden beneath his coat.
The intelligence minister had fallen to Chaos over a decade ago, becoming a member of Tzeentch's cult, the Purple Hand. But every time Goethe witnessed Boris's noble character and the sacrifices made by the Knights of the White Wolf to defend the Empire's territories, he felt doubt about his choices.
He was still hesitant.
"Don't look so glum. Have a drink!" Suddenly, Baron Stefan laughed at Goethe. The Baron was drooling, having drunk too much and now barely coherent. While everyone else was lost in the music, Stefan, carefree as ever, grabbed a bottle of wine from the table and poured Goethe a full glass. "Here."
"Ah, thank..." The intelligence minister had no choice but to take the glass and take a small sip.
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"Hahaha! Today is truly a joyous day~" Baron Stefan shifted his attention away.
There was no choice now! Goethe finally made up his mind.
"I love you~ I love you from the bottom of my heart~"
"But you left me~"
"Every night I think of you~"
"Yea yea yea~ Yea yea yea yea yea~"
"Yea yea yea~ Yea yea yea yea yea~"
Goethe clenched his teeth, his resolve firming.
Is it wrong to want to be on the winning side?
Year after year, the beastmen grow bolder, and the raiders grow stronger.
Year after year, the mutants within the Empire increase, and the situation worsens.
We are fighting a losing battle.
I am a pragmatist. Yes, the Empire made me wealthy. But when Middenheim is engulfed in flames, Chaos will ensure my survival, while the people of the Empire become food for the beastmen or sacrifices to the gods. To survive and even thrive!
The Lord of Fate is generous to those who revere Him.
Yes, generous indeed!
Goethe grabbed his glass and downed the entire contents in one gulp, then turned to Baron Stefan and shouted, "Baron, if you don't support His Lordship, who will?"
The singing stopped abruptly, and everyone at the table looked at the intelligence minister in confusion.
What are you doing?
"My Lord, how can we embrace true civilization while surrounded by these vermin!" Goethe drew his pistol and fired a shot into the chest of Heinrich, the Marshal of Middenheim. "Heinrich, you scoundrel, how dare you oppose the children of Chaos!"
"Bang!" Marshal Heinrich of Middenheim was shot in the chest, blood gushing out. He clutched his wound and fell to the ground. "M-Minister Goethe, what are you doing?"
"Are you rebelling?" Boris was also shocked by the sudden turn of events. The Elector shouted, "Goethe!"
"Gunfire!" The guards stationed outside the hall heard the shots and rushed in.
"Swish!" Senior Teutonic Guard Klaus Stauffenberg drew his battle-axe and immediately cut down several of the young guards Boris had carefully selected. Blood pooled on the floor as the other Knights of the White Wolf and a Panther Knight were about to charge forward. Another Teutonic Guard drew his weapon and, taking advantage of the two White Wolf Knights' lack of vigilance, stabbed one through the neck from behind, then effortlessly beheaded the remaining White Wolf Knight and Panther Knight with his axe.
The guardroom was instantly awash with blood.
The two Teutonic Guards, who had undergone rigorous selection to join the inner circle of the Knights of the White Wolf, the highest honor of Middenheim's military elite, smiled at each other. Bathed in blood, they revealed their true selves, cutting flesh from the corpses and devouring it, drinking the still-warm blood.
"For the Crimson Skull Cult! For Khorne!"
"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"
The guards outside made no move, while chaos reigned inside the hall. One young woman fled in terror, while the other collapsed, paralyzed with fear.
Goethe sneered, firing another shot that blew Baron Stefan's head apart. He then drew a second pistol from his waist. "My Lord, you chose the wrong path. Don't blame me for this."
"Guards! Guards!" Boris shouted in desperation.
"Are you looking for Klaus? Unfortunately, he and Bard are both members of the Crimson Skull Cult," Goethe sneered, aiming his pistol at Boris's head. "Goodbye, My Lord."
"Bang!" The bullet fired, but Boris dodged quickly. The shot only grazed his left lung, and the Elector fell to the ground in pain, though the wound was not fatal to a warrior of his caliber.
"No!" White Wolf Paladin Tugenheim, seated farthest away, tried to rush forward, but it was too late. He was unarmed.
As Goethe aimed his second shot at Boris, the young woman sitting beside the Elector, Louise von August, let out a piercing scream. Her face turned deathly pale, her eyes blood-red, and her delicate hands sprouted sharp claws. With a swipe of her claws, the bullet was shattered!
"What?" Goethe was stunned. "A vampire?"
"Louise August of the Lahmia family, at your service," the young woman shielded Boris. Her sharp fangs glinted in the light of the hall. "Apologies, but the Bloodline Ancestor has decreed that the Elector Count cannot die here."
"Guards!" Goethe shouted. The two corrupted Teutonic Guards entered and immediately killed Marshal Heinrich of Middenheim, then charged at the fallen Boris.
"Tugenheim! Take the Elector and escape through the secret passage in the room!" the young woman's shrill voice echoed through the hall. "He must not die!"
"Understood!" Though shocked by why a vampire would save his godfather, Tugenheim quickly made a decision amidst the chaos. He hoisted the wounded Boris onto his shoulders and fled through a little-known secret passage in the hall.
That day, the Elector's Palace was engulfed in flames.
Middenheim descended into chaos, and the city was placed under martial law.
Boris Todbringer, though shot, managed to escape with his life.
However, the Elector was gravely wounded once more. Both his heirs, Marshal Heinrich and Baron Stefan, perished in the horrific disaster.
The disheartened Boris withdrew completely, plunging the entire province of Middenland and the court of Middenheim into paralysis.
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